5. Tear In My Heart

CHAPTER 5

TEAR IN MY HEART

TWENTY ONE PILOTS

I text Sam that I'm on my way back to the office.

Sam is one of those rare clients who doesn't make me anxious when I meet with him. He won't lowball me or change the pricing at the last minute, which is why I come in when he asks.

It also doesn't hurt that he and my dad worked together a few times, and Sam has always treated me well for the ten years I've been freelancing with him. He's my most reliable client. He's also the only client who genuinely gives a shit about the talent he employs. He's become more of a friend than I'd ever expected.

I'm still nervous because I have to ask him for more money. He's generous and is one of the few businesspeople who understands paying your people what they're worth, and it's never been a problem before. He won't question it, which makes me feel more guilty about asking. The last gig was a pretty fair price, but since I didn't get the grant, I'll be short. My mind wanders to my dresser back home and the pile of bills with their red stamps. I'm reminded of the large envelope mixed in with them that could probably solve most of my financial issues—or make them worse.

"Oh good, you're back. Come meet that designer I want you to—" Dani starts the second I pull the door open and step inside.

"Woah! Down girl. I've got to meet with Sam first, and by the time I'm done with that, I'll find some other excuse to not ruin her life and meet her. Besides," I make sure none of the sales guys are within hearing range, "I may or may not be busy sitting in that cafe next door for the next week."

"The cafe? The food's good, but what are you talking about?" I should recognize the tone of her voice. It's the one she always uses when she's trying to be shady. But I'm too distracted. She holds up her hand before I can answer and leans in close to say, "James Barton, is that…a smile?"

The heat rising in my face sends my heart racing again. I'm biting my bottom lip, realizing how much I'd forgotten this feeling. How much I missed this sensation. Hope. Attraction. Fuck it—love.

"Dani, I've just seen the most beautiful woman on the planet, and I have this absolutely stupid idea that if I wait there for her, she'll walk in the door again." I shake my head, laughing. Laughing ! "I have to wait there and drink a lot of tea and eventually hope that I'll be rewarded with the sun hitting that dreamlike cotton candy pink hair that's set my soul on fire."

"See, this is why I love dating artists. Every woman is the woman of your dreams and gets you to say stupidly poetic shit." She shakes her head and stops. "You know, I should totally keep an eye out for her. You said she was at the coffee shop? And she has pink hair?"

"Yeah, and she called me Spider-Man, which sounds dumb, but only a nerdy person does that and—" I stop myself and snicker. My choice of words and what I'm planning makes me seem like an idiot. "Who am I kidding? I'm surprised someone like her even gave me the time of day. I mean, she didn't, yeah… never mind. Not important. I'm going to meet with Sam."

"Wait!" I finally notice that she's up to something; I can tell by her grin. "Jamie, you know how you owe me that favor? Well, I'm calling it in. Come out tonight. Some people are going to this little mixer they're having in the arts district. Nothing big, I just, uhm, need a not-date."

"Tonight? Why? Please tell me it's not the woman from the spa you met months ago. If it's her, I'm…busy."

"Don't you dare act like you have plans beyond going home, turning on a movie, ignoring your art, and jerking off to free porn on your neighbor's internet. Do not leave me hanging, James ‘JimJam' Barton."

"Ouch. Only Coop gets to call me that." I pretend that I'm hurt, putting a hand on my chest and spinning on my heel dramatically as I back away. "Besides, I don't need free porn tonight." I spread my arms out wide, spinning in a circle as I yell back, "I have the cafe goddess of my dreams who will probably never say anything beyond ‘thank you' to me. That's all I need!"

"Gross, Barton!"

I'm not completely jaded. I could stalk the cafe for a month and I'd never go beyond admiring her from a distance. I'll never again work up the nerve to approach her. I'll have a million excuses lined up before she walked in the door. With my luck, she'd walk in on the arm of some buff movie actor boyfriend. Fuck, she's probably already dating Chase Cooper somehow.

"So that's yes?"

I walk back over to her desk, pretending I'll turn her down and knowing I likely won't. "Possibly. Let me see how this meeting with Sam goes and if I can somehow avoid telling you her name."

"You have her name?! What is it, you fucker?" She leans over her desk, trying to grab for my tie, but there's not enough showing and I dodge her.

"And that's why I wear a vest. To thwart your grabby hands."

She huffs at first, but it's followed by a cackle of a laugh. "You and your poetic bullshit. I promise it will be worth your time tonight. Meet me there; I'll text you the address. We'll talk about your boba girl."

"She's so much more than a boba girl, Dani. She's my muse." I stop, cognizant of the idiotic grin on my face. "My damn fingers are itching for my sketchpad. It's been a long time since I've wanted to make something, but now? I can't shake it!"

"This is why I told you to carry that thing with you. You're a terrible artist, dude."

"Hey! I left it in the damn Jeep. I didn't think I'd need it for a drop off." I check my watch. "Shit, I really need to get back there before Sam hires someone else."

"Sam wouldn't do that to you, dummy." She rests her hand on my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze. I love Dani, and in another life, we could have been fun together—under extremely different circumstances. But our friendship is still pretty special. She's like a sister to me now. An annoying, nosey, matchmaking sister.

"Grasp the opportunity, Jamie! You really should ask him about a full-time spot. I get that you're worried about the design programs, but he wouldn't hire you for that. Plus, we have all these great people here who would absolutely help you if you wanted to learn them."

"Yeah, I'll think about it, Dani." I lean in and give her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Barton code for not going to happen. What about tonight?"

I back away toward the elevators, "Can't really go out drinking if I'm broke."

"Free drinks till eleven! It's a creative mixer, so plenty of people to help you find more work." She leans around the corner and shouts, "Plus, Sam is extending your contract, you idiot! So you better come out and live a little, loser!"

"Thanks, jerk!" I disappear around the corner with a wave before she can yell anything else.

* * *

"Jamie, you good, man?"

"Huh?" I glance up from the check in my hand. I wish I knew how he did that. Considering I never got the chance to ask for more money. It's like he knows, and I'm now sure he has my house bugged.

"I asked if you had any issues with the list of shots they wanted to get. I'm well aware it's a bit scattered, but this is LA, baby, and it's the right time of year. A few hours in either direction and we can go from sunsets on the beach to snowboarding. Right?"

"Oh, yeah." I stare down at the piece of paper in my hand. Beach Daytime, Beach Early Morning, Aquarium, Wild Marine Life, Mountains Distance, Mountain Road, Rivers, City Life Daytime… the list continued on and on. Stock photography sites would have plenty of these images, but they want original. So, who am I to argue? "I, uhm, I might need to travel overnight for a couple of these so I can get to multiple locations in one day."

"No worries, we've got that covered. You can book the hotels in advance, have Dani book them, or you can always invoice me after." Sam laughed. "Don't forget to make sure you book two rooms. I want Lex to go on some of these trips with you to get a solid appreciation for these places. I'm looking to make these mood boards more than pictures on a wall for this, and she's got a great eye for interactive elements. It's got to look better than a google search, more authentic."

My brain has done about fifteen record scratches DJs do. Did ? I'm not sure that's even a thing they do anymore. Outside of a wedding or two, I try to avoid places with DJs.

Sam expects me to work with someone? Shit.

"Fantastic."

Sam goes over numbers with me; I'm not listening, already lost. Sam has become accustomed to me phasing out during the budget discussions. I'm not a numbers guy, and I'm not a negotiator. It's why I'm a terrible freelancer and can't make ends meet. A job I should charge two grand on will lowball me at five hundred, and I'll shake their hand and fucking thank them for it. It wasn't always like this, but working a job to make ends meet as an artist takes a toll. Like most things in my life lately, I've given up the fight.

"I'm taking you out for dinner and drinks after work today, buddy. You look like you're about to pass out."

I shake the thoughts out of my head. "I'm sorry, Sam. It was a rough night. Too many thoughts and not enough brain cells."

"Out partying with Coop?"

"Nah, he's off somewhere. Toronto, I think he said."

"Tell him to bring that new dog of his by sometime. She looks sweet as hell. I heard his brother got called up to the pros."

"Backup goalie for Pasadena, yeah. Want me to get you some tickets?"

"Absofuckinglutely. No shitty seats, either. I should get a box." He leans forward on his giant desk, folding his hands as his face turns serious. It makes me nervous. "Hey, I heard about the grant falling through. I'll get a feel for who has jobs coming up. If I can pull some strings and get you a few more gigs once this one is over, I'm sure it would help. Shit has been rough for you lately, but hang in there, and if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here, man."

"Thanks, Sam."

He means it, even if I never take him up on it. Hell, I won't even ask him to hire me full time, even though I'm sure he'd take me in a heartbeat. He shuffles through a desk drawer, pulls out a card, and hands it to me.

A therapist. Fantastic. Sam covers insurance for his freelancers, so he's not leaving me with a lot of excuses to get out of this.

"He's really good. Went to school with my wife before he took off for Paris for a while. If you don't want to talk to me, try talking to him. I'll cover the cost."

"Sam, you don't have?—"

"I have the resources to care for my people, so don't argue with me. Anyhow, don't worry about how you get nervous around new folks. I think you'll get along wonderfully with Lex. She's weird as hell sometimes, and I can't figure her out, but she's excellent. You two will have fun making this money."

Dani must have made me paranoid. If I didn't know Sammy well, I'd be concerned about his motives—is this meant to be a date or a project? Neither would surprise me, especially with Dani involved. I wonder if they're in on this together and it's some elaborate?—

"—It would be nice if you were doing that again. At least a little more than you have been, anyhow."

Shit. I phased out again. "Wait, doing what?"

"That's exactly what I mean. You're way too damn stressed. You're gonna burn yourself out like this, kid. When was the last time you hit the town and enjoyed yourself? It's Hollywood, baby!" I laugh, but Sam's not kidding. "Jamie, you gotta live a little. You don't even come out to Dani's gigs anymore, and you used to be a regular. You're too young and talented to lock yourself away like this. Enjoy life again, man."

"It's got to give me something to enjoy first." It's possible it already has. I stand up with Sam and gather up my stuff. "Don't worry, I won't scare her away with the brooding artist routine."

"What? I thought women were all about that whole moody, starving artist scene?" He claps me on the back while he throws his head back, laughing. "Come on, let's introduce you to my little vampire. When you said you might be busy, I was going to stick her with Lorenzo. She probably would have chewed his ass up and spit him out."

I smile, holding in the anxiety running through my veins. I can do this. Meet this Lexi person, go back to the coffee shop, and become a part-time creeper. Perfect. There's the potential that I'll find her again and realize she's a daydream and nothing more. Or worse, she's got the personality of a rock.

Sam's talking about money again as he holds the door open, and when I finally regain my focus, my heart stops. Across the table, working on her laptop, is my coffee queen.She's still beautiful. The ethereal wonder that came and went before my eyes. But now she's here. In Sam's office.

Wait. In Sam's office?

Lexi.

Alexis.

Sam mentioned her name earlier, even before this project. Dani said her name earlier when I dropped off the prints. I'm a fucking idiot. I try to check with Sam. Maybe this is a joke; I even blink a few times to make sure it's not all in my head. But there she sits, the woman who lit a match to the dying embers of my soul.

Of course, this also means I have to talk to her. Words less moronic than ‘you dropped this' and ‘you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, please run away with me' are now necessary—this plan is failing already.

This could be the best or absolute worst three months of my life. Based on my current track record, there's a depressingly high chance it won't end up as the former.

This is a disaster. This is terrible. I'm about to be working with her! She can't be the woman of my dreams and my co-worker. Shit. Dani planned this whole thing somehow. That's what she was hiding when I mentioned the pink hair and the coffee shop. We inevitably had to cross paths. I fell into her trap without her doing anything beyond mentioning that I was hungry. Is that why Dani invited me out tonight? I can't go to the mixer! Lexi might think I'm a loser!

I am a loser.

Dani's devious little plot was brilliant—likely exceeding her own expectations. Especially when I waltzed in like a love-struck Shakespearian Romeo going on and on about his Rosaline. If Rosaline looked like Lexi, there's no fucking way I'd give Juliette a second glance.

I'm so fucked.

"Okay, have a seat, Jamie…"

I shake my head back to reality and sit down in the nearest chair I can find, which is hard to do when I still can't really take my eyes off her. Of course, I nearly drop all my stuff, solidifying my place in Lexi's mind as an idiot.

Don't say I love you. Don't say I love you. Don't say I love you. Don't say I love you.

"…and we'll have a card setup…" Sam is talking, and I'm catching every few words and nodding like a bobblehead doll.

FOCUS!

She's married…shit, no ring. She's absolutely got a boyfriend. Girlfriend? Both? She smells like fresh strawberries in the summer.

Her sweater slides off her shoulder again, and I follow her clavicle, letting my gaze drift lower. Realizing what I'm doing, I screw my eyes shut as my cock strains against my pants. I grab my bag, desperate to find anything I can use to distract myself.

"I've already told Jamie about the hotel rooms. I want you to experience the vibes of the places and really let this stuff get into your soul."

"I'll still need to work around my other schedule for the time being."

"Absolutely. Jamie?" My head snaps to Sam's voice. "Make sure you double-check on dates before you book anything. Lexi has some side hustles you'll need to work around."

"Side hustle implies I'm making money from it, Sam," she shoots back. "More like a side headache."

I nod to Sam and try hard to remember what he's said. I lose every word when I catch a glance of Lexi in my periphery, sliding on a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Kill me now—my nerdy little muse.

"So you two will be the team." Sam's voice brings me back to reality yet again.

"Go, team," the sarcasm is unmistakable, and it makes my heart sink a little. "Okay, so we've got the schedule, paperwork, releases…"

My heart is racing. Her voice is soft but with an edge to it that would sound utterly perfect as she says my name—screams my name. Those perfect glossy lips—I can't help but picture them wrapped around my—STOP! The pencil in my hand snaps and they both turn their attention to me.

"You good, Jamie? Seriously, man, you need to relax. I should give you a card for a masseuse instead of thera?—"

"I'm good!" I cut him off before he can say it. "It was an old pencil and I'm eager to get to work." It takes everything in my face to keep me from cringing at what I said, wishing I could take it back.

"Okay," Sam draws out every letter. "Cool. How about we get out of here? I'll take you both out for an early dinner as a thank you because you'll be working some overtime for this one. And because I'm hungry."

"No can do, Sam. I've got a hot date," she says, and my heart crumbles to pieces. "With your receptionist."

But his receptionist is…Dani?

"That industry mixer?"

Oh. That kind of date.

"Yep. I'll get you a stack of business cards to add to your dragon's hoard."

"You should go to the mixer, too, Barton. Work out some of that stress on the dance floor. If you're lucky, pick up some new clients or a date while you're at it." He playfully elbows Lexi. "Both of you."

That should embarrass me, but I'm way too excited because I'm already going to that fucking mixer. So, I watch the soft pink dusting of a blush spread across her cheeks, highlighting the constellation of tiny freckles that decorate her nose and under her eyes. I want to count them, but I keep getting distracted by those eyes. The sun turns her eyes into glasses of whiskey I could stare into for days on end. In fact, I'll never again look at a glass of whiskey and not think of her. The soft light diffused by the windows catches the honey-gold flecks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I, uhm, I don't know if I can make it out tonight, but thanks, Sam."

"Alright, what do you say to tacos and beer before the mixer? Come on! I'm starving, and I'm paying."

"I uhm…yeah. Sure, Sam, but I can't stay long."

"Yeah, whatever. Not my fault you live in Pasadena. Like I said, go to the mixer."

I glance down at the photo list again, and it's transformed into something so much more now. It's an open invitation to, at the very least, get to know her. The things Sam talked about earlier come flooding back into my very horny brain. Hotels. Overnight travel. Working late. Diners. For the first time in a long time, I'm happy about what the future is bringing and every second I'm about to spend with her—even if it goes nowhere.