A Love Song for Rebels (Rivals Book 2)

by Piper Lawson

  The backs of my eyes burn, but he continues. “What were you gonna do? Lie forever?”

  “Maybe.” I realize how dumb it sounds.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal. All we want in this place is to have someone notice us, and you have an excuse right there in your name and you don’t use it.”

  “That’s exactly why I don’t,” I insist. “Come on Beck—would you want that? If your dad was your ticket to being noticed, but he still disapproved of you, would you want that to be the very thing that makes your dreams come true?”

  He turns it over. “No,” he says at last. “It wouldn’t be my dream anymore.”

  “Exactly.”

  The truth of it hangs between us for a moment before Beck speaks again. “I’ll take it down.”

  “You know what? Don’t worry about it.”

  It’s too late to do much more damage, and some part of his words are right—I can’t hide who I am forever.

  I’m going to have to be this much more committed to being noticed on my own terms.

  “Listen,” Beck starts again, “I don’t know what’s happening with you and Ty, but Zeke put our boy on ice.”

  That has me paying attention.

  “He promised Tyler a meeting after he slayed that show last week. But it was mysteriously canceled two days later and not rescheduled. Zero explanation.”

  Shit. Tyler never mentioned it.

  I’d never stopped to think about what my dad would do to Tyler. If my dad pulled his support or said something to Zeke to make him doubt Tyler…

  “The showcase will fix it,” I say, half to myself and half to Beck. “He’ll crush it, and someone smarter than Zeke will recognize how talented he is and give him a chance.”

  “You think so, Manatee? They might be more interested in Jax Jamieson’s kid.”

  It’s the validation I wanted but for the wrong reasons, and the cost…

  I hate that it could cost Tyler his chance.

  I hang up and find Elle behind me, arms folded. I relay what Beck told me.

  “So, your dad can say one word and Tyler’s shot is gone,” Elle comments.

  The unfairness of it has resolve hardening in my gut. “No,” I decide. “He can’t.”

  The morning of the showcase, I wake up to a text.

  Tyler: Hey, I was thinking about you last night. Not about you in my bed, though I swear I can still smell you on my pillows, and I hate the thought that it might fade before you’re back, but about how you look when we’re practicing. How strong you are. How much I believe in you. Whether today’s the start of something or the end, there’s no one I’d rather be up there with.

  I get out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. I take a hot shower and wash my hair, letting the heat scald every inch of me.

  It’s not until I’m halfway through drying my hair that I realize what I have to do.

  I send a text back to Tyler.

  Annie: I can’t do the showcase.

  My phone rings while I’m pulling on jeans.

  “What happened?” Tyler’s voice is full of disbelief and concern.

  I take a steadying breath. “With everything going on with my dad, I just can’t. I’m sorry, Tyler. You have to do our song yourself. You can sing it and play it. You know it inside out.”

  There’s a pause before he replies, “We need to talk about this.”

  “We don’t. You’ll do great.”

  “Annie—”

  I click off, squeezing the phone in my hand hard enough it leaves marks in my palm.

  The fall showcase is attended by a few thousand people. Each seat is filled by someone from industry, all of them eagerly anticipating the new crop of talent, hoping to discover the flame that will take their career to the next level.

  That afternoon, I stand at the back of the auditorium, out of sight, and watch the first half dozen performers. I’m the only one here, which is why I’m lingering by the back doors.

  Also, I can make a quick escape if I need to.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you were performing.”

  Pen’s incredulous voice has me sagging against the wall. She folds me in a hug while I explain.

  The disbelief and sorrow on her face are everything I’m feeling.

  “A, this was everything you wanted.”

  “I thought it was,” I admit. “But I couldn’t stand the thought of him not getting what he wanted when it was my fault. When I could help him.”

  As if he hears my thoughts, Tyler appears on stage. From the distance, I search his face and body for signs he’s lain awake this week as much as I have. I study his broad shoulders, his easy grace as he takes the microphone.

  Tyler scans the audience as if he’s looking for someone. My chest contracts more.

  I’m here. I’ve got you.

  When he plays, his fingers rest heavier than usual on the strings. Each chord reverberates through my soul. But when his low voice joins overtop, my heart stops altogether.

  In that moment, I realize a truth, one I hate as much as I love…

  Tyler’s not broken. He’s beautiful.

  There’s a crackling in the audience, a kinetic energy. Emotions chase each other through my chest. My fingers find the rose under the neckline of my shirt, and I squeeze it hard enough the edge bites into my palm.

  My prince is playing our song, and from the first words, it’s not our song anymore—it’s his.

  From the first chorus, he’s not mine anymore.

  He’s theirs.

  I don’t know if I envy him or the audience. Both, I think, everyone part of that experience I’m suddenly outside of.

  Tears sting the backs of my eyes.

  Something bumps my hip, and I glance over to see my friend. “Let’s get out of here for the weekend,” Pen murmurs. “You and me.”

  My chest thaws a few degrees. “I love you. But given my dad put a stop on next semester’s tuition, that’s probably not the best idea.”

  “Pssh. I went to Columbia like my parents wanted. I’m flush. You pick a place, anywhere you want.” She gives me another squeeze. “Think about it. I have to go pee.”

  I show her to the bathroom up one level, which is quiet even during performances.

  Everyone’s at the showcase, and the only sound up here comes from the open door of a rehearsal room.

  My feet carry me there, and I lean in.

  “Why aren’t you at the showcase?” I ask Finn.

  He glances up from the piano. “Why aren’t you at the showcase? Figured Jax Jamieson might come.”

  I step into the room and lean my elbows on the ebony wood. “So, you heard.”

  Finn lets out a low chuckle. “I don’t care what your name is. I’m thinking about the three shows I’m doing in LA in the next week. I need to get out of New York. It’s too cold, the weather and the people.”

  “Hey, Finn,” I say, feeling impulsive, and he cocks his head. “You made me an offer the night I sang with you to get me tickets to your shows in LA.”

  “Still stands.”

  “Thank you. But it’s not tickets I want.”

  18

  “Annie. Open up.” I pound on the door at the end of the hall on the sixth floor.

  The third time I knock, it swings wide to reveal Rae. “She’s not here, lover boy.”

  “Do you know when she’s getting back?”

  She shrugs, glancing over her shoulder. “Few days, I think. She asked me to feed Heath.”

  The goldfish circles his tank as if everything’s right with the world.

  It’s not right.

  I shove both hands through my hair. “I’ve been calling her all day since the showcase.”

  “Bet it’s hard. Sounds like your phone’s the one blowing up.”

  She’s not wrong. The thing jumps in my pocket every damned minute.

  The performance was good—better than good.

  But it wasn’t right… because she
wasn’t with me.

  I head back to my place, my breath huffing in the November air, and find a new slew of texts and voicemails.

  One missed call from Annie has me relieved because it means she’s not avoiding me.

  This time, I get through. “I’ve been calling all night,” I say when she picks up.

  “Sorry, it’s been kind of crazy. I wanted to tell you how great you were.”

  I tune in to the background noise, realize she’s keeping her voice down.

  “I watched from the back,” she goes on. “Like you watched The Little Mermaid.”

  My throat works. “Best seats in the house.”

  “They are if you’re on your way out of town.”

  I exhale hard. “You’re going home to talk to your dad and Haley. That’s good, Annie. It’ll be good.”

  “No. I’m going to LA with Pen. I’m going to play a few gigs with Finn.”

  Her words have me pulling up in the middle of an intersection, which I don’t realize until a horn honks at me and I force myself to keep walking.

  “You bailed on our performance, but you’re playing gigs in LA with Finn?” Anger seeps into my tone even though I don’t know what I’m pissed about.

  Maybe that we put all this work in, that I did this for her, and she walked away like it didn’t matter.

  “It’s not like that, Tyler.” I wish she was here so I could look her in the damned eyes, so I could grab her arms and tell her not to leave. “It’s something I need to do for myself. You were really great. I’m so proud of you.”

  She clicks off before I can argue.

  The street signs say I’m halfway between Vanier and my apartment, yet somehow I’m utterly lost.

  I’ve never stalked someone on social media before, but there’s a first time for everything.

  All day Saturday, I’m scanning Annie’s feeds. She doesn’t post often and is careful when she does, so it’s not surprising I come up empty, but Sunday morning, I switch to a new strategy.

  “Look at you, creeper.”

  I look up from the kitchen table as my roommate comes in the front door.

  “You can’t tell I’m a creeper from ten feet away.”

  “It’s called a logical inference. You were creeping when I left; ergo, you’re more than likely creeping still.”

  I glare at my roommate, holding up the phone. “There’s a picture of him on stage, the fucking prick. And she’s next to him.”

  He crosses to me, narrowing his gaze on the screen. “Ah. It took you a day to switch to the best friend’s feed? Rookie.”

  Annie’s not tagged, but I see her, and I want to throw the phone across the room.

  Beck pulls a stack of mail out of his jacket pocket and passes me an envelope. “This came for you. I had to sign for it and everything.”

  Halfheartedly, I open it and glance inside. “A check for ten thousand dollars from the showcase.”

  I glance at Beck’s lighter on the counter.

  “You are not burning that check,” Beck drawls as he shrugs out of his coat and hangs it by the door. “You earned it. You lit that auditorium up, and no one who witnessed it could deny that fact.”

  I tug on my hair. “I don’t know why she’d work so hard for this, then bail. She wanted it. It was her moment too, her fucking song.”

  He drops into the chair across from me. “You really have no clue why she’d put you on that stage alone.”

  I straighten, not liking the sound of those words. “No. Tell me.”

  A guilty expression crosses his face. “I told her Zeke pulled your meeting. She knew you lost your shot because of her and Jax and if she did the showcase, you might lose that too. She didn’t screw you, Ty. She saved you.”

  Emotions collide inside me—disbelief and frustration and longing.

  My head falls back on a groan. “Dammit, Beck!”

  I shove out of my seat and grab my phone, hurling it across the room so it slams into the living room wall.

  I whirl to face him, staring him down as if this is his fault. “She wanted space, and I let her have it.” I stalk across the room, intending to grab the phone, but when I get there, I take a pillow off the couch and hurl it toward the kitchen instead.

  “How does she do this?!” I shout.

  Beck eyes me as if he’s watching some strange creature never before discovered by humans as I continue to rant.

  “She’s always a mess of feelings. She can take it, but me? I can’t hold it in, wall it up, or shove it down.” I scan the room, feeling more than a little unhinged.

  But I know I could throw everything in this entire apartment and it wouldn’t be enough.

  “Fuck this. I’m going after her,” I decide. “I won’t be the guy who left her again.”

  I start toward the front door, but Beck grabs my shirt.

  “You’re not the guy who left her,” he says as I stop angrily next to him. “You’re the guy who’s giving her what she asked for.”

  “You want me to sit here like an asshole.”

  “Or you could deal with your damned emotions like everyone else.” He holds up a finger, telling me not to move.

  I exhale hard as he goes to my room, comes back with the guitar Annie bought me. Twenty-four frets. Rosewood. Made to fit in my hands.

  I take the neck in my hands, turn it over.

  It’s mine. Today, maybe it’s the only thing that is.

  I carry the guitar to the kitchen table and drop onto my seat. I don’t know what I want to play, but my fingers do until one song slips into the next.

  In the spotlight, we need to bleed. We need to be broken.

  Eventually, the emotions rise to the surface, one chasing the next until I’m bent over the guitar.

  I’m playing and singing and who the hell knows what else, but I’m pouring all of me out, everything I can’t contain.

  When I lift my head, I see Beck’s intent expression trained on me, along with the camera of his phone.

  I don’t care.

  I do the only thing I can.

  I play until my fingers are raw.

  19

  “So, then he moons the cops and runs ten blocks with his pants around his knees,” Pen says, clanking her glass on the side table in the dressing room for emphasis.

  “And this guy’s running for treasurer?” I reply.

  “Apparently.”

  We’re backstage after Finn’s second show in LA. The past two days have been nuts between rehearsals and soundchecks and hanging out with my friend.

  It feels strange not doing my own material after all my work for the showcase.

  But I’m working—as a singer. Finn’s people not only paid for the hotel—I’m actually getting compensated.

  “Annie! That’s Annie Jamieson. Jax Jamieson’s kid.” I turn to see the guys bent over the coffee table, and Finn waves me over.

  “You must’ve grown up backstage,” one of the guys drawls. “Bet you have some great stories.”

  I cross to them, the cowboy boots I changed into after the show clacking on the hard floor. “Honestly, I was a kid the last time he toured. And the best stories I have of him are personal.”

  I haven’t talked to my dad since coming to LA. Haley called me last night, but it was a short conversation. I can tell she’s disappointed, which hurts too, but she said she’d work on him as far as tuition. Clearly, she doesn’t agree with his position, but I don’t see her going behind his back unless I really need something.

  “We’ll take personal stories,” Finn says with a grin, slinging an arm over the back of the couch.

  My dad’s name is currency here. It gives me renewed appreciation for the way Tyler was always chill about it.

  More than that, he lied for me.

  I shove the thought away.

  “You know what?” I ask. “You should be remembering nights like tonight instead of asking for old stories. Someday you won’t be asking me about him. You’ll be asking him about me.” I a
rch a brow, and a round of hollers goes up.

  I cut a look back at Pen, and she nods. “We’re gonna get out of here. Thanks for the gig,” I tell Finn, starting for the door.

  Pen goes to grab her things while Finn follows me toward the hall. “Don’t take it personally. Someday you’ll have stories. Until then, the sexiest thing about you is him.”

  I size him up. “Did you know who my dad was when you took me on? Before it came out at school?”

  He grins. “I did my homework. Can’t fault me for that.”

  Some of the joy I felt about making it to LA on my own merit falls away, but I refuse to let it vanish entirely.

  Beck’s right. I’ll always be Jax Jamieson’s kid, and I need to make peace with that.

  Even if my dad and I can’t find a way to make peace with each other.

  Pen joins me, and I nod to Finn. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the final show.”

  I grab my friend, and we take off back to our hotel.

  “I’m glad you came with me this weekend. It means a lot,” I say.

  “Of course! I can afford to make a DIY long weekend by blowing off a single day of classes.”

  November in LA is balmy as hell. I stick my hands in the pockets of my jean shorts as we pass palm trees.

  “I’ve been wondering if I made the right call in going to Vanier instead of Columbia. The highs and the lows are a kind of extreme I’ve never experienced, not even when I learned Jax was my dad or when Carly tortured me.”

  “Well, if you ever decided to transfer to Columbia, obviously I’d be supportive,” Pen says. “We’d have a fabulous apartment with a wine fridge, and I’d be the best sommelier-slash-roommate ever.”

  My chest expands. “I’ll miss you when you go back tomorrow. And I’m taking you to the airport whether you like it or not.”

  “You’ll spend the whole day in traffic,” she warns. “You should just fly back with me.”

  I kick a stone on the pavement with my boot, thinking about everything that’s gone down.

  “Nah, I’ll stay and do the final show tomorrow night. But I do want to see Elle and Beck. Hell, maybe even Rae.”