The Key to Love

by Callie Bardot

  “What are you doing?”

  Zander’s voice sent her into a wild panic as he rounded the counter to stand behind her monitor.

  She quickly minimized the windows she had open, leaving a spreadsheet on display. “Oh, just going over the numbers for the Rock-It event,” she said, in a somewhat shaky sounding voice.

  “Are you okay? You’ve been acting odd this week. Anything bothering you?” he said, propping his hands on his hips. “I don’t need to send you on another vacation, do I?” he joked, smiling.

  “What? Gosh, no, boss, I’m fine. Still stressing over the event. You know I want it to be perfect,” she said, hoping her perspiring face, neck, and armpits didn’t give her away.

  His eyebrows stitched together. “Well…if you need to talk or something, you know where my office is.”

  “I know…thanks.” Please stop being so nice to me. You’re going to be so hurt when I leave. Her fingers fumbled with the stapler, knocking it to the floor.

  “Seriously, Mia,” Zander said, stooping to retrieve the fallen object. “If you need to take a couple more vacation days, just say the word.”

  “I’m fine, boss, really,” she said, dropping the stapler in the side drawer of her desk to keep it out of the way of her shaking hands.

  “Okay,” he said, stretching out the word. With a shake of his head, he departed.

  The elevator doors opened, causing her to startle. Her pen holder flew from the desk, smacked by her hand. Jesus, Mia, get a grip.

  “Hey!” said a familiar-sounding voice.

  “Gia!” Mia said, looking up from her pen gathering.

  “I’m so bored. Marcus is at some training, there’s no band practice…come out with me,” Gia said, practically bouncing in her direction. “You look like you could use a drink with a sober person. Everything okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Mia said, hoping her and Keys’ secret didn’t get conveyed through some weird psychic connection between her and Gia.

  “Come on, please.” Gia clasped her hands under her chin. Her hair, now bright red and styled to look all Hollywood glam, circa the 1930s, lay in precise waves.

  “Okay. I could use a break. Let me gather my stuff, and I’ll be out in two secs.”

  Gia clapped. “Good! I’ll wait right here.”

  Mia scurried to the break room, snagged her coat and her purse, and hurried to meet Gia before she ran into Zander. “Let’s go,” she said, grabbing Gia’s arm and urging her toward the elevator.

  “Whoa, what’s the rush?” Gia said.

  “I just need to get out of here,” Mia said, only relaxing when the doors closed around them.

  Out on the street, they took a cab to Crow & Wicket, one of their favorite hangouts.

  The bulletproof glass once required in New York cabs between the passenger and driver had been removed.

  Mia wished the Taxi & Limousine Commission hadn’t passed a law stating that the drivers could remove the partitions. Who wanted to chat with their driver?

  The creepazoid driver barely spoke to them, uttering grunts and nodding his head as a means of communication. Wearing a ball cap pulled low, which shadowed his eyes, and vintage horn-rimmed glasses, he kept glancing at her in the rearview.

  She shuddered at the intrusive attention, grateful when he finally dropped them off. Men can be so skeevy. She almost asked Gia to hold back on the tip when Gia paid him.

  On the sidewalk, Gia held one of the elegant black double doors for Mia, then followed close behind.

  Inside the dark, warm pub, a bearded host with a huge handlebar mustache approached them, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt. “Hello, I’m Beau. Would you like a seat in the restaurant, or would you prefer the bar?” he said. The low light glinted off of the gold rings in his ears.

  “Bar, please,” Gia said, taking Mia’s elbow. “I like the fumes.” She let out a laugh.

  The bearded guy’s eyebrows stitched together. “Excuse me?”

  “Thirteen months clean and sober,” Gia said, grinning. “Hence, fumes. Get it?”

  A lopsided grin appeared on his face. “Sure do. I’m five years clean and sober. Right this way.” He led them across the dark bar to a booth in the corner. “Is this acceptable?”

  “Perfect. Mia can get sloppy drunk, and I can eye everyone in the bar getting sloppy drunk. That’s my new entertainment.” Gia smiled one of her cheery smiles.

  “Have fun,” Beau said. “I’ll send Chase over right away to take your order.” After flashing another dazzling smile at Mia and Gia, he spun on his heel and exited.

  A guy who looked remarkably similar to Beau came over straight away.

  “You’re not…are you and Beau brothers?” Mia said. “I’ve never seen you here.”

  “Twins. We just started.” Chase fiddled with the end of his mustache, coiling up the end. “I’m the good looking one,” he said, winking.

  “I see,” said Mia, smiling. “That’s so obvious.”

  “What can I start for you, ladies?” Chase said.

  “I’ll have a cola,” Gia said. “You, Mia?”

  “Um,” she said, picking up a small drink menu. She snorted at one of the drinks. “This one sounds perfect,” she said, tapping the menu. “I’ll have a Painkiller.”

  “Perfect. And would you like something to eat as well?”

  “Let’s start with drinks and see what we feel like later,” Mia said, decisively.

  Chase bowed and strode away.

  “So,” Gia said. “Any idea why Keys is being a bigger twat than usual? He’s an asshole at practices. Then, he goes all mute and shit, cutting everyone off. I swear Dante’s had it up to here.” She slashed her hand over her head. “Not that I’m on Dante’s side. He can be pretty righteous. And, I’m sorry he keeps crushing Keys’ ideas for songs, but, Dante’s the one who has forged our path, you know?”

  “I guess,” Mia said, not daring to spill her and Keys’ secret.

  “Any idea what’s eating him? Have you two stayed in contact?”

  “Sort of,” Mia said, fudging the truth. “We’ve hung out a couple of times. He’s a fun guy.”

  “Oh, no. Oh, no. Don’t tell me you two are still having sex.” Gia flattened her palms on the table.

  Chase sauntered over, carrying a tray with two drinks. “Ladies.” He presented Gia with her cola and set the Painkiller in front of Mia. “I’ll be back to check on you two in a bit.”

  Mia nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Please, please, please, tell me Keys isn’t getting into your panties anymore, Mia.” Both of Gia’s hands gripped her drink.

  Mia brought her Painkiller to her lips and took a sip. Mmm, perfect. Coconut cream, orange juice, pineapple juice, and lots of rum. It reminds me of Cancun. She lifted a shoulder and shrugged. “We might have had sex a couple of times since Cancun. But we’re only friends.”

  Gia threw back her head and groaned. “Shit.” When she brought her head upright, her bright eyes bore into Mia’s. “You’re going to get so hurt, girl. And I love you to bits. Keys is one of my best friends, but he’s a man-whore. That man can not keep it in his pants with that all-range homing device dick of his. You know that. We all know that.”

  Mia took another sip of her Painkiller, remembering Cancun. “He told me that he loves me, Gia.”

  Gia’s eyes looked like they were going to pop from her eye sockets. “He did not.”

  “He did. He was drunk and doesn’t remember it, but he confessed to me on our last night together that he’s been in love with me for a long time.”

  “That’s so weird. Keys never tells any of his sidepieces that he loves them. I mean, I’m not their confessor or anything, but I hang around Heat and Keys enough to overhear their banter. And the L-word never surfaces. They’re all, ‘damn, I got all up inside her last night until she screamed my name’ kind of guy bullshit. Or, ‘I fucked her so deep my dick ended up in China.’ They’re idiots.”

  “Well, he told me. He do
esn’t remember it, and he’s never said it again, so I’m brushing it aside as a one-off. We’re friends, that’s all.”

  “What, so you, like, hang out and shit? And he doesn’t try to score every time he sees you?”

  Mia squirmed in her seat. “We text a lot. And, the few times we’ve seen one another have been fun…light…just friends, I promise.” The lie stuck in her belly like a rock. She and Keys were a lot of things, but friends didn’t land at the top of the list. I’m falling for him, too. “Anyway,” she said, swishing her hand in front of her face. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ve got this. We’re in the friend zone.”

  One of Gia’s eyebrows rose. “Keep telling yourself that, but Keys does not make friends with a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

  “Come on, he’s your friend. You just said so.”

  Gia laughed. “I’m one of the guys, girl. Or, their sister. Or, this annoying individual who they have to live with because I’m such a kick-ass drummer. It changes from day to day.”

  Mia chuckled.

  Gia changed the topic by saying, “Oh—did I tell you Marcos is going to have our apartment remodeled?”

  “No, really? I know you’ve wished for it. What are the plans?” Mia said, eager to roll the conversation off of her.

  Their banter continued along the ‘safer topics’ trajectory.

  Three Painkillers and one basket of fries later, Mia looked across the table at Gia, seeing her through a haze of alcohol. “I should go before I get…” As trashed as Keys gets.

  “Before you get?” Gia prompted.

  “Before I get any more buzzed,” Mia said.

  “Yeah, Marcos should be home soon. His training should be over. It’s a funny training. He’s going to be the sober companion to a very hot actress. He can never tell me their names, but he said, ‘just think of a young, blond, A-lister who’s been in the tabloids a lot lately,’ so I think I know who it is. Anyway, this mystery woman’s manager insisted he come to a two-day training to learn all her quirks.” She scoffed. “I mean, I have quirks, you have quirks, who doesn’t? But what kind of woman needs two days of training to learn hers?”

  Mia nodded. “Right? If it’s who I think it is, I can just imagine. His job must be so stressful. People with money can be the oddest of them all.”

  “Says the woman who works with billionaire Zander King,” said Gia, sliding from the booth.

  “Says the uber-rich drummer in one of the hottest bands in the world,” Mia said, following her.

  “We have the inside scoop on weird,” Gia said, reaching for Mia’s elbow. “Bye, Chase,” she said to one of the guys with the handlebar mustache. “Or, is it Beau? Which one of you is the good looking one, I can’t tell.”

  Beau or Chase, Mia couldn’t tell, grinned at her and Gia, and bid them farewell.

  Outside, Mia and Gia shared a cab. When the cab pulled up in front of her apartment, Mia hugged Gia hard, and exited the cab, weaving her way to the lobby door.

  An elevator ride and a fumble for her keys later, Mia entered her apartment.

  Her kitty, Max, greeted her with loud meows.

  “I know, I know. I should have stopped here to feed you before I went to a bar. Forgive me.” Before tending to his needs, she studied her surroundings. She’d put a fortune into decorating her apartment with exquisite wall art and pricey artwork. Everything she owned was perfect—too perfect if she thought about it. I used to be so fun and funky. Now I live in a museum. More like a prison.

  Her life seemed static, just like the painting, she stared at, depicting a sad woman staring at the sea.

  A long sigh escaped Mia’s lungs, forcing her to face herself.

  I’m dead inside. I work, I come home and hide. When badgered, I might go out for drinks with my friends from the office, but am I close with anyone? Gia, for sure, but she’s on the road a lot. And I travel back and forth with Zander between New York City and Seattle. What kind of life am I living? A lonely one, that’s for sure.

  Being with Keys had jammed a screwdriver into the tight lid of her existence.

  It both scared and excited her. It promised something wonderful. And, it stirred something awful, namely her terror over being discovered by Darion.

  Max meowed, jerking her from her musing.

  “Okay, okay, okay. I hear you.” She dropped her purse on the sofa as she passed by on her way to the kitchen.

  “What kind will it be today?” she said, opening the pantry door and eying the cat food cans. “Turkey Tango, Must Have Mackerel, or Salmon Score,” she said, reading the labels.

  Max meowed and rubbed her legs.

  “That’s what I thought. Salmon it is.” She reached for the can, pried the lid off, and stooped to get Max’s food bowl from the colorful kitty placemat in the corner of her slate stone floor. After dumping the cat food in the bowl, she rinsed the stinky can in the stainless steel sink and tossed it in the recycle bin under the counter.

  Standing in the kitchen, watching Max daintily pick at his food, all the stress of the week nibbled its way past her drunken haze. “Oh, go away,” she said, placing her palms over her eyes. “I need a bath.” All this guilt over leaving Zander, and music manager excitement, and keeping Gia from knowing her and Keys’ truth, and confusion over Keys needed to be washed from her skin and sent swirling down the drain.

  After trekking down the hall, she stepped into her marble-walled, marble-floored bathroom and turned on the tap in the Japanese soaking tub. A small balcony stood outside the bathroom, filled with bamboo and Japanese art. She flicked on the outdoor light switch so the balcony could be illuminated with soft light, adding ambiance to her soak. Then, she rummaged for some lavender bath salts and sprinkled them in the running water.

  Her clothes came off next, falling into a soft pile on the floor. She stepped into the bath, letting the warm water embrace her like a hot, wet blanket. For a moment, the soothing warmth worked, allowing her to drift into a state of bliss. But then, thoughts of Keys popped into her brain. This led to fear over Zander’s reaction, which led to worry over her choice to become Keys’ music manager, which led to thoughts of Darion.

  She let her head slip under the water, hoping to drown out the incessant thought-loop. When she finally had to take a breath, she surfaced.

  A clatter and a clang came from somewhere in her apartment. She stilled. What is that? When no more sound came, she assured herself she only imagined she heard things. Then, the cat shot through the hall, racing past the open doorway.

  “Kitty! Come here, Max,” she hissed.

  A crash, like a vase breaking, shattered the air.

  Panic strangled her insides, making it difficult to breathe. With fumbling fingers, she reached for her phone, which lay somewhere in her clothes pile. She knew she didn’t simply hear things.

  Someone had broken into her house. Is it Darion? A slow, sinking feeling, like drowning in molasses, filled her limbs. If Darion was in her house, there was only one thing she could do—run.

  Keys

  Restless, bored, and missing Mia, Keys practically had a heart attack when his mobile phone sounded off. He could barely discern the ringtone assigned to Gia over the blare of the TV. Frantically, he stretched his arm behind the couch, feeling around on the floor where his mobile had fallen earlier. Found it.

  Clutching the phone, he picked up the remote in one hand and lowered the sound, and thumbed the connect button with his other hand. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he said, glancing at the screen display of 9 p.m. “Gia?” he said when no one responded. “Gia?”

  “What? Hello? Is this Keys?” she said.

  “Of course it’s Keys. You haven’t started drinking again and forgot who you just called, have you?” He swung his socked feet from the coffee table and reached for his beer. Lifting it to his lips, he swallowed the remains.

  “No, asshole, I butt-dialed you. Why aren’t you out screwing your miseries away with Heat?” She spoke through a backdrop of tr
affic.

  “Who says I have miseries?” he said, ready to take her on in a fight. It beat sitting around moping.

  “You do, every time you come to practice. Care to share what’s bugging you?” Gia said. “It’s getting old.”

  “You know what it is. I have ideas for songs. Dante shoots them down. You all agree with him. End of story. Imagine what it would be like if you wanted to add some input into the music Marked Love puts out, and Dante took a machete to each and every thought you had.” His fingers picked at the beer label, peeling one of the corners down.

  “Yeah,” Gia said. “I’m sure it sucks. But, maybe if you keep trying, he’ll give. Some of your ideas are solid.”

  “Why don’t you ever say that in practice, huh? It would be nice to have some support.” Ire spiked through his bloodstream.

  “Hey, I don’t want to fight. I just had a nice evening with Mia. She said you two are still in contact. What’s that about?”

  “I like her. I enjoy her company. We don’t fight about songs. I consider her a friend.” Just thinking about her got him all hot and frothy.

  “Is that all she is to you?” Gia probed.

  He sucked in a breath. “Why? What did she tell you?”

  “Nothing much. She said you’re just friends. You don’t do friends with women. I’m confused, is all.”

  “I can be a friend to a woman. I’m friends with you, aren’t I?” He ran his hand through his hair, wishing he was all up inside Miss Song right now, instead of talking to Gia. Maybe I should take the coat she left at the studio over to her.

  “You’re forced to interact with me,” Gia said with a snort.

  Not for long. That thought seemed to shovel mixed feelings into Keys’ chest. He liked Gia and, yes, he considered her a friend. “You’re the sister I never had.”