by Lacey Dailey
“You are such a liar.” He flicks my earlobe.
I swat his hand away aggressively. “So what if I haven’t? I just don’t know. I keep hoping it’ll just come to me in like a dream or something. Or in one of those messages planes leave in the sky.”
“I don’t think it works like that, Gia. But it’s fine. You don’t have to know.”
Except, I do have to know. I only have twelve of my eighteen weeks left, and only ten of those are filled with gigs. Who knows what will happen in those last fourteen days? Maybe Max will find more gigs. Maybe he will sign with a label and leave for L.A.. Maybe he’ll dump me off at City Hall early. I don’t know what the rest of our trip will look like.
I do know that it ends.
Max will be somewhere without me, singing his heart out to a million screaming fans. Where will I be? I don’t know, but I hope with everything inside of me that it’s nowhere near City Hall.
11
Gigi
“Renzo, for the thousandth time, I am safe, I am happy, and you have nothing to worry about.”
His grumbled groan filters through the speaker of my phone. “Gigi, you’re in Sin City with a musician I’ve never met. I’m allowed to be worried.”
I drop into a desk chair in the corner of my suite. “Renzo, Max isn’t a serial killer. He’s a good guy.”
“I know what a good guy he is.”
“You do?” This is news to me. The day after we left, I called Renzo and explained where I was, who I was with, and what I was doing.
He lost his shit.
My big brother demanded to talk to Max privately. Ever since their hushed conversation, he seems to be more accepting of who I’ve chosen to be my new best friend. Renzo hasn’t ever spoken badly of Max, but he’s never praised him either. I know it rubs him the wrong way I’m spending all this time with a man he’s never met.
“Yes but I still want to meet him.”
“Then get on a plane and meet him. Good grief.” Did I have to come up with every solution? “Just don’t bring dad.”
He scoffs like he’s insulted. “Gigi, I would never bring dad."
“Has he asked any more questions about me?” Renzo and I talk every week. Towards the beginning of my trip, the two of us played a lot of phone tag. With me dipping in and out of time zones, it was hard for us to sync our schedules. Now that I’m stationed in Vegas for a while, we talk at the same time every week.
I enjoy talking to Renzo, so I don’t ruin it by asking about my father. Sometimes, the topic is unavoidable. Renzo did inform me he threw an oversized tantrum when he found out I quit my job and found my apartment empty. I’m sure he’s tried calling me.
He must’ve been real surprised when he found out his number was blocked.
“He grills me every day. I play dumb.”
“I appreciate that. I know it was a tad immature of me to disappear with no explanation but I needed to clear my head. Figure out some answers to the questions I know he’s going to ask.”
“Do your thing, sis. It was clear to everybody but him you were miserable. I’m proud of you for doing what makes you happy. Even if you’re with some rando.”
“Oh, for shit’s sake, Ren. He isn’t a rando. He’s my very best friend.”
“Is that all he is?” There’s a teasing quality to Renzo’s voice though I know he’s anything but teasing. The last boyfriend I had was Benny. I don’t blame him for being on edge about me potentially dating someone else.
“Yep. Max and I are just friends.”
“Damn. Could you sound anymore bitter?”
Did I sound bitter?
“I’m not bitter, Ren. It’s probably best for us to stay friends anyway.” I keep telling myself that but I remain unconvinced. Ever since we spent eighteen hours in onesie pajamas, eating room service and cuddling in a way friends shouldn’t, my feelings have only intensified.
“You don’t sound like you believe that.”
“I don’t, but he does.” Using my shoulder to keep my phone at my ear, I pick at my fingernails. “I might as well stamp the word platonic on my forehead. He’s not into me at all.”
“I like him a little better now that I know he isn’t trying to get in your pants.”
“Jesus, Renzo!”
“Just saying.” He laughs. “I’m a bit surprised nothing has happened between you two.”
“Nothing except platonic snuggles and forehead kisses.”
“That’s adorable.”
“Shut up!”
“I’m sorry, Gigi.”
“I like Max a lot, Ren. It totally sucks it’s unreciprocated.” I slump farther in my chair, propping my feet on the wide wooden desk in front of me. Renzo can’t see my frown but I know he senses it.
“Are you positive it’s unreciprocated? No offense, but you have a tendency to freak out and assume things, without giving yourself a chance to pursue it.”
“Just because you say no offense, doesn’t mean it wasn’t offensive.”
His sigh is sharp. “I’m just pointing out a fact. Maybe he thinks the same thing about you that you think about him. Have you hinted at all that your feelings harbor more than friendship?”
Of course not. I just assumed if he wanted to pursue me, he would’ve. Max is extraordinarily confident. Besides that, I get reminded daily what great friends we are. Seems to me if he were holding a crush, he’d give a girl a sign. A message written in the sky would do the trick.
“Ya know, Ren.” Crossing my ankles, I recline in the leather chair until it squeaks. “For seeming so against this boyfriend thing, you’re pretty quick to give me advice.”
“I just want you to be happy, Gigi. Max seems to do that for you. A few months ago, you sounded tired and worn out when I’d talk to you. Now, you sound excited and full of life. I’m happy for you.”
I take back anything I’ve said about big brothers being annoying. “Thanks. I am excited.”
I’m excited because Max is excited and I had a hand in making that happen. He expresses his appreciation for me every hour. He’s finished four more songs in the last few weeks and credits me for that too. Something about new experiences and inspiration.
Last week, we spent a whole day meeting with Landon and record labels. Max spent days thinking it over. In the end, he chose to move forward with No Prudence Entertainment. A label who promised to be raw, honest, and unafraid. He hasn't officially signed, though yesterday we met with the label's music executive, Gray, and their head producer, Trex. Some of their conversations went right over my head, but it doesn't matter if I understood. Max did, and he walked out of their office with a grin the size of the ocean on his cheeks.
“Good. I’m glad you’re doing fun things.”
“I’m going to a club tonight.”
“You?” Renzo chokes on a laugh. “For real?”
“For real! I do cool things now.” I defend myself with a laugh. “Max doesn’t have to play tonight, and he thinks he owes me an apology for spending so much time working on his songs.”
“So, he’s taking you to a club?”
“Yep. He thinks I need to experience it.” I don’t admit it was my idea and I spent two hours trying to find the perfect outfit in some boutique on the strip next to a hair salon. I ended up spending way too much money and buying a mini dress that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. It’s a maroon, bandage dress that hugs my body and stops above the knee. It’s being held up by two thick straps that criss-cross in the back. I paired it with black pumps, smoky makeup, and a short leather jacket.
I feel like a badass.
“So, is it a date?”
“No.” But if it was, I look damn good. “It’ll never be a date.”
“It could be.” He tsks. “Make a move. See what happens.”
“Ha! You’re funny.” The thought of making a move, getting rejected, and spending the next nine weeks awkwardly trying to forget about me embarrassing myself has me sweating in my leather. “I need to go
though.”
“Alright. Have fun, sis.”
“I will.”
“Oh, wait, real quick. Have you heard from Benny?”
“No.” I hate lying to him but I made a promise I intend to keep. “I haven’t talked to him since I left with Max.”
“Okay. That’s cool. Just let me know if you do. I guess Aldo found out Benny hasn’t been going on mission trips and blew his top off.”
I sit up. “Wait... what?”
“Yeah. I know right. I wonder what the hell he’s been up to. Anyway, talk to you later. Love ya.”
“Love ya too.”
My feet drop to the floor and I quickly shoot Benny a warning text. We’ve only talked a few times, but he knows I’m in Vegas and I know he’s working in Vermont at a center for underprivileged youth.
As soon as the message sends, I stand from my chair, wobbling a little as I get used to wearing heels again. I give my dress a tug to smooth it out and fluff my hair. The action is unnecessary since its pin straight but it makes me feel sassy so I do it anyway.
My heels click against the hardwood as I move towards the living room where Max was practicing last. If I’m quiet, I might be able to sneak a listen to his new stuff. I lift my heels off the floor and walk like baby calf into the living room, stopping behind the couch. He’s seated with Johnny in his lap and his phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear. I frown at the lack of singing and start to retreat. I’m almost out of the room when the sound of a name stops me in my tracks.
“Aiden isn’t your concern, mom. He’s mine.”
My knowledge of Aiden is vastly limited. I know Max credits him with his survival, and I’m positive a good portion of his songs are about him.
“So what if he surfaced? Gia didn’t interact with him, and I was hovering the whole time.”
My shoulders tense. Aiden was here? In Vegas?
“Mom, it’s fine. Stop worrying about us. Gia will never know… of course, I’m keeping it a secret. Holy shit! She’s everything, mom. I’m not scaring her away.”
My muscles seize.
Did he just call me everything? What does everything entail and why do I have to eavesdrop to learn it? Why can’t he just say it to my face?
“Stop trying to piss us off!” I flinch at his rigid tone. “We chose not to tell her! It’s our life, not yours. I said I was hovering the whole time he surfaced. He was helping.”
His breath changes with a few measured inhales. When he speaks again, his voice isn’t so stiff. “I’m sorry, mom. But please stop pushing it. Aiden isn’t a side we like to project. We don’t want her to know because we don’t want her to leave.”
Leave? Why would I not want to meet someone who is helping Max? Why would I not want to thank them a million times over for saving his life?
Why was Aiden here, and why did he avoid me?
12
Max
I hate the color maroon. I hate tight little dresses. I hate high heels, and I fucking despise the man behind the bar who keeps flirting with my girl. The moment she stepped into the living area of our suite, my throat dried up, sweat formed on the back of my neck, and my internal body temperature jolted upward by one hundred million degrees.
She looked hot. By the way she smirked at me and cocked her slim hips, I knew she knew it. She knew how delicious she looked. What she didn’t know was how much it was affecting me staring at the lips stained to match her dress and the eyes sparking with mischief.
“What can I get ya to drink, darling?”
The bartender scratches at his thin beard and grins at her, dropping his eyes to her chest. She doesn’t notice. I notice, and it fucking bugs me. I feel that it bugs Aiden too. If he were here, he’d reach across the bar and rip out his eyes.
“Uhm.” Gia bites her lips, swiveling on her heels and peering up at me with wide, nervous eyes. “What are you getting?”
My lungs liquidate. She’s nervous about ordering a drink at a bar, and she’s looking to me for help. Me. Not the bartender who’s probably an expert at making drinks.
“Well, babe, you want something that tastes good or something that will knock you on your ass?” Her eyes pop from their sockets, telling me it’s the first option. I knew it would be. I just like shocking her and listening to the soft breath that comes from her mouth when she gasps.
“Something that tastes good.”
I turn to the bartender, slipping my arm around her nervous shoulders. “Cranberry and Malibu.”
“You got it. Something for you?”
“Whatever’s on tap is cool.”
He nods, grabbing a glass and flipping it in the air. He catches it with ease, no doubt trying to impress Gia. With quick, tattooed fingers, he places it under the nozzle and flips it downward, filling up my glass and pushing it towards me.
“Your girlfriend’s drink will just be a second. I have to go to the other end of the bar.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Gia blurts, plopping her elbows up on the bar. “I’m his best friend.”
I lift my glass and down half my beer instead of banging my head off the edge of the bar like I’d rather do.
I knew what I was doing when I kept referring to Gia as my best friend. I knew I was saying it enough to make it both annoying and awkward. I know she thinks it's for reminding her.
It’s not.
It’s for reminding me and my misbehaving heart I can’t have her as anything more than a friend. Every time she does something that makes me want to jump into the pits of hell for her, I babble what a great friend she is.
Which is why I babble it so much.
Gia Maria is an absolute sweetheart who’s utterly oblivious to the lengths her touch, voice, and smell affect me. Every time her skin moves across mine, breath leaves my lungs and I drown beneath the feelings she provokes.
Everything about my girl is gentle. Warming. Her skin on mine is a comfort—a sense of security I didn’t realize I needed until she molded her fingers with my mine and forced an extra beat into my heart. A thump that occurs for her and only her.
“Oh, so you’re here alone then?”
She doesn’t understand what he’s implying. “No. I’m here with Max. My friend.”
The look she gives him has me grinning behind the rim of my chilled glass. Her forehead is pulled together while she stares at him like he’s the dumbest dude on earth. I mean, duh, she obviously is here with her friend.
“Right.” He nods, pointing towards the other side of the bar. “I’m gonna go grab that drink for you.”
“Thank you.”
She turns around, brushing hair from her face. “Was that dude blind? Why would he ask me if I was here with someone when you’re literally standing right next to me?”
“He was trying to see if you’re here with anybody romantically.”
“Why does he care?”
“He was hitting on you.”
“Oh.” Her face falls. She leans back into the bar, picking at her nails. “I totally missed that. How am I supposed to find someone to sweep me off my feet if I can’t even tell when I’m getting hit on?”
Jealousy burns in my chest. I struggle to keep it off my face. “Why are you looking for someone to sweep you off your feet?”
“Well, I can’t be a loner forever. It might be nice to have a boyfriend who isn’t Benny. He said hi, by the way.”
“Cool. Tell him I said hi back.”
She nods, watching my throat move when I pound the rest of my beer. Her eyes divert from mine quickly, scanning the place. The club I chose is the smallest one I could find that was within walking distance. I knew she’d be overwhelmed, so I tried to find one that wouldn’t feel as if it was swallowing her. The second we got inside, she pulled me to the bar. It takes up the entire length of the club and is tucked way in the back, making it easy for us to communicate without having to shout over the music.
“Renzo said he might come visit.”
“Yeah?” I set my empty glass
on the edge of the bar. “Awesome. I’d love to meet him. He could stay in the room on the other side of the suite.”
Her lips tug upward, love for her brother plastered on her face. “He said he likes you better knowing you aren’t trying to get in my pants.”
“Really?” That like would flip to hate real quick if he ever knew about the thoughts I have consisting of me and her wrapped in silk sheets, scratching itches for a week straight. “Well, glad he approves.”
“Here ya go, darling.”
Gia pivots and reaches for her drink. The bartender grins like he wants to eat her. “Thank you. Also, I’m not here with anybody romantically.”
Christ.
Well, there’s that.
“Cool. I get off in a couple hours. Maybe I could find you?”
“Yeah, sure, I guess.” She lifts her drink to her lips. “There’s a lot of people so good luck.”
“I’m sure I could spot you with my eyes closed.”
Holy fuck. Is this dude a tool or is this jealousy talking?
“You’re gorgeous.”
Nope. He’s a tool.
“Hey, can I have another?” I gesture towards my empty glass. “Awesome. Thanks.”
My voice is clipped. She takes note of it immediately. Her head tilts towards mine, studying me beneath a gaze that makes me want to run away. Gia reads me like no one else can. It terrifies me. What happens when she sees right through me and finds all the pieces of me I work so hard to hide?
What happens when she finds Aiden?
“On second thought.” Gia sips at her drink, eyes trained on the bartender. “We probably won’t be here super long. Maybe another time?”
“Uhm, sure.” His grin fades as he refills my glass. “Another time. Can I have a name for the tab?”
“Mitchell.” I blurt, grabbing my glass and her hand, dragging her to one of the tall tables not far from the bar.
“How come these tables never have any chairs?”
I ignore her question and ask one of my own. “Why’d you blow bartender guy off?”
