by Kat Mizera
Other than the corset-style top I’d bought for the Nobody’s Fool show on my birthday. That had probably been a waste of money but I’d loved wearing it. Loved the way Stu stared at my chest while I wore it. I’d probably never wash it because it still sort of smelled like him and I didn’t know why I loved that so much. I guessed it was because it was a reminder of Stu and what was most likely the one and only time we’d be together. I’d cherish the corset and the memories for a long time.
I decided to switch things up the next day and instead of hitting the books right away, I went for a run after breakfast. Well, more like a fast walk. I wasn’t much for exercise, but I knew sitting on my ass seven days a week wasn’t good for me, and that’s pretty much all I’d done the last two years. So I’d started walking and stretching every day. It didn’t do anything for my weight, but I felt better after a brisk walk, and at least I wasn’t gaining weight.
In general, I didn’t have a problem with my weight or the way I looked, but over the years I’d learned that having a pretty face didn’t get you very far because so many guys much preferred a woman with a smokin’ hot body over one with a beautiful face. Guys asked me out, but again, they tended to be boring, studious types that didn’t do anything for me. My mom consistently said I just hadn’t met the right one yet, but I disagreed. I’d totally met the right one. He simply didn’t feel the same way I did.
I laughed to myself, picking up my pace as I waved at one of my parents’ neighbors. Apple Valley was a nice little suburb of Minneapolis and we’d lived in this house since I was a kid. The kitchen and bathrooms had been updated over the years, my parents bought new furniture, and the basement was now finished, but it was still the same house in my head. Comfortable, warm, and inviting. The kind of place I hoped I’d someday have.
My phone buzzed and I depressed the button for answering it since I had my Bluetooth buds in my ears.
“Hey!” Lexi sounded excited.
“Hey, yourself. What’s up?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh, please. Last time you had a surprise for me, you flew me to Vegas and I got so laid I’m still limping.”
Lexi burst out laughing. “You know I can’t look at him now without wondering about those piercings.”
I laughed too. “I’m thinking Zaan would not be happy if you asked to see them.”
“He wouldn’t mind if he was there. I mean, how else would we know if he maybe wanted to get some too?”
We dissolved in laughter all over again. “Oh my god, what’s the surprise?”
“Well, it looks like we’re going on a summer club tour. We’re hitting twenty cities in six weeks. And guess where we’ll be on the Fourth of July?”
“Minneapolis?!” I might have squealed a little.
“Yes!”
“Holy shit, you’ll be here in four weeks.”
“Yup. Stu will be there in four weeks.”
I groaned. “It was a one-time thing.”
“Uh-huh. He’s asked about you.”
“He asked you about me?” I asked, shocked.
“Not me. Zaan. Twice, in fact.”
“He’s asked Zaan about me?”
“He asked Zaan the morning after you left, if you’d gotten home okay and if you’d had a good time. Common courtesy, very sweet, and honestly, he’s a good guy so totally expected. But then…” She paused dramatically.
“I swear, if you don’t keep talking, I’m going to strangle you.”
“Then, I had the gang over for dinner the other night, and apparently when the guys were outside grilling, he asked Zaan if he knew how the studying was going.”
“That’s it?”
“Dude. What’s wrong with you? He asked about you. You don’t casually ask about the one-night stand you never want to see again.”
“Like you said, he’s a nice guy. And he’s probably worried that he upset me or something but doesn’t want to fuck up his friendship with you, so he’s being nice. That’s all.”
“You’re such a pessimist. He’s thinking about you, Linz. Trust me on this.”
“I left him my number, so he could have called, but he didn’t.”
“He’s too gun-shy for something like that.”
“Then why isn’t he talking to you instead of Zaan?”
“Because he knows I’d tell you.”
“Exactly. He doesn’t want to get my hopes up, so he asks Zaan instead of asking you. Which proves my point.”
“Wrong. He can’t do it openly because it’s complicated—at least, in his head it is—so he goes through a back door, which is through Zaan. But he knows damn well Zaan tells me everything unless it’s something he’s told in total confidence. And this was not that.”
I’d stopped walking at this point and squinted at nothing. “So what you’re saying is, Stu knows he’s getting laid when he gets to Minneapolis.”
“Oh ye of little faith. Stu can get laid in every city in this country, probably the world, when he’s on tour. He knows he’s going to see you in Minneapolis. And that’s not the same thing.”
“I think you’re crazy.”
“Make sure you buy something pretty.”
“Lexi, I have ninety-seven dollars and forty-three cents to my name right now. I can’t even buy tampons unless I ask my mom.”
“I’m sending you some cash.”
“No. Stop it. You’ve bailed me out too many times the last couple of years.”
“I’m a millionaire and you’re my best friend. Would you stop it, please? I’m going to Venmo you five hundred bucks and if you don’t accept it, I’ll tell Stu your mom wants to meet him.”
“I’m going to kill you, Alexis Rousseau Hagen.”
“Whatever you say, Lindsay Michele Sager.”
“Seriously, Lexi, don’t do anything to embarrass me, okay? I can’t be distracted like this between now and the bar.”
“You have four weeks to study until you’re cross-eyed. So on the Fourth of July, you’re going to take a day off. And don’t you dare say no—everyone needs a break when they’re studying to clear their head and come back fresh. So I’ll see you in four weeks.”
We disconnected and I stared off at the horizon.
Stu was coming to Minneapolis.
I was in so much fucking trouble.
6
Stu
The day I got out of prison, I promised myself I was going to keep my head down and put one foot in front of the other. I never dreamed those steps would lead me from my modest, secluded, little rental house in L.A. to a studio in Las Vegas, playing in a band with four of the best musicians I’d ever met in my life.
I was twelve years old the first time I picked up a guitar, and the feeling I got that very first time had never gone away. My parents were both musicians, so I’d been playing piano and drums since I was a wee lad. But the moment I held my father’s scratched-up, old Les Paul, I knew it was different. Learning to play it consumed me, and by the time I was fifteen, I’d joined my first band. Playing guitar was the only thing that meant anything to me, and though there had been a lot of bands since then, there had never been one like this one.
I’d formed my old band, Waking Wonder, in Inverness, Scotland, when I was seventeen, with my best mate, Freddie Roth, and two other friends we’d grown up with. It had only taken two years for us to get to America with a record deal. We’d been nineteen and on top of the world. We had a good amount of success and name recognition, women, and more than that, money. So much bloody money in such a short time. And we’d been having the time of our lives. Then everything blew up in my face and it felt like my picture was in the dictionary next to the term “rock bottom.”
Prison was usually rock bottom for most people. I was luckier than most, since I had money, a fantastic lawyer, and my grandmother, who was my rock. Then the second blow came when Freddie’s family sued me for damages for his death and took a big chunk of my money along with what was left of my hope. If th
ere was anything lower than rock bottom, that had been me. Rotting in that prison cell for a year probably could have killed me, but weekly calls to my gran in Scotland kept me mostly sane. Thank god I’d served the first few months while the trial was going on, so I got credit for time served.
I’d been out for two years now and the last year had been fantastic. I was starting to feel human again, like a musician instead of a felon, but the demons, well, they hadn’t faded at all. Memories of what I’d gone through in prison weren’t as bad as what I’d imagined they would be, but it was no picnic either. And there were memories I’d just as soon forget.
I spent a lot of time drinking, staying up all night writing music, and having a stupid amount of sex to avoid dealing with everything I’d been through. The only good thing in prison had been therapy. It had been offered and I’d taken it. Not just because it might be good for me, but also to get me in a safe place for a couple of hours a week. And the biggest thing that shrink had talked about was forgiveness. Forgiving Freddie, forgiving his family, and more than anything else, forgiving myself. For being young, stupid, and trusting.
Trust was something I’d sworn I didn’t have the luxury of anymore, but my mates from Nobody’s Fool were slowly wearing down my resolve in that department. Lexi, our gorgeous young lead singer, was a ray of sunshine every time she walked into the room. Married, completely unavailable, and one of my favorite people in the world. Ford Malone was our rhythm guitarist and he was a badass musician from Texas whose Southern drawl rivaled my Scottish brogue when we were drinking. He was a bit reserved as well, having been burned in the music business enough times to be wary, but still completely in with Nobody’s Fool.
Our rhythm section, bassist Tyler Thompson and drummer Declan “Bash” James, came from a platinum-selling band called Pretty Harts. Their former lead guitarist, the one and only Casey Hart, was rock and roll royalty and now she was actual royalty, married to an Eastern European king. She’d left the band and Tyler and Bash had been looking for something new. They’d stumbled onto Lexi, and Bash had reached out to me since we’d crossed paths on occasion. I wasn’t sure how they found Ford, but the five of us gelled musically right away.
I’d kept an emotional distance until this past winter when Tyler started dating his now wife, pop star Ariel Fox. She’d been as plagued by demons as I was and I’d found a kindred spirit in her. Yet another beautiful, successful, unavailable woman whom I’d brought into my inner circle. Which made a total of three people in my life I trusted—my gran in Scotland, Lexi, and Ariel. It would take longer with the guys, and I’d been honest with them about that, but they were good lads who didn’t seem to mind my emotional unavailability.
And now there was Lindsay. She broke all the rules I’d set up:
No sex with anyone I might have a relationship with.
No face-to-face sex.
No kissing except in the heat of the moment as foreplay.
No oral, unless it was done to me, because it felt too intimate.
I’d done every one of those things with Lindsay and instead of forgetting her the moment it was done, we’d spent the night, cuddled, and had morning-after sex too. On top of all that, she’d left me the sweetest, most delightful note a woman could ever leave a guy after a one-night stand. No guilt. No desperation. Just a simple thank you. And her phone number.
I got a lot of phone numbers from women and every single one went in the trash. Lindsay’s note sat in my wallet, where I took it out and looked at her swirling handwriting and those ten digits a few times a week. It was ridiculous that I couldn’t stop thinking about her. More ridiculous that I’d memorized her phone number. At least I hadn’t added it to my phone yet. That was a step I couldn’t take, no matter how much I wanted to.
Now, as if dreaming about those soulful eyes and curvy body wasn’t bad enough, I was going to see her in just under four weeks. This touring opportunity had come out of nowhere, and while I was excited to get out on tour for the first time since prison, I was also a bit nervous. I’d see people in the industry I hadn’t seen in years, run into old lovers and girlfriends, and maybe even my old band mates from Waking Wonder. My old drummer, Angus Roberts, was in a new band and last I heard they were doing okay. My old singer was back in the U.K., playing in a band in London, though I didn’t know much about them.
I was definitely overthinking things and I reached for the phone. The one person I’d always been able to count on was my grandmother. My father’s mother had five kids before the age of thirty-five and outlived three husbands. She was still energetic and full of mischief, even now in her early-seventies. When Waking Wonder had been at the height of success, I’d flown her to New York to see some of our shows, and it had been a hoot bringing her on tour with us for a few days. She’d loved every minute of it, knew the words to every song, and was far more excited for me than even my parents.
“Stu, love.” She sounded as chipper and excited to hear from me as always. “Is it true you’re going on tour?”
I laughed. “Still stalking me online, Gran?”
“Every day. Who else am I going to stalk?”
“You have a point.” I hesitated, unsure where to start.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked, her voice changing a little, softer and a bit curious. “You all right?”
“I’m…nervous.”
“About the tour?”
“Yeah.”
“You did your time,” she said gently. “It’s the past. You shouldn’t dwell on it. It hurts no one but you.”
“I don’t know what’s waiting out there. Who I’m going to see. What people, and the press, are going to say.”
“They’ve already said it, a dozen times over. At this point, it’s redundant and old news. Hold your head high, Stuart. You’re the strongest man I’ve ever known, surviving the trial, prison, all of it, and you’ll get past anything new that comes up as well.”
“Then why don’t I feel strong?”
“Because you’re alone. Your family is far away, and you haven’t let down your guard.”
“Would you?”
“Not with everyone, but this new band… You have to start somewhere, lad.”
“I trusted my old band and my best mate in the world. Look where that got me.”
“Not everyone is Freddie, and you have to remember, all the other stuff aside, it was an accident. Accidents happen to all of us. Yours just had much more unfortunate results.”
“A bit, yeah.”
“Don’t you think it’s time maybe you found someone to share your life with? Someone who’ll remind you to live again, instead of dwelling on what’s done? I know you get upset with me when I talk about this, but what would be wrong with finding a good woman to love, who loves you back?”
Like Lindsay.
The thought came and went so quickly I almost missed it, but I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on it or it might actually take root.
“And what kind of woman would want to marry a murderer?”
“Bloody hell, stop it!” she snapped. “Didn’t you hear a word I said? It was an accident.”
“Freddie’s dead and apparently that’s all the law cared about.”
She sighed. “I wish I was there with you,” she said after a moment. “Mostly so I could smack you one for being a numpty, but also to make you remember the man you are and the man you’re going to continue to be.”
“Have you spoken to your eldest son lately?” I asked, changing the subject. Not that talking about my father was much better, but at least a little.
“He comes round on Sundays. I talk to your mum a bit more.” She paused. “Are ye still not talking to your parents?”
“I’m talking to them,” I protested. “It’s them not really talking to me.”
“Someone has to make the first move—why can’t it be you?”
“Because I’m the one who was abandoned when I fucking went to prison!” I snapped. I thought I’d come to terms with
my parents’ gradual distancing, but times like now, it came rushing forward and pissed me off all over again.
“It was a hard time,” she said gently. “Remember, you and Freddie grew up on the same street, had all the same friends, knew all the same people… Your parents had a hard time everywhere they went during the trial. Once you were found guilty, it was a hundred times worse.”
“Worse than being in prison?” I countered.
“No, love. Definitely not. You know that’s not what I meant. But you haven’t even been home, haven’t seen them to talk and sort things out.”
I snorted. “Nor have they come here. Even before this happened, they never wanted to come to the U.S. Always too busy, too involved in their own lives. You always found the time.”
“Aye. But I’m retired and widowed. What else do I have to do? Your parents still work, have responsibilities. It’s time for you to come home, Stu. Just for a visit.”
“I’m about to go back on tour, Gran. You know I can’t. Not now.”
“Between this tour and when the big one starts, you need to—”
“The big one? What big one?”
She laughed. “You think big things aren’t coming your way? This band is going to be huge, just like the last one. You’re talented and have a knack for surrounding yourself with people just as talented. I’ve heard the music and it’s even better than the Waking Wonder stuff. You’re on the verge, love, but you need to take a few days to come home.”
“I know. I will.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” I disconnected and stared up at the ceiling for a long time.
The last place I ever wanted to go was home.
7
Lindsay
June was nothing but a blur of studying, reading, the online prep classes, more reading, and big, fat, fifty-dollar legal terms. I had dreams about contracts, constitutional law, and torts. I took my daily walks while reciting criminal and civil procedure, and fell asleep each night the moment my head hit the pillow. I lost track of time and before I knew it, the Fourth of July was only a day away. Lexi had called to tell me the band would be getting to town late tonight but that she’d come over to the house once they were up in the morning.
