by Vi Keeland
“I don’t know. What if his decision is to be with me anyway and Dylan makes good on his threat? He’ll lose the tour…and who knows what else.”
“It’s his decision to make.”
“Honestly, I can’t imagine he believes I would say yes to Dylan’s proposal anyway, after the last month.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”
I squint. “What are you not telling me?”
“He was here last night.”
“At Lucky’s?”
She nods.
“Was he looking for me?”
“Not exactly.”
“Stop being cryptic. He came in and didn’t ask for me?”
“He wasn’t exactly in a sober state.”
“Oh.”
“Although he was definitely thinking about you.”
“How do you know?”
“Jase cut him off after the third song about Lucky was slurred pretty bad.”
“Oh.”
“There’s more.” Avery digs her cigarette pack out of her bag and jiggles it so one falls halfway out, extending the offering to me.
I shake my head. I hate smoking.
“He came in with a woman.”
“A woman?” It’s crystal clear what she’s telling me, but I make her spell it out anyway.
“She was all over him. They left together, too.”
I light that cigarette she’s still offering.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Flynn
“Want a beer?” Nolan yells from the fridge to where I’m still crashed on the couch from last night.
I pick up my cell to check the time. “Dude, it’s ten in the morning.”
I hear the bottle crack open and then footsteps shuffling toward the couch. Sensing a body near, I open one groggy eye, and instantly regret it. His junk is swinging in the wind. “Put some fucking pants on.”
He shrugs and takes a long draw from the dark-green Heineken bottle. “You know, I’ve pretty much had my bare ass on every surface in this place.”
I pull up the blanket and attempt to ignore him, but of course, that’s pretty much impossible.
“Yep. Yesterday I was sitting right about where your head is now. Scratched my balls for a while watching the Kardashians. Then let ‘em dangle to air out.”
“I’m not sure what’s more disturbing, the thought of your dirty ass sitting right where my face is, or you watching the Kardashians.”
Another long tug on his beer, followed by a rueful sigh. “That Kim has some ass. You know what I would do to that thing?”
“Can we not talk about you wanting to pound an ass while your baloney is staring me in the face, please.”
“I’m beginning to think you like baloney…seeing as how you’ve turned down every honey pot that’s come your way the last few days.”
“You’re a dick. You know that?”
“Yep,” Nolan says proudly.
“Don’t you have company to go entertain?”
“Left.”
“Couldn’t satisfy ‘em?”
“Had to leave ‘em able to walk.” He chugs the rest of his morning beer—breakfast of champions. “They’re bowlegged now, but they should be able to make it two blocks to catch the seven train.”
“In your dreams.”
“No, man, that’s the thing…I’m living the dream. Unlike your sorry ass. If you weren’t such a chick magnet, I wouldn’t even hang out with you. Seriously. You’re pathetic these days.”
“Fuck off.”
“Actually, this works out better for me. You’re like one of those cute little dogs women love. You know, the kind a man would only be walking in the park with because he’s pussy whipped. The chicks come over to pet it because it’s so fucking ugly they think it’s cute with that mop of stupid hair. But when they reach down, the little pebble-shitting canine bites her manicured hand.” He grins and nods while he continues. “And I’m right there to console the pretty little lady.”
“You’re seriously disturbing.”
“Wonder if Lucky likes puppies.”
I bolt upright. “Screw you.”
“Hit a nerve, did I?”
“Could you put some fucking clothes on!”
“Can you lighten up a little?”
“A woman I’m in love with got engaged. To someone else.” I tear the blanket off and stand, rising to my full height so we’re eye to eye. “I’m entitled to be an asshole for a couple of days.”
Nolan flaunts a shit-eating grin. “At least you admit you love her now.”
“A lot of good that will do me.”
“We all told you the other day, we don’t give a shit about opening for Easy Ryder. We get kicked off, something else will pop. Didn’t like that fucker the first time I met him anyway.”
“She’s marrying the asshole.”
“So you, what, give in?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Quit being a damn pussy and fight for her.”
I scowl at him, but he doesn’t back down. “Try not to be drunk for our three o’clock tour-planning meeting at Pulse.” I swing open his front door hard, letting it slam into the wall behind it, and don’t bother to shut the thing behind me.
I glance down at the time on my watch as I push through the glass revolving door at Pulse Records. I’m ten minutes early, and since Nolan will likely not show until half past three, I probably have another forty minutes to wait before we start the meeting.
I told myself I wasn’t going to look for her. In fact, the usual me would be late and I wouldn’t have time to even consider stalking. Yet somehow I miraculously find myself heading down the hall to the studio I know she gives her lessons in.
Three days it’s been since I last saw her.
If feels like a year.
The long hall is filled with mostly dark rooms. Until I get to the last one on the left. Bright light shines through the glass window. I’m not even sure if she’s back from the west coast. Obviously, with me gone, there’s no need for a coach any longer. Although maybe she decided to stay on the tour with her fiancé. The thought seriously causes a painful tightness in my throat.
Not wanting to be seen, I stand almost flat against the wall next to the door and lean my head forward just enough to peer in.
She’s standing in front of a woman, motioning with her hands for the student to lift up at her chest, instructing her to sing through her diaphragm. Lucky’s back is to me, but it doesn’t matter, the tightness in my chest eases just from seeing her again. I may have been fighting the words that slipped out at Nolan’s house today, but fuck if it isn’t true. My body can’t deny what it feels for her. It’s been dead for three days and suddenly, just knowing she’s on the other side of the door, it comes alive again.
But when I see her throw her head back and laugh, it feels like I got punched in the gut. She’s at work—I know from experience that she enjoys teaching—yet for some reason, it’s as though everything I thought we had must have been a lie. How can she be laughing when I’ve been walking around feeling like my dog died?
Of course, it’s at this moment that my phone, which never rings, decides to go off. I narrow my eyes at Nolan’s stupid grin flashing on the screen and swipe the call to decline. But the sound catches the attention of the student and teacher and I swiftly pull my head back against the wall. A minute later, light singing returns, so I chance one last glance and my eyes meet those of her student. Reluctantly, I head to my meeting before I get caught.
Upstairs, I’m surprised to find Nolan already in the lobby for our meeting. “It’s only three.” I stride past him and head to the reception desk. He follows me.
“I thought the meeting was at three?”
“It is. But I figured you wouldn’t show for at least half an hour.”
He grins. “Someone has to be the responsible party in this band.”
I want to be pissed off, but I can’t…he’s just such a wiseass. With a chuckle, I
say, “The last time we left any real responsibility to you, you ordered us ten thousand In Like Finn T-shirts.”
He shrugs. “I don’t see why you made a big deal out of that. You could have just changed your name to Finn.”
“They were all ladies’ size double XL.”
“I like my ladies on the voluptuous side.”
I snicker. “I give up. Let’s go do this meeting, jackass.” Arms hooked around my pal like we’re back in elementary school, I follow the receptionist with the nice ass to the conference room, feeling like maybe, just maybe, things will turn out right in the end. The feeling is short-lived when we turn the corner and the glass fishbowl-like meeting room comes into my line of sight. A man I definitely was not expecting to see today is sitting at the table. Dylan damn Ryder. And he’s smiling at me like a wolf about to pounce on a lame lamb.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lucky
“Thank you for helping out tonight.” Avery lifts the security gate from the front of Lucky’s and fiddles with the lock on the front door that has been sticking for more than ten years.
“Of course. It’s not like I have a social life anyway.”
“The way you look tonight, you could have a very busy social life. Maybe try smiling once or twice, so you don’t look like you bite. You’ll be all set.” My best friend showed up at my apartment unannounced a few hours ago, declaring that if I wasn’t going to feel good, she was going to at least make damn sure I looked good. So over a glass of wine, we raided my closet and I let her do my hair and makeup like we were back in high school. I wasn’t into it at first—I actually did it to make her feel better. I’ve been so down, and she’s been trying so hard, I wanted her to think she helped. But by the time we were done, she’d succeeded in not only making me look better, but actually feel a little better too.
Inside Lucky’s we work like a well-oiled machine, restocking the bar, righting the upside-down chairs. When we’re all set up, I sit on the other side of the bar while Avery counts out the register.
“I miss him like crazy,” I sigh.
“I know.” She pours me a glass of wine. “You need to talk to him.”
“I don’t want to ruin his career. Look at my mom and dad. He gave up everything to give me a life he thought was right for me. She walked away from us.”
Avery pours herself a glass of wine and walks around the bar to sit next to me on a stool. “Your dad loved you more than anything on this earth. There was never a day he questioned if he made the wrong choice. Your mom made her choice, too. That’s the thing…it was their choice to make and they both did what worked for them. You’re not giving Flynn that chance.”
“But what if he chooses me and stays for a year and then decides he made the wrong choice?”
“Like Iris did.”
I nod.
“Is that what you’re really afraid of? That he’ll lose the tour and a year later he’ll up and leave you for another one? That he’ll break your heart?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t worry about the future with Dylan.”
“I don’t think I was ever really in love with Dylan.”
She smiles. “It’s about time you admitted it. I’m not sure what makes me happier, that you’re in love or that you never loved Sleazy Ryder. But either way, you need to talk to Flynn. Otherwise you’ll be the one wondering what if your whole life.”
I raise my glass to her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For just being you.”
“Remember that thought later,” she mumbles cryptically and heads to the front door to officially open.
“What the heck does that mean?”
“Nothing,” she throws back over her shoulder. But from her tone, I can tell that her fingers were crossed.
Before you’re pregnant, you never notice all the strollers when you walk through the park. But then suddenly you see them all. It’s not that they weren’t there before, your brain just didn’t point them out to you. Which is likely why it feels like every song is an anthem for love or breaking up tonight.
“If I hear one more song about losing the love of your life tonight, I may pull the plug,” I yell over the bar while Avery makes my drink order. A blue-haired twenty-something is ruining Jewel’s “You Were Meant for Me” on stage. But the lyrics taunt me.
Avery sings the chorus loudly (and completely off-key) in my face as she loads the drinks onto the table.
You were meant for me
And I was meant for you.
I stick up my middle finger and turn to deliver drink orders to table number eight.
It’s almost midnight, the bar is near capacity, and I’m helping Avery behind the bar when a murmur comes over the crowd. A gaggle of women make a beeline for the door, a sure sign that a celebrity has just walked in. Even years after my father’s death, it’s not unusual for musicians to walk in and hang out. Lucky’s truly has had some legendary musical guests stroll in unannounced.
“Who do you think it is?” I ask Avery as she looks toward the swarm of women blocking our view. It must be someone big; half the bar has taken notice.
“Ummm…” Avery bites her lip. “I might have stolen your phone earlier and invited…”
Suddenly, the figure the crowd has been hiding comes into view.
Dylan.
I turn to my best friend. “You invited Dylan?” I feel completely ambushed.
“No! I didn’t invite him.”
Dylan steps to the bar. Unsure of what to do, I remain frozen in place. We didn’t exactly leave things on good terms. Unless calling me a whore and threatening to ruin my and Flynn’s careers could possibly be considered a warm send-off in some strange universe.
“Can we talk?” Dylan asks with a weary expression.
I purse my lips together, but then nod. Avery grabs my arm, stopping me as I’m about to walk out from behind the bar.
“Lucky, you need to know something.”
“What? You did invite him here?”
“No. But I invited Flynn to come tonight.”
“You what?” My voice screeches.
“I might have told him you were miserable and said if he was miserable, too, you would be at Lucky’s tonight.”
After the initial shock of betrayal wears off, my stomach sinks at the realization that Flynn hasn’t shown up tonight. Even though my mind is whirling, I know I need to process one thing at a time. While Flynn may not have shown up, Dylan is standing ten feet away. “I’m going to go out back where we can have privacy.”
She nods.
Dylan’s security clears the way to the back door and guards the exit as we slip into the alley.
“What are you doing here?”
He looks down at his feet. “I came to apologize.”
When I say nothing in response, he lifts his eyes to mine. “For the things that I called you.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Look, Lucky. I pushed you too fast. I get it now. But you hurt me. One minute I thought you said yes and the next you were taking it back.”
“I didn’t want to say no in the restaurant and embarrass you. I told you that.”
“I know. I get that now. I can even appreciate it. But in the moment, I just wanted to hurt you back. So I said some pretty shitty things to get you back.”
I nod. “Apology accepted. And I’m sorry, too.”
He reaches out and takes my hand into his. “For what?”
“For the way things turned out. For everything.” The guilt inside me escapes through tears.
Dylan takes it to mean I regret that things ended, rather than that I regret the way things ended. “Let’s take a step back. I want to be with you, Lucky. I’ll wait till you’re ready.”
He totally doesn’t get that I’ll never be ready to be with him. I’ve shown this man so much disrespect, it’s time to be honest. “My feelings have changed, Dylan. I don’t want to go back or forward. I’m sorry. I really am.”
Rejec
tion is definitely not something Dylan Ryder is used to. Shock registers on his face, then slowly morphs into something else. “It’s because of him, isn’t it? You really want to be with him?” He doesn’t hide the utter hatred in his voice.
I nod. “But I haven’t spoken to him since he left the tour. Please don’t take it out on him and ruin his career because I fell in love.”
“What?” he seethes.
“I’m sorry. It just happened.”
“You’re in love with that long-haired poser and you didn’t mean for it to happen?”
I nod, and don’t even attempt to try to tell him Flynn isn’t a poser.
“So his dick just accidentally fell inside you?”
I have no idea if he knows for sure that we’ve been intimate, but he’s lashing out and it doesn’t matter at this point. I take it because I deserve it.
“I trusted you. I was going to make you my wife, for fuck’s sake.” His expression is filled with rage.
I’m relieved when he swings open the door and begins striding across the bar.
Until I see the man who’s just walked in.
Flynn.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Flynn
After rereading her text for the hundredth time today, I walk into Lucky’s with Nolan. She’s miserable. I’m miserable. This is just fucking stupid. I know she loves her new job, but she’s talented—any record label would be an idiot not to hire her. In fact, now that I’m in search of a new label for In Like Flynn, maybe we can set up a two-for-one deal.
My newfound fame delays my entry and I sign a dozen autographs as I try to make my way inside. Scanning the bar, my eyes find Lucky coming in from the back hallway. At first, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief just being in the same room as her. But then I squint and the sadness in her face comes into focus. It looks like she’s been crying.
Brushing past the women swarming me, I’m focused on only one thing. Getting to Lucky and making her feel better.
Which is probably why I don’t see the first punch coming.
