by Lane Hayes
“Thanks. You’re right.” Charlie smiled.
I returned the gesture and got lost in the moment. Or in Charlie. I studied the color of his eyes. The green-and-gold flecks and the deep shade of blue. They looked like sea glass. The bright pieces that washed to shore and glistened in the sunlight, begging to be picked up and taken home. At that very second, I felt that way about him.
It was practically my duty to break the connection with a bad joke or a teasing remark.
“Your eyeliner is messed up on this side.” I set my thumb under his left eye and got my hand smacked.
“I’m not wearing eyeliner, genius.” He swallowed a mouthful of pancakes, then reached for his coffee mug and studied me over the rim. “We should talk about Saturday, shouldn’t we?”
“It was amazing.”
Charlie smiled. “Yeah. It was.”
“I can’t wait to do it again.”
“What about Zero?”
“That’s separate,” I replied quickly. “I don’t care if they know or not, but what we do isn’t anyone’s business.”
“You’d tell them?”
“Sure, why not?”
Charlie’s brow creased slightly. “So you don’t care who knows that we…”
“Fucked,” I supplied.
“Well, good for you two! Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked with a hearty chuckle.
“No, thanks.” Charlie widened his eyes and shook his head slowly. When she walked away, he kicked my shin. Hard. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Ow. Geez. Nothing’s wrong. I’m serious. I don’t care who knows. I don’t care if they know I can’t wait to do it again. You know, for an overly confident, fabulous dude, you seem to have a confidence leak,” I huffed.
Charlie patted his mouth with his napkin daintily. “The fact that you noticed doesn’t bode well for me. I told you I’m a mess. And since you know that now…why me? Why now? I know you’ve had some experience with other guys. Were they like me?”
“I don’t know anyone like you. I don’t think there is anyone else like you, Char. As far as why…I think we fit. I like being with you. You make me laugh, you make me crazy, you make me lose my place and remember what’s important. You make me want to bend you over this table and fuck you senseless. I’ve never come inside anyone before. It was literally the hottest thing ever. And it was even better because it was you. I have zero regrets about what we’ve done. If I did, you’d know it.”
“How?” he asked softly.
“We wouldn’t be sitting here right now. But the funny thing is…I don’t want to be anywhere else. I don’t want to run or hide or quit the band. I’m happy. And with all the family stuff going on, that’s kind of surprising,” I said with a half laugh.
“Hmm. Me too. This might seem forward, but…if we’re going to do it again, I think we should be monogamous. I don’t want to be with anyone else and if you feel the same way…”
“I do. Yeah. I want that. I want you. Only you.”
“Okay. Me too. I just want you to be sure.”
“I’m positive, Char. I don’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else. I have no clue how to make you want me as much as I want you, but I’m okay to just hang out and try to make you laugh. I’m not gonna question it. I’m too grateful to wonder why, and I don’t want to jinx it.”
Charlie bit his bottom lip. “That’s so…romantic.”
“Really? I usually suck at romance. But I am good at keeping it real. And under your oversized sunglasses and invisible socks, I think you are too. So, let’s agree to a no-BS truce. We do what we want, no explanations required to anyone other than us. Maybe we can both set aside our doubts, acknowledge there’s something between us, and…start over.”
“From scratch?” he asked shyly.
“Exactly.”
“Okay.”
We shared a smile to commemorate our loose agreement to not fight the feeling. But when the moment stretched and my cheeks began to hurt, I cut into the side of his pancake stack and busted up laughing when he poured salt into my coffee cup.
“That was vicious,” I deadpanned.
“Drastic actions require drastic measures.” Charlie glanced around the restaurant, then at me. “I don’t see our waitress. I’m going to order breakfast for the band. Bribery might be a loser’s crutch, but bacon changes everything. Be right back, boyfriend.”
He paused for a moment as if waiting for my reaction. He wasn’t going to get one. I meant it when I said I didn’t do labels. Boyfriend, girlfriend, gay, bi…what difference did it make? If something was real and worth fighting for, it would reveal itself. Just admitting we wanted to be on the same page seemed like a lot for now.
When I held eye contact and traded his mug for mine, he snorted in amusement and slid out of the booth. I watched the graceful sway of his hips as he headed toward the front of the restaurant. He smiled at the hostess and said something that made her laugh and I just…I wanted to be part of it. I wanted all his details. I wanted to know if he used his casually flippant tone or if he laid on a little extra charm. I’d never met anyone who could cut you to ribbons with a look and offer a Band-Aid the next second. Yeah, I’d noticed it months ago, but this weird feeling, a combination of butterflies and cotton mouth, wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was I.
7
Charlie
Power outfits mattered. I was a firm believer that subtlety got you nowhere in life. If you wanted to be noticed, you’d better stand up tall in those perfectly pressed khakis and the designer shirt that cost more than your car payment, put a smile on your face, and act like you knew what the fuck you were doing. Even when you didn’t. The thing was, I’d made a tactical error in finagling a job working for my godfather’s boyfriend. Like it or not, Justin and I had become insta-family. He wasn’t likely to fire me for ineptitude, but just knowing he had cause made me anxious and irritable at the same time. My pink sweater wouldn’t impress the band, but I hoped the extra pancakes and bacon I ordered after Ky and I ate would soften them.
This was going to be a test in more ways than one, I mused, listening to the low hum of voices and laughter coming from the kitchen. I took a quick peek in the mirror in the entry and patted down the wayward curls Ky had mussed in our epic make-out session in his truck in the IHOP parking lot. Just the thought of his fingers in my hair and his tongue colliding with mine was enough to make the blood flow south. I wasn’t sure if I was capable of acting casual around Ky. He said he didn’t care if anyone knew about us, but neither of us was ready to make an announcement. I might not do subtle well, but I could keep quiet for important things. I hoped.
Chester barked and ran circles between my legs when I entered the great room. I set the take-out containers on the island and raised my hands in the air in surrender.
“I fucked up and I’m sorry, but I brought pancakes.”
Tegan and Justin glanced at each other, Johnny gave me a thumbs-up, and Ky…he just smiled. And everything seemed okay again.
“What about hash browns?” he asked mischievously.
“Hash browns with pancakes? Gross.” I made a face and tried not to laugh when he waggled his brows.
“I smell bacon,” Justin said, popping open one of the containers. He handed a slice to Gray and took one for himself before moving toward me. “You’re forgiven.”
“Thanks.”
“But I’m really curious about Declan now. I know it’s not your job, but if you happen to find out what the fuck he’s up to, pass it along. He’s not a solo act. Not his style. It’s weird that he’d be signed before us when he’s clearly not ready. Something’s fishy.”
“We’ll go elsewhere,” I replied. “They aren’t the only game in town.”
“I know. But they showed their hand for a reason. They want us…or they want to play games with us. Gotta wonder what the motivation is, eh?” Justin dusted his hands on his jeans and raised his hand for a high five.
I tapped
my hand against his. “I’ll dig around. In the meantime, we have Sony, Vin…”
The guys groaned in unison, someone’s cell blared “Eye of the Tiger,” and Chester started a new round of barking. The sudden blast of noise signaled a reset of sorts, the way I’d always imagined it did in big families. I supposed it made sense. None of us were related by blood, not even Gray and me, but we’d become more than we set out to be. They were my brothers.
Well, except for Ky.
I shot a clandestine glance his way and started when Chester barreled toward me out of nowhere. Gray let him clean up the bacon bit he was after, then scooped him up and bumped my shoulder.
“Hey, you’re doing just fine. Don’t let one bad meeting get you down,” he said in a fatherly tone.
“I won’t.”
“Good. If you need any help, ask me. You’re not alone here, you know.”
I inclined my head. “Thank you.”
He started to walk away but stepped back. “Are you wearing a new cologne?”
“No, why? Do I smell bad?” I frowned, petting Chester behind his pointy black ears.
“No, just different, like—ugh, Chester. I’m gonna take him outside.”
I nodded and let out a sigh of relief. Gray was like a bloodhound. If Chester wasn’t here to distract him, he’d figure out I smelled a little like the bass player I’d been rubbing against all morning.
I peeked at Ky over the rim of my coffee mug and wasn’t surprised when my heart skipped and somersaulted. He leaned against the island with his arms crossed, looking sexier than anyone should in blue board shorts and a skater brand sweatshirt. I studied the creases of humor at the corner of his eyes and found myself smiling when he laughed at something Tegan said. He was complex and mysterious, but so easy to be with. Literally my exact opposite. I liked knowing what I was doing and where I was going, while he let life unfold naturally. I could never be anything like him, but I was happy just to be near him. Ky must have sensed my stare. He held my gaze and this time when he smiled, I knew it was for me. And for now, that was all I needed.
The ocean-meets-mountain motif in the lobby at Sandstone’s office on La Cienega hinted at the origin of the company’s name. Tasteful black-and-white photographs of the Pacific Coast and local mountain vistas were hung on dark wood-paneled walls throughout the waiting room. The five electric guitars behind the tall reception desk were the only indication I was in the right place. Call me crazy, but when your business was specifically music, it seemed like it might be a good idea to advertise it everywhere. Put records and music notes on everything. It was a tad off-putting when your company’s name made it sound like you sold tile to eco-conscious clients, and your office looked like a spa that shared space with a guitar repair shop. My inner designer, the one who rearranged my condo at whim every other month, wasn’t impressed. And the marketing major in me was flat-out appalled.
However, I wasn’t here to critique Sandstone’s decor choices. Nor was I here to apologize or beg them to reconsider Zero. We had other options. Time was becoming a factor, but we certainly weren’t desperate. Zero didn’t need Sandstone, but I needed to know what happened Saturday night. I obviously hadn’t asked the right questions. Like why the hell they’d offered Declan a recording contract. Sure, he was sexy and talented. But so were a lot of musicians. The guys were right. This felt personal.
It was reminiscent of my father’s ideas for his last PR campaign for the Baxter franchise. He was a firm believer that personal drama sold stories. I supposed it made sense. Nothing caught the public’s attention quite like an old-fashioned train wreck. I didn’t see the point in pissing the band off by casually bringing up their rival and making me look bad. I wanted to do this manager thing on my own to prove I could, but I wasn’t as cunning as I liked to think. I shot a quick text message to my father, glancing up when the door to the main office opened.
“…and we’ll get back to you by Friday for sure with the final numbers.” Daria held her hand out to a sexy long-haired man.
I noted his tattooed biceps overworking the fabric on his snug white T-shirt. My gaze drifted from his broad shoulder to his taut ass in his faded Levis. Damn. Daria must have agreed. Her face turned pink when he shook her hand.
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he said in a low sexy timbre.
“Talk to you soon, Declan.” She waved as he headed for the exit, then pivoted to the receptionist, blatantly ignoring me.
Okay, maybe she didn’t see me. I didn’t stick around to find out. I slipped through the door and followed Declan to the elevator. I stepped into the car behind him and pressed the button for the lobby.
“Hello,” I said pleasantly.
“Hi,” he replied distractedly as he typed a message in his cell. Then he shoved it into his back pocket and did a double take. “Hey, you’re…I know you. Sorry. I forgot your name. I’m Declan McNamara.”
“I know. Allow me to formally introduce myself. I’m Charlie Rourke, Zero’s manager.” I held my hand out like a member of the royal family.
He gave my fingers a small tug and chuckled. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I’m assuming you have places to go and people to meet, but can you spare me a few minutes?”
“Now?”
“Yes. Do you have time for coffee? There’s a Starbucks across the street,” I said as the doors slid open.
Declan studied me for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
I made idle chitchat with him as we made our way to the coffee shop. The weather, the upcoming holidays…that kind of thing. We ordered our drinks and sat outside under a green umbrella at Declan’s suggestion. It was a beautiful November day, but it was borderline chilly. Maybe he wanted easy access for escape in case my impromptu invitation took a bad turn. I gave him a weak smile and tried to think of a polite way to wheedle information from him without giving myself away.
I cradled my to-go cup and thought of an opening line or two before blurting, “What’s with you and Sandstone? Did you really sign with them? What’d they offer you? When did you become a solo artist? And what the fuck is that all about anyway?”
“Wow. Remind me to put my seat belt on first next time, would ya? I’m not sure which question to answer or if I should tell you to fuck off,” Declan said with a laugh.
“You should probably tell me to fuck off, but I hope you don’t. Did you know they wanted to sign Zero?”
He sat back on the steel chair and inclined his head. “I heard something about that.”
I furrowed my brow. “Oh. You don’t care that they’re playing you against each other?”
“Not at all. It could work in my favor.”
“Gee, I thought you were incredibly attractive until you opened your mouth. I hate it when that happens,” I groused.
Declan chuckled. “Hmm. Not sure how to respond to that.”
“How did you sell out so spectacularly? One minute you’re with Xena, the next you’re on your own…using all her old tricks. What’s your gimmick? Were you going to bring up ancient history to sell a few records?”
“You gotta tie your wagon to something or someone that sells in this business. Everyone knows that. You especially. You’re an influencer, right? I follow you on Instagram.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, man. Your page is comedy gold. I love your stories with your cat and your little brother. He’s funny too. How are his glasses working out?”
“Work in progress.” I waved dismissively, then leaned forward. “Flattery will usually get you everywhere with me, but I think you’re a true turd bucket for using some old gripe you have with Justin and Tegan to pump up your career.”
“A turd bucket?” Declan widened his eyes comically. “I’m not using them. I never said a word.”
“You don’t have to. Everyone knows the story. Xena left the band and broke up with Justin who had a brief fling with Tegan. You knew about it and got jealous, so you set them up and made sure Xena walk
ed in on them. Blah, blah, blah. It was titillating a year ago, but it’s boring now. Everyone has moved on. It sounds like you’re the only one who hasn’t. Why not? You’re a good-looking guy. I’ve heard you’re a great musician too. What the hell is the matter with you?” I huffed, barely resisting the urge to lean across the table and smack him upside the head.
“Why do I feel like I’m getting my ass kicked?”
“Maybe you are.” I sighed dramatically and sipped my coffee. “I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry. I’m just trying to put the pieces together.”
“It’s easy. Zero is a band. I’m one guy trying to build a band. No one really knows me.”
“So you admit that you’re riding an old story to get noticed.” I tapped my fingers against my cup and gave him a shrewd once-over. “You do realize they’re going to mute your music by bringing up your old drama. If you’re looking to be a one-hit wonder…congratulations. You’re on your way. If you want more, you’d better rethink your branding. Hooking up with Sandstone isn’t in your best interest.”
“And what is?” he asked sarcastically.
I stood slowly and picked up my cup. “I don’t know. That’s for you to figure out. Good luck.”
“Hold up. Can you help me?”
“How?”
“Be my manager too.”
I wasn’t sure how long I stared at him, but it was long enough for my mouth to go dry. I pulled my ChapStick from my bag and liberally reapplied as I mulled over his suggestion.
“That would be the definition of a conflict of interest.”
Declan shook his head and stood. “It wouldn’t have to be. We could change the story. Or retell it our own way. I don’t know how to do that. I’m a musician. But you do. You’re good at spinning stories. Why not take me on too?”
