by Abby Jimenez
“They called me a mystery woman,” I said, smiling against his lips. “I’ve always wanted to be mysterious.”
He chuckled. “I’ve always wanted two women. This is working out for both of us.”
I hit him, and he laughed, tickling me by nibbling my neck.
It had been three days since we made up, and things between us were on a whole new level. There was no more end date. We weren’t breaking up, we were going on his tour and then moving in together. The future of our relationship was clearly laid.
And we were ridiculously in love with each other.
He’d told me everything. About Lola, the song. Why he didn’t ask me on tour earlier. Everything. And I’d listened and understood and when it was over, I felt like we were allies against the world.
Zane idled in my driveway, waiting for him. I could tell he didn’t want to leave me and it made my heart happy, but I had to be practical. “Go, you’re going to be late for your flight. Text me from the car.”
“Look at me.”
I gazed up and drowned in his blue eyes.
He put his thumb over my lips, pressing them shut. “I love you,” he said. Then he moved his thumb, kissed me swiftly, and jogged down the steps with his guitar before I could reply.
My heart could barely take it. I don’t think I could ever get used to him saying that. I leaned on the door frame, Tucker at my feet, and watched Jason get into the car, smiling. I blew him a kiss as they pulled out of the driveway and my cell phone pinged with a text message from him before Zane’s Tesla cleared the end of the block.
Jason: I miss you already.
Ping.
Jason: Sext me.
I laughed.
God, we were so adorable, even I could barely stand us.
I got to work. In the next seven days I had to contact the company I painted for and tell them I was quitting, and I had to put my Etsy store on vacation. Three paintings needed to be completed. I had to rent a storage container, put my house on the market, and start packing. Things needed to be pulled together for a quick yard sale.
And I still had the hardest thing of all to check off my list: telling Kristen I was leaving.
We’d never been apart for more than a few days before. Never, going as far back as the sixth grade. There was no telling how she would react. I half expected her to tell me not to go. She’d been a huge Jason fan so far, but agreeing to go on tour with him after only two weeks as his girlfriend sounded crazy, even to me. And then to explain I’d be selling my house and moving in with him too? On paper it was nuts, no matter how right it felt to me.
I’d made plans to meet her and the baby at the park, and I drove over with Tucker at noon. Kristen had Oliver in his jogging stroller and was already making a circuit around the running track when I got there. I walked the wrong way until I met up with her. When I fell in beside her, she didn’t waste any time calling me on my agenda.
“So what do you need to tell me?” She looked determinedly ahead, speed walking.
God, how does she do that every time? Knowing exactly what I’m up to within five seconds of seeing my face?
I didn’t bother drawing it out. “Jason’s asked me to go on tour with him.”
Kristen didn’t take her eyes off the running track. “And you said yes?”
“And I said yes. But there’s something else. I’m selling the house. And when we get back, we’re moving in together.”
Kristen stopped walking so fast I outpaced her by three steps before I noticed.
She panted and stared at me for a moment. “Let’s go sit,” she said carefully, giving me a look I couldn’t decipher.
Ugh. This wasn’t good. I so wanted her to support me in this. I was going to do it whether she wanted me to or not. But I really had hoped she was going to back me because the news hadn’t gone over well with my parents. At all.
My dad thought my running away on tour with my “rock star” boyfriend of two weeks was some kind of crisis I was working through. He’d given me a long speech about the perils of dating musicians and ended it by telling me he disagreed wholeheartedly with my decision. He’d even thrown around the word “disappointed.”
He’d loved Brandon. They were both ex-military and they’d played in the same poker league. Dad didn’t even want to meet Jason. He said he’d put money on it being over by Labor Day and if it wasn’t, maybe he’d meet him at Thanksgiving.
Maybe.
Mom tended to be more of a romantic, but after Jason’s minor tabloid scandal, she thought I was crazy to even consider staying with him, let alone going on his tour and selling my house to move in with him. She’d agreed to meet him, but was so unenthusiastic I opted out.
Jason’s family had embraced me so much I think it killed him to know how mine felt.
Not having anyone be as happy about this as I was sucked.
We found a bench in the shade, walking in a heavy silence until we got there. Kristen parked the stroller and handed Oliver his sippy cup before sitting to face me.
I dove in. “Before you even start, I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I know—”
“I’m glad you’re going.”
It took me a few moments to process what she’d said.
“You…you are?”
“Yes. And I’m glad you’re selling the house. You should have done that a long time ago.”
I blinked at her. “You’re not upset that I’ll be gone so long? You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“Sloan, there are some things I need to say to you.”
She pushed her hair behind her ear and licked her lips. It took her a while to begin. She seemed at a loss for words. Kristen was never at a loss for words.
“I know that you’ll be away for a long time. But I’ve gone longer without seeing you.” She paused for a long beat. “These last two years, the Sloan I grew up with has been missing. I was afraid she was buried at Forest Lawn with Brandon and I was never going to see her again. Then you decided to live, and you know what? My Sloan came back.” She shook her head. “I missed my friend. And if I thought that you were only okay because you have a man in your life again, I’d tell you not to go. But I think you have a man in your life because you’re okay. I don’t think this is some rebound thing. I think what you two have is real. And goddamn it, if he wants you to go on his tour, go. Because I haven’t seen you this fucking happy in a very long time.”
The tears were falling before I even knew they were coming. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“I’m glad he finally figured out how bad it would suck if he went without you. Honestly, Josh and I were worried about what might happen when he left, and we were wondering what was taking his ass so long to ask.”
“Seriously? You guys talked about it?”
“We’re your emergency response team. Of course we talked about it. Did drills and everything.”
I laughed out of relief and hugged her. This made it real. It gave it validation to have her support this—both of them, her and Josh. They saw it too, what I had with Jason.
“Sloan, it makes me so happy to see you make these choices. Go, have adventures, fall more in love, shake a tambourine, be a fucking groupie and say cliché shit like, ‘I’m with the band.’”
I snorted, wiping at my tears.
“I’ll be here when you get back. And so will you. Finally.”
* * *
Kristen and I walked for forty-five minutes, talking about the tour and Oliver. Then I had to get back to the house and get started on my to-do list. I hugged her goodbye and made my way up the stairs to the parking lot.
I was texting Jason. He’d just sung “Name” into my voicemail on the way to the airport. The song we had our first kiss to. I melted.
I was typing with my head down, telling him I loved him, so I didn’t notice my car until my feet were already crunching over glass. I looked up and froze with a hand to my mouth.
My windows were broken. All of my windows were broken.
My windshield was caved into the front seat like someone had stood directly on the hood to smash it in.
All four tires had been slashed. My side mirrors had been broken off and lay scattered in the parking lot like candy from a busted piñata.
And the words Jaxon’s Whore were spray painted over the door that didn’t match the rest of the car.
Chapter 33
Jason
♪ Do I Wanna Know? | Arctic Monkeys
The cameras in the parking lot were broken—but I fucking knew who did it.
Lola was pissed about being booted off my tour, about seeing me in the tabloids with another woman, and she’d gone after Sloan. I had no doubt in my mind it was her.
I was fucking furious. I’d called Ernie immediately after Sloan told me about her car and he’d gone down and gotten her. I’d almost flown back from New York, but both of them insisted I stay and do SNL. Ernie promised he’d keep her safe and deal with the police—and he did.
But the car wasn’t the end of it. Not even close.
Sloan’s social media accounts were suddenly bombarded with trolls. Fake accounts set up with no other purpose than to comment on her photos and slide into her DMs and harass her. It was so bad she had to delete her Instagram page and even Kristen and Josh had to lock down their accounts.
Then the phone calls started.
Vulgar texts and voicemails from strangers to Sloan’s cell, all hours of the night. It ran the gamut from calling her names to making threats of violence. And it was all made very obvious that this was about me. Jaxon’s whore, Jaxon’s bitch. None of it was traceable. All the numbers they called from were spoofed.
I had no idea how Lola had gotten Sloan’s number. But then I had no idea how Lola had gotten the gate code either.
It was like she’d hired a fucking army to come after my girlfriend.
I’d never felt so much hatred for someone in my life.
Ernie urged me not to confront her, that any engagement would just encourage her. He was right. There was no fucking point. It’s not like she listened to reason. All I could do was control the damage and try to keep Sloan safe.
I wasn’t taking any chances. We changed Sloan’s number and I wouldn’t let her off Ernie’s property alone or anywhere near her house. I’d hired a moving company to finish the packing, and I’d had Zane oversee it. We canceled the yard sale. I didn’t need Sloan outside dealing with strangers when there was someone out there who’d taken a baseball bat to her car.
The whole thing was a stress neither of us needed because our lives were hard enough as it was at the moment.
I’d been back from SNL for three days. My tour started in two. Everything was chaos. I’d had to dive right into rehearsals the day after I got back from New York, with the backup band I’d hired for the tour. I’d been working sixteen-hour days, juggling that and the media. I was being pulled in a thousand different directions and so was she.
And now Ernie had me up and waiting for him in front of the pool house at 6:30 in the damn morning. Sloan was asleep with Tucker in the trailer. I should have been asleep with Tucker in the trailer. But Ernie’s text had said it was important and that it couldn’t wait.
He came out the back door of the house and made his way past the pool. He was in his suit, even this early. “Hey, my friend. Sorry to rouse you. I know you need your beauty sleep.” He put his hands on his hips. “It’s important, or I wouldn’t have called.”
“What’s up?” I asked, yawning.
“Someone paid off my fucking housekeeper.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Huh?”
“Someone gave her a thousand bucks to give up the gate code so Lola could get in here that night. Ten years she’d been with me, and I have to find a new housekeeper. I’m doing my own goddamn laundry. And I haven’t even told you the crazy shit yet.” He looked me in the eye. “The person who paid her wasn’t Lola or any of her people.” He paused. “It was your people.”
My hand dropped, and I stared at him.
“I had to do a shit ton of digging. Had to give Lupe another thousand bucks to get her to talk and I had to ask the Swansons across the street for their surveillance video, but I got the plate for the guy who bribed her. He’s some low-level lackey for your label.”
“What?” I breathed.
“Yeah.” He scratched his cheek. “Here’s what I think. I think your label set you up for those photos with Lola. I think they did it so they could leak that shit. I think the whole TMZ thing was planned and they wanted the rumors circulating so when they stuck Lola on your tour, the two of you would be all over the tabloids together, nice and fucking neat.”
I stood there speechless for a long moment. “Why?”
“They’re manufacturing your hype. They want everybody talking about you. The Lola-Jaxon singles on the soundtrack are on fire. Everybody’s fucking grabbing for you. Pia can’t even keep up with all the press they want you to do. That’s why they pushed your tour out ten more months. They’re posturing to mass-produce you. The writing’s on the wall, my friend. You’ve got all the makings of a superstar.”
Ernie wasn’t one to make declarations like that. He was more of a manage-your-expectations kind of guy, so I didn’t take any of what he said lightly. I should have been happy that he had this much faith in the future of my career, but instead the most peculiar sense of foreboding overcame me. That little stunt with Lola had almost cost me my girlfriend and they’d given my harasser access to where I lived? What the fuck?
He went on. “At this point I wouldn’t even put it above them to drop Lola on your tour no matter how well your tickets are selling. It works for you both. She gives your image an edge and keeps you in the gossip mags and you give her a tour she can be on that’ll keep rolling even if she drops dead with a needle in her arm.”
My face went hard. “No. I’ll walk before that happens. I don’t give a shit, let them do what they need to do.”
He put his hands on my shoulders. “Look, I don’t want you worrying about Lola. She’s not coming anywhere near you for the time being. You just keep up your end of the bargain and book up those shows. And as for right now, just be braced. I hope both you kids got plenty in the reserve tank because this tour’s not gonna be easy.” He slapped my shoulder. “Congratulations, Jaxon. You’ve officially made it.”
Chapter 34
Sloan
♪ Yes I’m Changing | Tame Impala
I woke up alone with Tucker in Jason’s bed. My boyfriend’s side of the mattress was cold.
My house was empty and on the market. I’d quit my job and liquidated my life. And I was exhausted. We both were. Which was why it was weird he wasn’t sleeping when he had the chance.
We were living in Jason’s trailer until we left on tour in two days. In the last week my entire life had been reduced to a single large suitcase and a carry-on. My car was gone. The insurance company declared it totaled because apparently four tires, some windows, and a coat of paint would cost more than the whole vehicle. Got fifteen hundred for it and I felt like a bandit.
I wandered out to the bathroom wrapped in a blanket. Jason wasn’t in the trailer. I peeked out the blinds and saw him by the pool house talking to Ernie.
I slid down onto the sofa with Tucker to wait for him to come back in and turned on the TV. I was sitting there, flipping through channels, when an email came through to my phone with a ping.
Every time my phone chimed I jumped a little, even though I’d changed my number and deleted my social media accounts. The Lola onslaught had been horrible. I was so glad it seemed to be over.
I clicked on the little envelope icon. My heart leapt.
It had been over two years since I got a message to this account. It was the one I used back when I painted hyperrealistic art, the one on the business cards the art galleries handed out—or used to, back when I did that sort of thing.
It was so random, for a split second I worried it was more trolling
, but I recognized the name. It was a gallery curator in Laguna Beach. A well-known one.
I pored over the email.
She had a client who’d seen Girl in Poppies and wanted a painting of his daughter. He wanted it by Christmas and he was willing to pay $4,000 for it.
A commission.
I let out a puff of air.
This was the kind of order I used to pray for. My paintings usually sold, but they hung in galleries for months before they did. Not only to have someone love my work enough to commission it, but to have the painting sold before it even existed? God, it was my dream!
And then the reality pummeled me.
I was leaving on tour. And there was no way I could paint where I was going.
The disappointment hit me right in the heart.
I was ready to get serious about my art again. But I’d been bogged down with Etsy and astronaut cats so I hadn’t been able to actually attempt it. And now that I’d shucked all those responsibilities and had this incredible opportunity dangling in front of me, I couldn’t take it.
I put my phone away and went back to watching TV, depressed. I guess I should be happy that I’d gotten to the point where I wanted to pursue things that I used to be passionate about. Even if I couldn’t do them.
Jason clomped into the trailer twenty minutes later and looked surprised to see me up. He put his hand on the back of the sofa to lean down and kiss me. “Good morning. Coffee?” He smiled, but he looked weary.
“Yeah. Hey, did you see this?” I said, nodding at the TV. I was watching E! News.
“What is it?” He went to the kitchen and opened the cabinet and pulled out the bag of grounds.
“Lola’s suing her manager. I guess he embezzled all this money from her.”
He spooned coffee into the press. “She was probably too wasted to notice,” he mumbled. He put water in the microwave. “Speaking of Lola, Ernie thinks the photos of me and her were staged by my label.”