by Lauren Rowe
Only if I tell the truth
Two
Cuz I wanna be with you
My new lucky number
My lucky number is you
I write the songs
It’s all I know how to do
Take away my guitar
I’d be sellin’ shoes
Workin’ in a cannery
In Juneau
Don’t have much in my pockets
Those zeros aren’t real
Same guy as before
Except a liar now
Wasn’t brave enough
To deserve you
Stood on that balcony
Let him spill his guts
Let him down
Let me down,
Let you down...
But all that stops now
Gonna tell the truth
Wanna be with you
Wanna be two
Baby, baby,
The truth shall set you free
Gonna tell it now
So I can finally breathe
The truth, the truth
The only truth
That matters
Is baby, baby
I love you
I strum out my final chord and look up to find Reed’s dark eyes boring into me like lasers. The air in the room is thick and heavy. My heart is thrumming in my chest.
After a long, tense moment of silence, Reed leans back in his leather chair. “Violet hasn’t said a word to me.”
“We didn’t want to say anything to anyone—not to you or Caleb or anyone else—until we were sure we had something that would survive out in the light. We figured if it didn’t work out between us, it would be best if nobody ever knew.”
Reed says nothing. He looks tense. Homicidal?
“Violet doesn’t know I’m doing this,” I say quickly. “She dumped me yesterday because she felt ready to take things to the next level, and I was too big a coward to take a leap of faith.”
“And now?”
“And now I’m ready. Right after I’m done here with you, I’m headed to Caleb to tell him about Violet and me. After that, I’m going straight to Violet to tell her I love her for the first time. That I’d move mountains to be with her. No more hiding. No more lies. I want her. I love her. And fuck anyone who doesn’t like it.”
Reed’s eyes flicker. “How long has this been going on?”
I tell him the story, including the sequence of events that led me to find out, only recently, that Violet is Caleb’s ex and Reed’s sister. “By the time I knew the complications, it was way too late,” I say. “I was already a goner.”
Reed holds my gaze for a long, unnerving beat, and then he presses a button on his phone, reminding me for the first time since I started playing that he’s been recording this whole time. His dark eyes hard, he pushes his notepad to the side, places he elbows onto his desk, and says, “None of this is news to me, Dax—although I didn’t realize the extent of your feelings for her.”
My breathing hitches. I say nothing.
Reed smirks. “Dax, I saw you talking to Violet at my party for Aloha—on the patio—and it was easy to see the sparks between you. A few days later, on the plane to London, Colin said he and you had met ‘amazing girls’ at the party you were both sorry to leave behind. Eight months later, you’re playing me two songs you’d written during the tour. One of them was called ‘Ultra Violet Radiation.’ The other had lyrics about a girl being a ‘flower’ and a ‘road.’”
I can barely breathe.
Reed continues, “At Henn and Hannah’s wedding, your family was marveling about how you never dance, but, lo and behold, that night, for some reason, you danced the night away. And, huh, so did my sister. Right next to you. And, of course, when Violet got up to use the bathroom after dancing, Keane suddenly felt compelled to host a little weed party on my patio, right after receiving a text. I’m not complaining about that, mind you. I love a good doobie with friends and that was some damn good weed. Just saying I’m not a moron. Oh, and one more thing? Violet’s on my cell phone plan. So, when she didn’t answer my calls or texts for a couple days after the wedding, which is really unlike her, I hopped online to check her iPhone location. And guess what surprising thing I discovered? My sister’s phone was sitting ten minutes away at a nearby five-star hotel. Now, why on earth would Violet be hunkered down at an expensive hotel for days, when she could be sleeping in her rent-free apartment, fifteen minutes away? And then I remembered you saying you were gonna be shacked up in a hotel for a while, not Caleb’s place, until you figured out where to live...”
I can’t decipher the smile on Reed’s face. Does that shit-eating grin mean he wants to throttle me—or merely a sign he thinks he’s so smart?
“But there was no reason to say anything to Violet,” Reed says. “And I certainly wasn’t going to say anything to you. There’s no way in hell I was gonna say or do a damned thing to mess up your creative process. You’re a genius, Dax. The songs you write... every artist on my roster, other than Dean and 2Real, would sell their soul to write the songs you do. Trust me, I’ve been dealing with ‘sensitive artist’ types long enough to know, when they’re laying golden eggs, leave ’em the fuck alone. So, that’s what I did.”
Anger rises sharply inside me. “You’re willing to pimp out Violet in exchange for some golden eggs? Violet told me you didn’t want her messing around with anyone signed to your label. That doesn’t apply if the dude is laying big enough golden eggs for you?”
Reed looks thoroughly amused. “No, Dax. That doesn’t apply if the dude is you.” He smiles at my surprised expression. “Yes, I asked Violet to please not to flirt with any of my artists. And, yes, I told every artist coming to my party—the ones I knew about, anyway—to stay the fuck away from my little sister. I even showed ’em her photo and said, ‘Off-limits, boys.’ But even if I’d known you and the goats were coming to my party for Aloha, I wouldn’t have said any of that to you. And do you know why?” He leans forward, his eyes blazing. “Because if there’s one guy on my roster—one guy on the planet—I consider worthy of my sister, that dude is you.”
Goosebumps erupt on my skin.
“Do you have any idea how fucked up Josh was before he met Kat and got taken in like a stray dog by your family? That’s why Josh and I became so close in college—because we were both hopelessly fucked up. All his life, Josh has been secretly drowning. And then Kat came along and became Josh’s lifeline, and your entire family became his life raft. And now he’s a new man. Honestly, sometimes, I don’t even recognize that bastard, he’s so fucking happy.” Reed leans back in his leather chair. “Violet hasn’t been drowning for quite some time now, I don’t think, but only because she’s worked so damned hard on herself. But she’s definitely doing some kind of fucked up doggy paddle—maybe even treading water—a lot of the time. Though, of course, she always makes it look good, whatever she’s doing. That’s her superpower. Holding it all together. Doing the doggie paddle with panache. But if that girl can get a lifeline—and maybe even a life raft—the same way Josh did, then, shit, I’m all for it.”
My nose is stinging. Same with my eyes. I’m feeling overwhelmed with emotion, but I swallow it down.
Reed’s face hardens. He leans forward. “But if you hurt my sister, God help me, forget everything I just said. You fuck her over—cheat on her, lie to her—I won’t give a shit what our contract says, or how big the golden eggs are that come out of your ass; you’ll be a piece of shit to me and I’ll deal with you accordingly.”
My breathing hitches. “All I want to do is love her and take care of her. Everything I said in that song was the truth.”
“Good. Amen.” His dark eyes blaze for a beat. “Don’t play with her, Dax. Don’t fuck around on my sister.”
“Never.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied. “You’re going to see Caleb next?”
“Straight from here.”
A wicked smile spreads across Reed’s
face. “Man, I wish I could be a fly on the wall for that. After Caleb cheated on my sister and smashed her heart into a pile of rubble, I wanted to fuck him over so bad, but Violet swore up and down I had it all wrong, so I refrained.” He rubs his palms together with brazen glee. “Not gonna lie, it gives me intense pleasure knowing that asshole is about to get exactly what he deserves—a nice, big knife, plunged straight into his cheating, lying back.”
Chapter 45
Dax
“Thanks for meeting me here, guys,” I say to Fish and Colin.
Colin gets out of his slick new sports car and slams his car door shut. “We’re not gonna let you get your ass kicked alone.”
“How about not letting me get my ass kicked at all?”
“Yeah, I think that’s a tall order,” Fish says, coming around from the passenger side of Colin’s car.
“You look like the Unabomber,” Colin says, looking me up and down. “What’s with the hoodie? It’s nice out.”
“Just keeping a low profile.” My therapist pointed out it’s my hair that gives me away the most. And so, if I want to minimize being recognized, he suggested I make it a habit to cover it up in public. Which means, today, I’m wearing a dark beanie on my head with my hair tied back and stuffed into my sweatshirt, plus a hood over my entire head and dark sunglasses on my face. I explain all that to my friends and add, “My therapist also said, if I do happen to get recognized while dressed like this, I’ll be giving off such big hermit energy, people will most likely respect that and leave me alone.”
“Or maybe they won’t recognize you at all,” Colin says, “but they’ll still leave you alone because you look like you’re about to abduct their children.”
“What else did the therapist say?” Fish asks.
“He encouraged me to get a new motorcycle to replace the one that crapped out right before the tour. But this time around, he said I should wear a full helmet with a face shield when I ride, not the half helmet I used to wear. He said lots of celebrities get around LA that way, totally unrecognized.” I shrug. “I was gonna get a new bike, anyway. But he just lit a fire under my ass to do it right away.”
Colin lights a cigarette, takes a drag, and speaks through his exhale. “What kind you gonna get?”
“Some sort of cruiser. I’ll probably go shopping for it next week. You wanna come?”
Both guys say they do.
“We might have to bring a bodyguard with us. The therapist said I’m most recognizable when I’m with you two.”
“Whatever, Daxy,” Fish says. “We’ll make it work.”
I gesture to Colin’s fancy new ride. “I like your wheels. Blatant dick metaphor.”
“Yeah, pretty sick, huh?” Colin replies. “Now I just need a place to live. You find something yet?”
I shake my head. “I’ll probably get a condo in one of those high-rises by the beach. There was this one cool place with a doorman and surveillance. That should be plenty of security. I don’t need a lot of space. I just wanna see the ocean when I wake up.”
Fish gestures up the street to Dean’s gated beachfront house. “You mean you don’t want a compound on the cliffs of Malibu?”
“I’ve got no interest in something like this. At least, not yet.”
“I’m surprised Dean lives in a huge place like this,” Fish says. “He seemed like such a simple guy on tour. He reminded me of you.”
“I get it, actually,” I say. “He got himself a place he never needs to leave. A place where everyone can come to him and hang out. I could see myself going that route one day, if the cash keeps rolling in. But I’m not there yet. I wanna save my dough in case the gravy train abruptly jumps the tracks.”
Colin frowns, and I know he’s thinking what I’m about to do inside Dean’s house might very well derail our gravy train. But I also know, because Colin told me so this morning when I met him and Fish at Fish’s new condo to hash things out, he’s one hundred percent behind me. Every bit in my corner as Fish. Once I told Colin I’m in love with Violet, not just in lust with her, and that I think I might have lost her through indecision and cowardice and not wanting to hurt anyone or let anyone down, least of all Fish and Colin, Colin said, “You do you, Daxy. Life’s short. Be happy.”
“I’m honored you took a break from bonin’ your dancer to meet me here, Casanova,” I say to Colin.
“Kiera went to a couple auditions today,” Colin says. “Aloha’s not gonna be touring for quite a while, apparently, and Kiera doesn’t want to tour with anyone else. So, she’s looking for jobs that’ll keep her in L.A. Music videos and stuff like that.”
“Gosh, I wonder why she wants to stay in L.A.,” Fish says, smiling.
Colin takes a drag off his cigarette. “Just to be clear, though, I would have come over here to Malibu to watch you get your ass kicked, regardless. That’s just the kind of supportive friend I am.”
“Yeah, you’re a peach.”
“Speaking of you getting your ass kicked, how’d it go with Reed?” Fish asks.
“Surprisingly well,” I say. I give them the rundown. “I’m sure it made all the difference I love her. If Reed thought I was just banging her, I bet things wouldn’t have gone so well.”
“I knew he’d be cool with it,” Fish says. “Reed’s always had heart-eyes for you, ever since Maui. He was so damned sure you were going to become the next big thing, he was even willing to take me in the deal.”
“Don’t say that, Fish. Reed knows how valuable you are. Both you and Colin.”
Colin and Fish chuckle like I’m a fool.
“Reed literally told me in Maui he didn’t want me,” Fish says.
“What?”
“He said he thought you were gonna top the charts, despite having to drag my sorry ass on your back the whole way.”
“Please, tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“That motherfucker actually said that to you?”
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because, one, he said it like he was joking around. To this day, I don’t know if he was truly being a dick or just attempting to be funny. And, two, I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t sign, just to give Reed the finger. And I didn’t want that to happen.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry, Fish. Reed was way out of line. God, he’s such an asshole sometimes.”
Fish shrugs. “Fuck Reed. I’m laughing all the way to the bank.”
“Reed is such a complicated villain to me. A colossal dick sometimes, and yet, he’s been so good to Violet.”
“There’s no such thing as villains,” Colin says. “Just a whole bunch of people who are the heroes of their own fucked-up stories.”
Fish says, “I don’t think Reed meant to slam me. I think he was just calling it like he saw it. Like, calling his shot in pool. Turns out he was right. We’re at the top of the charts, despite you dragging my sorry ass along for the ride. But guess what? I’m already ten times the bass player I was back in Maui. And I’m only gonna get better and better. In fact, I’ve got a couple basslines I’ve been working on. I thought maybe we could build on ’em to write a couple songs, if you’re down to try writing with me. No pressure, though.”
“Are you kidding me? I’d love to write with you, Fish. Hell yeah.”
Fish is beaming. “Cool. I’ve got some lyrics, too. Some weird shit I wanna bounce off you.”
“Awesome. And just so you know, you’re a sick-ass bass player, Fish Head. Always have been. I wouldn’t want anyone else standing there with me every night.”
“Word,” Colin says.
“Same with you, Colinoscopy. You’re a sick-ass drummer beast, and I couldn’t do what I do without you, either.”
Colin and Fish are both clearly moved. And so am I. On impulse, we all step into a huddle and put our hands in. We make stupid goat noises, ever so briefly, but they don’t make us laugh as usual. This time, they make our Adam’s apples bob.
Col
in clears his throat. “You were right to come at me at the wrap party. I crossed a line. I was speaking out of fear and greed. It was a master class in How to Be a Douchebag.”
“No, it wasn’t. You were just being honest. Always be honest with me—good, bad, or ugly. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to keep this train going. I’m sorry I played a song with secret shout-outs to Violet without telling you what I was doing.”
“Please, just tell me you got lucky after you did that, or it was all for naught,” Colin says.
I chuckle. “Yeah, I got lucky. Very, very lucky. I’m the luckiest guy in the world, in fact.”
“That’s all I need to know.” He shrugs. “If the situation had been reversed, and I’d had the chance to sing a song I’d written for Kiera in front of an entire arena, I might have done it, too. Talk about racking up points.”
“It’s going that well with your dancer?” Fish says to Colin. “Sing-her-a-song-in-an-arena well?”
“So far, so good. She seems like a four-leaf clover.”
Fish rolls his eyes. “And then there’s me. One day, you’re gonna find me, a lone fish, flopping around on a riverbank, taking his last breath through his busted-ass gills, clutching a bottle of lube in his little fish-fin while Pornhub blares on his laptop.”
“Interesting mix of metaphors,” Colin says.
“Your premise is faulty,” I say. “There won’t be traditional laptops by the time you flop around on a riverbank, taking your last breath. You’ll be gasping and fish-flopping while wearing Google goggles.”
“Well, that’ll be so much better.”
There’s a beat. We all look at Dean’s gated house again.
“So... have you figured out how you’re gonna tell Caleb the news you’ve been fucking his ‘one that got away’?” Colin asks.
“I’m just gonna tell him the truth. Which, not coincidentally, is what I’m gonna do in my life, top to bottom, starting now. No more lies about anything. Hiding and lying just isn’t my bag. If I’ve gotta sneak around to do something, then it’s not something I should be doing.” I pause for a long moment. “I think I’m gonna stay sober for a while, guys. At least through the next tour. After that, I’ll reassess.”