Yoshi’s glare followed Wade all the way to the doors of the studio.
He mumbled apologies to his backup dancers, who clapped supportive hands on his shoulders as they made their way out of the room for their short break.
“I’m not a dancer, guys. I’m sorry.”
Each of his backup dancers had different words of encouragement, and Yoshi waited until he’d spoken to each one before making his way to the back of the studio.
Carmen smiled up at him from where she leaned on the exposed brick of the opposite wall, and he couldn’t help but smile back. He ran his hand down the back of his hair, which he’d recently dyed back to its original black.
“Are you sure a dance break is a good idea for this performance?” Carmen teased, her jean-clad knees pulled up to her chest.
Yoshi bent down to his duffle bag, which sat next to her, and grabbed his water bottle. He took his time chugging it down, still heaving from his busy afternoon.
He gasped in a breath after emptying the bottle. “Everyone is giving me shit about how I can’t pull off this show. How I don’t have the catalogue. My songs are too slow. Too lovey-dovey. Everyone is going to tune in expecting one thing, and I’m going to make damn sure I shut them up by giving them the exact opposite. They might doubt my greatness, but I never will. They don’t know it now, but I know it now. And after the Super Bowl, they’ll finally know it too.”
“You’re not great. You’re better than great.”
He bent down and shuffled through his bag again.
“You’re exquisite.” Her voice was lowered.
Even though he wasn’t looking at her, Yoshi could hear it in her voice when her smile grew softer, more gentle, warming his jaw as she burned it with her eyes.
He pulled an envelope out of his bag and met her gaze.
Her eyes fell to it and her smile vanished, changing the entire composition of her face as he held it out to her.
“Wade is on a rampage,” he said. “I can see it in his sadistic eyes that he’s not going to set me free until late tonight.” He shook the envelope when she didn’t take it. “Can you do me a favor and make sure this gets to the post office?”
Carmen rolled her eyes and snatched the letter. “Still writing letters she’ll never respond to? A month ago, you were cursing her name to the high heavens. You swore having her address didn’t mean shit to you. Now you’re writing a new letter every other day? None of which she’s bothered to respond to? A woman who changed her number on you? Are you this pussy whipped?”
Yoshi let his head fall, jamming his eyes shut when he heard the door of the studio creaking open as Wade re-entered.
“Yoshi, get your lazy ass back in formation! Let’s go!”
“Carmen. Will you please just make sure it gets sent?”
Her eyes fell to the necklace around his neck, and the lime-green string that swung from it.
With a scoff, she lifted the letter in the air before letting it plop back down into her lap. “Sure.”
“Thank you.” Yoshi raised his eyebrows, pointing to her as he moved back towards Wade and the dancers. “You’re a great friend.”
Carmen watched him go, her lip curled so high it’d give Elvis a run for his money.
--
Carmen didn’t even make it to her car. Stopping in mid-stride in the middle of the dance studio’s parking lot, she gazed down at the letter in her hand. She clutched it tight, noting it was twice as thick as the ones he’d written before. It took everything in her not to rip it in half. Tears fell from her eyes and wet the paper, leaving random dots of moisture.
Sniffling, she ripped open the envelope and retrieved the papers inside, unfolding them with trembling hands. Behind her, she heard Yoshi’s new single pounding the walls of the studio, wafting through the closed doors and thick walls, surrounding her in the lot.
Of course, it was a song about her.
They all were. The angry songs. The sad songs. The joyful songs.
All of them. All of them were about Aria.
Carmen cringed at the letter in her hands. Four pages. He’d written this bitch a four-page letter.
She wondered what would be enough. It hadn’t been enough to ignore every text message he sent. It hadn’t been enough to send a text saying his contact was unwelcome. It hadn’t been enough to be away from her for six months. It hadn’t even been enough to change the number completely. The day he’d called ‘Aria’ and was met with a disconnection notice, the heartbreak on his face had been poignant.
But it still hadn’t been enough.
The rejection hadn’t been enough.
The anger hadn’t been enough.
Carmen wondered if it even existed. The breaking point. The point of enough. She wondered if Yoshi would ever get over Aria. If it were even possible.
Her tears stained the first page as she read his jumbled handwriting. She only made it past the first line before she’d torn all four pages in half with a strangled grunt.
Then she ripped it in half again. And again. She ripped and ripped, even as she felt paper cuts digging into her skin, until the letter was reduced to paper confetti.
She tossed it into the air with a scream, watching the hundreds of shreds disperse into the afternoon air, each bobbing and floating down a different, scattered journey on their way to the asphalt at her feet.
After every piece hit the ground, she looked down at her hands. Strings of red dashed through her palms, with tiny dots of blood peeking out from every paper cut.
She cursed the sight.
Usually, she just burned the letters, but she’d wanted the satisfaction of tearing it to shreds. Needed it. She’d needed to feel it being destroyed by her own fingers.
It hadn’t been worth it, and as the cuts she’d created slowly began to make themselves known, sending dull throbs of pain through her hands, she decided on fire from now on.
She’d kill every letter he wrote with fire, until the undying flame he had for Aria finally burned out for good.
--
Shaun’s legs swung from where she sat on top of the bathroom counter at The Rum River. The college bar was in full swing on the other side of the bathroom door, the opening act’s final song seeping under the doorframe as she swiped through her Instagram feed. Her smile grew brighter each second.
Aria paused in the middle of applying her eyeliner under the mirror’s bright lights, cutting a look at Shaun.
Aria squinted an eye when Shaun sniggered, going back to the mirror. She was next on the set list that night, so she hurried to finish her makeup.
“What are you snickering about over there?” Aria asked, picking up the bedazzled eye patch she’d laid next to her purse.
Shaun gave her a quick glance, then went back to the phone. “The Yaria and Yarmen fans are at war again.”
“Oh, Lord,” Aria mumbled, pulling her eye patch over her eye. “I thought we agreed we were done trolling those tags. They’re insane.”
“They’re hilarious is what they are,” Shaun said. “Who needs cable when you’ve got a timeline full of teenagers obsessed with relationships they know nothing about?”
“What are they at each other’s necks about this time?”
“The Yaria fans took footage from the night of the Grammys and freeze-framed you mouthing ‘I love you’ back to Yoshi. The camera was focused on Carmen, so it only got half of your face for a fraction of a second, but they caught it. They’ve figured out that Yoshi was talking to you and not Carmen. The Yarmen shippers saw the Yaria shippers celebrating, and now they’re insisting that he was talking to Carmen, because he used the word ‘beau.’ Yaria fans can’t figure out how ‘beau’ applies to you, they just know it does. Yarmen fans think they’re obsessed and delusional.”
“How ironic.”
“Exactly.” Shaun laughed. “It never ceases to amaze me how observant these kids are. They are so on the money it makes me wonder if one of them doesn’t work in Yoshi’s camp.”
Aria waited for Shaun to wax on about how strange Yoshi’s about-face was—the way she always did.
She didn’t disappoint. “The Yaria fans also noticed that green string Yoshi wears around his neck. The green string that has been hanging from his neck for the last six months. The green string that used to live on your left ring finger?” When Shaun saw the look in Aria’s eyes, she shrugged. “It’s just weird, Aria. It’s doesn’t make any sense. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I texted him saying I wanted to work it out, and he texts me saying he doesn’t love me anymore. I then proceed to call him, every single day, for an entire month, and don’t get a single call back. I extended olive branch after olive branch for an entire month, Shaun, but still have to see him and Carmen on the cover of every magazine in the grocery store. Every entertainment channel on my television. And somehow, you’re still telling yourself it doesn’t make sense? It makes perfect sense. He has made himself perfectly clear—he doesn’t have any feelings for me anymore. Maybe he never did. Maybe I was always a placeholder until he was famous enough to land the kind of woman he really wanted.”
Shaun went to refute. “But what about—”
“I just want to get over him,” Aria jumped in, begging Shaun with her eyes. “It’s been half a year, and I just want to move on, Shaun. Please. Will you let me do that? Will you let me at least try?”
Shaun sighed, resuming swinging her legs and changing the subject. “What songs are you singing tonight?”
Aria stared at herself in the mirror. A few moments passed, then she tore the eye patch off her eye, pulling it over her head. She balled it in a fist, squeezed it, and then turned to the trashcan bolted to the wall, throwing it in.
“Just one song tonight. A new one,” Aria answered, staring at her blue and brown eyes in the mirror. She’d never gone on stage without her patch on.
Shaun turned to admire Aria’s eyes in the reflection. “Have I heard it yet?”
“No one has.” Aria played her fingers together. “Remember that song Adam helped me out with? That day he let me tag along with him to the studio?”
Shaun nodded.
“That’s the one. We just finished perfecting it. Well, he finished perfecting it. It was a good song, but he made it great.”
“He has a tendency to do that.” Shaun winked. “Is it an angry song or a happy song?”
“Angry. Super angry.” Aria met her gaze. “Like homicidally angry. Adam offered to buy it from me—hundred grand—but it’s too personal to me. I couldn’t part with it.”
Shaun smiled gently at her. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
Aria took one last look at her reflection, fluffing her curls and freshening her lipstick, before she met Shaun’s eyes, smiled, and nodded towards the bathroom door.
“Here we go,” she said before swinging the door open.
They broke away from each other once they stepped into the smoky bar.
Red spotlights gave The Rum River its signature hue, bouncing off the exposed brick and setting the stage for the live music that pounded off the walls every night. As usual, the River was packed. Every round table was filled to the hilt with locals and well-informed tourists.
As Aria took the stage, a few claps and whoops rang out from the regulars who were familiar with her, prompting curious looks from the patrons who didn’t.
She noticed her stomach no longer did cartwheels when she found herself faced with those unfamiliar, but curious eyes. She no longer wondered how she would react if they didn’t like her. She no longer worried that her voice would give out on her. It had been months since she’d last lost control of it, so even after switching medications, the fear was still there. She was sure it always would be.
Now she found herself meeting those curious eyes head-on, wondering whether or not she liked them.
It was an amazing feeling. One she wanted more of. As she took the stool situated in the middle of the stage, adjusted the microphone to her level and slung her guitar strap over her shoulder, she knew she was one step closer.
And she’d be one step closer every Saturday night, in that bar, on that stage, under those curious eyes, until she was fully healed.
That hope drove her and sent her fingers gliding over the strings of the guitar, strumming the first note.
--
“You’ve been glaring across this bus at me all night,” Gus said later that night, from where he was leaned back on the tour bus couch across from Yoshi. It was the middle of the night, and the rest of the crew was asleep in their bunks. Yoshi and Gus, however, were both night owls. They’d lost track of how many times they’d watched the sun come up together, unable to fall asleep. That night was no different. “Why the evil eye?”
From where he leaned back on the couch’s throw pillows, an arm cradled behind his head, Yoshi squinted at him. “You know… it was my birthday yesterday…”
Gus smiled. “I’m your manager, Yoshi. Of course I knew it was your birthday.” Gus held his eyes and then shifted, squinting at him. “You told me you hated your birthday. You said you’d be happy to just let it blow by unacknowledged. So… I let it blow by.”
Yoshi’s held his gaze.
“You said you hated your birthday, Yosh.”
Yoshi looked away, re-focusing on the movie playing on the TV. “Forget it.”
“Shit, man. I’ll get you a cake when the bus parks in Beijing. We’ll have a party—”
“I said forget it.”
“If I’d have known you were being like the most unhinged passive-aggressive female alive, saying you didn’t want us to celebrate your birthday, when you really did—”
“Gus, I said forget it,” Yoshi barked, meeting his eyes with a hard glare.
Gus leaned forward on his knees, his mouth agape as he studied Yoshi. He took a deep breath. “As your manager, and your friend, if you won’t let me make up for ignoring your birthday, will you at least let me give you a gift without slicing my head off?”
Yoshi took a moment, pretending to be enamored by the TV. “Why not?”
“This gift will piss you off. It’s the kind of gift that you think you don’t want. The gift you need, but don’t know you need.”
“Will you just give me the damn gift?” Yoshi laughed softly.
Gus went into his pocket and took out his cell phone. After tapping away, he tossed the phone across the bus.
Yoshi caught it on his chest, pressing his chin into it as he picked up the phone and glared at the YouTube video Gus had pulled up on the screen. “What is this?”
“Press Play.”
Yoshi did, and the moment Aria’s face filled the screen, sitting in a stool in the middle of a smoky bar, he pushed himself in a sitting position with a gasp.
Gus spoke before he could complain. “The gift you need,” he reminded. “But you don’t know you need.”
Biting his tongue, swallowing away the profanities that had been on the edge of it, Yoshi brought his wounded eyes back to the screen. Drinking in the vision of the woman he’d convinced himself he hated proved that he never could. He could never hate her. That doll face. That smooth skin. Those eyes, neither of which she had hidden under that awful patch.
His skin tightened. The need to crawl into that screen, just to be in the same room as her, consumed him, then broke him when he realized it was a need that was impossible to fulfill.
“What’s up, guys? My name’s Aria, and this song is called ‘Who Knew.’”
At the sound of her sultry voice coming through the phone’s speakers, Yoshi wanted to stop the bus, stop the tour, stop his life, just so he could get on a plane and be next to her.
“She plays at a college bar in Soho called The Rum River. Every Saturday night,” Gus said. “The bar’s pr
etty good about uploading the videos. I didn’t tell you about it because I know it upsets you, but I’ve been following her for a while, and this song…” He nodded towards the phone. “This song isn’t the kind of song a woman writes for a man she abandoned. I’ve been telling you since day one that something was off about the way she left. Just disappearing without another word, period? It didn’t make sense…”
Gus stopped speaking in mid-sentence when Aria stroked the first strings of the song.
She purred the lyrics into the microphone, lyrics about a girl who’d put all her hope into one boy and his promises. A girl who’d been blindsided when those promises were broken. A girl struggling to pick up the pieces.
Just when Yoshi was sure the song had hit its peak, an extra chord would fall in, or Aria would hit a high note, taking it to another level. The chorus boomed with the pain evident in her voice, lyrics illustrating a woman who’d had every inch of faith stolen from her. Faith she’d placed blindly in a man she’d been sure would never hurt her. Never abandon her. Never leave. A man she’d trusted so fully she never in a million years saw his betrayal coming.
The two words the song had been named for carried the chorus, illustrating her surrender.
Her release.
She’d given up.
“Stop the bus,” Yoshi croaked, only halfway through the song. When the bus driver didn’t hear him, continuing to trudge along the road, his voice rose. “Stop the bus!”
The bus’s brakes cried out as the driver immediately did what he was told.
Yoshi barreled out of the door when the driver swung it open, needing fresh air. Needing to empty his stomach. The cool air surrounded him and took him around the throat as he stumbled to the ground, bent over at the waist and heaving.
He tried to throw up, but nothing came.
Just a sick, empty feeling in his stomach as Aria sang the last words of the song, her voice filled with the emotion that weighed Yoshi down like a stone.
Encore (Stereo Hearts Book 2) Page 26
