by JB Salsbury
“I’m fine.” I lean to the side to see all the guys standing around as if their waiting for Jesse. “What time are we headed back to Arizona?”
“Dave said the jet would be ready for us at one.” His eyes flicker with worry. “Is that okay?”
“Great.”
His expression relaxes a little. “Cool.” He takes my hand. “Come on, I want you to see how we record a song.”
His palm is a little damper than usual. Maybe holding all the attention in the room has made him nervous. I resist the urge to pull my hand free as his touch scrambles my brain, and I allow him to drag me down a hallway to a room the size of a hotel room. There’s no bed in this room, just comfortable-looking overstuffed couches, tables, a mini-fridge and snack area, and one wall of glass that looks into what I can only describe as a fish bowl. Inside the glass room are microphones, guitars, and a drum kit.
“Make yourself at home, all right?” Jesse says close to my ear, and I refuse to shiver. “There’s food if you’re hungry.”
I nod. “I’m okay.”
He presses a kiss to my lips then smiles. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I wish I could say the same.
Jesse
I’ve been out of practice.
After singing for only a couple hours, my voice is raspy and my throat is aching. I take a swig of water and adjust my headphones then speak into the mic. “Let’s run that one more time.”
Dave’s voice comes into my ears. “I like the sound on this one. I know your throat must be sore, but the sound is perfect for this song.”
Behind his voice, I hear the faint sound of female laughter. I can’t see Bethany from the booth, but it sounds as if one of the guys is making her happy. The angry stir of jealousy rouses the monster. She’s barely spoken to me all morning, and I may have caught a slight smile that may or may not have been directed at me, but that’s it.
“One more time,” I say.
I channel my frustration into the lyrics as I belt “From the Ashes.” We had only planned to get some music down today, but the band loved the song and wrote and recorded their parts yesterday, so I thought I’d try to get the lyrics laid down so we could release a single as soon as possible. I didn’t realize how much I missed this until I got in the booth.
I growl the words, the strain in my voice giving the song an edgy feel I really like.
“That was fantastic. Really fucking good,” Dave says.
I pull off my headphones and exit the booth, eager to listen to it all together. Even before it’s mixed and mastered, I have a feeling it’s going to sound phenomenal. My excitement dies when I see Bethany and Ryder sitting on a couch, facing each other with their palms out, playing slap hand. Ryder’s on top and she’s on bottom. She moves fast but misses and that sends her into a fit of laughter while Ryder watches her as if he’s seeing the sunrise for the first time in a frozen wasteland.
He might be one of the best drummers I’ve ever worked with—not that I’d ever tell him that—but I’m not above breaking his motherfucking arms if he doesn’t back off.
Dave’s talking about something I don’t fully hear as I cross to the happy toddlers on the couch.
“You done playin’ patty cake so we can get some fucking work done?” I growl at Ryder, whose eyes tighten on me.
“I guess so, yeah, but you’re recording vocals so…”
“Does it look like I’m recording now, asshole?”
“Jesse,” Bethany hisses, but I keep my eyes on him. “What is your problem?” Bethany tugs my arm. “Why did you snap at him? He was just keeping me company.”
“I bet he was.”
Her expression turns bored. “Really?”
Ryder looks between Bethany and me, and a slow grin curls his lips. “Ah. Okay. I get it.” He stands and gets right in my face. “Just so you know, I’d never make a play for another man’s girl.” His smile widens, and he looks me up and down before saying, “I’m not like you.”
I gape, trying to decide if I should kick his ass or fire him from the band. Which one would hurt worse?
“Besides.” He looks back at Bethany with pity. “Don’t you think she’s been passed around enough?”
Bethany jumps to her feet. “What are you talking about?”
I turn and put myself in front of her, but being stubborn, she steps aside and asks Ryder again.
He smiles at her, and I want to knuckle-thump the grin off his face. “You were engaged to Nate.”
Bethany blinks in confusion. “What?”
I shove the asshole. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
Dave steps between us, his arms going up hold us back from each other. “Ryder, wrong girl. You’re thinking of Kayla.”
Bethany gasps and whirls toward me, glaring through to my soul. “What is he talking about, Jesse?”
I can’t stand to witness the disappointment I hear so clearly in her voice. I turn away to see Johnny and Dave in conversation. When did the bodyguard get here?
Dave nods a few times then crosses to Bethany and me. “Jes, Johnny’s going to take Bethany to the plane, but I’d like for you to stay so we can work on a couple more songs.”
I’m already shaking my head. “No, I want to go back with Bethany. I’ll come back next week or—”
“Jesse,” Bethany says with her hand on my forearm, “it’s okay. You should stay.”
“No fucking way. I’m going with you.”
Her gaze darts to Dave as though she wants to say something but doesn’t want an audience.
“Dave, give us a minute?” I say.
He checks his watch. “Make it fast. The plane is waiting.”
We watch him walk away then turn to each other.
She runs her tongue along her lower lip. “I need some time.”
“What?”
She blows out a long breath and gathers her hair over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, but after last night, I just need some time to think.”
I grip her hands and pull them to my chest. “I want to be with you. I feel stronger when you’re with me.” I can’t fucking believe I’m saying this shit out loud, but it’s true.
She sighs heavily. “That’s the problem. I don’t think we’re in this for the right reasons, and I’m in no position to be throwing around words like love, trust me.”
“But I do love you.”
Her gaze searches mine, and tears spring to her eyes. “Was Kayla engaged to your old drummer when you told her you loved her just so you could fuck her?”
I cringe at her throwing my own words back at me.
When I don’t answer, she closes her eyes and nods. “That’s what I thought.”
“Bethany.”
“I can’t lose myself to you.” She pulls her hands free from mine and mumbles, “Not again.”
“But I love you.”
She smiles sadly. “If you love me, then please, let me go.”
“I don’t want to.” The monster inside me shakes its head and blows steam from its nose. “If you walk away from me, you’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”
Her expression crumbles, and she looks at me as if she’s looking at a stranger.
Dammit to fuck, the stabbing pain in my chest becomes unbearable.
Dave steps close. “Bethany. Time’s up.”
She shakes her head and turns away from me.
I rush after her. “Wait, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, give me a chance to explain—”
A strong forearm slams into my chest, and Johnny shakes his head.
I throw his shit off me. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
When I look up, Bethany is gone.
Bethany
The flight back to Phoenix is a lot sadder than the flight to Los Angeles was. I stare at the seat across from me, imagining Jesse sitting there with his cocky grin as he makes dirty jokes that flame my cheeks. How many times had Kayla been in my same position?
I pick at t
he ham and Swiss croissant Irving delivered to me just after takeoff. I assumed, having skipped breakfast, that this empty feeling in my stomach was hunger, but after only a couple bites, I realized the food did nothing to satisfy the ache.
Out the window, the barren desert landscape gives way to buildings, freeways, and city streets.
“Miss Park, we’re starting our descent into Phoenix,” Irving says and motions to my food. “Would you like me to take that for you?”
“Sure, thank you.” I prop my chin on my palm and watch out the window as the city gets bigger and bigger. When the wheels hit the ground, I exhale a shaky breath and gather my things.
“It was a pleasure serving you today,” Irving says with a polite nod.
“Thanks for everything.” I climb down the stairs onto the tarmac. No one is waiting for me. No bodyguard, chauffer, or car. “I see how it is.”
I make the short walk into the private terminal. Without the great Jesse Lee on my arm, I’m back to being invisible.
“Excuse me,” I say to a woman wearing a Sky Harbor Elite nametag. “Can you tell me where I can get a cab?”
“I’ll call one for you, Miss Park.” She picks up the phone and punches some numbers while staring at me a little too closely, as if she’s trying to figure out who I am. I assume they only get celebrities, politicians, and royalty through these doors.
Don’t waste the energy, lady. I’m nobody.
“Have a seat.” She nods toward the couches. “I’ll come get you when your car is here.”
“Thanks.” I pull out my phone and grab a seat. I could call Ash and have her pick me up, but it’s a forty-minute drive one way and she’ll ask me what happened. I’m not ready to talk about it.
Not a single text message or call from Jesse. Even though it’s what I asked for, it still stings.
“Miss Park, your executive car is here.”
I lift my eyes from my phone to see a gorgeous black sedan pull right up to the double doors. A man in a black suit comes around the hood and into the terminal.
I stand, wondering if maybe Dave or Jesse did arrange a ride for me after all. “This is for me?”
The airport employee seems confused. “Yes, ma’am.”
I hike my backpack onto my shoulder, and the driver meets me with a professional smile and nod. I follow him out to the car, and when he opens the back door, I almost expect to see Jesse in there, hiding behind the tinted glass. I’m ashamed to admit I’m disappointed to realize the backseat is empty. I slide in and tell the driver my address.
I lean my head against the glass and doze off in the cool, quiet car. Forty minutes feels more like five and we pull up to my apartment.
“We’re here.” He eyes me from the rearview mirror. “That’ll be one-eighty.”
My eyes pop wide. “One hundred eighty dollars?”
“Yes, and gratuity is not included.”
Gratuity? What do I owe him a tip for? “I’m sorry.” I scoot to the edge of my seat to ensure he hears me. “I requested a cab.”
“The Elite terminal only uses executive cars.”
Great. I pull out all my cash, which ends up being fifty-seven dollars, so I hand him my emergencies-only credit card. I never thought being stuck in a Cadillac would constitute an emergency. He runs the card and I tip him five dollars, which makes me sick. I pop the door open, thinking I should’ve made him do it, but I want to get out of there and go crawl into my bed.
Our assigned parking spot is empty. Ash must already be at work. I’m grateful for that. When I get inside, I drop my bag and face-plant onto my bed. The pillows still smell like Jesse. Rather than throw them away, I dig my nose in deeper and breathe him in until I fall asleep.
I jolt awake at the sound of my phone ringing. Jesse? My bedroom is dark, and I blindly search for my phone. My neck muscles protest, sore from passing out on my stomach. I hit Accept so the call won’t go to voicemail and press it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Wow, you sound happy to hear from me.”
My shoulders slump and I fall back onto my mattress at the sound of Wyatt’s voice. “I just woke up. The phone ringing kind of startled me awake.”
“Woke up? Are you sick? I assumed you’d be at work.”
“No, no, I uh… I don’t work tonight.”
“Great! Is it too late to grab some dinner?”
Of course it’s too late—like three months too late—but I don’t think that’s the kind of late he’s talking about. “I think so. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right, how about tomorrow?”
“I work tomorrow night.”
“Geez, Beth, you’re not making this easy on me.”
“What—”
“How about Saturday night? You said you have alternating weekend nights off, right? You work Friday, so you’re off Saturday. No more excuses.”
He remembers that?
“Um…” But what if Jesse is back in town by then? We aren’t really together anymore. Who cares, I still have no desire to hang out with my ex. Which reminds me… “Why are you doing this? Won’t it upset Suzette to know you’re hanging out with me?”
He chuckles. “First off, Suzette doesn’t find you a threat to our relationship.”
Ouch.
“But even if she did, it doesn’t matter. We’re taking a step back, just for a little while, until she figures some things out.”
“Oh—”
“Yeah, there were a few things that came up during our premarital counseling that we need some time to work through.”
Why is he telling me this? “You should keep that kind of stuff between the two of you.”
“So we’re on for Saturday night. Why don’t you meet me at my place?”
“I can’t. It’s not even that I can’t, it’s that I don’t want to. You broke up with me, and you did the right thing.”
“Slow down there, turbo. I’m just asking for a dinner, not a chance to get in your pants.”
I cringe away from the phone. Has he always been this much of a dickhead?
“I just need to talk to you.”
“You got me on the phone now. What do you want to talk to me about?”
“I need to talk to you in person.”
“I don’t think you do—”
“Not at my place then. Anywhere else. I’ll meet you there.”
I rub my eyes and contemplate meeting him so he’ll back off once and for all. “Um, okay, I guess… I’ll meet you at Starbucks. Three o’clock on Saturday.” That’s the least romantic date I can think of.
“I guess if that’s the best you can do…”
Why does every word out of his mouth feel like an insult? “It is.”
“It’s a date.”
“It’s really not.”
“I’ll see you there.”
I drop the phone onto my stomach, and my eyelids get heavy again. I roll to my side and tuck my hands under my head with my phone cradled between them. At least when I sleep, I don’t miss him so much.
21
Bethany
The first twenty-four hours after a breakup is the worst.
The next morning, I wake feeling a little better than I did the night before. I shower and get ready to go to Ben’s with only the mildest nausea turning my gut.
My stomach rumbles, forcing me to the kitchen, where I find Ashleigh at the breakfast bar, bent over her computer while her fingers tap away at the keys. “What are you doing up so early?”
She peeks up. Her face is makeup free, which means she did get home and sleep for at least a few hours last night. She closes her laptop. “Trolling people on Twitter while I wait for you to tell me how LA was.”
I have my back to her as I pull an English muffin from the bag and shrug. “Good. The city isn’t quite as glamorous as I thought it would be. Hollywood Boulevard was dirty and kind of terrifying.”
After pressing toast on the oven, I turn and face her skeptical stare.
“That’s not what I mean
t and you know it.” She holds out her palms and flicks her fingers as if to say “give it to me.” “What happened with Jesse and why do you have Bassett Hound face?”
“I don’t have Bassett Hound face.”
“You do.”
“That’s just what my face looks like!”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“We broke up.” I flop my arms heavily to my sides. “There. Happy?”
She glares. “What did that motherfucker do? I swear to God, I’ll kill him.”
I sigh. “He didn’t do anything. I broke up with him.”
A slow smile curls her mouth. “Hold on, you broke up with Jesse Lee?”
“Yes.”
A horrid snorting sound comes from her nose seconds before she bursts out laughing. “That’s amazing. You broke up with him!”
“It’s not amazing, it’s sad. But yes, I did.”
She finally calms. “Man, that had to chap his ass. I wonder how many times he’s been broken up with? I’d guess none, until you.”
The toaster dings and I put my breakfast on a plate before slathering it with peanut butter. Ashleigh’s probably right, but I don’t think most girls were with Jesse for the right reasons. I stare blankly ahead. Was I?
“Tell me everything. I want details.”
In the ten minutes before I have to catch the bus, I tell Ashleigh about my stay in LA. She predictably loses her shit when I get to the part about the beautiful blonde showing up at Jesse’s door, and her shit loss escalates when I tell her Jesse’s gorgeous ex was his ex-drummer’s now ex-fiancée.
He told her he loved her so he could fuck her.
He used her just like he probably used me.
How did I not feel the similarities to my relationship with Wyatt?
The first time a man toyed with my emotions, I made the biggest mistake of my life to help me forget, a mistake I’m still paying for.
I had to get out of this thing with Jesse before I did something I couldn’t take back.
“You’re saying he didn’t call at all last night?” she says, visibly outraged. “Not even a text?”
I toss what’s left of my breakfast and guzzle some OJ before nodding. “That’s right.”
