Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Seb dropped his burger on his plate and pushed away from the island before pacing into the adjoining living area. His silhouette reflected in the window. He looked handsome and commanding with his broad shoulders and tapered waist in his designer suit pants and white oxford shirt. The great room’s modern design and minimalist furniture added an element of sophistication, like his surroundings were further proof he was an important man. Except this was my house, not Seb’s. And yes, Justin was my lover, but our liaison had nothing to do with him. I put together my “You have no right” speech in my head as he stared out at the pool. But when he turned to face me, he looked…hurt. It was hard to stay angry at hurt.
“So are you in love with him or something?”
“Really?” I countered. “I’ve only known him for a couple of months. We’re working on—”
“I know what you’re doing,” he whispered. He kept his eyes locked on mine for a long, uncomfortable moment. “But while you’re fucking him, you’re kind of fucking up my deal.”
“You know, that’s almost funny. You wanted me to seduce him, Seb. You wanted me to get him on board so you could have the titillating ex-lovers’ tale you think is going to sell tickets. You didn’t count on him having a brain.”
“If he had a brain, he’d have signed on, finished the song, and cashed the damn check already.”
“But if he does this the way you want it, he’s a flash in the pan by Christmas. He knows it. He figured it out on his own. I didn’t put ideas in his head. He’s smart as fuck and he knows what he wants.”
“And what does he want?”
“A shot at the big time.”
“So he wants to be Mick Jagger,” Seb scoffed.
“I think he knows he’s better off being himself.”
Seb regarded me for a moment. “This is business. It’s promotion only. Call me an asshole, but I don’t care about Xena or Justin’s future careers. That’s for their agents, managers, or their mommies to worry about. Now suddenly my son is his manager or social media guy and you—”
“Watch it,” I warned.
“I had one idea and it was a good one. Why do I feel I’d be fucking up my movie by doing your lover a favor?”
“I’m not asking for anything, asshole. You’re the one who dragged me to Carmine’s. Then you enlisted Charlie’s help to lure Justin into this and—”
“I didn’t ask you to fall in love with the guy,” he yelled.
Silence.
“Why do you pull that shit? It’s like you want me to feel guilty for something you did. Don’t rewrite history with me.…I wasn’t the one who left.”
Seb gritted his teeth and balled his fists at his side. “You know why I—”
“I do. I was there. And it was eighteen years ago, so it really doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Sometimes I wish we could do it over again.” His breath hitched as he exhaled.
“We can’t, Seb.”
“I know.”
I pursed my lips and then massaged the back of my neck before meeting his gaze. He looked sad now. Defeated. And fuck. I knew that feeling all too well.
“We like each other. Don’t make it into something it’s not. He’s not using me.”
He shook his head as he looked away. “I want to believe that, but it’s a bit too convenient.”
“You know, at some point we have to stop doing this. You have to let me be happy, and I have to do the same for you.”
“I do want you to be happy,” he choked.
“Then let go, Seb.”
He let out a humorless half laugh and shook his head. “I can’t. I love you.”
“I love you too. But it’s not the same. Don’t make the memory into something more than it was. The reality was hard. The thing about us is, we’ll always be together. Just not that way.”
After a long moment, Seb rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and turned to me with a wan smile. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do for him.”
“Don’t do it for me. Or Charlie. Listen to their recording. And then see what you can do. Like you said, it’s business. It’s not personal.”
He nodded, then moved to the island and picked a fry from Charlie’s plate. “Poor Char. He must be so fucking sick of us.”
I set my hand on Seb’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. “He’s tougher than he looks, and he knows we love him. I wouldn’t worry about Charlie. And don’t worry about me and you. We’re gonna be fine.”
We sat side-by-side, eating cold fries as we let the quiet settle over us like a fresh bandage. Once it covered us completely, we shared a smile and quietly reverted back to our new version of us. Just friends.
* * *
After Seb left, I locked myself in my studio, pulled my favorite Gibson from the wall, and played until my fingers bled. There was no rhyme or reason to my song choices. I played what came to me. But everything sounded like the blues. Sad, lonely, and a little bitter. When a drop of blood dripped onto the strings, I set my guitar on the stand next to the piano, licked my finger, and aimlessly tapped a tune on the keys with my free hand. And when the halting sound grated, I thought about going into the library to play a few albums and drown out the growing silence. I had everything I needed there, in languages I’d never learn. I could get lost for days.