Love Struck

by Laurelin McGee

  But he wouldn’t connect by talking about Lacy anymore. He waited until the bus had lurched out of the parking lot and was on the road. “Can I ask you something, Jax?”

  “Dude, it’s big. That’s all I’m going to tell you.”

  “What? Are you twelve?” Eli groaned. “I don’t want to know about your dick.”

  Jax laughed. “My dick? I was talking about my vocal range. Where’s your mind?”

  “Ass.” Eli shook his head. He deserved it, though, since he’d fallen for Jax’s setup.

  “Anyway”—Jax angled himself so his back was to the window—“what did you want to ask?”

  Eli bit back his irritation and asked the question that had been itching at his mind since the beginning of the tour. “Where do you go every night after the show?”

  Jax’s jaw tightened. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Just curious.” Even more curious now that Jax seemed so opposed to answering. They used to tell each other everything. He wasn’t even sure who’d stopped first.

  “Where do you go every night? Like clockwork you head out of the green room thirty minutes after curtain.” It wasn’t unusual for Jax to turn the tables.

  Eli was prepared for that. He got that he often had to give in order to get with Jax. He also knew the art of disclosing only enough information to seem like he was being fully open. “I have an online thing I’ve gotten into.”

  “Like a hookup site?”

  “Something like that.” Eli cleared his throat. “Your turn. You used to always mingle with the fans. Have a drink”—or seven—“at the venue bar. Now you disappear. Where do you go?”

  Jax pinned his gaze out the window across the aisle. “Nowhere, really. I have some girls I know in some towns and I hook up with them. Mostly, I wander. Sometimes I check out another bar. Sometimes I just end up walking.”

  There was nothing wrong with Jax’s answer. Nothing that would seem out of place with any typical artist-type. But the lead singer of the Blue Hills was not a typical artist. He was more spotlight and less streetlight. And what was with his monologue on the catwalk about wanting to be a backstage type rather than a performer? That had seemed rather out of character.

  Eli suddenly felt cold worry along the back of his neck. “Are you okay, Jax?”

  “I’m fine.” It was obvious he didn’t want Eli to pry.

  But the last time Jax hadn’t wanted people to pry, Eli hadn’t. And he’d regretted it. He’d never stop regretting it. So now he was prying whether Jax wanted it or not. “That’s not like you, dude. You love hanging out with the crowd. You thrive on their energy.” There was no way Jax wasn’t into that anymore. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I said I’m fine,” Jax snapped. He turned to sit forward in his seat. “You know what you do, Eli? You put me in a box. You think you know who I am or what I want. You don’t have a fucking clue.”

  Before Eli could say anything in response, Jax stood and moved to the back of the bus.

  Eli didn’t go after him. He didn’t even look back. There wasn’t anything to be said, really. And if Jax wanted to be alone, then so be it.

  Wasn’t that how it always went anyway? Jax getting exactly what he wanted?

  Or maybe he was just being pissy so he could avoid recognizing that the people he put in boxes included himself.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “They encored me! Can you even? I can’t even. This is A Best Night Ever!”

  Darrin’s delighted laughter on the other end of the phone warmed Lacy even more. Hearing his voice almost overwhelmed her with homesickness, but the elation she felt from this show kept her from examining that too closely.

  “I’m stoked for you, Lace, but I can’t say I’m surprised. About time more people started noticing you. Soon you won’t even remember me anymore.”

  “Are you pouting, D?” She grinned into the phone and flopped on the couch in the makeshift green room. Good thing they hadn’t kept looking for it earlier. She and Jax never would have found the part-closet, part-bathroom with a curtain, part-lounge tucked beneath—not behind—the stage.

  “I’m pouting.”

  “I’ll be back before you know it, and you’ll wish I was gone again.” She kicked her feet in the air. Too much energy for the couch, she hopped up. She could faintly hear the Blue Hills launching into “Godric’s Hollow,” and started to dance a little.

  “Never. But while you are on tour, are you using the crowds to get reactions to your new material? God, I wish I could be there to catch some debuts.” This was exactly why she hadn’t been calling Darrin, giving herself a brief respite from the weight of her lies. But right now, she could be completely honest. For once. She gave an extra little shimmy-shake.

  “I debuted a new one tonight. It’s what got the encore,” she said proudly as she continued to sway to the music. Wow, that felt good. Honesty only sucked when you didn’t like what you had to say. Of course, she wasn’t going to mention that this was the first new one she’d played on tour. Nor was she going to mention that it wasn’t even finished—she simply repeated the one verse and chorus and added an instrumental bridge to make the song feel complete. Still, lies of omission were almost no big deal at all compared to the whoppers she’d been telling.

  “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Go celebrate. But when you come home, don’t think you’re getting out of a champagne party with me.” Although that opened up a little can of worms as to why she’d confided in a stranger instead of him. For the first time, Lacy considered that maybe this whole thing wouldn’t have spiraled as it had if she’d only been honest with her boss from the get-go.

  “I’ve told you, D, adding Sprite to your boxed wine does not equal champagne. But I’ll still take you up on it. Love you!” They hung up and she twirled around the room, blessedly not smacking anyone this time.

  This was the most amazing feeling. Perfect strangers had liked her music enough to ask for more. Not her old fans, or people she knew. Total strangers. This was the whole reason she’d started writing music, started performing. The only problem with this perfect moment was that now she was off the phone, there really wasn’t anyone to share it with.

  Andy had to leave the minute Lacy’s set was over, catching a red-eye back to Boston. Jax/Folx was onstage right now, and from the sounds of the audience, killing it himself tonight. Sammy had given her a noogie and gone back to watching Orange Is the New Black on her iPad while waiting for tear down. Lou was off wooing a potential new client, some kid he’d seen on YouTube. It was weird to be lonely, surrounded by so many people. She flopped down on the sofa again, suddenly less ecstatic than she’d been earlier.

  But—it was the special-est of occasions. So she allowed herself to do the thing that if Andy had been here, would get her pulled from the tour.

  Pulling her cell from the inner pocket of her guitar case, she took a deep breath. And called the number she’d always know by heart. The number she’d called so many times this year. The number her sister had once found her redialing over and over, sobbing herself hoarse on the same bathroom floor she’d found him on.

  Lance’s voicemail came on and her eyes filled with tears as the familiar sound of him came on the line. Something was different this time as she hung up, though. The tears weren’t so much about missing him as they were about missing her old self, the self that had left a hundred messages for the man she thought she knew. Lacy blew her nose and tuned back in to the sounds floating down from the stage.

  She was still in that pensive mood when the boys came offstage. Jax threw himself down next to her. Eli sent her a smile before Lou dragged him off to talk to the new protégé. The other guys headed to their usual beer and argument over who was better that night.

  Her spirits sunk further as she realized that the people who would care about her accomplishment had just walked out the door. Or, person, rather—Eli. She was a little surprised that he was the one she had first thought of squealing to whe
n it happened.

  He was the first person she thought about a lot though lately, if she were honest. But she’d had enough honesty tonight and didn’t want to think about things that were going to dampen her mood even more.

  Jax ruffled her hair. “Encore tonight, Lacypants!”

  The feelings swelled in her chest again at the acknowledgment. She should have known he’d notice. Well, actually, there was no way she could have known since he’d never said anything about her sets before, but she should have guessed. Folx would never miss acknowledging a friend’s triumph.

  “I’m so excited, I can hardly stand it. Did you feel this way, the first time?” She smoothed her mussed curls back into place.

  “Honestly? I still feel that way every time. It’s a drug, being loved. I’m addicted.”

  It was a complete contradiction to his words earlier on the catwalk and she wondered if he was being sincere.

  He smiled, though, and the corners of his eyes crinkled just a bit, enough for her to know he meant it. “Come on, we should celebrate. I’m calling in that rain check on the drink. If we hurry we can sneak out the back before any of the fans catch us.” He held out a hand, and pulled her to her feet.

  His hand was warm, and strong, and she told herself that was just as exciting as the electricity she never stopped hoping would suddenly show up when they touched. Probably it was just the edge of disappointment at not doing a meet-and-greet on her biggest night yet. Because this was exciting. Jax was finally giving her some of what she had always known he was capable of. Folx and Love were going to go have a drink, and really get to know each other. She wondered if he suspected her true identity. Funny that she should think of her pen name as her true identity, but in so many ways it was.

  Jax offered her his arm, and together they stepped out of The Dog House and into the humid Baltimore night. This was comfortable. This was nice. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. Lacy had assumed they’d stop in the first place they saw, but Jax seemed content to ramble past all the lit neons, crossing streets seemingly at random, occasionally checking his phone or typing things in. Texting someone, perhaps. Or tweeting. She was curious, but let him have his space.

  This introspective side of him was new, at least new in person. Selfishly, she wondered if he was thinking about LoveCoda and regretting coming out with Lacy. She wondered if she should casually mention something about the forum, just to bait him a little. See if he brought her up in conversation.

  At the thought of SoWriAn, though, she suddenly wondered if Jax would message her to say he couldn’t meet tonight, and if so, what his excuse would be. As if on cue, her phone pinged. She glanced at it.

  Sorry to cancel. Have to meet with another singer tonight.

  It was true she supposed, though she didn’t like the “have to” connotation. And why had it taken her so long to get the message? Jax had been on his phone but it had been several minutes ago now. Huh. Maybe the forum had a delay. She didn’t know how apps worked, anyway. Magic, as most technology seemed to be.

  She shrugged and stuffed her phone in her purse, trying not to dwell on the Jax she knew online and instead focus on the Jax she was with. Finally, after several blocks of roaming, a set of stairs leading down to a basement-level dive bar caught his eye, and he held the heavy metal door open for her.

  He ordered for them, a vodka rocks for himself and a G&T for Lacy. She was touched that he’d memorized her drink order from their day out on the town. She didn’t think he was paying that much attention. Which was good, since he wasn’t supposed to be paying attention to anyone but Love. She made a conscious effort not to consider Kat and the Groupie Clause.

  Although Kat and the Groupie Clause would make an excellent band name.

  “So. Me and you, alone at last,” Jax drawled, and took a large swallow from his drink. He winced a little as he swallowed. “First sip’s always a little rough. Mind if I?” Without waiting for an answer, he reached over and plucked the lime from her drink and added it to his own.

  Actually, she did mind, but it was no big deal to reach across the bar and spear another wedge with a toothpick. Something he could have done himself. She squelched her irritation. Jax was the lead singer of a very popular band. It was probably second nature for him to expect people to bend over backward for him. It sure looked like his whole band did, anyway. A picture of Eli floated across her vision, and she waved it away.

  “What are you waving at?”

  “Oh. Just a gnat that flew by my face.” Lacy took a sip of her gin. “So, yeah, me and you. Are you happy with the tour so far?” His smile faltered just a little.

  “Yeah, man. I’m pretty happy with the tour. The fans can be sweet. They can also be obnoxious. I like the pics and the free drinks, but enough with the autographs. I need my hand to be uncramped for performances.”

  Though it wasn’t like he played an instrument onstage. So did it really matter if his hand cramped the night before? But she just smiled and nodded.

  The nod encouraged Jax to say more. “We just keep getting bigger. That’s pretty cool. I mean, I always knew we were awesome, but now other people know we’re awesome too. You know?” He smiled again, and downed the rest of his drink.

  As he signaled the waitress behind the bar to get him another, Lacy stared at him. She wondered if he was nervous. He had to be. Nervous to be alone with her like this. Because even though they were together, and guards should be down, he was still lapsing into Jax-mode, that rock-star act. That thing where he didn’t come off as the thoughtful intelligent guy she knew him to be.

  Or … maybe he wasn’t the guy she thought he was at all. She’d decided he was Folx because she’d heard him singing Folx’s song. But that didn’t necessarily mean Jax had written it, even if he sang it like he did.

  For the first time, it occurred to her to ask. “Jax, the songs you play—did you write them?”

  “The band’s songs?” His eyes flicked around the bar. “Yeah. Totally.”

  “Like, ‘Godric’s Hollow’? That’s yours?” She had to be certain.

  He met her eyes, grinning with self-assurance. “I’m responsible for everything you hear, baby.”

  Of course he was. He was Folx, like she’d thought. He just was also not Folx. Not on the outside, and she wasn’t sure how to change that.

  She needed a plan to get him to loosen up a little. Or a lot. How did people usually get her to lower her defenses? Besides Folx and Eli, she could only think of one person who had really gotten to her recently.

  Wedding planner Tim.

  “Let’s do shots,” Lacy proposed. Lots and lots of shots. I’ll hold back on the insults, though.

  Jax grinned at her, and called the girl back over. “What are we doing?” he asked Lacy.

  “Have you ever had a Christmas Wisemen?” He shook his head. “Jager, Rumple, and Hot Damn.”

  “Sounds potent! I’m impressed. You aren’t who I thought you were.” His smile faded into a more intense look.

  “And who did you think I was?” Lacy felt her heart rate speed up.

  “Oh, I don’t know. No one, really.” He held up his shot and winked at her. “To new friends.”

  “To new friends.” No one? He thought I was no one? Sheesh kabobs. Her thoughts overrode the burn of the liquor, and the liquor overrode the burn of the comment. Drinking was great.

  Jax shook his head vigorously at the aftertaste. “Damn! Another, please, darlin’.”

  The bartender winked at him and lined up a shot for herself as well. No one was immune to that man’s charms. Really, it didn’t bother her like it might have. Maybe she understood that Jax was a man to be shared.

  Or maybe she was just numb from the liquor. Cause he wasn’t like a Groupie Clause. Haha. The third shot spread fuzzy warmth out from Lacy’s throat to her arms, and she grinned at Jax.

  “I really like your music,” she told him, perfectly aware that she was only a couple of drinks away from telling him that “mus
ic” was code for “hot body.”

  “Hey, thanks. I like yours too. I don’t normally dig chick singers, but you’ve got a whole thing going on that’s pretty cool. With all the, uh, hair, and guitar…”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve barely listened to my music, huh.”

  He collapsed into giggles and signaled for another round.

  “I watched you the first night, and I was impressed. Really. It’s just that I have my pre-show ritual, so I do that while you’re doing your set, you know?”

  It occurred to her to be offended. But she let the idea pass. This was part of getting to know someone—working out the kinks, finding common ground. Music was totally their common ground. Jax just didn’t know it yet. And she had a pre-show ritual too. “Red leather yellow leather.” So much in common.

  He slid one of the tiny chilled glasses toward her and raised it. “To your music.”

  “To my goddamn music. It is good.” Lacy was growing in confidence with every tipsy moment. “What’s your pre-show ritual? I’m always curious how other singers warm up.”

  “Oh, I don’t really warm up. I just get ready to be seen. So first I exfoliate. That’s really important. You know, you should probably be doing it too. Let’s see, I use lotion after that, it has a little bit of shimmer in it in case I take off my shirt onstage. Not, like, glitter, it’s a manly sort of shimmer. My hair only takes a few minutes, just a little product. Then I pretty much just spend some time with the mirror, stretching, a little yoga, some affirmations. Do you do affirmations? You should. I’ll give you some, and some scrub. I’m going to help you, Lacy. You could be really big.”

  Lacy stared at him.

  This time, it was she who flagged the bartender for more. God, Folx never talked like this. But then, when did they ever talk about the performance? They talked process, writing, the quiet private moments. Was this really what he needed to take him from that time to the public arena of the stage? Was it okay for such a smart guy to be so shallow?