by Max Henry
"Ugh." He drops his head back, black undercut falling behind him. "I thought this might actually be interesting."
I ignore his snarky comment and continue. "Do you want Wallace to go through with it?"
He lifts his head and pins me with a no-shit stare. "What do you think?"
"If I knew, I wouldn't ask." I'm thrown back fifteen years to us as teenagers having the same back-and-forth.
"Not really." He shrugs. "While I agree that the cunt who sold your details needs his ass kicked, I don't want my bullshit put under a microscope because of it."
I've never asked him until now. "What did you think of that article?" What sort of asshole brother does that make me?
"I think it had an element of truth to it."
I draw a deep breath and hang my head, hands laced behind my neck.
"But," he stresses. "That doesn't mean it needed to be said."
"What do you mean?" I drop my right arm and turn my head to peer out at him.
"I mean." He drops his feet to the floor and leans on the table also. "That we all think things and feel things, but sometimes they're just for us. You know? Like, I might think the technician smells as though he uses his girlfriend's deodorant, but if he does his job well, why should I say anything?"
I chuckle, dropping my forehead to the table. "That's a fucked-up simile, dude."
"It's the truth, though." He laughs. "Haven't you noticed that?"
"Totally," I cry. "But clearly, you've been thinking on it a hell of a lot more."
Rey shrugs, his grin mirrored in his eyes. "You get my point, though?"
"Yeah. I do."
He frowns, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "Why do you ask?"
"Jeanie." I sigh and stretch my arms across the tabletop. "If I make things serious with her, then Rick says it'll destroy the case."
"What the fuck does Rick know?" Rey snorts. "This is the guy who forgot to book accommodation for an entire leg of the last tour, remember?"
I huff. "How could I forget?"
"You like this woman, huh?"
"Too much." I focus on my fingers, flexing the wide over the flat surface. "For once in my fucking life, I don't know how to fix something."
"Then let her tell you how." He leans back and folds his arms, apparently satisfied with his answer. "Stop being the bossy asshole you are and listen. I bet she has a fair amount to say about it."
"She bit me."
"I love her already," he teases.
"Seriously, though. She's fucking mad that it'll ruin her reputation."
"And you think that's unjustified?" He snorts, one eyebrow raised.
"No. I just think she needs to realize that this is about more than her."
"Is it, though?" Rey shrugs. "The whole fucking thing started because of her. Don't you think she views you going after compensation as an attack on her?" He chuckles. "You've got the woman fucking confused, I reckon."
And I reckon he's just cleared the whole bloody thing up for me.
I sit bolt upright. "You don't mind if the case gets dropped?"
He smirks. "I already told you I don't. Stop looking for excuses and do something for yourself for a change, bro." He shoos me with the tattooed back of one hand. "Fuck off. Get out of here and do what you need to do."
I rise so quickly the chair screeches across the floor. "Call me—"
"If we need you." Rey rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah."
I dive for the door, stalled with his parting words.
"Once you've sorted this out?" He leans on the back legs of the seat. "Bring the woman back here, okay? Because wherever the fuck you have her hidden, I can guarantee she ain't happy about it."
I salute my little brother and then dash out the door.
Do something for me for a change. I guess I am.
FORTY-EIGHT
Jeanie
“Money Comes, Money Goes” - Oddnote
“Hi, Dad.” I pinch my brow with one hand; my eyes shut tight. “How’ve you been?”
“Do I want to know the real reason you’re calling?” He teases, but there’s an element of resentment behind his words.
“Maybe you were right.” I feel a part of my soul leave my body, making that admission. “Music journalism isn’t working out so great.”
He pauses to take a deep breath. “Where are you now? Are you in trouble?”
Only if he counts losing my heart to a bull-headed rock star as trouble. “I’m okay.” Or being involved in a court case. “It’s hard for me to do this, okay?”
“I’m sure it is. But I’m proud of you for coming around.” He softens his tone. “I knew all it would take is time.”
I haven’t spoken to Dad in months. Shit—probably close to a year. He barely knows his daughter these days. We don’t keep in contact enough for him to know how much I’ve changed, what the trials of chasing my dream have taught me, and how much stronger I am for it.
He doesn’t know shit.
But I don’t say that.
“I hoped that perhaps you might help me transition to a more… reliable field.” God damn, I feel like a traitor to my people saying that. I’ve just thrown every journalist with a passion for sharing the music that moves them under the bus.
“I can.” The guy sounds excited. “But if I’m to do this, I want you to do something for me.”
“What is it?” I glance down at the hotel carpet as though I’ll be able to see the essence of who I am melting away.
“Come home. It’ll be easier to collaborate on your new career if we’re under the same roof.”
He asks me to admit complete failure. No parent who truly loves their child would do that, surely? Although, in his mind, I’m sure he thinks he does what’s right for me.
“When?”
“I suppose as soon as you’re ready to dig your teeth in.” He leaves a pregnant pause before hammering the final nail in my coffin. “I have to remind you that you’ll need to smarten up your look if you want to shift to something respectable like what I do.”
Respectable. I shunt the heel of my free hand into one eye, but it doesn’t stop the utter despair from leaking free. “I know.”
“I’m proud of you, Jeanie. I’ll let Mom know you’re coming home.”
I don’t say anything. I leave the guy with his assumption and let him disconnect the call. That was by far the most painful thing I have ever had to do. And I know pain; I had a compound fracture as a kid.
I pull the faux fur higher around my neck and bury myself in its soft warmth. Fuck this shit. Damn my pig ignorance at needing that breakout story. What was wrong with a smooth, steady incline? Why the hell did I have to try too hard to rush to the top?
“Jeanie?”
I jolt at Toby’s call I never heard him come in. I don’t know how much he heard. “Here.” Using my sweater’s neck, I wipe away what leaked tears remain.
His footfalls grow closer, rushed behind me. “I see you found the throw blanket.” I catch the smile in his voice; I’m not brave enough to look.
“Yeah.” I nestle a little deeper and resume pointlessly staring out the window. “It’s a nice touch from the hotel.”
He chuckles, dropping into my periphery. “I brought it with me.”
“Really?” I turn my head his way and peer out over the edge of the blanket.
He grins, peering at me from the corner of his eye. “Yeah. I bought it for your visit. Thought you might like it.”
My fingers flex where I grip the sides to me. “You bought this for me?” Surely not. We weren’t even a thing back then.
Toby nods. He loops his arms around bent knees and stares at his boots.
“I didn’t expect you back already. Did something go wrong?” He can’t have been gone more than an hour at most.
“Opposite.” His shoulders rise beneath the heavy fabric of his wool coat. “Everything went right.” I’ve come to love that coat on him. The stiff collar makes him look darkly dangerous.
&nbs
p; For a heart such as mine, I suppose he is.
“I phoned Rick on the way back here,” he admits. “Talked to him about the subpoena and the case.”
“Did he have any insight on how you can fix it?” The flat monotone of my question gives away my disbelief that anything could have changed.
“Fuck no.” Toby sighs and then leans back, resting his weight on both hands. His coat falls open at his sides, revealing his broad chest.
Once more, I wish I knew how to wrangle a damn camera.
“I told him to drop it entirely.”
I drop the fucking blanket. “You did what?”
He turns to face me, but the explanation never comes. “Hey.” His brow dives. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” I wind my hand between us. “Tell me more about your conversation.”
“You were upset.” He reaches out to touch my face.
I swat his fucking hand away. “Stop it! Just tell me what Rick said, and maybe I won’t be upset anymore.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, keeping his steel gaze on mine. But he obliges. “He might have lost his damn mind about it, considering what they’ve paid on lawyers already. But he can’t do much if I refuse to speak about it.”
“You threatened silence?” I smile a little, eyes wide.
He nods. “Said I’d take a vow and only speak to the guys if he refused to let it go.”
I press a loose fist to my chin and chew my bottom lip. “Why?” I can barely voice the word.
Toby turns his body toward mine; his long legs bent either side of me. He uses the blanket around my waist to tug me closer, dragging my ass across the carpet. “Because he made me choose. Either I made a stand against what media want to do to us, or I chose you.”
“And you chose me?” I sound like a fucking idiot repeating the obvious, but it’s the only way I can comprehend what he’s done.
“I chose you.” He seals the declaration with a soft kiss, pulling away to run the backs of his fingers down the side of my neck. “There’ll be another opportunity to make an example of someone, but there’ll only ever be one you.”
I’m an ugly, snotty mess. My breath hiccups from my throat, and I give in to the urge to cry. I don’t know why I do when his words make me so damn happy, but I guess it’s the leftovers of a stressful fucking day.
“Way to make a guy feel shit,” Toby half-teases, pulling me against his chest. “I thought you might have been happy.”
“I am happy,” I wail.
He smoothes my hair. “Why are you crying then?”
“I don’t know.” I giggle. “I’m so sick of crying.”
He clutches me to him, dotting kisses all over my head and shoulder. “Told you I’d fix things.”
I smack his chest, feeble with the small space I have available between us, but I make my point all the same. His laugh rumbles against me; it’s the sweetest sound.
“You wanna tell me why I found you like this, then?”
I pull away and rearrange the blanket while I talk so that it encompasses us both. “I phoned my dad.”
Toby rests his hands on the back of my ribs, keeping me close. “And?”
“I asked him to help me find another journalism job.” I barely manage to get the last word out before the memory sets me off again. “Shit.”
“Is that not a good thing, having help?”
Bless him—he honestly doesn’t understand. “He said I have to change to be more professional.” I moan the words; my vision blurred when I roll my eyes.
“That’s not cool.” The hint of aggression in his response warms me. “What the fuck does professional even look like? I guess he thinks I’m an amateur then, too, because I don’t have a suit.”
“Oh, no.” I chuckle, swiping at my face. “You’d pass because your bank account makes up for it.”
“We all start somewhere,” he laments more as a comment in general than seeking a response. “You can’t be taken seriously around these parts if you rock up to a concert in a fucking twinset and heels.”
I snort, making a fucking mess of myself. “Jesus. Stay there.” I rise from our cocoon and dash to the bathroom to blow my nose.
“Well, since you’re up already,” Toby calls after me. “Do whatever you want to get ready, but I’ve got somewhere to take you.”
I stick my head out into the bedroom. “Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I need details, Toby.” My face is a reddened, puffy mess. He better take my ass to a darkened movie theater. “Dressy or casual?”
“Yourself,” he emphasizes, his voice growing closer. “Wear what makes you feel comfortable.”
I glance down at his T-shirt and my skinny jeans. “This is comfortable.”
He appears in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame. “Then wear it. You look cute.”
I glare at him and then turn back to the mirror. “I am not cute. I’m hardcore, badass. Not cute. Cute is an anime bunny.”
He gives a lop-sided smile and digs his grave a little deeper. “You’re cute.”
For that response, I make him wait a ridiculously long time while I wash my face, apply a cold facecloth to my eyes, and then disguise what remains with a heavy smoky eye. He slumps on the edge of the spa bath behind me, phone in his hand while he suffers in silence.
“You ready?” I sweep from the room, waiting on the response I’m likely to get with a stupid grin on my face.
“Are you fucking for real?” He emerges, one eyebrow raised. “I was ready when you walked in here.”
“I know.” I chuckle and lean up to place a kiss on the point of his chin. “I was teasing.”
He huffs a laugh when I turn for the door, leaning out to smack me square on the ass. “Troublemaker.”
Perhaps I am? I know we’ve got a long way to go yet before whatever this relationship/union/booty call thing is becomes the norm, but with the weight of defamation lifted from my shoulders, I get a burst of energy I struggled to find. I feel ready to tackle whatever gets thrown our way when this morning, I resigned to the idea it could be easier to call quits.
I reach the door of the suite, jacket in hand, aware of Toby’s proximity behind me. He reaches over my head and sets his palm against the door to stop me from opening it, leaning down to rest his head beside mine.
“You look fucking incredible, Jeanie. You don’t need to change a damn thing. Got it?”
“I think so.” My lips tug up on one side.
He exhales as though relieved and then places a kiss on my cheek before stepping around me to open the door first. “I still think you’re cute, though.”
The asshole is too fast for me to catch, his long legs carrying him toward the lift as he lets his playful laugh echo down the hotel hallway. I allow the suite door to smack closed behind me and then rest against it with a smile on my face.
Maybe walking away from this with the main prize isn’t so bad after all?
FORTY-NINE
Toby
“Told Ya So” – The Matchstick Skeletons
She clutches my hand as though we’re about to walk into her idol’s house, not a nondescript recording studio on the outskirts of the city. “I thought you didn’t want to make me public.”
“That was before I told Rick to shove his court case.” I tug the door open and then shepherd her inside. “And before the video of me hauling your ass out of the airport emerged.”
“Really?” She spins, walking backward a few steps to presumably read my face.
“Really.” I nod over her head. “I’ll show it to you in a minute, but first, I have some people you might like to meet.”
The sound booth sits idle, all three of the guys spaced out around the control room. The tech appears to have been assholed from the building—no doubt Rey’s doing. It’s late in the day and not unusual for us to go deep into the night, but I guess I’ve got something more interesting for the Dark Tide knitting circle to talk about.
I hold the door open and gesture for Jeanie to come in. She shakes her head and takes a step backward, hands clutched in front of her face.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” Emery teases.
I narrow my gaze on the guy. I hadn’t told him shit.
“I filled them in.” Rey shrugs as though it’s nothing.
He sits sprawled on the only armchair. Kris stretches out against the far wall; one leg hooked up—his signature pose. Emery spins circles in the tech’s chair. They’re like three school kids waiting for the recess bell to ring.
“Vulture,” I warn, drawing on my ‘tour’ voice for motivation.
She drops her hands and spots Emery behind me first. The prankster grins and jerks his head our way. “We won’t hurt—much.”
“You won’t fucking hurt her at all.” Kidding, but not really.
“I’m nervous,” she hisses.
“I thought you were a journalist?” I reach out to snag her by the side of my T-shirt.
She ducks to one side. “I am. But this is next level from what I’ve managed to do so far.”
“Just get your cute butt inside.”
Her glare hardens, and she moves into the room as instructed.
“Guys.” I tug Jeanie under my arm. “Meet vulture. Otherwise known to her loved ones as Jeanie.”
Rey leans forward. His shit-stirring grin says it all before he opens his mouth. “This tiny thing is what all the fuss was about?”
She stiffens beside me.
“I’m fucking with you.” He stands and crosses the room. “Welcome to the funhouse.” She’s torn from my grip and lifted clean off the floor in a massive bear hug.
Jeanie squeals and I catch the hint of a smile beneath Kris’ hood.
“Put her down.” I glare at Rey while leaning across to slap Emery’s low-five.
“What’s the matter?” My brother sets Jeanie on her feet and then ruffles her hair. “I thought that was how you greeted her. I mean, that’s what the photos showed you doing.”
“Am I the only one who hasn’t seen them?”
I chuckle at Jeanie’s frustration.
Kris pushes off the wall and holds his phone out for her. “Here.” One word, but for a guy who gets anxious when we change schedule with less than twenty-four hours’ notice, it’s huge.
