Double Exposition (Songs and Sonatas Book 1)

by Jerica MacMillan

  Conversation is almost gone before he even starts playing. Laughter carries from the kitchen, a few people still in there unaware of what’s going on in the living room. But as soon as his fingers touch the strings, even that dies away.

  He starts with “Paint the Town Green,” which he’s played for me before when I was feeling homesick for Texas. Then moves on to “Better Place,” which he slows down and gives a little more edge so it fits with the husky quality of his vocals versus Rachel Platten’s perkier female voice. He plays through a few more popular songs that I recognize from the radio and from when I’ve heard him mess around with them at his place.

  With a smirk in my direction, he starts playing “Heart of Everything,” Brash’s biggest hit. Everyone claps and cheers when he starts in on the opening chords. This is apparently something he plays for them a lot. Next he plays one of the other songs off their album, “Think of Dreams,” the one I told him was my favorite. After a few of Brash’s more recognizable songs, he pauses, taking a drink of water from the bottle Jake gave him before he started.

  Adjusting the guitar on his lap, he checks the tuning, twisting one or two of the pegs to bring it back to perfection after strumming hard on the last couple of songs.

  “Now you get to hear some of my recent work. Gabby over there helped me fix this one when I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it. So you have her to thank that you’re hearing it tonight. Or any of the others, for that matter, because I wouldn’t’ve been able to move on to something new until this one was fixed, and she helped me make those perfect too.”

  A whistle, a loud “Whoo!” from the kitchen, and a smattering of applause greet this statement, and everyone glances at me where I sit on the couch. I feel much more conspicuous and out of place now that he’s singled me out, but I nod and smile at anyone who makes eye contact, hoping I don’t look as awkward as I feel.

  Jonathan coaxes the melody from his guitar, his fingers caressing the strings, his head down. When the vocals start, and the guitar changes to strumming, he lifts his head, his green eyes catching and holding mine, never letting go as he sings his song. Directly to me. Even though I know the song as well as he does by now, my breath catches as those words take on new meaning, as he pours emotion into every note, every syllable, the consummate performer.

  But is he just performing? Or does he really feel that strongly?

  I have to blink away tears when he gets to the minor section, and I break eye contact for a moment, unable to handle the intensity. I catch Ben’s eye across the room when I look away, and he gives me a sympathetic smile. He’s sitting with his arm around his girlfriend, but he’s been watching me. Not like a creeper, or like he’s interested—I know how in love with Beth he is, so I’m not worried about that—but like he’s wondering how I’m reacting to what’s going on with Jonathan. Am I missing something here? I mean, I know Jonathan and I have moved pretty fast from just dating to a serious relationship.

  Is Ben worried about me? Or Jonathan?

  Turning my attention back to Jonathan, I push whatever concerns Ben’s sympathy has raised firmly away. It doesn’t matter. I like Jonathan, and he likes me. We’re enjoying spending time together. And I’m not going to think about what may or may not happen down the road.

  I know Jonathan’s graduating in May. But it’s only October. We have ages to figure out what comes next.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gabby

  My phone vibrates in my hand as Lauren and I leave our Monday morning theory class, joking with our friends Damian and Zeke. Watching Lauren interact with Damian makes me think she’s gotten over her crush on him after their one date. Which is too bad, since he seems taken with her. But he’s shy, and Lauren, well, Lauren’s not. It’s probably for the best. She’d chew him up and spit him out in a week.

  The insistent buzzing of my phone draws my attention from my friends and Lauren regaling us with the story of how she spent yesterday with the guy she met at the party on Saturday night. Jonathan and I had dropped her off at the dorm that night, but apparently she never went home Sunday night and had lots of fun with Jake’s friend Dylan. I wasn’t in the dorm either, since Jonathan had convinced me to stay the night again.

  Looking at the screen, I see Jonathan’s name and the picture I took of him a couple of weeks ago. It goes to voicemail before I can pick it up. When I unlock my phone, I notice three missed calls, all from him.

  Weird.

  We usually talk after his ten o’clock class and figure out where to meet for lunch. Sometimes he’ll text me throughout the morning, but not call. Everything was fine when he dropped me off this morning.

  A shot of worry has my gut churning, and I wave to my friends before stepping around the corner to call Jonathan back. Before I can, my phone is ringing again.

  “Gabby? Thank God. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.” His voice is all relief when I answer.

  “Yeah, I saw the missed calls. I just got out of class and was about to call you back. What’s wrong?”

  “They haven’t found you yet?”

  “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “There aren’t photographers outside your class or the music building or anything?”

  My eyebrows crinkle together. “I don’t think so. Why would there be? Is there someone famous here?”

  He snorts out a laugh, but he doesn’t sound amused. “Uh, yeah. Sort of. You.”

  Shocked laughter comes out of me, but when he doesn’t say anything else, I quiet down. “No. I’m not famous. That’s not funny.”

  “Yeah. I know. I’m not joking. You should probably plan on missing classes today, though. I’ll come get you. Or—shit. Maybe I’ll have Ben come get you. That’d be easier.”

  “Wait. Hold on. What are you talking about? Why do I need to skip classes? And why should Ben come get me? Doesn’t he have classes too?”

  He sighs, and I imagine that he’s rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. “Someone took a video on Saturday night and uploaded it to YouTube. It’s gone viral. And there are paparazzi camped out in front of my house. When Ben left for his nine o’clock class twenty minutes ago, there were only a couple of them in cars across the street. That’s when I first tried to call you. But now there are at least ten, and they’re all standing on the sidewalk.”

  Moving to the windows on the end of the second floor that overlook the parking lot, I try to see anything unusual. “Okay. It doesn’t look like anyone’s here. Why would they be here, though? If the video’s of you. I know you mentioned me, but how would they find out who I am and my class schedule already? And why would they even care?”

  Another deep sigh comes out of him. “Because they’re ruthless scum suckers who will try for any angle on a story. But also because the video shows me kissing you after I finished playing. Between mentioning your help and the kiss, you’re very interesting. There are already articles speculating about who you are, how we met, how serious our relationship is. It’s only a matter of time before they find you and start stalking you.

  “I’ve already put in a call to the Dean of Students’ office to figure out how to handle this. And once I’m off the phone with you, I’m going to call my mom. She and my dad coordinated our security when we were on tour, and she still knows people.”

  I swallow, the cars coming into the parking lot taking on a new significance. Are any of them photographers? Will they just wait to mob me when I try to leave? There aren’t any groups of people milling around, or even anyone I don’t recognize standing there like they’re waiting for someone. A few students walk toward the center of campus, but I know them.

  “What about my classes?”

  He grunts. “Like I said. You should plan on skipping today at least. Maybe tomorrow too.”

  “But my lesson is in an hour. And rehearsal tomorrow. I can’t—“

  “I’m sorry, Gabby. This is why—“ He stops himself, and I hear him swallow. “I’m sorry. If you
stay in the music building for now, you’ll probably be fine. You usually practice before your lesson, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay. I’ll figure something out by the end of your lesson. Call me as soon as you’re done.”

  “Okay.”

  “Have a good lesson. Gabby, I—“ He hesitates, and I hold my breath, waiting for what he’s going to say next. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  We say goodbye and hang up, but I feel like he was going to say something else and stopped himself. I suspect I know what it was, and I’m not sure what I think about the fact that he almost said he loves me, or about the fact that he didn’t actually say it.

  But I need to practice right now. I have a lesson in an hour. And that needs to take precedence over things that may or may not be happening.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jonathan

  I can’t stop pacing back and forth in the living room. Five steps one way, turn. Five steps back. Again and again. I can’t sit still, can’t focus on anything. A peek through the curtains reveals the growing mob of photographers and reporters on the sidewalk.

  My phone’s been blowing up with notifications, phone calls, voicemails, and texts from friends. Once Gabby’s here I’m turning it off for a while. She’s the only reason I’ve had it on this whole time.

  Ben said he’d get her and bring her home. Since he’s my roommate and friend, he’s been getting calls too. They haven’t figured out who Gabby is yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

  My heart rate picks up as I imagine the circus her life is going to turn into for the next few weeks until this all blows over. I want to protect her from all of this. This isn’t what she signed up for. I’ve been little more than a nobody for the last few years, an occasional interest segment when I’m spotted hanging with an old friend who’s still in the spotlight when I go home to visit. No one cares much about the three boys from Brash anymore.

  Which is fine with me.

  The buzz of my phone against the coffee table yanks my attention out of my thoughts. But it’s not Gabby. Or Ben. It’s my mom. Again.

  “Hey, Mom. Did something change since we talked last?”

  We’ve been on the phone on and off most of the morning. First, I called her to let her know about the growing paparazzi situation and ask for her security references. She said she’d take care of it, then called me back to let me know I’d be hearing from Blaine, the head of the private security company we used before.

  I could tell she wanted to say more, but both of those conversations had been brief since I still needed to talk to Blaine, then the Dean of Students, and figure out how to get Gabby here without everyone seeing her.

  She clears her throat. “No. Everything’s the same. Well, except for your growing popularity.”

  “Yeah.” My answer comes out more of a growl than I intended.

  “I take it this wasn’t planned?”

  “What? Are you kidding me?”

  Her voice is conciliatory, placating. “Now, Jonathan. I know you didn’t like fame much as a teenager, but with time and space it’s possible for you to change your mind. I know you’ve still been writing songs, and it always bugged you that you never got to use them with Brash. You’re almost done with your degree. Now would be a logical time for you to start trying to grow a fan base and draw on your fame from before.”

  “Mom. No. This isn’t—“ I shake my head, gripping my hair in my fist. “No. I didn’t want this. Especially not like this.”

  “I watched the video. You sound good. More mature than you used to. I can see why people are sharing your video all over the place. It’s good. And your new songs …”

  When she trails off, I hold my breath, waiting for her to finish. “Yeah?” I prompt when she doesn’t. Mom was always our biggest supporter and our harshest critic. She never said anything unless we asked, but when we wanted an honest opinion, we knew she would give it to us. The full, unvarnished truth. What was out of tune. Where our balance was off. And when we locked things together so perfectly it became magic. She’d been trained as an opera singer, but suffered from vocal nodes in grad school and never made it as the diva she should’ve been.

  “Wow,” is her answer. “Jonathan, I’ve never heard you sing like that. It’s rough, but in a way that’s appealing. Your lyrics are on point, and your melodies and chord progressions have gotten more complex than the ones you used to use.”

  I clear my throat, relieved and pleased at her praise. “Yeah. Gabby’s been helping me with that. The harmonies and chords especially.”

  She gives a thoughtful hum and pauses, and I wait, knowing what’s coming next. “How serious are things with this girl?” I’ve told her about Gabby already. With how much time we spend together, she’s bound to come up, but I haven’t filled my mom in on how much Gabby really means to me. Hell, I haven’t even told Gabby yet.

  “Um, I’m not sure. I like her a lot. But we haven’t talked about the future, if that’s what you’re asking.” Because neither of us have brought it up, not because I haven’t thought about it. But I’m starting to think about what’ll happen once it’s summer. Or next year. How we can make things work after I’m done with school.

  “She’s young,” my mom says.

  “I know.”

  “Just …”

  “I’ve only known her for less than two months, Mom. You don’t need to worry about wedding invitations yet,” I chide with a wry edge to my voice.

  “Yet?”

  I chuckle, but don’t say anything else. Yet is right. It’s too soon to go there right now. But in a few months? Who knows?

  “The big question now, though, is what are you going to do with this refresh of your fame?”

  My brows knit together. “What do you mean? Hire security for Gabby and me at least, maybe Ben if they hassle him more, and wait for it to all blow over. “

  “Are you sure that’s what you really want? Because Harry called earlier. He saw the video too. He wants to talk to you.”

  I grind my teeth together before answering. “I don’t want to talk to Harry.” Harry was our manager before. My parents did most of the work, but Harry was the one with the contacts. He charged a shitload of money just for putting us in contact with a few people, like the Disney deal that fell through. Harry was a bastard. I don’t think that’s changed.

  “Well, just think about it.”

  “Harry’s an asshole, Mom. Thinking about it isn’t going to change that fact.”

  She laughs. “You’re right.” Pause. “Still. Even if you don’t want to talk to Harry. There are lots of managers out there. You might find someone that you can work with better than Harry. If any of them contact you, it might be worth hearing them out. You’re an adult now. And it’s just you. You’re in a position of power, especially since this is something you’re willing to walk away from. Managers and labels will be salivating after you with the attention you’re getting right now. You could capitalize on it and set yourself up for life. Maybe give your younger brother a chance at something again, too.”

  “Mom—“

  “I know. I’m just saying. It’s something to think about. I’d hate for you to let this all blow over, then look back on it later and realize it was a missed opportunity. You might not get this chance again.”

  Taking a deep breath, I consider her words. I’m sure some of the voicemails on my phone are managers hoping to land me. If there aren’t any yet, there probably will be by tomorrow. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  “That’s all I’m asking.”

  The sound of the back door opening pulls me into the kitchen in time to see Ben and Gabby slip inside.

  “Mom, I gotta go. I’m going to turn my phone off for a while, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Okay. I love you, Jonathan.”

  “Love you too, Mom. Later.” Hanging up, I pocket my phone and pull Gabby into my arms. Everything feels better with her here.

  She wraps he
r arms around me and gives me a squeeze. “Hey. Ben drove me past the front. This is crazy.”

  “No one ambushed you at school?”

  She shakes her head, her hair swishing around with the movement. “No. No one. I made sure to check for weird crowds before Ben came and got me. Thanks for sending him, by the way.”

  “Of course.” I turn my attention to Ben, who’s still standing in the kitchen with his jacket on and keys in hand. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

  “Whatever. You’d do the same in some alternate universe where the situation was reversed.”

  I smile. “True. Did they get pictures of you guys?”

  A wide grin splits Ben’s face. “Nope. I parked two blocks away, and we came through the neighbors’ yards. I know you want to keep Gabby out of the press as much as you can for as long as you can.”

  “Yeah. Have they been bothering you?”

  He shakes his head. “Only a few phone calls from reporters so far. The photographers that were here when I left earlier snapped some photos, but no one followed me to school. They haven’t given up on you yet. But I’m gonna go hang out at Beth’s and avoid the craziness here. Let me know when you get them to clear off.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, that might take a while. Sorry, man.”

  Shrugging, he grins. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you asked for this. Have you figured out who posted the video?”

  “No.” My jaw clenches. “I didn’t recognize the username, and my hacking skills aren’t up to figuring that out.”

  Ben laughs. “I might have some friends who can find out if you want.”

  My mouth opens to accept his offer, but with a look at the troubled expression on Gabby’s face, I change my mind. “No. I’ll keep that in mind if I decide I want to know, but at this point, it wouldn’t do any good. It’s out there. We can’t stuff it back in.”