I guess she decided she didn’t want that for herself.
She was egged, for crying out loud. I can’t blame her for bailing.
Yet I do.
Ty asks me what’s wrong, and I tell him to mind his own fucking business. Then, because I was a dickhead, I avoid him. Hell, I avoid everyone as much as possible.
The only person I want to be around is Vaughn.
The upside to my fucked-up heart is some good music. My misery has already given me inspiration for a new song, which I’ve been playing all week in my hotel suite. I’m playing it now, too, as a knock thuds on the door and King walks in without waiting for an invitation.
He wasn’t able to make it for the tour’s kick-off shows in New York, but luckily he managed to swing these Miami gigs. The tour has been a massive success so far. Not only that, but my new record is still topping the charts since its release. My fans love my new sound. I’ve gotten thousands of Tweets and emails from people saying it was one hundred percent worth the wait. I forwarded a few of those messages to Jim as an I told you so for his whole “two years with no album, everyone’s going to forget you!” spiel. This new album has already surpassed the sales of Ford, my highestselling record to date.
“Damn shame you wrote this after we finalized the album,” King says when he notices what I’m playing.
He took me out for a drink after the show last night because I didn’t feel like going to any of the parties, and afterward, the two of us hung out in his suite, where I played him the new song. He loved it.
Still does, apparently, because he whistles softly. “I think it’s the most brilliant thing you’ve ever done.”
“We can put it on the next record.” I slowly meet his eyes. “Will there be a next one or are you moving on?”
I hold my breath, anticipating the latter. Nobody stays in my life for longer than a heartbeat. Just ask Vaughn.
“You’re never getting rid of me now. But you will have to wait. I’ve got albums with three other artists to produce first.”
“But you’ll always make time for me, right?”
“Damn right.” He smiles.
I smile back, but it’s halfhearted and puts a strain on my facial muscles. But I do appreciate everything he’s done for me, and I make sure to tell him that. “Thanks for having patience with me, man,” I say awkwardly. “For believing that I was ready to…grow up, I guess.”
“No problem.” He raises a brow. “Except it seems like you’re relapsing, kid. Sitting here sulking when you’ve got thousands of fans waiting for you ain’t exactly a sign of growing up.”
He’s right. I set down the guitar and hop to my feet. I’m already decked out in my concert gear—ripped jeans, tight T-shirt, hair perfectly gelled and a little smudge of eyeliner under the eyes because the girls dig it. Speaking of girls, I know there are about fifty of them with backstage passes gathering outside the door. One tried to sneak in earlier, but Ty was quick to stop her.
Last night there were just as many chicks swarming the backstage area. To my surprise, April was one of them, but luckily she wasn’t there for me. Turns out she recently started dating the front man for the band that’s opening for me. They’re an up-and-coming group from Cali, and they play a mixture of surf/pop/punk/emo…actually, I’m not quite sure how to describe them, but their music isn’t bad.
I don’t know if April and the guy are dating for real or if it’s another made-for-media arrangement, but if it’s fake, then they’re awesome actors. They were all over each other last night.
I guess it’s nice to see her happy. God knows I made her miserable, though I refuse to take all the blame for that. April knew the deal. She never should’ve fallen for me.
Just like I never should’ve fallen for Vaughn.
It’s ironic. I’m April in this situation. I knew going into it that Vaughn was doing it for the money, and yet I still allowed myself to get lost in the illusion.
But…some of it had to be real, didn’t it? The way she looked at me, the way she kissed me. Was I imagining that?
Call her and find out.
I silence the voice. Nope, I’m not that pathetic. I refuse to chase after a girl who dumped me.
“You need to get out there. The promoter is starting to get antsy.” King gives a wry smile. “And I’m pretty certain the stage manager’s losing his mind.”
I nod and follow him to the door, where I pause to take a breath. I can hear the commotion out there and all I want to do is cloak myself in solitude. But I can’t. This is my life. This is what I’ve always dreamed of doing. Which means I can’t be a little bitch and complain about it. All I can do is go out there and sing my heart out.
Or rather, pretend to sing my heart out.
Because I’m pretty sure my heart is back in California with Vaughn Bennett.
HER
My pulse is racing as I’m ushered into the concert venue. My flight was delayed for thirty minutes because of some mechanical issue that I didn’t dare to ask about. The last thing I needed to know was that there might be something wrong with the plane I was boarding. But the pilot didn’t seem concerned about it, and eventually we took off.
I’ve got to admit, it was pretty sweet flying in a private jet. I was sharing it with another Diamond client, a songwriter who spent the five-hour flight raving about Oakley’s new album. Hearing him gush about the “purity” of the lyrics just made me sad. It reminded me of all the time I spent at the studio with Oak, watching him and King work together. Watching him write and rewrite and labor over every word. The whole process was…beautiful. I still don’t know what I want to do with my life, but I do know I want what Oak has. Something that completely captivates me. Something I love so much that I forget myself when I’m doing it. He’s so lucky. I wonder if he realizes that.
Since my flight landed a half hour late, the concert’s already started when I reach the venue. Ty arranged for some poor assistant to take me to Oakley’s dressing room, but Oak is already onstage and I’ve accepted that I’m going to have to talk to him after the show.
We’re halfway down the crowded hallway when I spot Ty. His eyebrows shoot up and then he breaks out in a huge grin. “Vaughn!” he calls out. “Paisley said you were coming but I didn’t believe it till just now.”
He surprises me by pulling me in for a big hug and swinging me around. I notice the curious stares around us, mostly coming from scantily clad girls with VIP lanyards around their necks. I gulp, wondering if any of them had been in Oakley’s dressing room. If they’d gone to the after-parties yesterday and spent time with him. I scan the crowd for April, but don’t see her.
I suddenly feel nervous. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe Paisley’s wrong about the closure stuff. What if Oakley takes one look at me and orders me to get lost?
“Want to go out on the floor?” Ty offers. “I can get you out in the front row or the VIP area in front of the stage.”
I shake my head. I don’t think I want to be surrounded by Oak’s adoring fans. It’ll just be a reminder that I’m not the only one who’s in love with him. That millions of fangirls think he belongs to them.
But I don’t want to miss the show, either. “Is there a way for me to stand in the wings? Is that what you call it? The wings?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, you’re getting the lingo down. Come on.”
Ty takes my arm and leads me down the hall. It’s blistering hot in here, making me sweat under my tank top. And there are people everywhere. Carrying equipment, scribbling on clipboards, barking orders, talking into radios or cell phones. It’s a madhouse.
“Is Jim here?” I ask warily. I haven’t spoken to the man since he couriered the terminated contract to my house.
“Naw, he’s still in LA. He’s flying out for the rest of the East Coast dates. We should probably see him in Chicago.”
We. I don’t know if I should correct him or not. Ty just assumes I’ll be coming to Chicago, too, but it all depends on how Oak reacts when he sees me. Or how I’ll react when I see him. As much as I want him to throw himself at my feet, apologize for ending it and beg me to take him back, I’m not sure I can do that. He broke up with me through managers and paperwork and social media, for Pete’s sake. That’s unforgivable, right?