The Happy Ever After Playlist

by Abby Jimenez

  I just wanted her to tell me that all of this was all right. That we’d figure it out. Get through it, do whatever we had to do. And she wouldn’t.

  And why the fuck would she? None of this was all right.

  Zane came in. She didn’t scatter after my rampage, which made me think either she didn’t have any self-preservation instincts or she thought raging, chronically exhausted, asshole rock stars were par for the course.

  Fuck, maybe they were.

  “Can you send Sloan some flowers?” I muttered, without looking up.

  “You know what I bet Sloan would really like?” she asked. “For you to not be a dick.”

  I looked up and glared at her. She had her arms crossed over her white T-shirt.

  “You doing okay?” she asked dryly.

  “Fine,” I muttered.

  “You don’t look fine. You look like shit. And you sound like shit too, come to think of it.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her through the mirror, but she leaned on the wall and crossed her legs at the ankle, unperturbed. “You’re taking an Ambien tonight and I don’t want to hear any crap about it,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re taking one every night until Sloan gets back. You’re not sleeping and it’s making you an asshole.”

  I looked away from her and let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I just…I just miss her.”

  “I know. She misses you too. But you need to get it together. Pissing her off isn’t gonna fix anything.”

  Nothing was going to fix anything.

  Last week I’d talked to Sloan about recording the bullshit my label had sent over. I was getting desperate. I needed to start working toward an end date and I still hadn’t been able to write anything worth a damn. But she’d blatantly refused to let me do it. She was so upset about it I’d had to swear never to bring it up again. She said she didn’t want me singing astronaut cats, that she’d be deeply disappointed in me if I ever compromised my music like that.

  So then what was I supposed to do? What was the out? It was like no matter what I did, I was making her unhappy.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten. Ernie’s words, that I couldn’t have my fame and have Sloan, streamed through my head like a prophecy come to fruition. And I didn’t fucking know how to fix it. There was no solution to this.

  “Can I use your phone?” I asked, looking over at Zane.

  She pushed off the wall, pulled it from her pocket, and slapped it into my hand. “Don’t fucking break it.” Then she left.

  I called Sloan.

  She picked up on the third ring. “Zane?”

  “Sloan, it’s me. Don’t hang up.”

  “What do you want, Jason?” And then she started to cry.

  It was the kind of crying that didn’t sound like it was beginning. It was the kind that sounded like it was continuing. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. My chest got tight and I had to clutch it with my free hand. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Sloan. You’re right. I shouldn’t be asking you to do more than you’re doing.”

  “I hate this,” she sobbed. “I hate fighting with you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” I said, a lump growing in my throat. “I just can’t handle hearing you won’t have kids with me. I already feel like I’m ruining your life…I just…I have to know we’re gonna be okay.”

  I wanted to walk out of that bathroom and take the next flight to Minnesota. If I hadn’t been in the middle of a concert, I would have already been out the door, even if I got to see her for only an hour before I had to get back on a plane.

  “You’re not ruining my life, Jason.” She sniffed. “I know what you want me to say to you. You want me to tell you that we can have everything. And you know what? Maybe we can’t. Maybe we just have to accept that our life isn’t conducive to certain things right now and be okay with that.”

  How? How the fuck was I supposed to be okay with systematically taking everything from her?

  I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to say what I’d been thinking for a while, the thing that had haunted me incessantly since the first time I noticed she wasn’t handling the road well. “Sloan…have you considered that maybe us being together isn’t the best thing for you?”

  She went silent on the other end for a long moment. “Why would you say that to me?”

  “You’re miserable.”

  I heard her swallow in the silence. “Jason, I don’t want to hear you talking like that again. We’re not breaking up. How can you even suggest that?”

  I put my forehead in my hand. “You want kids.”

  “And we can have them. When we can offer them more stability.”

  I shook my head. “When? Ten years from now?”

  “I’ll only be thirty-six,” she said. “I won’t exactly be an old lady. You know, life doesn’t always give you what you want, Jason. Being in a relationship means compromise.”

  I scoffed quietly. The only one compromising was her.

  We went quiet. The audience began to chant my name. They were getting restless and I was going to have to go back.

  Fuck it, let them wait.

  “Why did you call me from Zane’s phone?” she asked.

  “I broke mine,” I said, not volunteering the details.

  She sighed. “Jason, I love you. I choose you. And I know you feel guilty because of the way things are and you don’t have to.”

  I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see it. “I want you to have a life.”

  “I have a life. With you.” She laughed a little. “Also, you should know that the number one reason I wouldn’t have kids with you right now is because we’re not married. Until you make an honest woman out of me, I’m not open to any negotiations.”

  I could hear the smile in her voice. She was trying to cheer me up. Make light of this.

  There was nothing funny about it.

  I had the ring, but I wouldn’t ask her.

  I didn’t want her to be like me, trapped in a long-term contract that she’d grow to regret.

  Chapter 39

  Sloan

  ♪ Ful Stop | Radiohead

  The second I’d hung up with Jason, I’d darted around my room and packed my things to leave. I grabbed Tucker, said goodbye to Patricia, and had Paul drive me to the airport in Duluth so I could catch the next flight to Vegas. I didn’t tell Jason I was coming. He was so low, I wanted to surprise him. I’d told him good night when we hung up and he wasn’t expecting to hear from me until the morning.

  The last five weeks had been torture. It was great seeing Kristen, and I loved cooking with Jason’s mom. I’d gotten sleep, I’d gotten healthy—and none of it compared to being with him. Not even a little.

  It was going to take me at least another month to finish the piece, and I didn’t have another month in me without him. I’d already been debating coming back to the road early when we’d had our argument, and that was the deciding factor.

  What he’d said scared me.

  I knew this separation had been hard for him. That’s why I’d made it a point to always be happy when we talked, so he’d know his sacrifice wasn’t a waste. But now I thought maybe I should have let him see how awful it was without him. Honestly, I couldn’t even focus on what I was here to do. I spent most of my days trying to distract myself from the fact that I felt too in a funk to paint.

  We were simply no good without each other. This separation had been the proof. We were both miserable. I had to go back. I wanted to fall asleep in his arms tonight and every night from now on.

  Every step I took to getting back to him—getting off the plane, climbing into an Uber, walking into the hotel—made me feel elated, like I was coming home.

  The road was home.

  It was miraculous that I felt that way after how much it had worn me down—but it was true. Home was wherever Jason was, and knowing this gave me the world’s biggest second wind. This time was going to be
different. Very different.

  So much of what I’d struggled with on tour was mental. I’d kept thinking about all the things I wasn’t able to do and looking forward to the day it would be over instead of appreciating that every minute out there was time with him. And now that I’d seen what being apart was like, my brain had done a complete 180.

  I could do this. I could do the crap out of this.

  I’d learn to sleep on the bus. That was the very first thing on my list. I’d figure out how to eat better. I’d go with him to the gym and exercise when he did. I’d get a Crock-Pot and make us dinner so we could eat real food. I mean, the bus had a kitchen. Why not?

  And why couldn’t I paint on the road if we drove at night? That would mean during the day the bus would be parked. I could paint during his sound check. I’d have to be careful, figure out a way to make sure the canvas was secure when we were moving, but it wasn’t impossible. I didn’t have to lose myself in Jason’s career, I could find myself here. Reinvent myself. Evolve.

  He was going to marvel at the new me.

  And you know what? Maybe we could have kids. If we got the bus outfitted with the right sleeping setup, had help? We could do anything.

  I was going to channel my inner nomad. Make this work for both of us and turn these years into some of the best of our lives. Reclaim myself and support him at the same time, learn to love it. Because making him happy was the only way I could be happy—and I knew he felt that way too. That was what was bothering him about all this. He thought he was robbing me of a life. But he was my life—and we could have it all.

  I stood outside Jason’s hotel room with Tucker, beaming, ready to tell him all my plans, ready to start over and do it right this time. I knocked, practically bouncing.

  But when the door opened, my entire world came to a crashing halt.

  Lola stood in the doorway.

  I was frozen. I couldn’t even breathe. My eyes had to adjust to it like someone suddenly turning the light on in a dark room.

  She wore nothing but underwear and a white Jaxon Waters sweatshirt. The room was dark behind her. She looked like she’d been sleeping.

  “Yeah?” she asked lazily.

  I just stared at her. I couldn’t believe it. I literally couldn’t believe it. I probably should have been afraid. She’d been harassing me and she beat up my car, but I was too shocked for afraid.

  What was she doing here?

  My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

  Maybe I had the wrong room? Maybe she was in Vegas for some reason and maybe they were putting her on Jason’s tour and he hadn’t told me yet because he didn’t know yet and somehow their rooms got swapped and…

  The fact that I’d sent cookies to this exact room number not twelve hours ago glared like neon in the back of my mind.

  I swallowed. “Is…is Jason here?”

  She looked drowsily over her shoulder. “Sleeping,” she said, peering back at me.

  The wind was knocked out of me.

  I didn’t understand. Why would she be here? Everything we did was about keeping her from being here. We hated her. Jason didn’t want her anywhere near us, and now she was in his room?

  Tucker growled low next to me, and Lola’s eyes dropped to the sound. “I’ll take him,” she murmured, reaching clumsily for the leash.

  She was drunk.

  I yanked him back instinctively. “No.”

  I stared at the woman between me and the man I loved.

  She was shorter in person than I’d expected. Prettier. She had wavy red hair that hung almost to her navel. Sharp green eyes with long fake eyelashes and perfect wing-tipped eyeliner.

  Her lips were bare.

  A lump started to build in my throat. “What are you doing here?” My voice shook.

  She looked at me, bored, and leaned her head on the door frame. “What do you want?”

  I blanched.

  What do I want? I belong here. My chest started to heave.

  This was the person behind all the bad things in our lives. She was the reason I’d had to ghost myself on social media, change the number I’d had when I was with Brandon. She’d had us running ourselves into the pavement to keep her from being forced on us. She was why we didn’t get days off.

  And now she was in my boyfriend’s room half-naked.

  A small surge of anger-fueled bravery kicked in. I pushed past her.

  She made a leisurely laughing noise as she fell back into the wall, like this was all hilarious to her in slow motion.

  And there he was.

  I don’t think I would have truly believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. But there was Jason. He was in nothing but his underwear, sleeping on top of the bedspread.

  I stood there dumbfounded for a moment before I darted to the mattress and grabbed his shoulder. “Get up!” I shook him. “Jason, wake up!”

  He groaned into the pillow.

  Tucker jumped onto the bed and started licking his face. Jason didn’t even push him off.

  I looked around, mouth open, tears filling my eyes. A bottle of bourbon sat on the nightstand. Two glasses.

  He must be shit-faced, I thought with disgust. There was no way he could sleep through this otherwise.

  Was that what had happened? He was upset with me so he got wasted and slept with Lola?

  The finality of the situation smacked me in the face. How was this happening? How? None of it made sense.

  “You should probably go,” Lola slurred from behind me.

  I didn’t need more prodding. I’d seen enough.

  I turned and left without looking at her. She clicked the door closed and Tucker pulled at his leash back toward the room the whole way to the elevator as I dragged my luggage behind me, gasping.

  I burst from the smoky casino and walked vaguely in the direction that I’d come in my Uber from the airport. When I felt like my lungs couldn’t give me the air I needed to continue, I stopped at a closed cafe on the strip and sat at one of their dirty patio tables. I blocked everyone. Zane, Jessa, Ernie—Jason. I didn’t want anyone trying to talk me out of what I knew I’d seen—or telling me more. I knew enough.

  Then I sobbed into the phone to Kristen.

  She told me to come stay with her. She said Josh was going to murder him. She told me to get off the streets of Vegas at 1:00 in the morning and that I was too good for him and I deserved better.

  I didn’t want better. I wanted him.

  I was alone, homeless, and devastated. And now I was adrift again, waves crashing over me, water filling my mouth.

  Chapter 40

  Jason

  ♪ About Today | The National

  I woke up like I was coming out of a coma. Layers of unconsciousness peeled themselves back, one at a time.

  I probably shouldn’t have taken that Ambien with bourbon, but I’d already had one glass when Zane showed up with the pills. I’d needed a drink after three Red Bulls and the conversation with Sloan, and frankly I’d forgotten I’d promised to take the damn thing.

  I looked between the two glasses on my nightstand for the one that had water and not whiskey in it and gulped it down. Then I felt around groggily for the hotel phone and dialed Sloan, rolling away from the window and the blinding light coming in from the crack in the curtain.

  It went straight to voicemail.

  Man, that Ambien was no joke. I’d been knocked out without even getting under the damn covers. I didn’t even remember getting undressed. Hell, I didn’t even remember getting on the bed.

  The wireless hotel phone rang in my hand. I rubbed my eyes and hit the Answer button. “What’s up?”

  “Have you talked to Sloan?” It was Zane.

  I scratched my beard. “Not today. Why?”

  “I’m on my way up, open your door. Sloan showed up last night and Lola was in your room.”

  I bolted up straight. “What?!”

  “It’s not good news. I’ll be there in a second.”

/>   I leapt off the bed and jumped into pants.

  Zane pounded from the outside and I ran to let her in. She barged in talking. “I was at the breakfast buffet and Courtney told me. Lola came down last night. She was in Jessa’s room, and Sloan was knocking on your door. You must have left the adjoining door between your rooms unlocked because Lola came in and answered it.”

  She grabbed the knob and sure enough, the door on my side creaked open into the room.

  Fuck, I could have done anything last night and not remembered it. I was half-drugged on sleeping pills and whiskey.

  I dove for the phone and dialed Sloan again and it went to voicemail. Mailbox full.

  I moved to the connecting door between our rooms and pounded on Jessa’s inner door. “Jessa! Open up!”

  She opened it, still half-asleep. I could see Lola passed out on the bed behind her. She was wearing nothing but one of my merch sweatshirts and underwear. Jesus Christ, was this what Sloan had come home to?

  “Did you let Lola in my fucking room last night?” I asked.

  Jessa pushed the side of her pink hair up and yawned. “Yeah. Some crazy bitch was banging on your door at one in the morning.”

  “That crazy bitch was Sloan. What the fuck were you thinking?”

  Jessa’s eyes went wide. “It was Sloa— Oh, shit. I…dude, it was loud. We thought it was an emergency. Lola tried waking you up first, but you were knocked out. She kicked your bed and everything.”

  I didn’t let her finish. I slammed the door in her face.

  “Shit!” I paced. “I have to find her. We had a fight, we weren’t okay.”

  Zane was calm. “Any idea where she might have gone? Any family in Vegas? Friends?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Panic descended on me like black flies, swarming.

  I ran all over the room, tripping over my shoes, putting on a shirt and socks, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder, calling her voicemail uselessly. She had to be out of her mind. Fuck, what would I think if I’d seen that?

  “Okay,” Zane said. “We’ll start calling hotels. I’ll see if Courtney can go to the airport and look for her there. You stay where you are in case she comes back.”