by Amity Cross
“Well, while you were shacked up having hot sex with your rock star beau, I did some research.” She handed me a stack of papers she’d printed off the internet. “I’ve ranked everything by review score average and calibrated turn-around times.”
“What’s all this?” Surprisingly, her hot sex comment didn’t make me flush. Usually, I’d be hiding underneath the counter, but it seemed I was already starting to grow into my new role.
“Removalists and storage sheds.” Pointing to the paper on top, she said, “This one is on the outskirts of the city, but it’s on the highway, has good ratings, and the price is decent. They’ll even come and get the stuff if it’s boxed up. Oh, and Hopkins at the real estate office is expecting you to sign the paperwork for the sale.”
“You did all this for me?”
“Of fucking course I did.” She blew a breath between her lips, the gust dislodging a strand of blonde hair. “I even roped Hugo and some of the boys at the pizza shop to come lift boxes and shift furniture. They’re just a phone call away. I think they’re hoping for some Beneath merchandise, but don’t give into their demands, Juni.”
By the time Thursday rolled around, my entire life was packed into the back of a truck and sent off to a storage facility and The Page Break was stripped of all her stock, the reseller finalising everything by handing me a big fat cheque. My belongings had been whittled down to a suitcase half-full of the stuff I wanted to take with me to America and a slouchy boho bag with my tablet, headphones, mobile phone, and coin purse crammed inside. The laptop that’d seen me through all my Sebastian Hale Googling fits went to live with Vanessa and Hugo, along with some furniture and other bits my BFF had salvaged from the donation pile. Ziggy even got to keep his Page Break bed.
As we stood on the footpath outside the empty shop, with Ziggy on his lead beside us, we watched my life roll away down the main drag. I got all choked up watching it grow smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared over the horizon.
“It’s really happening,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. “Everything’s changing.”
“Yeah, but look at where you’re going.” Vanessa slung her arm over my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. “Your mum would be so proud of you, Juni.”
“Proud of me selling off the shop?” I scoffed, my heart heavy.
“No. Proud of you making the hard decisions with a level head, and proud of you for taking a chance on love.”
I sniffed, my throat tightening with unshed tears.
“Now, fuck off,” Vanessa declared as a shiny black car glided into the carpark the truck had just vacated. “Go and be with your hot rock star…and don’t forget to call.”
The driver climbed out and smiled at Vanessa and me, his back suit completely out of place in Point Mambie. “Good afternoon, Miss Rowe.”
Vanessa stood beside me and gave him the once over. “Well hello there, Mr. Posh.”
The driver grinned and turned to me.
“Mr. Hale asked me to deliver this personally to you.” He handed me a package wrapped in brown paper with a silver bow, and one of those A4 orange envelopes.
“He’s not one for gift wrapping is he?” Vanessa drawled.
“It seems there’s something he’s not good at, after all.” I snorted and gave her one last hug. Bending over, I scratched Ziggy behind the ears and his back paw flailed. “Be good for your mum, okay, Zig?”
As the driver took my suitcase and loaded it into the back, I turned to look over The Page Break Bookshop one last time. Memories flooded my mind and I smiled, reluctant to let go.
“Miss Rowe?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the driver hold the car door open for me patiently. It was past time I moved forward.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Vanessa called out as I slipped into the back.
“That doesn’t leave much,” I quipped, waving as the door closed between us.
I set my bag on the seat beside me and set Sebastian’s present in my lap. As the driver started the car and we drove away, I waved out the back window until my best friend and her little dog had disappeared into the distance. Sighing, I settled down into the seat and watched as the Point passed by my window. Who knew when I’d see her again. Vanessa and the town.
“How long will it take us to get to the airport?” I asked the driver.
“About two-and-a-half hours, Miss Rowe.”
“Thank you.”
My fingers tightened around the parcel in my lap. I supposed I should open it.
I reached for the envelope first. When it came to presents, it was always polite to open the card first—Mum had taught me that at a young age. Always make sure to read the message inside, even if they’re lazy and only wrote to and from.
Inside, instead of an oversized novelty card, I found the paperwork for my flight to Sydney. There was a boarding pass and flight information, and a confirmation for the hotel. Well, at least I knew where I was going. Remembering Sebastian’s words, I find that someone usually tells me where I need to be, I chuckled softly to myself. That fact was turning out to be one hundred percent true.
Next, I opened the brown paper parcel, tugging the sticky tape gently. Whatever was inside wasn’t that heavy, but I could feel several different parts inside. It was book-shaped, rectangular and… I opened the wrapping to reveal the innards of Sebastian’s gift.
On top was a slim cardboard box. An elastic closure was wrapped around it with a note tucked underneath and I tugged the little card free. Turning it over, I recognised Sebastian’s handwriting. I hadn’t paid much attention to the way he wrote when I’d received his last letter, but now I traced each word with my fingertips. He wrote in capital letters, making the first letter in each sentence bigger than all the rest. I bet there was a handwriting analyst out there that’d have a field day with his all-caps way of life.
Juniper: For your adventures. xx Sebastian.
I opened the cardboard box and within, I found a black leather journal cover with a removable notebook inside. There were some extra notebooks and a pen amongst the wrapping paper, and I busied myself taking everything out of their packages.
It was a place to record my thoughts and adventures, and to keep all the little things I collected on the way. A spark of inspiration took root in my brain and I wondered if I could use it to help find my missing link. Sebastian had his music, and I wasn’t sure what I had now that The Page Break was dismantled and sold.
I grinned and held the little book against my chest. Sebastian had given me a journal. It made sense considering that he was a songwriter, and I smiled as I ran my hands over the soft leather. There was so much going on in his life and he stopped to remember things about me—the fact I didn’t like wearing jewellery, and that I had a strange attraction to pens and paper, even though I wasn’t a writer, how I liked plain food and how my favourite colour was monochrome—and shared the parts of him that made him whole. Like his favourite pasta place, a funny story about Josh, and now, this journal.
I wondered what he wrote in his. Was it all song lyrics, or did he use it as something more? He definitely had an artist’s soul, despite his reputation as the bad boy of rock.
Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the set list Sebastian had given me at the concert and his love letter, then slipped them into the plastic pocket at the back of the journal for safekeeping.
He got me. He really got me, and that meant more than any diamond or designer leather jacket could.
Finding my phone, I texted him. Thanks for the present. I love it. On my way to the airport now.
I was ready to go out into the world with Sebastian by my side. I was ready to take on any of the demands his life entailed. I was ready to become a part of it all. I was ready to become who I was meant to be…whoever that was. I was so fucking ready, I squirmed in my seat.
I couldn’t get to the airport fast enough.
8
Juniper
Sydney was surreal. The buildi
ngs in shades of grey and blue, were all compacted into one small central swathe of land. Everything was clear—the sky was a pale shade of blue, the weather was mild—and the bustle had an entirely different feel than it did in Melbourne.
A man in a black suit was waiting for me when I disembarked the plane. He had a miniature whiteboard in his hands with my name scrawled across it in blue letters. When we bypassed the luggage carousel, I protested, but he told me my suitcase was already taken care of, whatever that meant.
Glancing at my phone, I frowned. I still hadn’t received a reply to the text I’d sent Sebastian.
A dark sedan was waiting in the taxi zone outside and I was grateful for the ride into the city. It’d been an exhausting day. First, with the removal truck and the sad goodbyes, and secondly, the trek to the airport and subsequent flight.
The car wove through traffic, stopping periodically at red lights. I watched the city flash by as we took the freeway into the CBD, disappearing into tunnels lit with orange lights before darting back to the surface. I held my phone in an iron grip, waiting for the telltale ding of a new text message but it remained silent.
It was probably my anxiety taking me for a ride. Staring at a bus top, I saw an advertisement for Beneath’s new album, This Is Not About Us. I had no idea what the title referenced, but I shoved my earphones into my ears and opened the music app. I’d bought a copy while sitting at Melbourne’s Tullamarine Airport, deciding to do my bit for the Beneath economy.
When we arrived at the hotel, I’d reached the fifth track, Resist Me. It was right after a particularly dirty song called Sin/Sex, which had me worked up enough that I was longing for a little private time with Sebastian.
The doorman opened the door for me and I climbed out of the car. The sun was setting on a tiring day, the light casting long shadows across the façade of the hotel. I was guided inside, someone holding that door open for me.
“Good evening, Miss Rowe,” a man said as I walked in. He was wearing a suit and tie and had a little gold nametag pinned on his lapel, marking him as the Guest Services Manager. “Your bag will be brought up to your room shortly. I understand you already have a key?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He smiled and gestured across the lobby. “The elevators are to your right and your room is situated on the twenty-eighth floor. If there is anything we can do for you, please let us know.” He handed me a card with his name and number printed on it. “Enjoy your stay.”
As I rode the elevator, I stared at my reflection and sighed. My sigh turned into a grunt, then morphed into a laugh. People were holding doors open for me, driving me places, and offering me personalised greetings and service…and they called me Miss Rowe. This life was surreal.
When I finally found the right room, I was ready to drop, but when I stepped inside, the lights were on, signalling someone was home.
A long hallway ran past a bathroom and a closet before opening out to the main room.
A guitar case was leaning against the wall, the hard, black shell covered in worn stickers, and a leather satchel was flung next to it. The top flap was open, and I could see a leather notebook poking out, its pages stuffed with other scraps of paper. Sebastian’s journal. It looked well-used and bore the markings of a frustrated mind.
“Hey.”
I looked up at the sound of Sebastian’s voice and moved farther into the plush hotel room. It wasn’t exactly the penthouse at Crown Towers, but it was still fancy. Beyond the king-sized bed, the suite had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto a balcony, that looked over Sydney Harbour. Through the glass, lit by the last rays of the fiery sunset, I could see the Harbour Bridge and the city beyond. I knew if I stood outside, I’d be able to take in an amazing view of where the ferries departed at Circular Quay.
Sebastian was draped over a couch by the windows, his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table. A stack of papers were beside him, as well as a tablet open on what looked like the Rolling Stone website.
“You didn’t reply to my text,” I said, dumping my bag onto the end of the bed.
“I was in press all day,” he said, looking tired. “I didn’t see it.”
“Oh.” I glanced around the room and studied the view of the Harbour Bridge. It was so close, I couldn’t see all of it.
“Are you hungry? I’m going to get some food sent up.”
“Yeah,” I murmured as some of the spark left my heart. It wasn’t exactly the reception I was expecting and part of me wondered if I’d made the right decision by going all in.
He was just tired, I told myself. We didn’t have to be that couple who were all over each other twenty-four-seven. It didn’t have to always be hot and intense. He may be a famous musician, but he was still human. Besides, I was feeling pretty raw myself.
“Everyone asked about you today,” he said as I moved over to sit beside him.
“They did?”
“Yeah, it pissed Vix off to no end. We’re supposed to be promoting the new album, but all they wanted was gossip.”
“What did you say?” I asked, trying to hide my flush. Being talked about wasn’t always a good thing. I wanted to be supportive, not a distraction, but pinning down rock’s hottest bachelor was going to be a talking point no matter what I did to avoid it.
“That I’m happy.”
I began to glow. “I hope you threw in some stuff about the album, too.”
“Yeah. It’s a fucking great record. The music was all that kept me going…until you came along.”
“Sop.” I nudged him with my shoulder. “How is the album going?”
“It dropped at number one in a heap of countries.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why the label was so pissed about having to release it without any pre-sales or lead single. It’s turned out to be a good marketing gimmick for them.”
“Maybe it’s a middle finger salute to their archaic business model?”
Sebastian laughed and took his phone from his pocket. “I love it when your brain bypasses your filter.”
“Only in certain situations,” I quipped.
Noticing he had a bazillion notifications on his lock screen, I quietened the little voice of doubt that’d been chattering in the back of my mind. He just had a new album release today and he was hot property. I had to chill the fuck out.
“How was everything back home?”
“Fine,” I replied. “All wrapped up in a neat little package. Contracts are signed, my stuff is in storage, and my life now sits in a suitcase that’s currently someplace between the car and here.”
“You seem to be taking it all in stride.”
“Don’t believe it. I’m an anxious mess on the inside.” I picked up Sebastian’s tablet and scanned the Rolling Stone article he’d been reading. It was a review of the new Beneath album, and they loved it.
“You liked your present?” Sebastian asked, holding up his phone so I could see my text.
“I love it.”
“Good. I have one just like it.”
“You know, I find it incredibly sexy that you keep a journal.”
Sebastian grunted and wrapped his arm around my waist. Pressing his lips against my neck, he kissed me softly. “It’s not a dear diary kind of thing,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin, “it’s song lyrics.”
“Which can be incredibly personal.” I tossed the tablet away, distracted by the ache rising between my legs. There was the spark…
“Half of my songs are dirty sex fantasies.” His hand moved underneath my top, his thumb creeping upward over my skin.
I trembled, heat building within my body. “You have crazy handwriting, you know. Don’t you realise all-caps means you’re shouting?”
“I like to be heard.”
“Says the front man of the wildest band in rock.”
“Then I’m in the right job.” Despite the turmoil it caused him.
“Tomorrow night,” I began, thinking of another kind of storm.
“Wha
t about it?”
“What’s the dress code? Is it fancy?” I frowned knowing I had nothing in my suitcase worthy of a big-time music business party. “What do people wear to these things? What are you wearing?”
“A suit, but nothing over the top. It’s not black-tie.”
“I have to go find a dress,” I said with a moan.
“You don’t like shopping?”
“I get the concept, but I don’t know much about clothes. I’d be much happier in jeans and a T-shirt.”
“Don’t look at me,” Sebastian declared. “I prefer your clothes off.”
I rolled my eyes. “So I hear.”
“I’m stuck at the office all day tomorrow but get Harry to help you. He’ll find someplace.”
I heard what he was saying, but it didn’t register. Oh shit. I had no clue what I was doing and everyone knew it. I began to silently freak out, a million and one disaster scenarios playing out behind my eyeballs.
“It’ll be fine,” Sebastian said. Attempting to reassure me, his hand caressed my waist. “Just be yourself and they’ll all see what I see.”
I bit my bottom lip and started worrying it.
“Juniper, they’re testing us.” He took my hand in his and placed a kiss on my palm. “They’d do anything to break us apart. Forcing the tour, the album drop, and all this press, that’s their way of driving a wedge between us.”
“And tomorrow night is my first big test,” I murmured. “Right in the deep-end without any floaties.”
“Our test,” Sebastian corrected.
I smiled, but I knew behind the scenes it was all about me. All of this was second-nature to Sebastian, but to me, it was uncharted territory. The release party was my first real opportunity to shine, or crash and burn. What I did, what I wore, and what I said would be under a microscope. Vix was waiting for a chance to shove me out the door, the press were on tenterhooks waiting for their next big scoop, and who knew what or who else was lurking in the shadows. Groupies, past girlfriends, fans, keyboard warriors, Mallory Grigorio.
