Blame it on the Tequila Page 4

  Pacing away, I dug my hand into my hair and tugged before walking back. “And what about the tour? How are we doing all this? We’re already planning on recording on the road where we can.”

  “Leave that up to me. I just need to know you won’t fight me on this if I set it up.”

  I wanted to. I wanted to tell her and whoever she hired to fuck off because I didn’t need them. The guys’ laughter nabbed my attention, and I looked over at the three guys who I’d do anything for.

  I hated this rut that shrouded my thoughts in nothing. Lyrics usually came to me like oxygen to my lungs, but lately, I’d been deprived. Probably because on this path to becoming legendary, there was limited rest. I loved every part of this job—it’d been my dream since I was a kid, and every person that doubted me, only drove me harder—one person in particular.

  When that one person was your own mom, you didn’t take breaks, and you didn’t pull back from the hard stuff to succeed. I just wish succeeding could feel a little easier for once. Kind of like it did when I’d had Nova at my side. She’d slipped her hand in mine, and the future flowed together like pieces of a puzzle snapping in place. I’d almost hoped talking to her might have caused another surge of inspiration—she’d always been my muse.

  But it was hard to use your muse when they didn’t pick up the phone. Which left me still stuck in my rut.

  “I won’t fight you,” I gave in.

  “Good,” she said, her red lips stretching into a smile.

  I walked up on stage and grabbed my guitar. Aspen rambled on about our schedule while we got ready to run through our set.

  “Also, Parker, you have a date with Sonia tomorrow night.”

  Sonia was a model-turned-actress I’d been photographed with at an awards afterparty last year. When the media had a field day with the photos, Aspen concocted a plan to formulate a fake relationship between us since the fans went crazy imagining all the songs we wrote were about Sonia and me. Our sales skyrocketed, and Sonia hadn’t hesitated to use me as much as I used her.

  I didn’t hate it because every once in a while, Sonia and I fucked after our dates and the release without any pressure of what came next was nice. It didn’t hurt that her hair looked a lot like Nova’s.

  Not many women had that deep red hair, but I did my best to find them all and fuck the desire for redheads out of my system. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. I just got labeled as having a type. Which I guess I did.

  Anyone who reminded me of Nova.

  Aspen being the businesswoman she was, turned it into a contract that strangled me more than helped.

  “It’s dinner at a restaurant opening, so maybe get the scowl off your face,” Aspen reprimanded. “It should be nice.”

  “Yeah, nice,” Ash scoffed, imitating a blow job.

  Brogan made humping motions, and Oren wrapped both arms around himself like he was mid-make-out session, adding breathy moans for effect.

  “You guys are gross,” Aspen sneered. “I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t be late.”

  Before I could object, she turned away. Usually, I didn’t mind the arranged dates, but ever since seeing Nova—even for that quick flash—a date with Sonia was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “Thanks for doing this,” Sonia said as I helped her into her jacket.

  “Of course. I was just happy it wasn’t a shopping trip again.”

  She turned, pulling her sleek hair out from under the collar, her full lips stretched into a perfect smile. She was on. Probably because we stood in front of the restaurant we just ate at with a glass wall between the lingering paparazzi and us.

  “I’m at your mercy whenever you need me.” She stared up at me from under her lashes as best as she could when she was only three inches shorter in her heels and closed the gap between us. She gripped the lapels of my coat and adjusted them before resting her palms on my chest.

  The moves came naturally as we’d done them time and time again. I even knew when to angle a few degrees away from the window, making sure she stood in the perfect spot lined up for a photo that got her good side.

  “Unless you’re not ready for the night to end,” she murmured. “You know I’m always up for a quickie.”

  I remembered the last quickie when she’d sucked me off on the drive back to her apartment. She’d paid the driver two-hundred dollars to not tell anyone but secretly hoped he would to beef up our lie.

  But even that memory couldn’t block out another redhead, and when Sonia leaned in to close the gap, I gripped her biceps, holding her back, making it look more like an embrace rather than a rejection. Even with only a moment from Nova and that was all it took to remind me of what we had. With those memories came the ones of how I hadn’t needed to work so hard—hadn’t needed to go on arranged dates I didn’t want to go on.

  “Not tonight.”

  Her eyes narrowed only a fraction before the coy smile slipped in place. “Oh, Parker,” she said on an exhale. “Are you seeing someone?”

  I laughed. “No.”

  But I was thinking of someone I desperately wanted to see, and the thought of putting my lips on Sonia’s when all I could do was remember the few sparing times I’d put my lips on Nova’s, rubbed me the wrong way. Everything in me screamed no.

  “I’m just not wanting to put on that much of a show.”

  “But we always kiss at the end of the night.”

  “Just…not tonight.”

  She studied me a little longer before relaxing and sliding her hands down my chest, pulling away to turn to the door. “Okay. I can respect that.”

  She reached her hand for mine, and I dutifully grabbed on, pulling back on the affection I usually delivered with every smile. We stepped through the doors, and cameras went off. Normally, I blocked them out, not really caring what I looked like. But tonight, my hair stood on end, every muscle on high alert of how I positioned myself around Sonia, wondering what the pictures looked like to an outsider—to Nova.

  Sonia’s car pulled up, and I opened the door for her, waiting for my own right behind hers. Before getting in, she turned to me one more time, stepping close and brushing her fingers along the scruff on my cheek. It was the only warning I got before she closed the few inches between us and pressed her lips to where she’s just touched, dangerously close to my lips.

  My hands tightened on her hips, barely fighting the urge to shove her away. Before she pulled back, she whispered, “A deal is a deal, Parker. Be happy I didn’t go for a full kiss you couldn’t pull away from.”

  I ground my teeth, not liking the walls closing in around my natural reactions, trapping me into a role I didn’t want to play tonight. She pulled back, stroking her thumb along the red lipstick I knew marred my cheek.

  “Hopefully, next time, you’ll be more willing to play. It was the best bonus of our deal.”

  And with that, she smiled at the camera one last time and got in. I waited until her car drove away before I moved to mine, collapsing into the back seat, grateful for the blacked-out windows.

  Four

  Nova

  For the seventh time, I dropped my book on the mattress beside me, unable to sleep. Abandoning trying again, I readjusted to my back, bringing my head to the edge of the mattress to peek out at the stars beyond.

  I wouldn’t be able to keep the back doors of the van open much longer. As the days crept deeper into fall, the nights got colder, even in Georgia. Peeking out of the corner of my eye, I stared at my phone, the urge to pick it up hitting me like a ghost haunting my body.

  It always did.

  But I never gave in.

  It’d been a little over a month since my digital run-in with Parker. A month filled with indecisions, doubt, memories—happy and…not so happy—curiosity, more doubt, and another dash of doubt for good measure. Add in the wave after wave of remembered feelings, and I barely came up for air. I’d traveled more, trying to find a comfort his phone call disrupted. I’d put off Aiken’s emails and not so
gentle nudges to make decisions about where I wanted to go with my conglomerate of businesses.

  Instead of thinking about how I wanted to plan my future, I lingered over the past.

  That first week, he’d called, messaged, and stalked me on Instagram. Then they slowed down a little more each week. I held my breath for the moment he followed through, and Rae came to me to let me know Parker Callahan reached out to her. I called his bluff, and part of me wished he hadn’t been lying.

  However, he still called me. Just not as often. Just enough to never let me sink back into the normalcy I’d found over the last few years. It was like as soon as I shut the door, he’d stick his foot in it just in time to make me keep it open.

  Usually, I resisted.

  When I came close to giving in, I shoved past the good memories and remembered all the reasons why we were apart. I remembered every ounce of loneliness that consumed me. I remembered the fear and pain. I told myself he was just like my father and would always pick his dream over me. I told myself I deserved more than these doubts, and that helped to shove the phone away when his name popped up.

  But tonight? Tonight, I wanted to call him. Something about the stars and the air and the aching hole in my chest he’d left behind. Maybe he’d ripped the flimsy band-aid off, and without it, it grew a little more each day, and tonight it finally grew big enough to not ignore.

  Whatever the reason was, this time, when my fingers twitched with the need to call him, I did. I held my breath with every ring, hoping it went to voicemail and dreading that it did. My heart thundered so hard the beating pulse almost blocked out all other noise. It worked too hard, and my lungs struggled to keep up.

  Just when I planned to pull back and end the mistake before it began, the ringing stopped.

  “Supernova,” he answered.

  The organ in my chest came to a screeching halt, and I sucked in a breath. “Hey, Rock Star,” I exhaled.

  Some of the tension eased when I heard a huff of laughter on the other end of the line at the nickname I gave him. It was better than the fuck you, I expected.

  “I’m pretty sure we said the next day, not the next month.”

  “Yeeeeaaaah, about that…Life got a little crazy.” The excuse sounded lame even to me, and he didn’t hesitate to call me out on it.

  “For a month? For even a text response? I live one of the most hectic lives, and I was able to find time to call you.”

  “It wasn’t always that way.” The sharp words slipped past my lips before I could think better of them. That was the thing about the past; sometimes, those hurts lingered in the shadows unnoticed, popping out when you least expected it. Sometimes you forgot they were even there.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t,” he admitted sullenly.

  I winced. We’d been on the phone all of two seconds, and I’d already brought up the bitterness of our past and how he’d been the one to not respond or call. Maybe I’d been subconsciously punishing him with my lack of response.

  But I’d called him. And not to fight about what was already done. In fact, I didn’t even want to think about it, let alone talk about it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.” We both knew I did, but before he could call me on it, I pushed on. “I did get busy and lose service on that first trip, but when I got back, I got lost in my head, and…I don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know?”

  “I don’t know,” I laughed, looking up at the stars for answers. “I guess, maybe I wondered if talking would be good or bad. I wondered if it would be better or worse or if maybe we’d changed so much, we didn’t have anything to talk about. Or our lives were too different, and we didn’t have room for anything else.”

  Or if we had someone else in our life that may not like us talking to each other. I recalled the image of him with Sonia at a dinner and the way her glossy hair shined as her red-painted lips smiled adoringly at him. Remembering the photo that had been splashed all over Instagram had jealousy punching me in the gut, almost forcing the words up and out, but I bit them back. I’d already let enough bitter comments slip free.

  “Talking to you is always good, Supernova. Even when it’s bad.”

  “Thank you?”

  His laugh rumbled low like the deep ocean waves, and I closed my eyes to let it wash over me.

  “It’s a compliment. Even when you were a feisty pain in my ass, I enjoyed your company.”

  “I’ll be sure to list it on my resume.”

  A silence fell between us, and I wondered where he was. I’d made a point to take off the Google notifications I had set up. The less I knew, the better.

  “How about this,” he started. “We just talk—like old friends, and we skip the past.”

  Another chord of tension around my chest broke free. “I like the sound of that.” I made it a point to always skip talking about the past. Even Rae and Vera didn’t know my history.

  “And Nova?”

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s always room in my life for you.”

  Unbidden, the past crept out of the shadows, but I saw it coming and shut my mouth before it could escape.

  You hadn’t always. Once upon a time, you’d forgotten me as quickly as you’d known me.

  But we weren’t talking about the past.

  “So, what are you up to?” I asked instead.

  “Lounging in my hotel room.”

  “So, fancy.”

  “Beats the bus. Don’t get me wrong, I love it—but four guys in one small space starts to smell bad. It’s good to air it out.”

  “Gross,” I laughed.

  “What about you? What are you doing?”

  “On another trip in a van.”

  “Damn. Again?”

  “Yup.”

  “You must love it.”

  “I truly do.” The freedom. The solitude. The fresh air and exertion. Only me and wherever I landed to take pictures or set up an easel and work on a new painting or sketch to sell. I never worried about being closed into a cubicle at a big publishing company like my mom hoped. I was free.

  “How does one come to love the van life?” he asked.

  I heard the rustle of fabric and closed my eyes, imagining him leaned back against the pillows, his arm behind his head, a few more tattoos than last time peeking out from his short sleeve shirt. I saw the ink on his arm grow in pictures, but I never let myself study it enough to see what the new tattoos were.

  “Well, I randomly rented one with my birthday money one summer between my sophomore and junior year, and it was the best experience of my life. I knew I had to go back. I did it again after my junior year, and I began saving so I could do it for longer after my senior year.”

  “I bet your mom loved that,” he muttered.

  “She definitely did not. At first, she hoped it was a phase, thinking I would get it out of my system. She never outright vetoed the trips until I turned down an internship after college. Then she gave me all of six months post-college to get a reputable job she approved of, or she would pull any support.”

  “Shit. When is that?”

  “Last week.”

  “So, does that mean you’re in a van because you’re homeless?”

  “Nah, I worked odd jobs over the summers in college and saved as much as I could. And now, it’s those odd jobs that are helping me establish contacts I’m using now to build something for myself.”

  Just not building fast enough. Which was what I needed Aiken for. Sponsorships on Instagram and my sporadic art, articles, and music sales didn’t quite cover the tiny loft in New York. Let alone, van rentals and trips. I didn’t have to live in the city, but my family was there—Vera and Rae. My life was there. And eventually, I’d have to cave to Aiken’s ideas—like showing my face—if I wanted to stay there.

  “Damn, Nova. I always knew you’d be amazing.”

  “I definitely try. Wanting to eat and keep a roof over my head definitely acts as motivation.”

  “That it will. It sounds a lot
like our first year on the road. Brogan may have danced a night or two at a local club to get some cash.”

  “He didn’t?” I gasped.

  “He sure did.”

  I tossed my head back into the pillow and let my laugh bellow free into the night, imagining the big blond swiveling his hips at some club. “Did you?”

  “Maybe,” he muttered.

  I curled to my side, laughing so hard.

  “What about your friends?” he asked. “Did anyone you know have to strip or sell blood to survive? College can be expensive.”

  “I went to Wharton,” I deadpanned. “Everyone came with a silver spoon.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Really, though. My two friends, Vera and Rae, didn’t even need scholarships.”

  “Rae. Is she the one who I talked to?” he asked.

  “Yup.”

  “I like her.”

  “Most guys do.” I usually didn’t mind but having one of those guys be my Parker stung a little more than I wanted to admit. At least until he admitted why he liked her.

  “Well, I like her for bringing me to you. “

  His sincerity popped any bubble of jealousy and left behind a warm goo that eased past my defenses. I rolled to my back and looked up at the night sky, unsure what to say. In the end, I went with a topic I said I’d avoid. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  I cringed as soon as the words left my lips. Stupid, stupid, Nova.

  “As a matter of a fact, I’m not. Did Google not tell you that?”

  His easy answer, not at all what I expected it to be, threw me for a loop, and confusion lowered my filter even more. “Google just shows you with a bunch of girls.”