thing.”
“Oh, some computer nerd she called ‘boyfriend’ for a day to get him to do a little research for her,” Sloane said with a dismissive wave of her hand and a disdainful snort. “You know how idiots fall over girls like her. I doubt it took her a hot minute to find someone to do her that favor.”
“Idiots like me,” I snorted.
“Well.” She cleared her throat. “It was all good publicity, either way.”
“No such thing as bad.”
She pointed. “You’ve got it.”
I tuned her out after that. I really was fed up with it all. Why did it feel like I spent more time juggling bullshit than working on my music, all the meanwhile billing myself as a fucking musician? It was fucked up.
At least we had a show that night. We’d be landing in less than an hour and driving straight to the venue for the sound check. We had a second show in Denver the next night, too, which mean two nights in same room. A real luxury while touring as expansively as we were. Maybe I’ll actually finish this song sometime in between shows . Assuming I didn’t party too hard.
With the mood I was in, the way I was had Cadence stuck on the brain, odds weren’t in the song’s favor.
═ ♪ ♫ ♪ ═
We wrecked it at the show that night. Ian must have been on something. He played with more energy than I’d known he contained, and he unleashed hell on the stage.
We were only too glad to keep up. My calluses were bleeding before we were through, and the audience was drenched in their own sweat after the solid two-hour show.
“The hell you on?” Adam demanded backstage, jumping on Ian and rubbing his shiny head. “Gonna share or what?”
Ian laughed. He accepted a water bottle from one of the crew guys and bopped Adam on the head with it.
I went straight for the makeshift mini-bar and threw back a shot of whiskey, then poured myself another.
“I’m not on anything, you asshole,” Ian laughed, “I’m just that good!”
“Motherfucker’s getting dick on the regular,” Javier cut in, elbowing Adam. “Dude’s too happy. That’s his problem.”
“My non-problem, you mean,” Ian smirked.
I drank down my shot and walked off with the rest of the bottle in hand. If we were going to party then I would need the liquid enthusiasm. “Is that what it is?” I asked him, gesturing with the booze, “Is it love?” I placed a mocking hand over my heart but I meant the question.
Ian grinned broadly in response.
“Who’s the lucky dude?” Adam asked. “That youngin’ from back in LA?”
“Naw,” Ian said, “It’s that guy, Nick, that I dated for a while last year.” He shook his head. “Nothing felt right after we broke up. Now?” He shrugged.
“Now you’re playing better,” I said. Not as if he was playing badly before—he was a professional.
“Everything’s better.”
Javier whistled between his teeth. “You like being tied down like that?”
“Tied down.” Ian winked. “Tied up.”
Javier spluttered, his drink running down his shirt.
“You guys won’t believe me, but it’s not so bad,” he went on. “Not when you’ve got the right one.”
Adam and Javier both rolled their eyes.
I raised my bottle. “Well, I say congrats to Ian. You cynical motherfuckers.”
We drank in his boyfriend’s honor. Then we drank in honor of all the groupies who would be flooding whatever club or bar we decided to grace with our presence. It was a night worthy of celebration.
But all I saw was green.
Jealousy wasn’t a familiar emotion. I was someone used to getting what he wanted, totally accustomed to always getting my way.
But not everything could just be ordered or demanded or “gotten.” Ian had found one of those things. Love. Part of me thought I’d felt it for every damn woman I’d ever been with, no matter how briefly. Another part of me wondered if I’d ever truly felt it at all.
Either way, it wasn’t something I was counting on finding in any long-term sense. I’d
“Oh, some computer nerd she called ‘boyfriend’ for a day to get him to do a little research for her,” Sloane said with a dismissive wave of her hand and a disdainful snort. “You know how idiots fall over girls like her. I doubt it took her a hot minute to find someone to do her that favor.”
“Idiots like me,” I snorted.
“Well.” She cleared her throat. “It was all good publicity, either way.”
“No such thing as bad.”
She pointed. “You’ve got it.”
I tuned her out after that. I really was fed up with it all. Why did it feel like I spent more time juggling bullshit than working on my music, all the meanwhile billing myself as a fucking musician? It was fucked up.
At least we had a show that night. We’d be landing in less than an hour and driving straight to the venue for the sound check. We had a second show in Denver the next night, too, which mean two nights in same room. A real luxury while touring as expansively as we were. Maybe I’ll actually finish this song sometime in between shows . Assuming I didn’t party too hard.
With the mood I was in, the way I was had Cadence stuck on the brain, odds weren’t in the song’s favor.
═ ♪ ♫ ♪ ═
We wrecked it at the show that night. Ian must have been on something. He played with more energy than I’d known he contained, and he unleashed hell on the stage.
We were only too glad to keep up. My calluses were bleeding before we were through, and the audience was drenched in their own sweat after the solid two-hour show.
“The hell you on?” Adam demanded backstage, jumping on Ian and rubbing his shiny head. “Gonna share or what?”
Ian laughed. He accepted a water bottle from one of the crew guys and bopped Adam on the head with it.
I went straight for the makeshift mini-bar and threw back a shot of whiskey, then poured myself another.
“I’m not on anything, you asshole,” Ian laughed, “I’m just that good!”
“Motherfucker’s getting dick on the regular,” Javier cut in, elbowing Adam. “Dude’s too happy. That’s his problem.”
“My non-problem, you mean,” Ian smirked.
I drank down my shot and walked off with the rest of the bottle in hand. If we were going to party then I would need the liquid enthusiasm. “Is that what it is?” I asked him, gesturing with the booze, “Is it love?” I placed a mocking hand over my heart but I meant the question.
Ian grinned broadly in response.
“Who’s the lucky dude?” Adam asked. “That youngin’ from back in LA?”
“Naw,” Ian said, “It’s that guy, Nick, that I dated for a while last year.” He shook his head. “Nothing felt right after we broke up. Now?” He shrugged.
“Now you’re playing better,” I said. Not as if he was playing badly before—he was a professional.
“Everything’s better.”
Javier whistled between his teeth. “You like being tied down like that?”
“Tied down.” Ian winked. “Tied up.”
Javier spluttered, his drink running down his shirt.
“You guys won’t believe me, but it’s not so bad,” he went on. “Not when you’ve got the right one.”
Adam and Javier both rolled their eyes.
I raised my bottle. “Well, I say congrats to Ian. You cynical motherfuckers.”
We drank in his boyfriend’s honor. Then we drank in honor of all the groupies who would be flooding whatever club or bar we decided to grace with our presence. It was a night worthy of celebration.
But all I saw was green.
Jealousy wasn’t a familiar emotion. I was someone used to getting what he wanted, totally accustomed to always getting my way.
But not everything could just be ordered or demanded or “gotten.” Ian had found one of those things. Love. Part of me thought I’d felt it for every damn woman I’d ever been with, no matter how briefly. Another part of me wondered if I’d ever truly felt it at all.
Either way, it wasn’t something I was counting on finding in any long-term sense. I’d
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