by Lisa Suzanne
It’s okay, though.
It’ll force my focus where it needs to be rather than on silly distractions. I welcome that challenge with open arms because I don’t want to spend another second in the valley of sadness where I’ve found myself since I walked out of his hotel room.
It’s all so silly.
I try to remind myself that I only knew him for two days. I couldn’t have fallen in love with him in that short of a time span.
But he texted me back. He felt it, too.
It was real.
I order some food from room service. I pick at it, finding that I’m not very hungry between the heartbreak of a few hours and the nerves for what’s to come.
I curl my dark hair into loose waves. I dress in my favorite jeans and a comfortable shirt.
And then I head down to the lobby to wait for my ride.
I read his text again. I study it and pick it apart.
Thanks for the best weekend of my life.
It was the best weekend of my life, too.
Neither of us is in a position to make this work right now, but there may come a time when we will be.
What is he doing that he can’t make it work now? I try to think back through our conversations, and all I can come up with is the fact that he has abandonment issues and doesn’t want to get close to anybody. He was awfully agreeable when I told him I couldn’t do this now, that I wasn’t looking for anything more than a fun weekend.
But he also seems to understand that maybe we could make this work once I’m done with my upcoming obligations. The last line of his text proves that more than anything: I’ll hold our memories of this weekend close until that time comes.
In the note I left him, I told him that someday down the line he could use my number. He used it immediately.
Does that mean he wants to give this a real try in the real world, outside of our LA la-la-land?
This would be so different if I wasn’t on my way to a house where I’m going to need to hand my phone over the second I get there. I won’t be able to get back in touch with him until this competition is over...and who knows how long that could be. Even when it’s over, I may find myself with new obligations that will get in the way of cultivating a new relationship.
Some ships pass in the night, and that’s all they get.
I just have to keep reminding myself that it’s better to have experienced what we did this weekend and feel this grief than to never have had that chance with him.
My contract stipulates that if I’m one of the first five kicked off, I can go home and come back for the finale event. If I’m in the final five, I’ll need to remain in Los Angeles through the end of August when filming wraps. Either way, I’ll be in Los Angeles at the end of August. With that in mind, I type out a reply. I stare at it a while before I send it, because I’m really not sure if I can make this work. But I’ll find a way.
Me: If you’re in Los Angeles the first weekend of September, meet me at the lobby bar on Friday night at eight. That’ll be our second chance.
I blow out a breath, and then I spot the same car that dropped me at the hotel as my driver, Tony, gets out of the driver’s seat and stands by his door waiting for me.
That’s my signal.
I rush out to the car, and he tosses my two suitcases in the trunk along with my bass guitar. I slide into the backseat.
I text everyone important to me: my parents along with my three closest friends, Danny, Sam, and Andy. I let them know I’m loving LA and that I’m turning off my phone for the next month. I send them the emergency number from the contract in case anyone needs to get in touch, and I let them know I love them.
And then I power down my phone.
I stare out the window as I try to get into the right headspace.
It’s game time.
CHAPTER 20: LEXI
I stand at the front door to a beautiful house right on the beach, my heart thumping in my chest and my two suitcases behind me. My bass guitar in the case slung over my shoulder is like a security blanket. It’s the reason I’m here. Someone thought I was good enough—deserving enough—to be here, and so I am.
I can do this.
I raise my hand to knock, and the door opens before my hand meets the cool steel of the front door.
“Lexi!” a cute and spunky woman exclaims. “Welcome. I’m Kat, one of the assistant producers, and I’ll be your go-to gal for the next month.”
I breathe a sigh of relief that there’s at least one woman here I’ll be able to talk to...even if she works for the show and I don’t know her motives.
I try to look past her into the house, but all I see are the backs of a bunch of guys from where I stand.
“Come on in, and before you meet the other contestants, I have a few things to fill you in on.” She opens the door a little wider, and some guy comes and grabs my suitcases. She starts walking up the stairs, beckoning me with her hand, and I follow.
“We’ll start with sleeping accommodations. There are six bedrooms, ten contestants. You’re the eighth to arrive. You’ll have to share at least until someone is sent home. Check out all the bedrooms, and pick one that doesn’t have a taken tag on the bed.” She gestures for me to go first, and I peek in the rooms until I find one. I take the first open bed I find, and Kat sits on it. She checks a clipboard and starts rattling off all sorts of information about interviews and confessionals and food and I’m both overwhelmed and confused and nothing has even gotten underway yet.
She finally appears to get to the end of her checklist. “I know that was a ton of information, but one of the four assistant producers will always be on hand if you have questions. We’re actually renting the house next door, so we’re always close by if you need anything. Are you ready to meet the other contestants and your housemates?”
I nod, my eyes wide and my heart hammering. Am I ready? No, not really. But it’s time.
I follow Kat down the stairs, across the hallway, and into the family room. All the other contestants who stand in the room are men, and they’re all involved in conversations.
All attractive men, not that it matters.
My eyes catch on one man’s back. Broad shoulders that remind me of a muscled, naked back as I scratched my nails down it. Thick hair that reminds me of hair I ran my fingers through over the weekend.
God, what if it was him? In my wildest dreams, I couldn’t even imagine.
I feel someone looking at me, and my eyes edge over to a man involved in conversation with the guy who has sexy shoulders. Eyes meet mine from across the room, and I recognize them. They’re dark and a little mysterious as they gaze across the room at me.
Or maybe he’s looking at Kat, who’s still by my side.
These eyes belong to Tyler Caldwell, bassist for Capital Kingsmen. What the heck is he doing here? Capital Kingsmen is famous in their own right. Why would he possibly be competing for a position in MFB?
He’s certainly attractive, but my state of mind isn’t really one that would allow me to go there. Not after Gage, and not when I have to be focused on this competition.
“We have a new arrival!” Kat yells to the group.
Conversations stop, and those not facing me turn around.
I smile timidly as everyone’s attention turns to me.
Tyler smiles, and I keep my gaze there for a beat if for no other reason than he seems like a friendly face. I don’t know if he’s flirting, or if he’s just a nice guy...but either way, he’s got the kind of look like he can be an ally. A friend. A hot friend.
I glance through the six other men waiting there, and it’s when my eyes get to the very last one—Mr. Broad Shoulders—that I gasp.
My heart races and my knees start to shake as our eyes meet.
His widen in the same sort of shock that’s blazing through me.
They smolder.
They burn.
They look at me like he’s seen me naked before...because he has. They look at me like they want
to see me that way again.
He knows my body better after the weekend we just shared than maybe any man ever. And he certainly knows what to do with it.
And he’s here.
He’s not a salesman.
He didn’t need to call his assistant to cancel his meetings.
He’s here for the same reason I am.
He’s a bassist.
And he’s my competition.
He never gave a reason why whatever we shared couldn’t go past the weekend, and it’s for the same reason that I didn’t...because we signed nondisclosure agreements.
The same one, apparently.
Conversations resume, and the volume turns back up in the room after silence fell over it. I hear someone say something about a chick, and someone else say something about how women can’t play bass, and other rather sexist comments.
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.
Through it all, his eyes don’t leave mine. Mine don’t leave his, either. He stalks across the room toward me, but the guy standing closest to me gets to me first, completely unaware that someone else is making a beeline for me.
“I’m Colt,” he says, sticking out a hand to shake mine.
“Lexi,” I murmur, my eyes on the hot beast of a man headed my way.
He gets to me just as Colt starts to say something else and interrupts him. “Holy fuck, Nashville. What are you doing here? Are you here to do make-up?”
My heart crashes down into my ribs at the insult.
Did he really just ask me that?
I never pegged him to be a jerk after the time we spent together, but wow, that was rude.
“Whoa, dude,” Tyler says, jumping immediately to my defense as he saunters up behind Gage.
“Uh, no,” I spit at him. “I’m not here to do make-up.” I put air quotes around the last few words.
“That was a little sexist, don’t you think?” Tyler asks, and my God I’m still so confused.
Did I really get to know anything at all about this guy?
In all fairness, though...did he really get to know anything about me?
He shakes his head. “No, that’s what she does.”
And then it hits me.
That was my lie.
I do make-up for a living.
He wasn’t being a jerk, and my heart lifts just a little.
Until the next words come out of his mouth.
“We met in the hotel bar and hooked up this weekend,” he explains—or brags—to Tyler. His eyes return to me. “I guess now it makes more sense why you just happened to be at the same hotel as me.”
I glare at him, my heart shattering as he broadcasts our private life to everyone who might possibly watch this show now—including my friends and family.
And for sure that’s an angle production will take as soon as this footage hits the editing room.
In a split second because of his big mouth, I’ve gone from a strong woman here to compete against a bunch of men to the slutty girl who hooked up with a bassist before the competition even started.
That’s where the focus of my story arc will lie.
Not on my talents.
Not on my merits.
But on the fact that I had sex with one of the other contestants before this competition even began.
Once again, I’ve been screwed by Gage.
And not in the same good way he screwed me all weekend.
CHAPTER 21: GAGE
“Excuse me,” she mutters, and she bolts from our conversation over to the room with all the alcohol.
But she’s not a drinker.
If she’s not here as part of the make-up crew...what the fuck is she doing here?
She told me she was in Los Angeles for a solo weekend getaway. She told me she’s a make-up artist.
She never once made it sound like she knew anything at all about music.
How could I get to know someone so well in such a short period of time and still manage not to know anything about her at all?
It baffles me. It truly boggles the mind.
And now she’s pissed that in my shock over seeing her here, I slipped and blurted that we slept together.
I have no idea how to fix this, but my heart aches to find a way.
“Shit,” I mutter.
Tyler looks at me. “Was it just a hook-up?”
His tone makes his question feel less like he cares about whether there’s something between her and me and more like he wants to know if she’s available.
“It felt like more to me,” I say, hoping that if they’re going to air this that they’ll at least show me not being a total dick.
“Gage!” Kat yells at me from across the room as she stalks toward me. She grabs my arm once she gets to me and ushers me down a hall and into a private room. There’s a chair facing a camera in this room, and another chair just under the camera. “Confessional time!” she says gleefully, and fuck I don’t want to do this right now. I need to get out there and make sure Lex is okay, that she isn’t pissed at me for my big mouth.
“You sit there,” she says, nodding to the chair. “Look at the camera like I’m in it and we’re having a conversation. K?”
I nod once and purse my lips.
“Okay, Mr. Hoffman,” she begins, settling down into the chair. “Let’s talk about our night one drama, shall we? Tell me what happened with you and Lexi this weekend.”
I ignore her directions to look into the camera and I look at her instead. “It’s not anybody’s business.”
She smirks at me. “Cute, Gage, but we basically own you for the next few weeks, so spill the details.”
I try to think back to the wording of my contract. “Nothing in there said I had to confess what I did before the show started.”
“No, you’re right, but you sure took advantage of MFB’s hospitality at that hotel, didn’t you?” she prods. She grabs her phone and scrolls a bit. “Let’s see...a couple’s massage, a few meals, a whole bunch of drinks at the bar...” She glances up at me. “Looks to me like the least you can do is tell us a little about your weekend.”
I blow out a breath, surprised that the sweet and bubbly woman is suddenly turning on me. “Fine,” I mutter. “I met Lexi in the hotel bar on Thursday. I’d just met the band and the executives at the record label and I was ready for this chance. She sat next to me, we got to talking, and we had some laughs. I invited her to my room and she rejected me. I thought that would be it, and when I was walking out my door the next morning, I ran into her. She was on her way for a massage, and I said I was too.” I leave out the part about the couple’s massage and how I flashed her my goods. “We ended up spending the day together in LA.”
“And the night?” Kat asks.
I glare at her. “That’s personal.”
“God, I can’t believe the two contestants assigned to me hooked up before this started. I can’t even believe my luck! All right, what about Saturday then?”
We spent the day in bed. We fucked four times. We showered together. I got to know her better than I think I’ve ever gotten to know a woman before in my life.
“We spent the day together again.”
“Touring LA?” she presses.
Touring each other.
“Yeah.”
“Tell me about your feelings for her,” she says.
If she thinks this is some show where I’m going to spout my feelings, she needs to think again.
“That’s private,” I say, and my voice is firm and adamant.
She raises a brow, clearly unimpressed with my response, and I heave out a stubborn breath.
“Gage, work with me here,” she says softly. “Tell me how you feel about her.”
“I fell in love with her, okay? I fucking fell for her and she lied to me. She didn’t tell me she’d be here, just like I didn’t tell her I’d be here either. I thought we had something, but maybe I was completely wrong about that since now it feels like we never knew one goddamn thing about each
other.”
I stand and stalk toward the door as emotion clogs my throat. I refuse, absolutely refuse, to get emotional in this stupid confessional even though I know that’s exactly what Kat—who is supposed to be on my side—wants. “We’re done here.”
I walk out to the big room and rejoin the conversation I was having with Jimmy Decker, a guy I know from the Vegas circuit known better by just his last name. He doesn’t have a regular gig or band, but we’ve known of each other for years through the Vegas music scene.
“What was that about?” he asks.
I purse my lips together and sigh. “Nothing,” I mutter.
Everything.
He accepts my response and keeps talking about some of the mutual musicians we know. My eyes edge over to the food room when she walks out, a short glass in her hand filled with amber liquid and ice. She beelines directly for Tyler, and I clench my fists at my sides.
Fuck this.
I need a drink, too.
I wait until a break in my conversation with Decker and tell him I’m going to grab a drink. As much as I’m enjoying our conversation, there are other people here, too. I don’t want to spend all my time talking to the one guy I already know because that’s falling into my comfort zone. There are opportunities here to network even though the people in this room are my competition.
Including her...the woman my eyes keep finding every time I glance up.
I hate that she’s talking to him. I hate that he basically asked me if she’s available.
I hate that I didn’t tell him she wasn’t.
She’s flirting with Tyler. Smiling at him. Setting her fingertips on his arm. Flipping her hair over her shoulder. Firing off all the signals.
I thought there was more there, but clearly I was wrong.
Maybe this is just what she does.
And fuck it all, I’m going to find out the truth. Right the hell now.
I stalk up to her and grab her arm. “Was this weekend all just a joke to you?” I spit at her.
She looks at my hand on her arm like it’s a nuisance, like it’s a little bug she wants to slap away.
