Aria’s eyes fell shut as he brushed the tip of his nose against hers.
“I’ll never fail you like that again,” Yoshi whispered.
Aria opened her eyes and lifted them to his. His callused fingers swept the tears off her cheeks, and she rose to her toes. He bent his neck and met her halfway, catching her lips with a moan. Cupping the back of her head with one hand, he encircled her waist with the other, bending his knees and standing tall again, lifting her off her feet.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, throwing her head back with a laugh as he carried her to their waiting capsule. When she saw that he’d set up a small picnic blanket, with a single candle lit in the middle, her laugh soared.
“I can’t believe you did this,” she said. “You’re so getting laid in this Ferris wheel car, it’s not even funny.”
“Sex at the top of the London Eye? That’s what I like to hear,” he said, his voice muffled from where he’d buried his head in her cleavage. He allowed himself to enjoy the sensation as he stepped onto the waiting car, turning towards Leroy, who had his back to them, guarding the entrance.
“Thanks, Leroy!” Yoshi called.
Leroy turned towards them, drank in the picture they made, and then shook his head, lifting his hand to give Yoshi a wave in return.
--
The view from the top, as expected, took Aria’s breath away. Though she sat cross-legged across from a gorgeous man who’d just won fourteen awards that night, she couldn’t keep her eye off The Westminster Bridge, the Palace at Westminster, or the iconic Big Ben clock that sat at its north end—all winking up at them from the River Thames.
“This is unreal.” Her hushed voice echoed in the encased glass shell.
“Since we were kids, you always talked about how bad you wanted to ride to the top of the Eye. Raised hell every time the Keys left without enough time to see it.”
“By the end there, I was convinced White Keys’ management was purposely sabotaging my dream to be at the top of this Ferris wheel.”
“And now that dream is realized.”
“Every dream,” she corrected, meeting his eyes over the white picnic blanket, the sweet pastries they’d demolished, and the single candle flickering between them. “Every dream we ever whispered to the moon when we were kids is coming true.” Her eyes shone. “Isn’t it just insane? It’s so insane to see it happening. I wasn’t in the audience tonight, but I was watching you on TV at the hotel. I saw your performance, and it made me cry. To see the kid who sang to me every night on that rooftop center stage at an award show, killing it? I ugly cried, Yoshi. I cried hard.” She sighed. “I wasn’t in my seat, but I saw you, okay? And I’m so damn proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you too.” He shook his head. “And I can’t stand that I’ve put you through all this shit with Carmen. I’m just surrounded by all these people blowing my head up. Saying nothing but good shit to me. Praising me. If you weren’t here to knock me upside the head, to keep me grounded, there’s no telling the places my head would be taking me right now. Everything else is starting to feel really… inorganic. Even Simon was more pliable when I spoke to him on the phone tonight. He doesn’t cut me off in the middle of my sentences anymore, doesn’t raise his voice anymore. It’s all just… It’s starting to feel handed to me. And I don’t ever want that. I don’t ever want anything just given to me. That sounds ridiculous, I know….”
“No, I get it,” she whispered. “You’ve worked your ass off to come as far as you have, and you want people to recognize that your rise is on account of your talent, not because of some bigwig in an office giving you a free push.”
“Exactly, baby. That’s exactly it.” He tapped his temple. “And tonight, for the first time, I understood how easy it is for people to get lost in this bullshit. This bullshit world full of counterfeit people. Terrible, manipulative people.”
“Yoshi, it’s all just a part of the game. I’m starting to understand it now. And the more I think about it, the more I feel like it’s an insult to our relationship to get angry at you over Carmen. It’s an insult to our trust. You’ve told me from day one that she was a professional. That she didn’t mean anything to you. That you would take me with you on your rise. And you’ve kept true to all that. You’ve never given me a reason to believe I had anything to worry about, and I’ve never felt unloved by you. I feel really ridiculous for getting so wrapped up in my own insecurities—in Carmen’s incredible beauty—that I started drowning in it. I guess it just hurts me that I’ll never…” She wondered if she should continue, then realized she wanted to be as honest as possible. “That I’ll never be as gorgeous as she is. Some part of me believed that, since she’s so much more beautiful, you were bound to look at me one day and wonder…” She shrugged. “Why?”
Yoshi’s deep frown stopped her from continuing.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. He tried again, and when only gibberish left his lips, he shook his head and reached into his pocket, producing a piece of paper.
“I wrote you something.” He unfolded the paper, leaned over, and claimed the guitar he’d left leaning against the glass. He cradled it on his crossed legs. “And since there are no words I can think of to tell you just how insane every syllable that just left your mouth is… maybe you’ll hear it in this song.” He swallowed, covering his heart. “I wrote it tonight while I was sitting in the audience. Next to that empty seat. I wrote it in less than an hour. It’s about you, and I truly believe it’s the best thing I’ve ever written.”
Tears filled Aria’s eyes when he laid the paper on the ground for reference, but as he strummed the first note—the first line of the song leaving his lips, eyes fluttered closed with emotion—he didn’t even need to look at the words to know what he’d written. Just as it did when they were kids, his voice said so much more than speaking ever could. His buttery tone saturated the cube. Aria could feel herself breathing it in. Her body claimed his voice as hers, and in extension, the song became hers. She knew his voice had done the same for every person who’d bought his album and sent it to number one. She knew it would continue doing it to any person who took even a single moment to sit and listen. She knew it would catapult him even higher than he was right then. She knew his voice would never stop opening doors. It was simply limitless.
And as he sang the ballad, about a girl who had no idea how beautiful she was, and how happy he was to be the man who reminded her every day, tears fell over her cheeks. They didn’t stop until he sang the last note, looking into her eyes.
Aria closed the space between them before he could strum the last note, leaning over the burning candle and catching his bottom lip between hers. The candle toppled over and blew out. The guitar collapsed in his lap as Yoshi cupped her cheeks, returning her kiss with vigor.
They moaned into the deep sweeps of their tongues, and the capsule filled with the frantic smacking of their lips, the hush pants of their desire, and the dull rustling of their clothes as they undressed.
The guitar tumbled to the floor, a few chords escaping dully as it bopped to an audible stop.
Aria found herself atop him, naked in what felt like an instant, and their mouths played, each of them looking into the other’s eyes and smiling around their swirling tongues.
“I love you so fucking much,” Yoshi whispered as he sank into her wetness, unable to continue kissing her as every inch of his psyche zeroed in on his hardness filling her, and her soft strokes as she bounced on his dick.
Their pants moved to moans, moans to screams, and the cube swayed along with their lovemaking, creaking softly when it grew fervent, creaking still as they finished with screams of ecstasy.
14
Carmen glared across the small living area of the tour bus where Aria slept soundly on the couch across from her, curled into a ball with her back turned. Fan art Yoshi had collected all over Europe hung from colorful pushpins along the walls, waving against the blaring air conditioner.
<
br /> Carmen didn’t know what, but something had happened in London. Something in Aria had shifted. She’d begun to greet Carmen—not the way someone who was simply tolerating another person greeted them, but with genuine kindness. In their few weeks touring the EU, Carmen would go as far as to say that Aria had been warm. Asking questions about Carmen’s life, volunteering information about her own. If she weren’t crazy, she’d almost suspect Aria was trying to be friends.
A cringe curled her lips as she took in Aria’s sleeping frame.
Then, her green eyes shot to the pill bottle sitting on the edge of the kitchenette’s granite counter. The pills Aria had just informed her helped keep the swelling in her vocal cords at bay.
Carmen looked back to Aria, and her frown deepened. Never in her life had a girlfriend of the talent been this cool. This sweet. This understanding.
She had also never met a girlfriend of the talent who had the man’s heart as fully as Aria had Yoshi’s.
Standing from the couch with a huff, ignoring the Disney movie Aria had fallen asleep to, Carmen crossed the living space into the kitchen. After another look to make sure Aria remained asleep, she twisted open the bottle and emptied the pills onto the counter.
Her fingers trembled over the red and yellow capsules. She gazed over her shoulder to make sure the door to the studio in the back was still closed.
With trembling fingers, Carmen popped the first pill open, emptied it into the sink, and closed it again. Popping it back into the bottle, she did the same to every other pill until not a single one remained.
She screwed the top back onto the bottle and ran the water in the sink until the white powder dissipated. On wobbly legs, she crossed the room to the couch and sat back down.
--
“This is fire,” Phillip Gold said, tossing Yoshi a look from where they sat next to each other in the studio. He tinkered with a few dials on the soundboard, holding a headphone against one ear as he frowned. “I think it should be the lead single on the next album.”
“I think so too,” Yoshi agreed from the rolling chair next to him.
“You wrote this in an hour?” Phillip asked, in disbelief.
Yoshi nodded. “Couple weeks back. During the MTV Europe awards. Wrote it while I was sitting in the audience.”
“You’re a beast.”
“It’s about Aria.”
“Is there a single song you’ve written that isn’t?” Phillip asked. “Hold on to her.”
“I’m trying.” Yoshi groaned, running his hands over his face with such fervor the black baseball cap he wore nearly fell off the back of his head.
Phillip bopped his head to the song, a frown still building between his eyebrows. “It’s sick, but maybe we can speed up the bridge….”
Yoshi lifted his head from his hands and pressed his fists to his mouth, thinking. Then, he shook his head. “Nah. It’s not a club track. It’s a love song.”
“What about adding another chord?”
“Why use five chords when four will do? You know my style, man. Simple. Straight to the point. It’s gotten me this far, hasn’t it?”
Phillip couldn’t argue with that. Removing his headphones, he nodded towards Yoshi as he put his head back in his hands. “You look tired.”
“Fucking exhausted.” Yoshi groaned into his hands.
“We’re barely ten shows in. More than a year to go on this tour and you’re already beat? You won’t make it, son. You just won’t.”
“Thank God Gus got us a bus with a studio in the back or I don’t know when I’d get this album finished. Simon is pushing for it by New Year. I’ve got a meeting with him right before the show, and he wants to hear some new material.”
“Bring him what we’re working on and it’ll shut him up quick.”
“I gotta talk to him about…” Yoshi shot a look at the closed door of the studio, and lowered his voice. “I gotta talk to him about Carmen, man.”
Phillip whistled.
“Exactly.” Yoshi rolled his eyes at the very thought of his lunch with Simon that afternoon, taking his hat off his head completely and tossing it. “I’m just fucking exhausted.”
“We’ve got another hour until we hit the city. Go take a nap. I’ll finish up here.”
“I can’t close my eyes. I’ll just lie there, staring at the ceiling.”
Phillip stood and crossed the studio, wobbling on unsteady feet as the bus traveled the unpaved road, returning with his backpack. He sat back down just as the bus hit a bump in the road. They were in a residential neighborhood just outside Rome, and the ride had been rocky all morning.
Phillip shuffled through his bag and produced a bottle of pills. He shook it, making it rattle.
Yoshi cringed. “You know I don’t do that.”
“Listen. It’s drugs, but it’s not drugs.”
Yoshi smirked.
“I get it, all right? You were a crack baby. You’ve seen the havoc the hard shit can reap, and you don’t want any part of it. I respect that. But these won’t get you high. They’ll silence the noise in your head, help you sleep.” Phil opened the bottle and shook a few pills into his palm. “I’m telling you, my man, you ain’t gonna make it. I’m looking at you right now, looking like hell on Earth, and we aren’t even ten shows in. Ten. We haven’t even left the EU. We’ve still got Germany, Africa, and Australia before we get home. Then we’ve got forty states there. It’s just not going to happen, Yosh. You’ll drop dead without a little help.”
Yoshi sighed, eyeing the pills Phil held out to him.
“They’re not habit-forming, and they’ll help you sleep at night so you don’t pass out in the middle of a show the next day. You’re already on that road. Then the drug rumors will catch wind and tarnish your brand. Trust me, they’re harmless. Try it once, and if you like them, I’ll give you the number of the doc who takes care of us. If you don’t, nothing ventured nothing gained, right?”
Yoshi eyed the pills for a long while before looking off. He ran his hand over his face, jamming his eyes closed. When even that quick second of having his eyes closed made his body sway, he forced his heavy lids back open and took the pills from Phil’s hand.
Throwing his head back, he dropped them down his throat, clutching the arms of the chair as he swallowed them without water.
--
Even in sunglasses, Yoshi found himself squinting against the blazing sun as he gazed across the street at the Colosseum, stretching across the clear sky. Simon Brady had requested a table outside for their lunch meeting in Rome that afternoon. He’d hoped Yoshi would be recognized and photographed, and his wish had come true. Restaurant patrons and pedestrians on the street pointed and snapped photos, though none of them had found the gumption to approach.
“Should’ve brought Carmen to this meeting,” Simon said, tearing Yoshi’s attention away from the historic structure across the street. Between them, their plates were nearly clean. They’d spent a bulk of the afternoon discussing business, the tour, and Yoshi’s second album. Somehow, they both knew the other was holding back.
Taking Simon’s bait, Yoshi motioned across the white tablecloth, but a wave of dizziness caught him before he could speak his mind. He took hold of the edge of the table until it passed. He hadn’t realized how well the pills he’d taken had been working until that moment, when his vision began to sway, making Simon appear muddled. The long nap he’d taken on the bus had been wonderful, but not enough. At least he knew the pills were effective, and he’d be able to sleep tonight.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” Yoshi said, lashes fluttering as his vision cleared. “I’m really not comfortable with the arrangement with Carmen anymore, and neither is Aria.”
“Aria.” Simon laughed. That time, it was he who took a moment to gaze across the busy Italian street at the Colosseum. “How did I know that name would eventually come back to bite me in the ass?”
“It’s hurting her. Confusing her. She’s the woman I’
m going to marry, but the world doesn’t know she exists. It’s not right. I understood why you wanted Carmen around in the beginning, to garner fans of all races, or whatever. But now I’ve got fans. The album has sat at Billboard’s number one for months. No one can move it. The tour is sold out. I’m sweeping every category at all the award shows. I’ve been accepted. So Carmen can go now.”
“See, this is the big problem with artists.” Simon leaned on his elbows. “You’re propelled solely by your heart and your passion. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. It’s what makes you such a brilliant songwriter. But your emotions also render it impossible for you to see the big picture. That’s why I’ve personally ensured that you’re employing the most talented marketers, the best PR machines, and the brightest brand managers in the business. So you don’t have to think. You just have to show up, sing, and be photographed with the right girl. We’re not keeping Carmen here to piss off your fiancée. She’s not here to prove who is or isn’t in charge. She’s here because industry experts have concluded that, with her presence, there is money to be made.” Simon searched his hesitant eyes. “Have I not followed through on every promise I made you? Have you not recovered from the stream of bad press that followed after you left The White Keys? Have you not prospered? Have you not been declared the artist to watch, from every corner of the globe?”
Yoshi faltered.
“We know what we’re doing on our end. I can’t climb on stage and smile for the young girls flinging their panties, or sing the romantic songs. I can’t do that. I’m not attractive enough, or talented enough, or charming enough to captivate an audience. I don’t pretend to know how. What I do know how to do, Yoshi, is make money. Have I not made you a truckload of money in less than a year?”
Encore (Stereo Hearts Book 2) Page 19
