Chapter 8

8

February

JAXON

It’s been a few weeks since the gala and our whole world exploded the minute we left the venue. Not because Stephanie confronted us or chose to air out our dirty laundry in front of Aria’s coworkers. Oh no. Much worse. She posted a bunch of pictures on all social media platforms, and now our fake engagement is very much real. In the eyes of the paparazzi and the whole media industry, that is. Oh, and our family and friends as well since she loves to send group texts to everyone. Our phones have been blowing up ever since.

We agreed to give everyone some time to calm down before we tell them the truth. Of course, our families are overjoyed and want to discuss our engagement party and upcoming wedding plans. Oh, and apparently, we need to pick a wedding date since most are booked years in advance. Those are just a few, and believe me there’s more.

I’ve barely seen Aria since the event. And when she does come over, I know, “I told you so,” is on the tip of her tongue. She’s refrained from throwing it in my face, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. And I don’t blame her and never would. If Silas had announced Trent in the beginning, then we wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. I’m not pointing fingers; I take full blame. But it’s weird that a newly engaged couple doesn’t spend time together. Aria claims she’s working late or doesn’t want to deal with the cameras going off in her face. Yeah, the paps are staked outside our homes. I give them the finger when I leave but Aria isn’t as crude as I am.

Throwing on a pair of sunglasses, I climb inside the car and head to the studio. Turning into the lot, I’m surprised to see I’m the last one to arrive. Zander and the guys are usually late and I’m the first to arrive. I guess there’s a first time for everything. We’ve been in the studio for a month working on our third album, so it was necessary to let them in on the whole fake engagement thing. Don’t tell Aria because she will flip the fuck out, but these are my bros and they won’t spill the beans.

“Sorry, Jax, but today you’re inside the booth. The rest of you gentlemen can take a seat.” Zander snickers because Bruce, our record producer, just called us gentlemen .

“Are you up for this, Jax?” our sound designer Chuck asks. Apparently, he has somewhere else to be.

“I’m fine and dandy. Let’s just do it.” I don’t wait for a response, closing the door behind me. I debate taking off the glasses but decide to leave them on. I can play by rote so no need to see the kit.

Once I’m in position, I grab the headphones just as Zander belts out the words to I’m Losing Control and all the hair on my body stands at attention. Who knew when we first wrote this song that it would have a double meaning?

You’re slipping away

Like sand through my fingertips

Wasting all my days and nights

On love that ended today.

I almost choke on that last verse, reality smacking me in the face. The truth hurts like a mother, but the show must go on. So I suck it up and play like the professional that I am. Months ago, we chose this one to be the first single off the new album. As I pour my heart and soul into the song, Aria comes to mind. Will she ever forgive me for what happened, or will this ruin a friendship that’s evolved over time?

“Hey, Jax. Try tapping out the beat on the opening riff. It will be a great segue for Micah to join in.” No worries. Though I nailed it the first time, Bruce is the boss in the studio.

“I agree,” Chuck, pipes in. “Now let’s focus. We have a long day ahead of us.”

That is the understatement of the century.

Closing my eyes, I wait until the next song pipes through the headset, and just like the last song, I give it everything I got. Thankful that this one is a heavy metal beat and I’m in my element. Ballads are great, but this is where I shine.

By the time the song ends, my heart’s pounding and I’m soaked from head to toe. Holding up my hand, I throw my glasses on the floor, peel off my shirt, and wipe down every nook and cranny I can reach. Once I’m ready, I adjust my headset and wait.

And wait…

Pissed, I glance up to see everyone staring back at me. In awe? Who the fuck knows. All I can hear is the dead silence of the booth, until those words come back to taunt me.

“You’re slipping away.”

I’m relieved when the next song begins, because music helps me focus. Even if only for a minute or two.

When we finish that track, we dive right into the next. I’m glad I only needed to do an extra take on one song. Tempo was off and I knew it from the start, but dammit I finished it strong. I, unlike others, don’t start something without finishing it. Not naming any names, but I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.

“And that’s a wrap. Great job, Jax.” Bruce praises. Giving me two thumbs’ up. After I crawl out of the booth, I ask the guys out for a few beers, but they all have their girls to go back to. I on the other hand have a fake fiancée who doesn’t want anything to do with me.

After we say our goodbyes, I slide into my seat and take the long way home. The moment I get there, I get a group text from Micah.

Micah: Lyric’s in labor and she’s not due for two more months. SOS.

ARIA

After reading an article in the local paper this morning, I had a great idea for the perfect story. In fact, it could be the twist I’ve been searching for. It sure beats sitting at my desk staring at a blank screen. Right? This article is not going to write itself, and since I only have one more day to get it done, why the hell not? I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by meeting my deadline. I love my job too much to procrastinate any longer. Let’s get down to business.

While sipping my skinny iced latte, I plot out the article with a few bullet points. Tying in a few casual conversations that I overheard earlier in the week that would fit in perfectly.

I have a bad habit of tuning everything out when I’m focused on writing. Including the people around me. A nasty case of tunnel vision. Which is why I had no idea someone was sitting in the chair next to me until they cleared their throat.

With a start, I glance up to see Trent Macmillan sitting there. The shock on my face must be evident because he chuckles. This is not good. Not good at all. Either he’s going to fire me (Can he do that?) or let everyone know that my engagement is as fake as Martha’s tits. Oh please. She took vacation and came back a couple weeks later with two balloons for a chest.

“Mr. Macmillan, how can I help you?” I swear my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth when I say this.

“I was just passing through and wanted to congratulate you on your recent engagement. That was quite a proposal, wasn’t it?” Is he being sincere or condescending? If I had to take a wild guess, my vote would be the latter.

“Thank you, that’s very kind. Yes, it was, and the reason I had to rush out. Felt a bit faint. It was such a surprise.” I’m mesmerized as I watch his index finger tapping his lips. He’s a very handsome man, but don’t let that fool you. Piranha are cute fish, but they’ll rip apart their prey in two-point-two seconds flat.

“I know distractions can ruin our train of thought, so I’ll let you get back to work. I’m sure we’ll see each other again since we now run in the same circles.” Ouch. Not a mention of her name, but he subtly let me know he’ll be sticking around. Duly noted.

Time ticks on and before I know it, an hour passes right by. No article since I was so distracted. He purposely interrupted me because, being in the industry, he knows, “The great enemy of writing isn’t your own lack of talent, it’s being interrupted by other people.” My favorite quote by Joyce Carol Oates. The workday’s over and I got nothing. Maybe the words will flow once I’m home. If not, I’ll need to work on something that I started long ago but never finished.

On the way home, I decide to pick up dinner. No time to cook since I’ll be burning the midnight oil. Guess I’m full of quotes today. That’s what I do when my mind is distracted, and I have nothing of my own. Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to listen to my problems. Changing the subject.

Let’s talk about Jax. Not only is he a thorn in my side, but I also really miss him. We haven’t seen each other very often since the big debacle and it’s my fault. Not his. He’s reached out several times, but I’ve made up a bunch of excuses. I’m not mad at him, it’s just… I don’t know. Where do we go from here? Save face or tell our parents the truth? If we do, then Stephanie will find out too and she’ll never let me live it down. Not to mention she’d be hurt that I was willing to fake it until I make it with her ex just because I was being bullied at work.

Screw it, we’ve come this far. Let’s finish what we started and give everyone a show to remember. Why not? Apparently they all thought the proposal was real, so why not finish what we started? I’m going to call Jax and let him know the good news. Unless he’s decided to end it, or, worse, told his family it was fake already.

After rushing into the house, I set my food on the counter and yank out my phone. Hitting speed dial, I wait. And wait and wait. “Hi, can’t come to the phone right now, leave your name and number.” BEEP. “Hey, Jax. When you get this, please call me. I decided we need to see this through.”

If someone was peeking in the window, no one would know I’m engaged. There’s no one sharing a meal with me, let alone my bed. Oh, dear god I did not just go there. Jax will never share my bed. Ever.

It’s not that I don’t find him attractive, quite the contrary. He’s a gorgeous man inside and out. And he’s the hottest fucking drummer on the planet. And I’m not one to drop the F bomb. Oops, maybe I should have spelled it out, HAF. Any way you slice it or dice it, if you love heavy metal bands and you gravitate towards the men or women in the back, Jax is the one for you. His shoulders, triceps, and pecs are to die for, and those forearms, well my panties get wet just thinking about them. Especially when I’m enveloped in his arms, and he kisses me senseless. Not that I’m counting, but being in his arms is amazing.

Just talking about bed, kissing, and muscles, then add Jax into the equation and I’m a bundle of nerves. Taking it out on my poor grilled shrimp salad. Stabbing a piece with my fork, I pop it into my mouth. Delish. The smokiness of the shrimp paired with the sweet vinaigrette is fantastic. It’s one of my favorite salads. No matter what season. It’s def a salad that eats like a meal. It’s so filling, I’ll need to save the rest for tomorrow’s lunch.

I’m on my way to the kitchen when the doorbell rings. Setting the salad on the side table, I decide to answer the door first. Just as I swing it wide, I quickly wonder, What if it’s Stephanie ? Thankfully, Jax is standing there. He grabs me by the waist and covers his mouth with mine.

No regrets.

Guess he got my message.