by R.S. Grey
We were the only people in the coffee shop, but we were sitting far enough from the counter that Marcy couldn’t hear us over the soft music playing overhead. The table Jason had picked was old and wobbly. Kids had scratched their names on it over the years so that there were hundreds of phrases like: “Kaley loves Alex” and “Ava + Nick 4ever”.
“My name is on one of these somewhere,” Jason admitted, leaning forward to inspect the graffiti.
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “I’ve lived here my whole life. That’s why I kept the ranch even though I stay primarily in LA now.”
I’d assumed as much since Derek had said he’d met Jason in high school, but it was an interesting piece of information nonetheless.
“What does your graffiti say?” I asked, tracing a pink heart that was scribbled next to my coffee cup.
The edge of his mouth curled up. “I think it said something like ‘Jason Monroe is a douche’.”
If I’d had coffee in my mouth, I would have spit it out everywhere. Instead I just started cracking up.
“What? Really?”
He smiled wider. “I was an ass in high school. I thought I was too cool for this place and all the girls who lived here.”
“Shocker,” I said, reaching down for my coffee.
He chuckled and shook his head of the memories.
Feeling a shift in the conversation, I reached into my purse and pulled out a blank pad of paper and a pen.
“So, do you want to start brainstorming about the type of song we want to write?”
He contemplated the question for a moment, staring at the pad of paper.
“I guess so. It seems weird to think of it like that. I usually just write what’s on my mind.”
I nodded, “Same here. But since we’re two heads and not one, we’re going to have to communicate on things we normally wouldn’t.”
He nodded. “Okay, so we never decided the actual topic.”
“I don’t normally do that. I think of most songs like a fictional story, especially since there’s hardly ever real song-worthy drama going on in my life,” I said, staring out the window to watch a black sedan pull up in front of the coffee shop. Like a clown car, paparazzo after paparazzo hopped out with their giant lenses attached to cameras around their necks. I bristled at the sight of them. They were expected in LA, but the few days I’d been in Montana had apparently reset my bullshit meter because I was not happy to see them.
“Marcy?” Jason called with a sharp tone, glancing over to where she was standing behind the counter, eyeing the paparazzi.
“I didn’t call them,” she swore, her gaze sliding to me with a plea. Poor Marcy. I wouldn’t blame her for their presence. They probably had drones or something by now.
The paparazzi weren’t allowed to come into the establishment, but they could stand outside and pound the glass in an attempt to get Jason and me to look over at them.
“Fucking ridiculous,” Jason said, downing the rest of his coffee in one swallow.
His anger surprised me, and my need to keep the peace surfaced immediately.
“It’s okay. Let’s try to get some ideas on paper and then we can head back to the ranch.”
“Let’s just go now,” Jason said, scooting his chair back so that it screeched against the concrete floor.
I reached my hand out to cover his and he paused immediately, staring down at my fingers. “Please. I like it here and the paparazzi will always be there. Let’s ignore them and just enjoy the moment.”
He swallowed hard, and hesitated for a moment before pulling his hand back. “Okay.”
“I’ll get you some more coffee,” I said with a smile, trying to ease the tension.
“You know what,” Marcy began, “I can pull those front drapes down. That ought to help block their pictures, too.” She walked to the front and untied black curtains from the front corners of the shop. “Usually I use them to block the afternoon sun, but this is perfect.”
The curtains were almost sheer so that they didn’t block the early morning sunlight, but it definitely did the trick. I’m sure their cameras could still get a quality photo of us, but at least I didn’t have to see them.
…
Thirty minutes and two cups of coffee later, Jason and I had three words written down on the note pad: “love” and “in love”. So, I guess, technically only two words, since love was repeated twice. And did “in” really even count? Dear God, we were so screwed.
I stood up to go refill my coffee even though I knew I’d start to get jittery if I kept downing cups.
“How’s it going?” Marcy asked as she refilled my cup with a bright smile.
“Oh, pretty good,” I lied, returning the smile.
I was about to reach for the cup when the bell over the door chimed and I heard an audible gasp.
“Oh, my dear God!” a voice yelled behind me.
Chapter Ten
When I turned around to face the coffee shop’s door, there was a teenage boy standing there with his wide eyes pinned on me. Everything about him screamed “high school”. He had all the classic signs: jeans that didn’t quite fit, a loose polo shirt, spiky hair that was probably the biggest trend at the moment.
“This can’t be real,” he said, still in a daze.
Marcy laughed beside me and I was left standing there, trying to process the situation.
“Logan, calm down. She’s just a person,” Jason said, standing up to pat the boy’s shoulder.
Still, the boy, Logan, couldn’t process the fact that I was standing in front of him. I’d met super fans before. They were harmless (most of the time), but it was funny to see one in a random coffee shop in Montana. I felt like I should have started tap dancing or doing something that was actually worthy of his attention. I was just standing there, with my hand outstretched for my coffee cup.
Jason sighed and pushed the boy toward me. “Logan, this is Brooklyn Heart. Brooklyn, this is my cousin, Logan.”
I reached my hand out toward him, but Logan didn’t move to take it. Instead, he made a strangled sound that resembled a strangled animal.
“Hi there,” I smiled, dropping my hand back to my side when it was clear that hand-on-hand contact would have given him an aneurysm.
Jason rolled his eyes at his cousin and nudged him forward. That finally seemed to do the trick because Logan blinked twice and smiled wide. Up close I could see the handsome features waiting to emerge. He had Jason’s lips and cheek bones. I knew he’d grow into himself in the next few years, and if he was even half as handsome as his older cousin, Logan would be just fine.
Oh God, why am I calling Jason handsome? And why are we all just standing here looking at each other?
“Shouldn’t you be in school right now?” Jason asked, glancing down at his watch.
Logan pulled his gaze off me for a moment to look at Jason. “I have a free period in the morning, and Mrs. O’Doyle lets me sneak out and come here if I promise to bring her back a cup of coffee.” Then he looked back at me to clarify. “I work here after school,” he said with a proud smile.
“Cool job,” I nodded.
His eyes widened at my approval.
“Okay, Brook, let’s get back to work,” Jason said as he turned toward our table. I inwardly groaned at the idea of sitting back down to our ideas. Our juices weren’t flowing and I felt like we should just call it a day and move on. There were only so many combinations you could make with the three words we’d written down: in love love, love in love, love love in. None of those sounded like the next bestselling pop-song to me.
“You call her Brook? Are you guys good friends?” Logan asked, glancing back and forth between us.
“Logan, grab your coffee and go back to school,” Jason said, promptly ending Logan’s interrogation.
Logan gave me one last smile as he walked past our table toward the counter. I felt his eyes on me the entire time he was in the shop, but I didn’t want him to realize it. At one
point, while pretending to text, he tried to take a sneaky picture in the reflection of the chrome cappuccino machine. He cursed when the flash went off. I tried hard to stifle a laugh.
After the bell chimed, marking his exit, I glanced back to Jason. “Your cousin seems nice,” I said.
“He is. He’s a really good kid, and apparently your number one fan.” He said that like it wasn’t a good thing.
“Jealous, Monroe?” I goaded.
His brown gaze met mine. “Maybe a little,” he said with a small smirk.
HOLD THE PRESSES, EVERYONE, JASON MONROE WAS KIDDING AROUND.
“Let’s just go back to the house, my attention is shot,” he said, scraping his chair against the concrete floors.
I agreed, and after thanking Marcy for allowing us a place to hangout, we pushed through the door. As soon as they saw us, the paparazzi swarmed forward. There had to be a dozen of them. As they rushed toward us, I took a step back against Jason as he wrapped a protective arm around my bicep, keeping me close to him.
“We’ll pose for a few seconds and then you guys need to back up,” Jason said, handling the paparazzi like a pro. They just needed a good photo of us and then they’d be on their way. Hopefully.
“What is the relationship status between you two?” one of the men asked.
“Ten,” Jason whispered in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Are you exclusive?” another chimed in and soon they were like a flock of squawking birds.
“Nine,” he whispered again, this time a little closer, his breath hitting my ear.
“Eight.”
“Are the two of you collaborating?”
“Seven.”
“How do you like Montana, Brooklyn?”
“Six,” he counted.
“Are you here to meet Jason’s family?”
“Oh, fuck it,” he said, wrapping an arm around me and pushing us through the crowd of photographers so that he could open his passenger door for me. As quickly as possible, I slid into the car. He rounded the front of it and then locked us inside as he pulled away from the coffee shop.
“I’d tell you I’m sorry, but I know it’s probably like that for you all the time in LA,” Jason said, giving me a sidelong glance.
I shrugged. “It’s worse because we’re together and they have no clue what we’re doing. They think we’re dating.”
Jason laughed and I shifted my gaze to look out the window. Was is that insane to think we were a couple?
I guess so.
We pulled up in front of his house, he killed the engine, and then he turned toward me.
“I think I know why we’re having a hard time getting started on the song,” he said, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
“Oh?” I asked.
“Yeah, I think we need to get to know each other a little bit better,” he began.
“I guess that makes sense,” I replied, trying to quell the excitement firing up inside of me. You’d think he’d just told me he thought I was prettiest girl in the world with the way my body was reacting. Take a chill-pill, heart.
“I have some work to finish up this afternoon, but if you’re up for it we can go on a ride tomorrow morning.”
That sounded like an invitation for a date, but I knew better. “A horseback ride?”
He smiled, “Yeah.”
“I can’t believe you’d want to go horseback riding with me. I didn’t even think you liked me all that much,” I admitted.
He shrugged and stared out through the front windshield. “Truthfully, I just need to take Jasper out on the trails, get him accustomed to the terrain out there.”
Liar. Liar. Fucking pants on fire. Okay, maybe that’s not how that rhyme went, but whatever. I wouldn’t call him out on his assholery this time.
“Lovely. Well enjoy your afternoon,” I said, hopping out of his Jeep. I didn’t bother waiting to see if he’d respond. He’d just turned a perfectly good morning sour with his inability to function as a normal human being. Even if he did want to go horseback riding with me, he’d never admit it. Gah! The man was grueling. I just wanted to shake him and learn all of his stupid dark secrets. I bet they weren’t even all that good, either.
I stormed through the front door, grunting a hello to LuAnn who was sitting at the kitchen counter. With enough attitude to warn away any bear within fifty miles, I pulled out the ingredients for a sandwich, practically ripping the lettuce to shreds as I positioned it on top of the turkey.
“That poor condiment never did anything to you,” LuAnne joked as she watched me stabbing my knife into the jar of mayonnaise.
“The mayo is substituting as the person I’d like to be stabbing,” I muttered, recapping the jar and stuffing everything back into the refrigerator.
Jason walked into the kitchen as I grabbed my plate. I glanced at him over my shoulder, watching him drag his hand through his hair. He looked tense, like a coiled wire ready to spring open, but I brushed past him with my plate before he could speak and make the situation worse.
…
After taking lunch up to my room so that I wouldn’t have to talk to Jason while I ate, I dialed Cammie’s number.
“Whattup, cutie?” she asked after picking up. And just like that, I was in a better mood. The girl was better than Buddha.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear your voice,” I admitted, falling back onto my bed and letting the blankets envelope me.
“Ew, easy on the cling. What’s going on?” she asked.
“Oh nothing, just everything sucks and Jason is a dickhead. What’s new?”
She laughed. “Hold on, let me step out of the studio so my classmates don’t overhear me and try to sell the story to the tabloids.”
“Didn’t they just hear you say that?” I asked.
The distinct sound of a door opening and closing was followed by the sound of traffic in the background. “No. I sit next to a foreign-exchange student that doesn’t speak English. She can design a house in like ten seconds flat though, so whatever.”
“Maybe she just pretends to not speak English so that she doesn’t have to talk to you all day,” I quipped.
“Wow, someone ordered spicy mustard on their gluten-free panini today. Or is the ‘tude because Jason has your vajayjay worked up?”
“Oh my God, I can’t handle your slang. Vajayjay sounds like a bad rapper name.”
Cammie cracked up. “Objection sustained.”
“How’s your project going?”
“Same ol’ same ol’. I’m counting down the days until I get to come to see you. I have seven days until I present my final project and then I get to come stay with you for three days. Montana better call in the National Guard because we’re going to whore it up big time.”
I covered my eyes and smiled. “Oy vey.”
“So have you been collecting boys for me to hang out with while I’m in town?”
I ran through the mental checklist of people I’d met in Montana so far. “Well you can take your pick between Jason the rockstar assface, Derek the cute, but cliché cowboy, or Logan, Jason’s cousin who isn’t a day over fifteen.”
“Sounds like you’re only a construction worker and a Native American short of a Village People cover band,” she said.
I laughed. “The real gem, though, is LuAnne. She runs the place while Jason is gone and I’ve had more fun with her than anyone else so far. Last night we finished off a bottle of wine and she showed me her tramp stamp of a black stallion.” I couldn’t quite figure LuAnn out. She seemed so proper, and then out of nowhere she’d whip out the wine and talk about her glory days. I’d decided she’d been quite the flower child.
“Wow. So you’ve gotten farther with the housekeeper than you have with People’s sexiest man alive 2013?”
“I’d totally swap teams for LuAnne. The woman would make me garlic mashed potatoes for every meal.”
“Oh damn, I’d swap teams for some mashed potatoes right now, too. But, serious
ly, are we going to get to the pertinent info here or are you just going to distract me while I should be busting my ass in the studio?”
I laughed, “You make it sound much worse than it probably is.”
“Last night half of us slept at our desks. I woke up with an indentation of my keyboard on my face and my nose had typed 149 pages of m’s.”
“Cammie, that’s not right! Give me the number to your advisor so I can call and yell at them.”
She groaned. “Yeah, no thanks, psycho. It’s part of the system. Everyone has to go through it and we end up stronger architects in the end. Like Spartan warriors.”
“Really? Or do you just end up with back problems and poor hygiene habits?”
“Brooklyn Josephina Heart, enough. Tell me what’s bothering you or I’m hanging up.”
Josephina was not my middle name.
I finally caved and filled her in on the last few days of Jason nonsense. I told her all about the failed attempts at writing and his comment in the Jeep on the way home.
“So you guys are going to go horseback riding tomorrow, yes?” she clarified.
“Yup. To get to know each other.”
“What’s your end goal there?” she asked.
“Umm, for him to realize that I’m not a terrible person and maybe for him to actually like me,” I admitted. Were those outrageous goals? No.
“My advice is to wear some tight riding pants and make sure he gets an eyeful of dat ass.”
“Yeahhhh,” I drawled playfully. “I’m not sure that advice aligns with my end goals.”
“Okay, yeah, you’re right. Instead you should douse yourself in water while you’re riding, but make sure you’re wearing a killer bra and a white shirt.”
“Still not correct.”
“Oh, right. Okay, I think you should pretend like you can’t get up onto the horse on your own so that he has to give you a boost… and maybe his hand slips… and maybe… you don’t have underwear on…”
“Cameron!” I yelled into the phone, forcing her to pause.
She cracked up in response to my reaction, but I’d had enough of my little sister for one day.
