by JB Salsbury
“Hey,” he says when he stops in front of Ash.
I wave, and Ashleigh bats her eyelashes.
“What are your names?” he asks, looking between us.
“I’m Ashleigh, and this is Bethany,” Ash says.
He shakes our hands. His grip is a little flimsy. “I’m Neil. Have I seen you ladies here before? You look familiar.”
Ashleigh looks like most of the beautiful bottle-blondes in this place—half-Barbie, half-porn star, one hundred percent gorgeous. I look like a small-town girl trying to fit in with big city nightlife, someone you’d easily see near any college campus.
The two of them talk about Ash’s work and how maybe that’s why she looks familiar, and he goes on to tell her about his job working at a record shop near the ASU campus. They talk about music, and Neil goes off on a tangent about how real music is dead and everything nowadays is overproduced.
Having drained the last of my Coke, I give the two my back and flag down the bartender for another. I may not be aiming for a booze buzz, but a caffeine-and-sugar high is better than nothing.
“I don’t know if I agree,” Ash says in her most flirtatious voice. “What about the new Jesse Lee album?”
My eyes snap forward and my spine stiffens. Jesse already released his new album? Warmth slowly seeps into my chest and I smile despite myself. I subconsciously block out all the noise in the room and zero in on Ashleigh and Neil’s voices.
“All right, all right,” Neil says, “I’ll give you that one. But you have to admit his stuff in the past has been overproduced.”
When I don’t hear Ashleigh respond, I turn around.
She’s smiling at me knowingly. “What do you think, Bethany? Do you like Jesse Lee’s new album?”
What is she doing? “Um…” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard it.”
Neil laughs. Hard. “Wow, you’re the only living soul who hasn’t. It’s all over the radio.”
“I don’t listen to music.” Not a total lie. Since Jesse left, it’s been harder and harder to listen when all of it reminds me of him.
Neil scrunches up his face. “No music? I don’t think we can be friends.”
Ashleigh frowns at the guy. “Do you have a favorite song on that album?”
He sips his beer then shakes his head. “Nah, it’s all a little too sappy for my taste.”
Sappy?
“Mine is ‘Anyone Can Say I Love You,’” Ash says, but her eyes are on me.
My stomach churns, tossing around a ton of Coke and coaxing old feelings back to life.
“Yeah,” Neil says. “Must be everyone’s favorite, it’s been the number-one song in the country for two weeks.”
“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” I set my drink on the bar and scurry away as fast as my high heels will carry me, which isn’t very fast.
Jesse put out a new album?
“Anyone Can Say I Love You?” Those were the last words I said to him. Is it possible the song is about us? No, it’s a coincidence. Jesse writes music to the sound of him pleasuring himself, for crying out loud. No way his new album goes emotionally deeper than an easy orgasm.
I curse myself for being so bitter.
I am not hung up on Jesse Lee.
If I am, I’m in big trouble.
“I’m sorry!” Ashleigh yells at me from across the dance floor.
After three hours of talking and dancing with Neil, we finally managed to give him the slip by disappearing into the most crowded room. My arms are lifted high and I’m in a very happy place, swaying to the beat of a Flo Rida remix.
“I’ve been trying to tell you all week.” She gets closer to my ear. “But when I bring it up, you leave the room.”
I lean close to her ear. “That’s because I don’t care.”
She frowns. “How can you not care? You have to listen to the album! It’s all about you!”
“Ha! That’s funny.” No, it’s not, it’s heartbreaking. “How could it possibly be about me? Jesse has loved every woman he’s ever been with! Do you have any idea the number attached to that?” I use my hands at my temples to mime mind-blowing.
She’s already shaking her head while simultaneously shaking her ass. “If you’d just listen to it, you’d understand!”
I stop moving, feeling a swell of anger behind my ribs. “Why are you doing this? You heard what he said—I’m bat-shit crazy. He left!” Dammit, my eyes burn. “I haven’t heard from him in three months! I just want to move on, and you are not making that easier by refusing to give up talking about him.”
I whirl around and stomp off the dance floor, knocking into people the entire way. I shove through the crowd and blink back the emotion swelling in my eyes. The bar has already done last call, so it has to be close to two o’clock in the morning.
On my tiptoes, I find the club entrance and bolt toward it. I’m knocked aside by a group of drunk girls, but I don’t lose my footing as the goal comes into sight.
Big Jim.
He sees me coming and smiles. “Hey, gorgeous. Something I can do for you?”
I clear my throat and hope like hell I don’t look as if I’ve been crying. “Yes, actually. Any chance you’d want to have breakfast with me?”
He looks around then back at me. “Now?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
His smile widens, and I notice he has really dark, thick eyelashes for a man. “Okay, yeah. Let me clock out and grab my keys. I’ll pick you up out front in ten minutes.”
“Perfect.” I hesitate for a few seconds before reaching up to his shoulders, pushing to my tiptoes, and pressing a kiss to his bearded cheek.
His laugh is low, deep, and grumbly. “Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll see you out front.” His gaze lingers a little too long on my body before it settles on my lips, then he turns and walks away.
“So that’s it, huh?” Ashleigh’s leaning up against the doorway. “You really are moving on?”
“Yep.” I want to go on and on about how excited I am to be having breakfast with Big Jim, about how I’m going to get him to kiss me, about how I could see myself having a future with a man like him, but saying any of that is impossible. Lies, lies, all lies.
She smiles, but it’s not convincing. “Good.” She throws her arms around me and squeezes me tightly. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I am. I’m super happy.”
Now her smile is just sad. “Great. I’ll see you at home.”
“Don’t wait up!”
She slides into an Uber and waves goodbye.
A sudden urge to slump to the ground and bawl like an infant overwhelms me, but I suck it back like an adult and wait for my date.
Jesse
“Dude, open the fucking door!”
I’ve been knocking on the door of Ryder’s beachfront Malibu condo for what feels like two days now. I know he’s here. I saw his pickup truck through the window in his garage. After a late-night rehearsal last night, I know the guy is probably passed out asleep. I pound on the door again then turn and watch a glassy set of waves roll to shore. The door clicks behind me.
I spin around as Ryder answers, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. “What the fuck took you so long?”
He cracks one eye. The reflection of the sun from the sand is a bitch to sleep-deprived eyes. “What time is it?”
“Around six o’clock.” I push past him into his house.
“Sure, dickhead, come on in.” He closes the door and follows me into his kitchen.
Ryder moved to LA a month ago. I helped him go house hunting. He decided on this sickass modern condo, and he insisted on two bedrooms for when his family comes to visit him. I thought it was strange at the time—who has family come to visit? Then I imagined Ben and Elliot coming out to LA for a weekend, and yeah, I guess I get it.
“It didn’t fucking work!” I pace the length of Ryder’s living room.
“Let me get som
e caffeine before I even ask what the hell you’re talking about.” He grabs a mug, his eyes on the bag in my hand. “Why are you carrying a bag of Cheetos at six o’clock in the morning?”
I look at the bag and toss it onto the counter. “I don’t fucking know. I can’t drink, I can’t do drugs, and I can’t even think about fucking anyone without getting sick to my stomach. Cheetos seemed like the next best thing.”
He nods. “Makes sense. Coffee?”
I drop onto his couch. “I guess.”
Soon enough, he brings me a cup of coffee and sits in a leather wingback across from me.
“You want to know the kind of shit I woke up—”
He holds up his hand, silencing me as he sips from his coffee. “Wait.” Another few sips. “One more.” And another. He licks his lips and nods. “Okay, I’m ready.”
I set down my coffee, punch my finger into my phone, and toss it to him.
He catches it and squints at the screen. “Oh shit.”
“Oh shit is right!” I push up from the couch, unable to contain the frustrated energy brewing just below my skin. “Can you believe that crap?”
“She looks happy.”
I whirl around, my mouth gaping.
“Sorry. Too soon?”
“Yes, it’s fucking too soon! I poured out my heart to her in that album. I put all my shit on the line for the world to hear to get her to hear me out and it didn’t work!” I snag my phone and jab my finger at the photo of Bethany and Grizzly Adams sharing an intimate meal at fucking Denny’s. “Do you see what she’s wearing?”
I scroll through the images sent to me by the PI I hired to keep an eye on her after I released the album I named Playing by Heart because that’s exactly what I’m doing. I wanted to make sure the paparazzi—oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I’m a selfish dick and I wanted to know if she’d heard it, if she loved it, if she’d moved on.
“She looks hot.” He shrugs.
“That’s it.” I snag the bag of Cheetos. “I’m leaving.”
“Easy, Jesse.” Ryder points at the couch. “Put the Cheetos down and come sit.”
I sit, but I don’t drop the bag. “I’ve been losing my mind without her. Dr. Ulrich keeps saying it’ll get easier, but it doesn’t. I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin. She asked for space and I gave it to her, thinking she’d eventually come back but…” Oh shit, my throat feels tight. I try to clear it, but it doesn’t help. “I don’t think she likes me anymore.”
“You could be right—”
“Why did I come here?”
“But you’re probably wrong.”
My eyes snap to his. “Why do you say that?” Tell me she still loves me, tell me there’s still a chance, tell me she’s coming back!
“Women, they love grand gestures.”
“I wrote her a fucking album. Songs about her or inspired by her are making top-ten lists all over the world. What more does she want?”
“That’s true, but it means nothing if she hasn’t heard it.”
I frown.
“You need to get in her face.”
“How?”
“That’s for you to figure out.”
“I tried that, remember? I made her throw up in front of the church and she told me to leave her alone.”
“Sneak attack. Trick her into hearing you when she doesn’t know it’s you.”
“You’re talking in riddles, man.”
“Hmm…” He scratches his jaw. “She did mention she likes Justin Timberlake.”
I roll my eyes.
“I think it’s time you patch things up with JT and ask him for a favor.”
25
Bethany
Jesse Lee is Gay.
I glare at the news article taped to my refrigerator. The photo below the headline is of Ryder walking the streets of Los Angeles with a blacked-out form of a man I’m guessing is Jesse.
“Ash!”
“Yeah?” She’s in the living room, watching Netflix in her pajamas.
“I thought I told you I’m not interested in anything Jesse related.”
“I blacked out his photo with Sharpie. Just read the article.”
“I don’t want to.” I rip it from the Maytag and carry it to the trash, allowing my eyes to skim the words.
Sworn off women. Seen frequently with drummer Ryder Kyle. Has the Coast-to-Coast Casanova worked his way through one sex and is moving on to the next?
“That’s ridiculous.” I crumble up the paper and toss it in the trash.
Jesse is the most heterosexual man I’ve ever known. And I didn’t pick up a gay feeling from Ryder in the time I spent with him. The media will twist anything in order to make a story.
I told you not to believe everything you read about me.
I close my eyes as Jesse’s words echo through my head.
“So? You think he is?” Ashleigh asks.
I grab a water bottle from the fridge and shove it into my purse.
“No way.”
She shovels popcorn into her mouth. “Weird though, right? That he’s sworn off women?”
“There is no way that’s true. He’s just hiding it better now that he’s sober.”
“What time is the concert?”
I check the clock. “It starts at seven. I can’t believe Ben is letting me take Elliot to her first concert. I figured he’d want to go with her.”
“Nah, first concert is a mother-daughter thing. I’m sure he wouldn’t have nearly as much fun swooning over JT as you and Elliot will. Which reminds me, I should put on something nicer for when I drop you off.” She pops her eyebrows. “It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t walk you to the door.”
My phone pings with a new text as Ash runs to her room to get changed.
Have fun tonight.
My chest tightens when I read the text from Big Jim. We had a great time eating Moons Over My Hammy, and since then, he’s asked me out a few times. I’ve always politely declined. The fact is, Ash was right. I’m not over Jesse.
I miss the way he teased me—even when he called me genius because he knew it drove me nuts. I miss how he looked at me as though I was the only person in the room and how he told me he loved me no matter who heard him. Even if he didn’t really mean it.
In the two weeks since Ashleigh bombarded me at the club about Jesse’s new album, I’ve been tempted to look it up. I’ve gone as far as searching for the album name. Playing by Heart. Sounds romantic. Or maybe it’s a reference to his band. I’m afraid to find out.
“Ready?” Ashleigh adjusts her pushup bra under her simple white V-neck T-shirt.
“Yeah.”
The ride to Ben’s is short, and I grab my purse and jump out, hearing the click of Ash’s high heels behind me. I look down at my own outfit—Converse low tops, boyfriend jeans rolled at the ankle, and a pink off-the-shoulder sweater. Not at all sexy, but good enough for taking the now five-year-old to her first concert.
I knock on the door and Ben answers. “Bethany, hey—” His eyes slide to my left where Ashleigh stands. He quickly turns his head as if he’s trying to avoid looking at her boobs, and honestly, looking away is the only way not to see them. “Hey, Ashleigh.” He manages to force his gaze to her eyes.
“Hey, Pastor Langley. I was just dropping off Bethany and thought I’d say hi.” She smiles and bounces a little. “I also wanted to get a picture of the girls before they take off to see JT.”
“Sure, of course.” He backs up and opens the door. “Come on in.”
We pass him as we walk into the house.
“Nice sweatpants, pastor.”
When he looks down at his pants, Ashleigh looks at me and bites her lip.
“Stop it!” I mouth.
“Uh, thank you?”
She shrugs. “You’re welcome. I only ever see you in church clothes, so it’s refreshing to see you have a casual side.”
He shifts on his feet and rubs the back of his neck as if every word out of Ashleigh’s mout
h turns up the heat in the room.
“Bethany!” Elliot comes running down the hallway, her hair in a high ponytail complete with a huge black bow. “Look at the shirt the radio show sent me!” She points at her torso where there’s a screen-printed photo of JT.
“That was nice of them.” I hug her.
“I’m still amazed you won these tickets,” Ashleigh says to Pastor Ben, who smiles awkwardly.
His eyes widen and he nods. “Mm-hm. Let’s get a couple pictures so you guys don’t miss the opening band.” He pulls out his phone.
I squat next to Elliot, take her in my arms, and say, “Cheese!”
Ashleigh squeezes in beside him, brushes up against him, and doesn’t apologize for it. She snaps a couple pictures then lowers her phone. “Okay, you two! Have fun tonight.”
Ben hands Elliot her jacket. “Yeah, and call me if you need me.” He hands me the keys to the minivan. “Thank you for taking her.”
“Of course. I’m honored.”
A flash of worry crosses his face, and I’m sure he’s concerned about Elliot’s safety. The radio station gave us tickets in some kind of VIP section though, so we’ll be away from the crowds of fangirls and boys.
“I’ll text you when we get there and before we leave.”
His eyes widen. “Um. Great.”
Wow, he’s really a mess.
I snag Elliot’s hand and walk her out, turning back to see Ash and Ben standing side by side in the doorway. Poor Ben. He’s going to have one hell of a time getting rid of her.
I help Elliot into her car seat. “How excited are you?”
“I am so excited!”
“Me too.”
We arrive at Talking Stick Arena right at eight o’clock. The parking takes longer than I thought, and by the time we go through security and find our seats, the opening band is mid-set.
We’re in the front row, so close I can see the stud in the lead singer’s nose and the snakeskin texture of his pants. Elliot’s gaze is fixed on the lights, and for a moment, I feel sad that her first concert isn’t her own uncle’s. Not that I should feel bad. After all, Jesse is the adult and if his niece was important to him, he’d make that happen.
