Chapter 6

Sterling didn’t hear the tapping on the door at first. Then he ignored it. He could say that he couldn’t hear it over the music pumping through his earbuds. Or just say he was asleep. No one would bother him if he didn’t respond. The sliding pocked door opened. Apparently, there was one exception: Morgan.

He sat up on the bed and pulled out his earbuds as she walked in, closing the pocket door behind her. Morgan flopped on his bed near his feet. “Why are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding. I was taking a nap.”

“Uh huh. Is everything okay?”

Sterling sat up all the way and ran a hand through his hair. “Does it not seem okay? Because that’s like the twentieth time you’ve asked me that and we’ve only been on the road for like two hours.”

Morgan shook her head and bit her lip, smiling. “Sorry. I do tend to get a little overprotective. But you also seem like something’s weighing on you. I don’t want to assume and I don’t want to push you. But I’m here.”

Of all the people in his life who would get it, Morgan would. She knew him before he was famous and knew his family. Her parents still lived near his mom in LA. Their families had never been close, not the way Morgan and Sterling were, so she probably didn’t know about May. The thought of having to talk about it made him feel worse.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here. Now, tell me about your grand plans, manager. What are we doing on this tour?”

He watched as she settled in, leaning back against the wall and swinging her legs up on the bed, her feet almost touching his. It was funny how fast they settled back into their old rhythms. Morgan looked a bit different with the tattoos and the pink hair, but it all felt very much like her. Back in high school they’d gotten fake IDs. Not to drink, but to get into clubs where some of their favorite rock bands were playing. She had listened to all of his original music, even his terrible early songs, and had encouraged him to send out demos. Other than May, no one had been as excited for him as Morgan.

He was truly glad to have her around again. She made him feel more grounded somehow, more like Sterling James the guy, not Sterling James the brand. It still threw him off when she called him James. He had long gotten used to the name change and thought of himself as Sterling. James had been his father’s name, though he went by Jim. The more distance there the better.

Being around Morgan and thinking about his past made him realize that he didn’t want to just give up and send money for May’s rehab. He wanted back in her life. It might not—probably wouldn’t—look the same, but he had to try. He just needed to figure out how, which might be more of a problem than the ones he was facing about his image or a rebrand.

Morgan continued. “The question is: what do you want to get out of the tour? When you called me, you mentioned a rebrand of some kind. Tell me more about that.”

Sterling hesitated. As much as he trusted Morgan, the things he had been thinking about the past year were more than just a rebrand. It was a big change. One that his previous manager had said would be career-ending. He desperately wanted people to be on board with the change and to believe that it could work for him.

“I’m looking for more than a rebrand. I’ve been toying with the idea of changing my sound. Moving toward something more acoustic rock. More stripped-down.”

Morgan’s face showed nothing but curiosity. “Your band is already pretty stripped-down: you, Moby, Chuck, and Dave. Give me some bands, just for comparison’s sake.”

“Mumford Sons, Gregory Alan Isakov, The Lumineers, Sufjan Stevens, Ben Howard. Still edgy, but focusing on the songwriting aspect. Less rock star. More indie rock.”

She nodded. “I can see that for you. Unlike a lot of the big guys, you can handle stripped-down. You’re great a cappella or just with a guitar. And your songwriting has only gotten better.”

“You don’t hate the idea?”

She grinned. “No way. Not if it’s what you want. Plus, remember that the first songs I ever heard were you playing an old Taylor guitar in my bedroom. I know how good you are like that. We’ll just need to come up with a plan for this.”

Sterling smiled and looked down at his worn jeans. Hopefully Morgan wasn’t biased by their friendship. He didn’t want to surround himself with a bunch of people who would just agree with him. But he also didn’t want to have to fight with his inner circle about what he truly wanted. It shouldn’t be an uphill battle with his team.

“What does the label say?”

Sterling met her eyes. “My contract is actually up after this tour. They’re pressuring me to extend and stay with them, but I’m pretty sure that’s only if I keep things as are.”

“So, would you truly be indie? Or do you want to look for another label that’s open to taking some risks with you?”

“What do you think? I’m kind of torn, honestly. My label has been good to me, but I also feel like they own me. I’m itchy to feel more free.”

“I get that. Well, with this in mind, we need to have you meet with Reese about your social media and all that jazz.”

“We have to meet?”

Morgan rolled her eyes and smacked his leg. “Yes. This is part of her onboarding with clients. We talked about it. She has to go over your social media presence and your goals. All that stuff that I don’t understand. Which is why we hired her and actually brought her on the tour. You don’t need to be hesitant. I think she’s going to be fabulous. Especially if you’re wanting to make this significant of a change. Get over yourself or whatever you have against her. Give her a chance to help you.”

Sterling couldn’t quite explain all the reasons he didn’t want to meet with Reese alone. Maybe it was the way in that first meeting she had reminded him of all the things he hated about his career. People making assumptions about who he was, assuming more familiarity with him because they had studied his song lyrics or had a framed picture.

And then there was the way he had reacted just being close to her. Not to mention the spike of jealousy and protectiveness he felt when Moby asked about her. She had challenged him about going to Subway unnoticed, teased, and made a bet. He liked that she didn’t back down.

No, being alone with Reese was not a great idea.

“That’s fine. I can meet in a few minutes,” he said.

Morgan jumped up. “Great! I’ll tell her. Your private lounge? Twenty minutes?”

Sterling took a breath. “Sure.” His fingers twitched and he resisted the urge to pull the pick out of his pocket, but he left it there. “Maybe you can stop in for some of the meeting. Just to help things along.”

Morgan grinned at him. “Aw, you want my help. That’s sweet. Sure. I’ll let you guys get started and then I’ll casually drop in. That way she won’t feel like I’m babysitting her. Though I’m really babysitting you,” she said.

Sterling gave a little laugh, but he felt like what he needed around Reese wasn’t so much of a babysitter as a chaperone.

* * *

Reese tapped her pen on the small table until Sterling gave it a pointed stare and cleared his throat. She hadn’t realized she was even doing it and put the pen down. The doors were open to his bedroom as though he was nervous being alone in a room with her. She could just barely hear the other guys in the band laughing about something up front as the bus rolled toward Atlanta. Reese wished for just a tiny bit of their humor to lighten the mood, but Sterling’s darkness seemed to suck all the air from the room.

“Sorry. So, um, have you thought of a few words that you would like to describe your public persona?”

Across the table, Sterling slouched on the leather love seat, twirling a gray pick between his fingers. The movement caught and held her eye. For a guy with such broad shoulders and thick arms, his fingers were surprisingly dexterous. That was dumb—of course they were. He played guitar really well. She had admired his hands before in videos, watching as they moved up and down the neck of a guitar. Now she felt sucked into the small movement of the pick flipping over his knuckles.

Sterling sighed as though she had asked the most annoying question in the world. “Let’s keep it simple: I’d like to not be known as a guy with a dual personality.”

“That’s a good start,” Reese said, biting back her impatience.

His answers continued to be so shallow and basic that they weren’t helpful. Reese was leading Sterling through the branding questionnaire she had developed. Or, she was trying to lead him through it. He had been completely resistant to answering even the simplest questions that helped her create personalized plans for her clients.

She had tried rewording questions and gently pressuring him, but knew she was holding back. His eyes kept flicking to the front of the bus, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Reese wanted him to know she was good at her job. But she was trying too hard, making her actually worse at her job. There was also the matter of the way she reacted to simply being around him. Watching his fingers as he flipped the pick, wondering what they might feel like against her cheek or tangled in her hair. The thought made her cheeks heat and she looked back at her list of questions. This was bad.

Normally she could get people to open up and go deeper. Sterling had not just a wall up, but an electric fence and a moat. Instead of busting it down with humor or kindness or vulnerability the way she normally could, Reese stood outside all his barriers, poking at them with a twig.

It simply wasn’t working.

“Let’s go a little deeper,” Reese said. “What I mean really is how would you like people to describe you? For example, you might choose words like kind or serious or playful or sarcastic. I don’t know that those words would be true for you, but it’s just to give you an idea.”

Sterling’s only response was a kind of grunt. Reese sighed.

Morgan walked into the lounge. Reese gave her a small smile that was more like a plea for help. Morgan slid into the seat next to Sterling, their shoulders touching. He sighed, leaning slightly into her. The pink ends of her hair brushed over his shoulder. Reese’s stomach contracted with a surprising jealousy at the simple touches. They were so easy together. Whereas her interactions with Sterling resembled a trip to the dentist.

“How’s it going back here?” Morgan said. Her eyes went from Sterling to Reese and back again. “Making some good progress?”

“I think we’re almost done,” Sterling said.

Reese tried to mask her snort as a cough. “Actually, we’re on question three. And I’m not sure I have much I can use yet.”

Morgan narrowed her eyes at Sterling, but spoke in a teasing way. “Are you being difficult?”

“No,” he said, sounding defensive.

“Reese? Is he being difficult?”

Sterling eyeballed her and Reese looked down at her computer screen where she had typed almost nothing. “Uh, I wouldn’t say difficult, but we aren’t making much forward progress. Maybe you could help, Morgan? You know Sterling well.”

“I do,” Morgan said, poking him in the ribs. “Very well.”

To Reese’s surprise, he started giggling and swatted her hand. Sterling James was ticklish? His giggling was infectious and Reese smiled. This was a softer side to him she hadn’t seen. She understood how he got the Night and Day nickname. He really did seem to be a different person when he took down the walls. The openness in his face was beautiful and she sucked in her breath, feeling like she was witnessing an intimate moment.

“No tickling,” Sterling said, scooting away from Morgan. “You know the rules.”

“Yeah, and you know that we need to work on your image. That’s why we hired Reese. Let’s stop wasting her time and knock this out. Okay?”

Sterling huffed and ran his hands over his face. “Fine. What was that last question?” He actually met Reese’s eyes for the first time since they had started. It threw her. They were the kind of eyes she could imagine waking up to every day.

Now that was a stupid thought. As if.

Reese focused on his forehead so she didn’t have to look directly at his eyes, but it would look like she was. “I’m looking for words you’d like people to use when describing your public persona or image.”

“Right,” Sterling said. He started spinning the pick again over his knuckles. “This is hard to think about objectively. Morgan?”

“You want to stop the whole Day and Night thing, right? Let’s start there.”

“What would you like people to say instead?” Reese asked. “Maybe think about a magazine or newspaper or blog—what would you want them to write about you in an article?”

Sterling was still looking right at her. “What do you think?”

“Me?” Reese’s voice cracked a little. She glanced at Morgan, who looked amused, and back to Sterling.

“You,” Sterling said. “Let’s see what you’ve got. I mean, we did hire you for this.” A slight smile lifted the edge of his mouth. She heard the challenge in his voice.

“Are you asking what I think you should go for? Or did you mean me, like what would I want people to say about me?”

He cocked his head and Reese fell into the trap of those gorgeous eyes again. “I meant what do you think I should go for, but let’s hear yours. Maybe it will get the wheels turning. What would you want people to say about you?”

Reese’s cheeks felt warm and she hoped that she wasn’t blushing too much. “Hm …”

Sterling grinned. “Not as easy as you thought, right?”

It wasn’t that the question was hard. Reese had gone through this questionnaire herself when she created it. Every so often went through it again just to see if it needed tweaking. She knew the answers, but didn’t know if she wanted to be so transparent with Sterling. Having Morgan there made it a little easier. If she ever wanted him to trust her and open up, she needed to set the tone.

The glint in Sterling’s eyes shook her out of the hesitant, frozen place she’d been stuck in. She liked a challenge. And she wanted to succeed at this one.

Leaning forward, Reese met and held Sterling’s gaze. “I would want people to say that I’m the kind of woman you trust with your secrets. The one you want in your corner of the ring. I’d like to garner respect for my ability to think—and land—on my feet. I want to be seen as a brilliant strategist and the kind of person you don’t cross. I want them to use words like fierce, loyal, smart, and strategic. But also kind and fun. Someone you could go into battle with or spend a night laughing with.” She took a breath, feeling like she had just unloaded a big piece of her soul in front of him. “Does that give you a better idea of what I’m looking for?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. Sterling’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “It does. What would you say for me?”

Reese forced herself to hold his gaze, though everything in her felt like she should run from this question. Or maybe run from the room.

Taking a breath, she started. “I don’t know you very well, but from what I’ve seen, I’d want your public persona to encompass more of your playful side. I think you keep that locked up pretty tight, but when you let it loose, it’s captivating. I think you should let people see your softer side, like how you spent so much time with that shy pre-teen girl at the meet-and-greet. You were so kind to her, like you could sense how much she needed that. I’d want people to describe you with words like strong, warm, tender, and freaking talented. You’re the kind of guy who made his own career and held it and never lost himself along the way.”

His eyes pinned hers, blazing with an emotion she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Had she made him angry? Reese really didn’t know him well. These were her words for him, the ones that she would suggest. But did they resonate with him at all? Were they close to what he wanted?

And did they make her attraction to him totally obvious?

“What about my rock star image? This doesn’t sound very tough,” Sterling said.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Reese said. “There is great strength in vulnerability. People are afraid of it. They don’t understand that other people inherently recognize how brave it is to be raw and real. You would be tougher and softer at the same time. Powerful, but tender. It’s the best combination.”

A strange sort of tension filled the small room, like they all held their breath at the same time. Reese’s eyes felt dry, like she hadn’t blinked in a long time. Maybe she hadn’t. She was too fixated on the dark olive flecks in Sterling’s eyes.

She felt suddenly stripped and vulnerable. She knew what he meant when he questioned her about vulnerability, because she felt completely powerless under his gaze. Looking down, she fiddled with her pen.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for, but that’s just what I might suggest,” Reese said.

“I knew I liked you,” Morgan said. The tension whooshed from the room.

Reese looked up and saw Morgan smiling at her. Sterling had gone back to flipping the guitar pick, his eyes following it over his knuckles, the corners of his mouth pulled down. Morgan may have liked what she said, but it didn’t seem like she had won any favors with Sterling.

“Wow,” Moby said. Reese realized with a small shock that he leaned against the doorway. “I can see why you hired her, Sterling. She’s incredible. I think she just saw into your soul or something. I mean, assuming you have a soul, that is.”

Sterling still hadn’t said anything. Reese cleared her throat. “You know what? If it would be easier, I can turn this into a Google form you can just fill out. It might be less pressure. I can go through your answers and then come up with a strategy that we can talk over.”

Sterling nodded. “That might be good.”

With a few clicks, Reese turned her questionnaire into something that he could fill out and send back. She spun the laptop so it was facing him. “Can I trust you with my Mac? It’s my baby.”

He flicked his eyes up to hers, a small smile on his face. “I handle guitars every day worth more than your baby. So, yeah. You can trust me.”

Sterling set the pick down on the table and Reese stood. She needed to get out of this room and put some space between herself and Sterling. Too bad the most space she was going to get was thirty feet. At least until the next stop of the tour bus.