My Life as an Album (Books 1-4): A small town, southern fiction series

by LJ Evans

  I was thoroughly relieved when we got to our own room. “Why was it so bad tonight?” I asked.

  “It’s gotten worse ever since they released the single,” he said.

  “What?” I asked.

  He looked at me with an almost embarrassed grin that only came out when he talked about his success. “’Humanity.’ They released it just before I played at Jake’s fundraiser, and it’s climbing the charts. That’s why it’s been getting crazier at each stop.”

  Which it had been, but I had just assumed it was because they were playing bigger venues.

  Derek sank into the couch, pulling me with him. He looked worn out; more worn out than he had the entire time I’d known him. “Let’s go to bed,” I said.

  “I just need to sit here for a few minutes,” he responded, but his eyes were already drooping.

  “You’ll fall asleep here.”

  “Hmm?”

  And he was out. He didn’t even budge when I pulled away from him. I brought out a blanket from the bedroom and covered him up, and for the first night in many, I went to bed by myself.

  At first, I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about how crazy it had been downstairs, and how different Derek and my real worlds were, and how much his world was going to continue to grow and expand and change. I also tossed and turned because I was aching to find a body next to mine that I’d grown accustomed to having tucked up against me. In only a handful of nights, he’d changed me so that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to sleep on my own in the same way again.

  Eventually, my own exhaustion took over and slumber-land claimed me.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  I woke to fingers on my cheek, and when I opened my still-tired eyes, Derek was smiling at me as he sat next to me on the bed. “You let me fall asleep on the couch, naughty girl.”

  “I’m not exactly big enough to forcibly move you,” I retorted.

  “I’m sure there are things you could have done that would have motivated me.” His sexy tone was back, and that made my heart perk up.

  I brushed my fingers over his cleft, and he bit my finger, sucking it in that way that made my whole body quiver. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” I said with my own smile.

  “No, no, you cannot lure me into your bed now. Too late.” He pulled away.

  “What?” I asked as my heart broke a little.

  “Home, Miss Mia. We get to go home today.”

  “To Tennessee?”

  His surprise registered at the same time my surprise did, because we had different homes. Homes that weren’t anywhere near each other and hadn’t even come into discussion, even if they’d been on my mind. We hadn’t had those kinds of discussions. Instead, we’d played twenty questions about sex and love lives.

  “L.A. home,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Umm. I’m not going to stay at the PlayBabe Mansion,” I told him with a scowl.

  He scowled back. “God, I should hope not. Hugo would try to get you into his bed as soon as he saw you.”

  “Ew!”

  “I agree, ew!” He laughed at my shudder.

  He had his hand moving gently down my leg, sexy as all get out, my body burning to be with his, as we hadn’t been able to be together since the Wooly Bison. When he got to my foot, he started tickling, and I bucked and laughed and gasped into a sitting position, curling my feet up protectively under my body.

  “It lives!” he cried with a triumphant smile.

  “You’re awful,” I said.

  “Awfully good!”

  “Awfully conceited!”

  “Awfully hungry!”

  “Awfully ridiculous!”

  “Come on, Little Bird, please get up so that we can finish our drive today. We get two days at home before we have to leave again.”

  I couldn’t resist his beg. He wanted this. He needed this. I got out of bed, got ready, and tucked our little kitten and luggage back into the Camaro so we could drive all the way to L.A. in one long swoop.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  Derek was driving when we entered the L.A. basin. Even with the Google Map lady, I would have been overwhelmed. Derek didn’t need a compass here; it was his home. It drew me back a little more from the bubble we’d been in where there was just me and Derek and whatever this was between us. Even the band hadn’t invaded in on us in any tangible way, but now we were entering his real world.

  And that made me nervous.

  We hit some curving roads that led out of the noise and traffic and pulled up to a set of huge wrought iron gates with a security guard. My stomach flipped in an entirely different way than Derek made my stomach flip.

  The guard smiled when he saw it was Derek and waved us through. I turned in my seat to watch the gates roll shut behind us. When I turned back around, I was floored by the enormous mansion in front of me. It’s not like we don’t have mansions in Tennessee. We have plenty, but I’d never personally known anyone that lived in one. Even Blake, with all his success, lived in a Victorian in the old part of Nashville.

  “Is this your home?” I asked with a gasp.

  He looked at it as if it was the first time he’d noticed it.

  “Well, it’s really Dylan’s. I live in the guesthouse out back,” he said flippantly.

  “I don’t know what to say to this,” I said as my heart pitter-pattered.

  He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Holy guacamole, Derek, you live in a palace!”

  He laughed. “So, I impressed you?

  “I’m not sure impressed is the right word. Terrified?”

  We pulled up in front of a set of mammoth granite steps that someone had beautifully polished. Probably a servant. Derek had servants! Panic surged through me.

  Derek leaned over and grabbed my chin and said, “Little Bird,” and I stopped and looked at him, trying to push aside the waves of nausea. “It’s my brother’s house. Not mine.”

  “But it’s home,” I said weakly.

  He shrugged again. “It has been.”

  He kissed me, bringing me back to him. To us. To the feeling that reached my toes every time he touched me.

  “Better?” He grinned.

  I smiled back because it was. I just had to focus on Derek and not all the rest for now. I nodded.

  We grabbed Jane and our bags and headed up those shiny steps. The first thing I noticed when we walked in was Seth’s waterfall, the one Cam had told me she’d seen here. There it was, in all its enormity, somehow fitting inside this mansion and making you feel like you were going on a trip to paradise.

  “Holy guacamole,” I said for the second time in almost as many minutes.

  “That’s my brother’s wife, Bianca. She’s pretty showy.”

  “Is that my long-lost, good-for-nothing baby brother?” a booming voice gushed from a hallway. It was nothing like Derek’s smooth voice. This one was all conceited command.

  In came who I presumed to be Dylan Waters. He was blonder and taller than Derek. They almost had nothing in common. Except the cleft. That and maybe the charisma that dripped off them both. You knew that Dylan would own whatever set he walked onto. He was a man in charge. He was “the man.”

  Derek dropped his bags and they hugged, not the typical half hug that men do but a real hug, full of real love and affection. It surprised me again. I guess it shouldn’t have. Derek was a man who seemed to feel everything deeply. It was probably what made him a great songwriter.

  “George says you’ve been pulling all kinds of shit on the tour,” Dylan said when they stepped back.

  Then it clicked, the puzzle piece that was George. George was Dylan’s friend, acquaintance, whatever. He wasn’t Derek’s choice. He’d taken what was given to him.

  “He’s just pissed that I haven’t let him dictate my every move,” Derek said with a goofy grin that seemed so different from his confident charm. All of a sudden, he was the little brother. He was the shadow i
n the superstar’s wake. Maybe Derek and I had more in common than I had ever thought possible for a nobody from nowhere and a sexy musician.

  Derek stepped back and found my fingers, pulling me forward. “Dylan, Mia. Mia, Dylan.” He was beaming, happy. He wanted us to love each other. I wanted to be loved. Good Girl Mia only wants to be liked, after all, but the way Dylan appraised me, I wasn’t sure if I was going to make his cut.

  He shook my hand and smiled at me, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes the way his brother’s did. Instead, his eyes were analyzing, judging. Maybe it was something about being a director and having to analyze the actions of every scene being built in front of him, but I could see that Dylan wasn’t a man to easily approve of anything.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mia.”

  I couldn’t help but flush. “Hopefully all good.”

  “I hear you haven’t seen The Spy Network,” he said as if he was deeply offended, but he was watching me like a hawk. Derek was the eagle. Dylan the hawk. I knew I liked the eagle better.

  My face burned more, and I punched Derek in the shoulder, but he just laughed at me and wrapped me under his arm, tugging me next to his body where I fit. I wondered if his brother thought I was yet another fangirl thriving on his brother’s success.

  “It’s true. I’m more of a book girl,” I finally responded.

  “Well, thank God, because I get so fucking tired of this guy trying to bully us all into reading whatever he’s decided he’s liked. Please, for the love of God, talk books with him,” Dylan joshed us both and winked as if we’d used “books” as a pseudonym for “sex.”

  And hey, that was okay because I’d found that if you did both right, they were similar. Both full of beautiful words and beautiful emotions. The fact that Derek really did like books was not lost on me.

  “Uncle Derek!” a high-pitched squeal interrupted us as a tiny blonde bombshell thrust herself into Derek’s arms, causing him to lose his grip on me.

  “Mags!” Derek said, hugging the little body tightly to him. The way I loved to be hugged. Where there was no space and no hope for escape.

  The blonde-headed body squirmed in his arms. “What have you brought me?”

  He looked chagrinned. “Um.”

  “You didn’t bring me anything?!” she demanded as she pushed against him until he had to put her down, where she promptly stomped her foot and crossed her arms across her tiny chest.

  “Well, I’ve kind of been busy, little tyke.”

  She took me and the carrier I was holding in with a frown.

  “Who’s the bimbo and what does she have?”

  “Maggie!” Dylan and Derek both said at the same time as if it was supposed to be a scold, but they were both laughing. I didn’t know if I should be insulted by this little girl who couldn’t be more than four, or if I should be insulted by their laughing at me.

  “Mags, this is my girlfriend, Mia, and this is our little kitten, Jane.”

  Then I was frozen again. Because he just called me his girlfriend. Was that what he thought I was? I mean, we had been sleeping together—literally and bodily—for a little over a week, but I hadn’t really thought he’d labeled us. Because he knew as well as I did that we only had three weeks together, didn’t he?

  “That’s a stupid name,” Maggie said.

  “Maggie!” her dad said again, but this time there was actually a warning in the tone.

  “Can I see it?” she asked.

  “Yes, but she’s been injured, so you’ll have to be really gentle,” Derek told her. I set the carrier down and opened the door. Jane would usually come out and investigate of her own accord. She was curious, which was probably what had gotten her into trouble with the engine of the Camaro in the first place.

  Today, she just hung out in the carrier. Maggie spread herself out on her belly on the granite floor and looked inside. “Why isn’t she coming out?”

  “She’s a little overwhelmed by all this,” Derek said, but his eyes met mine with a smile that tugged at my heart again because I felt like he was talking about me as much as Jane. He knew me. How he knew me so well after so little time together was a mystery. But he did. He may not know that it was his label that had pushed me over the edge, but he’d known when I’d gone over and was trying to catch me before I fell too far.

  “Can I pet her?”

  “I’d just let her get used to you at first. We’re going to bring her out to the guesthouse, and you can visit her there.“

  “How long are you here for?” Dylan asked.

  “Three days. Well, two more after today,” Derek responded.

  “Good. Bianca’s gone tonight, but she’ll be back tomorrow. We can have a family dinner.”

  Derek groaned.

  “You’re hardly ever here any more. We miss you.”

  “You mean you miss having someone to rib,” Derek said with a smile.

  “Well, what the hell else are little brother’s for?” Dylan teased back. “Come on, Maggie, I’m sure Betty is already freaking out because she can’t find you.”

  The little girl scrambled up off the floor and put her tiny hand in her father’s. They ambled off down the corridor, and I watched them with awe. They were matching, overpowering dynamos. Even the four-year-old demanded more attention than I’d ever demanded in my whole life.

  Derek grabbed Jane’s carrier, closing the door, and then grabbed my hand and his bag and tugged me toward the back of the house. I barely had time to grasp my own bag and follow.

  We walked through several rooms that were ready to receive the Queen of England before we got to a wall of glass. Outside the smudge-less panes was a manicured yard filled with a pool designed for nirvana. In our part of Tennessee, most of the pools were utilitarian. They were built to swim and escape the heat in.

  This pool was the kind you made movies about. The kind that filled romance novels. The kind that made me want to run screaming back to Tennessee because I knew I’d never belong here.

  We made our way around the shimmering water and through a literal jungle until we found another house. A whole house! One story, but still a house. In the backyard! Derek opened the door and set down the bags. He turned to me, pulled everything from my hands, and then pulled me up close to his chest.

  He looked down at me with that serious expression. The one that didn’t last long but always made me sorry if I was the one that brought it to the surface.

  “Miss Mia, stop thinking,” he told me.

  “I’m not.” I tried to look away, but he captured my chin and drew my face up. His hand caressed the edge of my lips.

  “You are. Don’t.”

  Then he was kissing me. Kissing me hard and full of passion. Like he had at the Wooly Bison. Like he hadn’t been able to in the four days since then. For a while, I forgot the world again and concentrated on the space where we made memories for ourselves that would always remain, even if our hearts would eventually be broken.

  It was “Photograph” playing in my head as he led me to his room. The room that was a glimpse of something that didn’t seem to be him at all. That must have been decorated by Bianca, because the room was beige and impersonal, and Derek was neither of those things. He was vivid colors and all humanity wrapped in a beautiful collage like his song said.

  I didn’t care what the room looked like as we shed our clothes and found ourselves in each other’s skin. As I found my way back around his abs and his body that continued to floor me with its gorgeousness. As he found his way back around my body that I seemed to appreciate more because he found it exciting.

  I realized, as we made love in a room that was his but not his, that Ed’s words were true. Loving could heal. Loving could mend your soul. And it was the only thing we could take with us when we died. Like Jake had taken Cam’s love with him. And if I ended up hurt, well, that would be okay, because even though the wounds would bleed, the words that we sang together with our ski
n touching, those words would stay inside the pages that were left behind.

  A Relationship

  COLD COFFEE

  “Tell me how to fall in love the way you want me to.”

  -Ed Sheeran

  When I woke the next morning, it was to an empty bed. I immediately hated that. Hated that I wasn’t wrapped in arms that were tattooed for forgiveness. Hated that I wasn’t next to a body that made mine feel safe and wanted. Hated mornings.

  I heard clanking coming from what I assumed to be a kitchen. I heard sizzling and smelled coffee. It was almost enough to make me want to get out of bed. But not quite enough.

  A few minutes later, Derek appeared in the bedroom doorway with only a pair of jeans on.

  He grinned at me and said, for not the first time, but like it continued to amaze him, “You really hate mornings.”

  “I’m slowly learning to appreciate the possibilities that morning can bring,” I said as I hugged the pillow and watched him.

  “Breakfast is ready.”

  “Not tempting enough.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty darn sure.”

  “Hmm.” He eased toward me. “What can I tempt my Little Bird with?”

  I curled my toes up protectively because he had a bad habit of tickling me or pulling me out of bed when he wanted me to get up. For the first time in days, we didn’t have to be anywhere, and I was kind of liking the idea of staying right where I was. All day. Maybe I could tempt him instead.

  When he got close enough, I grabbed a loop on his jeans. “I think you have this whole day off idea wrong,” I said quietly, and my free hand brushed across his skin.

  “Mia.” He sounded like his brother talking to Maggie yesterday, with a warning tone in his voice.

  “Days off are meant to be spent in bed,” I said.

  He groaned as my hand made another pass. Then he was on top of me, pinning me to the bed like a coyote pins his prey. Except I didn’t feel like prey.

  “You, Miss Mia, are going to be the death of me,” he said huskily.

  “At least it will be a pleasant death,” I said with my own sassy grin.