Almost Fate

by Kylie Gilmore

  Dinner went by way too fast for Laila. Griffin told her all sorts of stories from his time on the road, the venues he played, the people he met. The parties he went to were like a who’s who of celebrity elite.

  “You think I could ever go to one of those parties?” she asked softly.

  “We’ll have one right here after the concert,” Griffin said. “For my birthday. Get a few people in here. Anyone special you’d like to meet?”

  “What about that guy from Hacker?” Laila asked.

  Christina wrinkled her nose. “Not him. He plays for the other team. You want to meet someone who might actually be interested in you, no?”

  Laila couldn’t ever remember blushing as much in her life as she did around Christina. The woman was so blunt and in your face. “Forget it,” Laila said. “Whoever you invite is fine.”

  “I’ll clean up,” Christina announced. “Go tune your guitar, Laila. I’ll listen while I load the dishwasher.”

  “Oh.” That had not been at all what Laila had expected. She’d thought she was going to be the embarrassing center of attention while Griffin and Christina stared at her, judging her for her imperfect musical styling. “Okay.”

  “I’ll get mine too,” Griffin said.

  Laila relaxed considerably. All day she’d felt this incredible pressure to perform and live up to the Griffin Huntley standard, and now it was just some casual playing in the background. She sat on the sofa next to Griffin and they took turns tuning their guitars.

  “Play that carriage ride song you got,” Griffin said.

  She began the melody, her fingers sure on the strings. This was a song she’d played for years. She’d wrote it after she’d watched a romantic movie with a carriage ride through Central Park and felt such longing and, at the same time, an almost toxic bitterness that her life would never be such sweetness. The water ran in the sink as Christina rinsed off the plates.

  She began to sing, her voice thready and thin.

  “Little louder,” Griffin urged at her side.

  He probably couldn’t hear her over the running water in the kitchen. She took a deep breath and launched into the next line, full volume like she did when she was alone.

  “Such sweet tenderness

  “Never to be

  “Carriage ride by your side

  “Not for me

  “Snowflakes on your hair

  “I don’t care

  “Never gonna be, never gonna be like that for me…”

  She finished to stone-cold silence and looked up almost as if from a trance. Griffin was nodding with a small smile playing over his lips. He looked to Christina, and Laila did too. Christina was standing by the sink, just listening. The faucet was off and Laila had no idea how long it had been like that.

  Christina finally spoke. “I wanna hear more.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t,” Laila protested. “I don’t have any more songs.”

  “No, Laila, it’s good,” Griffin said. “That’s the highest compliment.”

  “Do I need to make you slap me again?” Christina threatened.

  Griffin laughed. “Don’t make her make you slap her again! Wait, did I say that right?”

  “Play with her, Griff,” Christina said. “You guys are amazing. Damn lucky in the gene pool.” She dropped the dish towel on the counter, grabbed a glass of wine, and joined them in the living room, sitting in a chair across from them and tucking one leg under her.

  Laila turned to Griffin. “What should we play?”

  He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “‘Crazy Thing.’ It’s her song. Starts on the G chord—”

  “I know it.”

  They played the song. Griffin sang his heart out to Christina, who looked deeply moved. When they finished playing, Christina leaped up and hugged them both.

  The rest of the night was a blur of music; a high Laila had never experienced before ran through her. To be held in such high esteem from such an appreciative audience made her feel like maybe she did have something worth sharing with the world. Christina eventually fell asleep as it got really late.

  “Wait here,” Griffin mouthed to Laila before scooping Christina up and carrying her upstairs to bed. It was two a.m.

  “I can’t believe she won’t marry you,” Laila said when he returned downstairs. “She’s clearly crazy about you.”

  “I love her like I’ve never loved anyone. Even myself.” He grinned, and she laughed. “Maybe you could play something at the concert with me.”

  “I don’t know,” Laila said, stalling. She tucked her guitar back in its case.

  “Think about it,” Griffin said.

  She stood. “I should go.”

  “You have eight days to rehearse. Christina set it all up.” He hugged her. “I believe in you.”

  She was speechless. No one had ever believed in her musical abilities. Her dad hadn’t stuck around long enough to hear when she could finally play decently.

  He pulled back and chucked her under the chin. “Okay?”

  “I’ll think about it,” she finally whispered.

  “I’ll stop by your apartment tomorrow so we can get started rehearsing,” he said. “I’ll tell Christina we need space to create. She respects that.”

  What could she say? Turn down the greatest rock star in the world who wanted to perform with her? Was she really ready for this? And then, she realized with a start, she was. With her brother at her side, she thought maybe she could conquer her stage fright and put herself out there. She did have something worth sharing with the world. It just took someone believing in her to help her believe in herself.

  She nodded once. “See you then.” She headed back to her car with a spring in her step despite the late hour.

  Chapter Eight

  Christina was on edge. Ellie, the reporter from Savage Release, had shown up in town on Tuesday after the press release about Griff’s fundraiser concert. Christina had set up a Q&A in the living room of their rental home, but after Ellie’s article on Griff’s proposal (and Christina’s less-than-enthusiastic response) and her numerous speculative comments about Griff’s “other women,” Christina kept any further access to Griff limited to his concert on Saturday. Unfortunately, Ellie had cozied up to Laila instead. Christina warned Laila not to say anything about Griff that could be used in the article, and she’d sworn she wouldn’t breathe a word, but Christina still didn’t like the two of them hanging out.

  Of course, it didn’t help her nerves that she’d spent much of the past week alone. She was used to the constant hustle of the city and touring. Griff spent nearly the entire day at Laila’s apartment in a creative surge Christina knew better than to mess with. When he got into this kind of creative frenzy, greatness was born. So she did what she did best, kept herself busy with organizing and promoting the fundraiser concert. She even got some local press and TV stations involved. It wasn’t every day that Griffin Huntley played an intimate venue for a good cause.

  Griff was euphoric when he returned to her at night and made good on his promise to wear her out in bed. She couldn’t complain about that part. They hadn’t had two weeks of nothing planned in so long it almost felt like a normal life. Work by day, play by night. Honestly, she felt closer to him than ever. She was beginning to wonder what she was so worried about. He wasn’t her ex. He was so spent with his efforts on her there was no way he could manage to get frisky with anyone else. Of course, the real question was—what would happen if temptation crossed his path when Christina wasn’t with him? Would he resist? When she was with him and saw the love shining in his eyes, she knew the answer definitively. But when she wasn’t with him, she still had that little niggling of doubt.

  Her phone vibrated. Another text from her mom. Christina sighed. She was going to kill her brother for hooking her mom up with texting and the Internet. She was driving her crazy. She glanced at the screen.

  You want me to come out and lend a hand with the concert?

  She quickly texted
back. No.

  She knew her mom just wanted to meet Sydney Roy. She’d been bugging Christina about an autograph ever since she’d seen the picture of Griff with Sydney.

  Christina’s phone rang. She picked it up and immediately said, “I got it covered, Ma.”

  “Are you sure? There’s not much time to bring it all together.”

  “Everything’s under control.”

  “I sure like that Sydney,” her mom hinted.

  Christina didn’t reply. It was uncool to ask for autographs from other famous people. She’d explained that multiple times.

  Her silence didn’t faze her mom, who went on. “Your father and I were dancing to her new album last night—” she lowered her voice “—and a little more, if you know what I mean.”

  Christina cringed. “I gotta go.”

  “Oh? What’re you so busy with? I knew you could use an extra set of hands.”

  “I’m Griff’s manager. I’ve done this kind of work many, many times.”

  Her mom snorted in a very unbecoming way. “Manager. What man wants to be managed?”

  “It’s a business thing,” Christina said through her teeth. “He does the music; I do the business end.”

  “And does he listen?”

  “Yeah, Ma, he listens.”

  “Well, don’t let it carry over to the personal, Christina Marie.”

  Christina rolled her eyes and bit back a retort.

  “Are you rolling your eyes at me?” her mom demanded.

  She sighed. “No, Ma.”

  “I’ve been reading about the concert on the Googly Alerts,” her mom said. “Sounds like his sister might join him for a song.” Christina didn’t bother to correct her Google reference. She suspected her mom said it on purpose to irk her.

  “That’s the plan,” Christina said. She wished her mom would set up a Google Alert on her brother so her mom would start bugging him instead. Unfortunately, middle school math teachers didn’t make headlines all that often. Just a few times for him that were a whole ’nother crazy story involving Griff, which she would’ve found comical if her brother’s future happiness hadn’t been at stake. No one messed with the people Christina loved.

  “You sound tired,” her mom said. “You sure you don’t want me to come out? It’s no bother. I could meet Sydney and be home in time for Monday night poker.”

  Her mom played a mean game of poker with a group of women from the neighborhood and always came back flush with quarters.

  “All good here,” Christina said in a tone of finality.

  “Maybe you could propose to him this time,” her mom said out of nowhere.

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “You are his manager after all. Manage him already!”

  “Love you, bye!” She hung up. Her phone vibrated a few moments later with a text. She snatched it up.

  I’m just saying. You’re not getting any younger.

  She really had to change her number.

  ~ ~ ~

  Laila was seriously having the time of her life. Not only was she creating music with her brother, but she’d really hit it off with Ellie, the music reporter. She was so New York. She had shoulder-length orange hair, buzz cut on one side, and a nose ring. They even went shopping together in the city for a new outfit for Laila to wear to the concert. Christina had given her a credit card to charge it on and asked her to pick up a new wool coat for her as well since hers was stained beyond repair from their brief wrestling match.

  Laila and Ellie had so much in common—love of music, muscled bad boys, and martinis—and had been going out to McGinty’s every night together. Even the nights when Laila had to work, Ellie met up with her after, and she paid for all the drinks! (Ellie had an expense account.) They talked about anything and everything. Ellie even said she’d report on Laila’s performance too, but Laila had declined. She was nervous enough about performing her song at the concert without worrying about that too. She was only doing it to please her brother. In fact, Laila confided to Ellie over her third fabulous martini the night before the concert that she’d written her song in honor of him and Christina. It was a little secret.

  “Because they’re so perfect together, you know,” Laila said, popping the olive into her mouth. “Shh, don’t tell anyone.”

  “Oh, I know,” Ellie said, nodding at the same time. “I saw him propose. They’re in deep.”

  “I know, right?” Laila leaned her head on her hand and stared across the room at a cute guy shooting pool. He had a shaved head, neck tattoo of some kind of bird, and a linebacker body. Nice rear view.

  Ellie giggled. “It’ll happen sooner or later, right?”

  “Absolutely. Griffin said it was just bad timing.” She wiggled her fingers at the guy, but his back was still to her and he didn’t see. Ellie grabbed her fingers, drawing her attention back to her. Laila slowly blinked. “What?”

  “I just had a great idea!” Ellie exclaimed.

  Laila beamed. “That’s great!”

  “The timing would be perfect at the concert after you dedicate your song to them.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. Perfect time for a proposal. Want another martini? My treat.”

  “I wouldn’t say no to more olives,” Laila replied. They were so tasty.

  Ellie ordered her another martini. When it arrived, Ellie raised her glass and gestured for Laila to do the same. “A toast to Griffin and Christina and their happy ever after.”

  Laila clinked her glass and sloshed some on her hand. “Oops!” She licked her hand.

  “I can’t wait to see the perfect proposal,” Ellie said. “With perfect timing.” She threw her arm around Laila. “All thanks to you!”

  “Thank me!” She took a sip of martini because you had to or the toast didn’t count. “And then Griffin will be so happy he won’t even care about the money.”

  “What money?”

  Laila forced herself to focus on her new bestie, but everything seemed a little fuzzy. “Oops. Shh. It’s a secret.”

  Ellie smiled so big Laila just had to smile back. “My lips are sealed,” Ellie declared. “Hey, you should visit me in New York. We’d have a blast in the city.”

  “To-ta-lly,” Laila said, the words coming more slowly now. “I think you’re my best friend.”

  “You’re mine, girlie,” Ellie chirped. “How much money is it?”

  “It’s all mine, none for Griffin,” Laila said. “From our dad.” She lifted her glass and looked to the sky, err, ceiling. “Thanks, Dad! You beautiful jerk!”

  They toasted to that. Everything was perfect thanks to Ellie and olives and her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Christina peeked out the front window the day of the concert. The paparazzi had found their rental house. Wouldn’t take too much digging once they reached Fieldridge. It was a small town and everyone knew Griff through Laila.

  “Griff,” she called upstairs, “you’ve got an audience!”

  “Cool!”

  She grinned. If anyone was meant for this lifestyle, it was him. He headed downstairs wearing a navy blue T-shirt and faded jeans that molded to his body. Work boots too. So freaking hot.

  “Do I look older?” he asked. His birthday was two days away. He was kinda hung up on the number.

  “You look hot,” she replied, skirting the real question. He looked his age, yes, but he kept in good shape and lived cleanly. He had many, many years ahead of him in the spotlight. She’d make sure of it.

  He grinned and crossed to her, banding his arm around her waist and kissing her. There was a commotion outside. Probably the paparazzi snapping pictures. Griff only deepened the kiss, bending her over his arm in what was probably a picture-perfect shot. She would’ve been mad at his publicity-whore ways, but his kisses were amazing and she couldn’t help but revel in it. He let her back up and grinned.

  “Show off,” she said.

  He cradled her cheek and gazed deep into her eyes. “I want the world t
o know I love you.”

  She felt that down to her toes. “Me too.”

  “Ready for the crazy?”

  “Let’s go.”

  They headed out the door and the press pushed in, asking questions about his plans and why he was in Fieldridge. Griff made no comment, as she’d instructed, only smiled and waved, saying he’d see them at the concert. The only reporters who got info from him were interviews she’d signed off on. He signed a few autographs from fans who’d shown up with the press, and then gave his apologetic smile, waving goodbye and getting into the Hummer. He drove this time because he was pumped and loved to drive when he could.

  “Nice crowd,” he said.

  “There’ll be more press at the concert,” she replied.

  “What?” He glanced over at her. “Did you call them?”

  “Yeah. I always handle the publicity for you.”

  “I thought this was going to be an intimate night.”

  “It will be.”

  “Does Laila know?”

  “I assume so. She’s been hanging out with Ellie. I can’t wait to get rid of that one.”

  “Geez, I don’t know if Laila will perform now.”

  “I’ll be front row, far right. Tell her where to find me and just focus like she’s only playing for me.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll tell her.”

  Griff drummed the steering wheel in a beat that played in his head. Usual preshow jitters. As much as he liked to perform, he still had a nerve-racking preshow anxiety phase that launched him even more powerfully when he channeled that energy into the music.

  Once they got to the Greenport Theater, she hustled Griff to the backstage of the theater before peeking out at the audience. It was packed. The press lined up against the back wall, standing room only, though the news station she’d given the exclusive to was sitting front and center, camera rolling, with two additional cameras on the side. Maybe they could add this concert to some bonus footage on a behind-the-music video to promo his next concert tour. It was both for a good cause and involved family. Big-time PR points right there.