by Josephs, Mia
“We’ve got another just like this guitar if we need it, but she never uses the thing,” Ryker said. “I’m gonna make a call.”
Griffin ignored his brother while he slowly set down Lita’s guitar. A classic Les Paul. The newer ones were more advanced, but there was something about the early eighties versions that just felt perfect for what Lita sang. He could see why she used this guitar. And it was her mom’s. That was a detail he didn’t know, which meant probably very few people knew. A slip?
Griffin ran his fingers over Lita’s guitar and the reality of his situation hit him again. He was on tour with someone whose music he loved, and now, he had to fix her guitar. No. Not had to. Got to. And he was going to stay up all night if that’s what it took to make it perfect.
Lita’s phone rang as the limo took her to another day of practice. The kickoff for the tour was coming up fast, and she had to be ready.
CHANDLER
“Hey you.” She grinned as she answered.
Bridget glanced over her iPad and Apelu leaned forward in his seat.
Chandler let out a rush of breath. “Hey.”
“Were you nervous to call?” she asked with a smile.
“Yeah. A little.”
Silence.
“I’m guessing you called for a reason?” she asked.
“My agent suggested… He thought maybe we should be seen together again. Before you take off?”
Lita glanced up at Dave. “Did you put Chandler’s agent up to this?”
He shrugged, but the slight smile said that yes, he’d definitely been involved.
Of course. She was surprised it hadn’t come up sooner after the surge in sales from last time they were together. “Come to the show tomorrow. If our rehearsals are any indication, I might suck, but yeah. Come. It’ll be fun.”
There was an odd hesitation on his end. “That’d be great. And if you have a few minutes after… I’d like to just… Maybe we could talk for a bit? I’m up for the new X-Men movie, and I thought maybe a few more pictures couldn’t hurt.”
Perfect. “As long as you don’t mind me bitching for a moment about the craziness of the night.”
“Done,” he said.
“Great.” Lita relaxed into her seat. “See you then.”
Bridget had a brow cocked so high, Lita was sure it would touch her hairline any moment.
“What?”
“You like him?” Bridget asked. “Like actually like him?”
“Not allowed.” Apelu chuckled next to her.
“Definitely.” Dave gave her such a dad-type look over his iPad. “Definitely not allowed. Unless you’re willing to go public in a big way.” And his dad-smile turned into his manager-smile.
Lita shrugged. “He’s easy to talk to, and ridiculously hot. What’s not to like?” And maybe she’d feel something different around him that she hadn’t felt last time. Maybe…
“You’ll tear him to pieces.” Bridget smiled over her phone and continued furiously tapping.
Lita winked, enjoying that even her friend was sometimes fooled by her image. “Maybe.”
The car pulled to a stop and Apelu jumped out before Lita. She pushed her way through the door, knowing she was early and hoping to get some time onstage before the band showed up.
Ryker grinned his typical shit-eating grin in the dark of backstage and Lita stopped. “What?”
“Go check your guitar.” He gestured to the stage.
She set her shoulders and strode to where Griffin sat tuning.
Her long strides halted as she watched his hands run along the guitar almost like he was talking to it. Like she used to take the time to do. She tucked her fingers in her soft jeans’ pockets; so thankful she’d ditched the leather pants. They were ridiculous things to wear for rehearsal. But the boots… She had to have on the boots.
Griffin hummed a few lines as he played and her heart stuttered, and then she pushed forward, armoring herself the best way she knew how. Better to disappoint him now than later—or maybe the cast iron bitch was who he was expecting. “Will it hold a tune?”
“What?” Soft brown eyes peered up at her. “Of course.”
She cocked her head and looked at the red guitar in his hands. That couldn’t be hers. There had been a crack.
“You didn’t pick up a fake, did you?”
He chuckled. “Nope. Check it over. The crack looked a lot worse than it was. It was just a scratch; maybe hit the amp on its way down. A crack would have been fairly devastating to her.”
She reached out and he set the familiar weight of her Les Paul back in her arms. She ran her fingers over the smooth red and pushed down the flashes of her mom doing the same.
“You are good.” She shifted her weight to one leg; glad she’d worn higher heeled boots because she knew her legs looked better. Not that it mattered what the new guy thought of her legs.
“Thanks.”
“Can I play it?”
He flashed her a smooth close-lipped smile. “It’s why I’m here.”
Lita studied him for a moment—open honesty and goodness. Something she hadn’t seen in someone in way too long.
“You’re not an asshole.” She smirked.
He stood. She glanced up and sucked in a breath at his height, smooth lips, and faint stubble. “I try.”
She found herself smiling back before she realized it, small butterflies dancing in her stomach.
“Enjoy her.” He nodded to the guitar. “I’ve never played something so smooth.”
She stumbled over her mouth before finding words because that’s exactly how she’d describe her guitar. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He started off the stage leaving some kind of spicy, earthy scent in his wake. Holy shit he smelled good. Lita clutched the guitar, any trace of the scratch completely gone.
“Thanks again for the job,” he said over his shoulder.
Lita sat on her stool, pried her eyes off of Griffin’s toned backside, and ran her hands up the guitar—a gesture she normally only did when alone, but something about Griffin doing it made it seem okay. “Glad you’re here,” she said quietly.
She closed her eyes and let her hands fall over the strings, remembering all the early lessons from her mom and all the reasons she fell in love with music. All the things she sometimes felt she was chasing to keep close. It had been a long, long time since the memories of why she started in music had consumed her that way. It was as if something shifted inside her, and she clutched the guitar tighter.
Now she had to focus so she didn’t have another day where the band sounded like hell.
Six
At last count there had been ten people in her dressing room. Ten. Hairdressers, her manager, Bridget, Apelu, the new guy Apelu hired…
Her hair was jerked upward again to be teased to death, and she started scrolling through her phone. One day she was going to pay attention when the hairdressers pulled her hair into something that looked part Mohawk, part beehive, so she could do it herself. Instead she sent her dad another text.
Call when you can. Timing isn’t important. Been a while. Miss you.
She hovered over the send button for a moment, her fingers shaking, her breathing stopped. What if he didn’t answer? What if he didn’t call? Her text was practically begging her father to call her, so what happened if that didn’t work?
Sucking in a lungful of air, Lita erased the text and dropped her phone on the small counter. “How much longer?”
“Chill, chica,” Bridget chided over her iPad. “In a few. No one wants to see you if you’re not gorgeous.”
Lita stuck her tongue out at her friend. “One day I’m going to tour without all this insanity.” She gestured around the room.
“And that’s when I’ll quit because you’ll no longer be able to afford me.” Bridget smirked.
Yeah. Maybe. She started humming to warm up her voice. In a few minutes the meet and greet would happen, so she had to find her best “Lita James” face for all the pe
ople with backstage passes.
Nerves raced up her legs and skittered through her core.
Reviews.
Pictures.
Opinions.
Praise.
Haters.
It would all come out tonight on social media and tomorrow in the papers in full force, and it all depended on her first night.
Music slammed into Griffin’s ears. Catch Me If You Can, one of his favorites from Lita, and he knew he was smiling like an idiot, but he really couldn’t help himself. Being on tour with Lita James was temporary, and Griffin was going to love every second of it.
At that moment he stood backstage at a concert for a multi-Grammy winning artist. Kickoff for the tour. She knew his name. He’d fixed her guitar, and now he was in all black, aside from his grey jeans since he didn’t own a black pair, and backstage with the crew.
He was crew.
For Lita James.
He stared at her onstage, blond hair blown up on her head almost like a mohawk, and made up like on an old poster that was still hanging in his room. Every move and every note was impeccably her. Or the her that he knew from TV, Youtube, interviews…
How much of her image was her creation and how much was real? Now that he was there, he wanted to know. Either way her lyrics were killer, and she had great instincts in set lists and interesting chord progressions—definitely someone whose music he looked up to.
He rested his hands on his head to watch. Never did he think he’d be this close to her.
“It does get old,” Ryker yelled next to him.
“Only if you’re you,” Griffin said, not taking his eyes off Lita’s singing form.
Ryker slugged him. “I’m gonna go check out the girls desperate to get backstage. You want in?”
“Are you seriously trolling for girls?” he asked, though he shouldn’t have been surprised.
Ryker snorted. “Of course I am. They’re looking for a crazy night of fun, which is perfect because that’s all I’m good for.”
Griffin shook his head. His whole heart might not be all in with Stacy the way it should have been, but it would be again, and he was not a cheater. Never would be.
“The band almost always snags a backroom at Denny’s after the show. Or they party in one of the rooms, but I’m pretty sure tonight is a Denny’s night. You coming?” Ryker asked.
Griffin opened his mouth to ask if Lita went, but Ryker interrupted. “Lita disappears after shows, but the band is cool. All of them.”
Griffin shrugged having no idea what he wanted to do. He couldn’t imagine sleeping after this.
His phone vibrated and he jerked it from his pocket, knowing it would be Stacy.
“I can’t talk!” he yelled. “Show’s on!”
“Then let me listen with you!” Stacy yelled back.
He relaxed against the wall and held the phone out for Stacy to hear. She liked Lita, not the way Griffin did, but it was something she took the time to understand about him, just like he understood her obsession with changing her hair.
The crowd erupted and Griffin winced at the noise shattering inside his eardrums. “Thank you!” he shouted into the phone.
“I love you!” Stacy yelled.
“Can I text you later?”
“Call me in a bit!”
“Okay!”
He pictured her smiling face at the simple idea that he was doing something he loved because she cared about him that way. His heart filled a little more. He’d been right. He just needed some time away, and he’d feel solid with her again.
Lita’s arms and legs shook as she stepped back from the mic after encore number two. Every muscle in her body ached and begged for bed instead of the high she used to feel after a show. Was it that she’d done this so many times before? Or was it something else?
The crowd went nuts and she yelled into the mic with them, licking the edge because that had somehow become a thing. The stuff people thought was cool baffled her, but whatever… She let her eyes half close before bowing her head down. The lights shut off.
She threw her arms up in the air again before walking backstage and she let out a breath. “That could have been worse.”
But what would the world say?
The guys from the band smiled and each of them grabbed her in a sideways hug, but was it real or were they just humoring her because they had a job to do? She had no way to tell and so she assumed the latter. She always did. Much easier to not be disappointed that way.
Her hair felt like a helmet on her head, still immovable even after all the sweating, jumping and singing.
“Bridget said to bring this to you.” Chandler smiled as he held out a venti iced coffee, stepping over cords and around the guys from the band.
“Well aren’t you my hero?” She grinned and gave him a half hug, hoping she hadn’t come off too forward or weird since they’d really only met a couple times. Her throat ached, and it was only the first night. She’d have to be careful with her words.
Lita slid the guitar over her head and was just about to carefully set it in the stand when Griffin jogged out and reached toward her. “I can take it.”
She was sure there was something she should say after his first show, but he was one of a lot of new crew so she had no idea what. Lita stood there between the two guys, both looking at her with too wide smiles, and her mind blanked before words formed.
“No black jeans?” she asked, realizing three words too late that it probably wasn’t the right thing to say.
Griffin glanced down. “Sorry. Haven’t shopped yet.”
She took her coffee from Chandler and started off the stage with him in tow. Maybe her words were harsh. She’d never thought so much about what she said. “What size do you wear?” she called back.
“Uh…” He glanced between her and Chandler, who seemed slightly less handsome with Griffin in the room. “Thirty-two waist, thirty-four leg.”
She nodded once and let Chandler lead her off stage.
“Where to?” Chandler asked. “I hear the band is living the highlife in the back room at Denny’s of all places.”
She ignored the Denny’s comment. They didn’t want her around. And she didn’t understand the Denny’s thing anyway. “You have a car?”
“Of course.”
“Let’s just drive.” That felt safer, and a million times better than pretending to enjoy a party or sitting in her hotel room unable to sleep. She tucked her arm into his, gave Apelu the “all’s good” sign and wished that Chandler smelled like Griffin because if the attraction were that simple, it would be that simple to fix.
Chandler let out a breath, his too perfect blue eyes softened. Maybe she would be able to find some kind of spark between them. “Sounds perfect.”
Two hours and an empty coffee cup later Chandler stopped them somewhere up the PCH to look over the black ocean. Neither had spoken much, and the silence wasn’t awkward but it also wasn’t relaxing like it was with Bridget. Why didn’t she know what to say? Why hadn’t his perfect looks given her butterflies? Guy. Girl. Same business (sort of), close in age...
“This thing…” Chandler gestured between them. “This is okay as friends right?”
Lita put on a fake smile. Being around him should feel like more, especially if she was considering moving him from fake boyfriend to real boyfriend. But still... Having him tell her what she already knew, burned. “Yes. I mean, we were thrown together. Yeah”
He watched her, and she noticed again what all the girls swooned over. Too-styled dark hair, a jaw-line somewhere between delicate and masculine. He was a beautiful man. Maybe even too pretty for her taste.
“It’s just weird, you know?” he asked. “The situation.”
“To be half thrown together by our managers or agents or whatever?” she asked. “It’s a first for me too.”
She pulled the straw from her drink and started to crease it between her calloused fingers.
“But your record sales went up?” he as
ked.
“And you’re a possible for the next X-Men?” she played back with a smile.
He nodded.
“Then maybe we should make some kind of show for the paps when you drop me at the hotel, huh?” she teased and flicked the empty straw toward him.
His face paled a little and she sat back, watching him through narrowed eyes. What was his deal?
“Can I trust you with something?” He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his head a few times, messing his perfectly tousled hair. “I mean, really trust you?”
She nodded. “I’m the last person you’ll ever find spreading secrets.” After Carmen blasting her on moodiness, on possible eating disorders, on fighting with the band, on hiding after shows...
“I’m…” He groaned as he leaned forward. “Damn, this is hard.”
“Just do it. I’ll close my eyes.” And she did. And waited. And waited.
“I’m gay and I’m just not…”
Her eyes flew open. “That’s it?” And it would maybe explain why she wasn’t reacting to him the way she sort of wanted to.
He let out a nervous chuckle. “Don’t say it like that. Like it’s no big deal. It’s only no big deal if it’s not you. I don’t want to lead people on to think that I’m straight, like whatever made-for-paparazzi display you just thought up for us. I think a good, long hug will keep me safely in neutral territory but will still keep enough fire under the rumors to keep us in the news. I can’t lead people on in too big a way. They’ll hate me when I do come out, which I will.” He pressed his fingers into his temples and pulled in a long breath.
“It’s fine.” Lita leaned her head against the glass; exhausted at the work it took to just be. To just live. To keep a career. To prepare to go on tour. She was part the small town girl, and part the girl she wished she was—the great Lita James—and part someone she didn’t know at all. She could understand his hesitation to put that part of himself out there.
“I’m not ready for… I’m just not ready for everyone to know that about me yet. I know, old fashioned or whatever. I’m just… I’m just not ready.” His head flopped back onto the headrest and his hands rested on the lower part of the steering wheel. “I want to be solid in my career before I let that out. I have a guy I’m insanely in love with, and I'm not ready to put him under the spotlight that way.”
