by Lisa Suzanne
Even as I think it, there’s a knock at the door. I ignore it, opting to put on my noise-cancelling headphones I sometimes sleep with. I don’t attach them to any music since my phone is out by Griffin, but they do a good enough job at providing white noise so I don’t have to listen to Griffin try to get me to come out of my bedroom. I pull out the secret notebook I keep hidden beneath my mattress and grab the pen off my nightstand.
I flip open to a blank page, and the old photo slips out from between the pages.
I pick it up and stare at it. The edges are crinkled and starting to turn yellow from all the times I’ve looked at it. I can’t count how many times over the years I wished I’d kept the negatives so I could print another copy.
This is my motivation right here. For twenty years, it’s been my motivation, just in different ways over different times of my life. For a while, it was my motivation to land the hot senior. Later it became my purpose for revenge. And now? Now I’m not totally sure what emotion it sparks in me other than anger. The need to get back at him is back in full force, only now I really want to hurt him. Before I just wanted to break his heart. Now I want to pull his heart out, light it on fire, and smear the ashes.
Ethan Fuller stands with an arm loosely draped around his best friend Mark Ashton, at the time known as Mark Fox. They aren’t looking at me. They didn’t even know I was taking the picture. They were posing for someone a few feet away from me at the Homecoming dance my sophomore year, but I had my disposable camera with me and I snapped a quick picture of them—one to keep for my scrapbook.
Dani used to look at that picture and think about how those boys were destined for success. She used to dream of singing a song on a stage with them. She dreamed about what it would be like to kiss him, for him to hold her hand, for his arms to wrap around her waist as he stood behind her and held her the way boys used to hold girls back in high school.
Maci looks at that photo and sees something else entirely.
She sees a history that tainted her. She’s had the chance to sing with him, to kiss him, even to have sex with him—something the innocent girl in the past never even dreamed of doing with him because she wasn’t ready.
And as I stare at the photo now, I realize none of it matters. Nothing I ever do, whether I’m Maci Dane or Dani Mayne, will ever be enough for Ethan Fuller.
And now I fear it’ll never be good enough for me, either.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ETHAN
“Let me see her.” My words come through gritted teeth at Maci’s manager. I asked nicely the first time, and he denied me. I’m all out of nice as pure venom for this idiot fills me.
“She specifically requested no visitors. The buses will be leaving soon, so I suggest you get on yours so you don’t fuck up everyone’s schedule.”
“Fuck you,” I say. It’s a childish response, but all my give-a-fucks have been used up for the day.
Griffin doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he folds his arms across his chest and blocks me from getting on the bus.
“Maci!” I scream, but it’s no use. Between the rumble of the bus and the fact that she’s probably in her room with the door closed, she won’t hear me.
Once we take off for Houston, it’ll be four hours on a bus alone and once we arrive, I have shit to do with the guys. I won’t have much time to spend with her, so it’s now or never.
And Griffin won’t let me on, so apparently it’s never.
I slam my fist against the side of her bus in anger before slinking back to my own bus.
Chuck’s riding on a crew bus to touch base with Vinny, Mark’s security guard, so I’m alone except for my driver, a guy named Keith. He’s busy concentrating on the road, so I’m truly alone for the next four hours.
I shoot off a text to Maci, but she doesn’t respond. I’m not sure what I did to warrant her anger, but clearly she’s upset and doesn’t want to see me or talk to me.
The picture clarifies as I think about what might’ve happened.
I bet she saw Harley leaving my bus this morning and took it the wrong way. I’m not sure how she might’ve misinterpreted that, though. Harley is Chuck’s sixteen-year-old niece. She slept on my bus in the crew bunks across from her uncle last night because she thought it would be the coolest thing in the world, and she rushed off the bus this morning to get to school. Her shirt was misbuttoned, which Chuck yelled to her as she was stepping off the bus, and I waved sleepily from the top step as I finished the breakfast sandwich Chuck picked up for her that she only ate a couple bites of.
I’m taken back to a time in high school when I got kicked out of class because the kid next to me was fucking around. He’d make snide remarks under his breath, and I smirked over at him when I knew he was about to get in trouble. The teacher whipped around, took one look at the smirk on my face, and assumed the worst. I was a fuck-up always getting into trouble, so of course the teacher assumed it was me.
That was the day I saw sweet Dani walking through the hallway, the day I could no longer stop myself from touching her. My finger swept the sweet curve of her neck I’d craved ever since I’d first seen it. I cherished the soft strands of her hair as I rolled them between my fingertips. I brushed my lips to hers, soft lips that molded to mine the exact same way Maci’s do. Something good came from the misunderstanding back then, and I can only hope the same can be said for what happened this morning.
I just have to catch her off guard so I can have the chance to explain.
I spend my four quiet hours listening to her voice in my ears. I play “Break Me” on repeat as I realize she has, indeed, already done that. I wonder what would happen if she wasn’t Dani as my theory suggests.
What if Dani Mayne walked into the same room as Maci Dane? What would I do? Who would I choose?
Would it even be my choice to make?
I officially have feelings for Maci. I can’t deny it anymore. We’ve had experiences that tie us together—but is it the thread tying us together, or is it just the experiences?
What if my thread is tied to someone else and this is all for nothing?
I decide it doesn’t matter as I listen to her dig deep during my favorite part of the song. If it’s all for nothing, at least I got to experience a few days with Maci.
But I have a feeling there’s a lot more to come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
MACI
I don’t cry. I’ve cried enough over this dipshit, and I refuse to give him more of my tears. Instead, I channel my anger into music. I stick the photograph in the back of my notebook, prop the pillows up on the headboard, and slide under my covers with my pen and paper.
I only have the first verse and the refrain written by the time the bus stops. We’re in Houston, and we have a show tonight. I don’t have to face Ethan—not really, but I will have to share a stage with him for at least one song. I sort of wondered if he’d join me for “Another Shot” tonight after he did last night at that club. It was so natural, so perfect, the two of us singing together. We could’ve made a great song, but then he went and slept with some other girl.
God, I’m an idiot.
At least I have the start of a song written, and for now, that seems good. I slide the notebook back under the mattress where no one will ever find it, and then I stretch and head out to talk to Griffin.
He’s sitting at the table with his laptop, and he looks angry. His eyes soften when they fall on me. “You okay?” he asks.
I shrug but don’t respond. I slide into the chair across from him at the table and draw my knees up to my chin. I think about confessing everything to Griffin. He’s the one person in this crazy world of music I can trust. But then I think about how Griffin has unrequited feelings for me, and I realize what a bad idea it would be to admit anything concerning my history and my love life to him—especially information where the two intersect.
“You want to talk about it?” he asks.
I shake my head.
�
��You want a hug?”
I shake my head again.
“A kiss?”
I shake my head because we both know what kissing each other will lead to, where it always leads, and I can’t do that right now with him. For my sanity, I shouldn’t be doing that with anybody right now.
“You missed the radio interview.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We rescheduled for just before soundcheck but it’s in person.”
“Whatever,” I say.
“I said you weren’t feeling well. Maci, I need you to answer me when I’m knocking. I didn’t know if you were hurting yourself in there or what was going on.”
I glare at him. “You think I’d hurt myself over that fuck-up?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t know. You were so angry. Angrier than I think I’ve ever seen you.”
“I’m still angry.” I blow out a breath. “But I realized in there he doesn’t deserve a single morsel of my emotions.”
“Good.” He stands and turns to the little fridge. He hands me a bottle of water before he sits back down. “He wasn’t exactly happy with me that I wouldn’t let him on.”
“Oh well. His problem.” I nod in thanks toward the bottle and twist it open.
“That’s what I told him. He didn’t take too kindly to that.”
“I heard.” Even through my headphones, I still heard what I can only assume were his hands as they slammed against the side of my bus.
“You ready to go talk to Trevor and the guys?”
I nod. “Just keep Ethan away from me. I’m not ready to talk to him, certainly not right before a performance.”
“Of course, Maci. You just tell me if you need anything else.”
I nod, but despite my outer strength, I can’t help the feeling of sadness in the pit of my stomach.
*
By a stroke of luck, I don’t run into Ethan. I check in with my band and my crew, and we’re all set for tonight. Griffin informs me my merchandise is selling quicker than we expected, so I get back to the bus and get on the phone to place a rush order for more. The time flies by, and before I know it, I’m sitting in a dressing room just before soundcheck talking to a local deejay while a video camera is trained on me…probably not the best situation for someone as volatile as me when I’m already amped up on unfamiliar emotions.
I could use a cigarette. Scratch that. I could use a joint right about now.
“I’m Maniac Mike from the morning show, and I’m here today with Maci Dane! Maci, thanks for meeting with us.”
I nod and force a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. I guess I just don’t feel like smiling today.
Maniac Mike continues, “We like to do something a little special when we interview our guests. Is that okay?”
“Depends what it is.”
He chuckles. “We’ll just ask you three questions, but we promise they’ll be questions that’ll make for a memorable interview for both you and for us. Then we might talk a little more about your music at the end. Sound good?”
“Sounds fine.” I flash another fake smile.
“Great. First question for you. A kangaroo walks through that door wearing overalls. What does he say about why he’s here?”
My brows furrow. I thought this was an interview, not some stupid game. “He wants directions to NASA.”
Maniac Mike chuckles but doesn’t otherwise respond. “Next, teach me something I don’t know in the next thirty seconds.” He holds up his phone and starts a timer. “Go!”
“Uh, uh…” I glance around the room, trying to think fast. I never got to finish that damn coffee Griffin brought me this morning, and I have no idea what the fuck to teach this guy. “Shit, okay.” I spot Griffin. “Griff! Get me some paper and a pen. Fast!”
He hurries to a table that has a pad of paper and a pen on it and then he runs it over to me. “Here’s how you draw an owl.” I draw a curved line and show him my paper. “Curved line first,” I say. Next I draw sort of a U-shape connecting one end of the line to the other. “Then the body, and lastly, the details.” I add some feet, some large eyes, and a beak, and then I hold up the paper.
“Wow!” Mike says with way too much enthusiasm. “I didn’t know you were an artist. That’s amazing.”
I give him a shy smile. It’s out of character for me, this shyness. I share other pieces of myself through my musical art with the world on a daily basis, but no one really knows I draw.
Except Ethan.
“Final question. What do you think about when you’re alone on your tour bus?”
Ethan. I think about Ethan.
The door opens, and speak of the goddamn devil, there he is looking sinfully delicious in a black shirt that makes his eyes seem to glow blue. “Ethan,” I murmur without even thinking about it.
“You think about Ethan while you’re on your bus alone?”
I shake my head and look desperately at Griffin, who’s standing close to me since he just handed me that paper rather than guarding the door against assholes.
I’m on fucking camera here. I can’t have Ethan just walking into my room unannounced, fucking up my emotions and causing this burning sensation in my chest while I’m trying my hardest to remain professional.
Fuck it.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I scream at him from my chair.
Maniac Mike looks at me like I am the one who’s a maniac, and Ethan’s brows furrow before Griffin rushes over to him and escorts him out of the room.
I close my eyes and draw in a cleansing breath, and then I look back at Maniac Mike. “I trust you’ll cut that from the final interview.”
He just stares at me like he can’t believe he was witness to whatever just happened, but it was all caught on tape. Any rumors I was hoping to avoid—especially now that whatever was between Ethan and me is over before it even got started—are going to be out there for the whole world to see, and there’s not a whole lot I can do about it.
Mike finally clears his throat. “What do you think about when you’re alone on your tour bus?” He repeats the question he asked before Ethan appeared in my room, but the moment is broken. I don’t know how to answer, don’t know what to say, don’t know which act to put on.
“Music,” I answer flatly.
Mike nods, and Griffin blows out a breath as he struggles to maintain his composure. He’s going to kill me for my reaction to Ethan, but it’s who I am. I can’t just stop being emotional because Griffin wills it to be so.
“What about music?” Mike probes.
I sigh. “Lyrics mostly. I can spend an hour staring at a sheet of paper and only get a few words down, or I can write an entire song in five minutes.”
“What songs have you written in five minutes?”
“’Live My Life.’”
“What was the inspiration for that song?”
I glance away from my interviewer. “My mother’s death.”
“I’m so sorry.”
There’s a lot more to it. I wrote that song right after Kai and I had our marriage annulled, but the main feeling behind it is that I have to spend every moment living my life because you never know when it can be taken away from you. Ironic considering I’ve dedicated my life to revenge.
“What’s going on with you and Ethan Fuller?” Maniac Mike asks.
“Nice transition, asshole,” I mutter. Griffin holds up a hand, indicating I’ve gone too far. I suppose calling my interviewer an asshole isn’t the smartest decision I’ve made today. “Sorry. You can’t ask me about one of my most personal songs and follow it up with a question about that douchebag.”
Griffin shakes his head and closes his eyes like I just said the exact wrong thing. I almost yell at him to get the fuck out of the room, too, but at least I have a shred of decency in the room with me as long as he’s there.
“You think he’s a douchebag?” Mike asks.
“I don’t think it. He is a douchebag. He fucks and trucks. Is
that okay to say? You can edit that, right?”
“And you know this because…?” He’s leading me into admitting I slept with Ethan, but I won’t do it. Not for some stupid radio interview, and not for anyone else, either.
“Because I’m on tour with the guy and I see what steps onto and off of his bus.” My voice is cool.
Mike nods knowingly. “And were you one of them?”
This time, Griffin steps in. “All right, interview’s over.”
Mike winks at me. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I rip off my mic pack and toss it on my chair as I stand.
“Cameras off,” Griffin says, stepping over so he’s blocking the lens from finding me. He shoos the interviewer and his camera guy out of the room. A few beats later, he’s standing beside me, slinging his arm around me. “You okay?”
“I wish you’d stop asking me that,” I hiss.
“I wish you’d stop giving me reasons to ask.”
I sigh. “I’m fine. We need to get to soundcheck.”
“Check can wait a second. What was that? Are you in love with him?”
“Fuck off, Griffin. You know better than to ask me shit like that. I have a job to do.” I push past him toward the door.
“You know who’s waiting for you on the other side of that door, right?” he asks me as my hand rests on the knob. As soon as I twist and pull on the round piece of metal my hand curls around, I’ll have to face him. The anger stews in the pit of my stomach. “You don’t have to be honest with me, don’t have to answer me, don’t have to tell me how you feel. But he’s in love with you, Maci. Take that for what it’s worth.”
I exhale all the anger inside me, but all it does is hang in the air around me. I breathe it right back in, and it settles in my guts like a bad rash.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
MACI
I finally get up the nerve to open the door, and Griff was right. Ethan stands just outside it, one foot propped against the wall and a cigarette dangling from his lips as he taps away on his phone. He looks every inch the bad boy from my dreams as he stands there.
