Chapter 79
I totally blew it with Peace. Seeing Levi holding her hand, I lashed out. I said things I shouldn’t have. I’m afraid I majorly fucked things up between us.
On stage in Atlanta, I go through the motions. I pluck chords for sound check while watching Peace talking to George. She’s not smiling. There’s no sparkle in her beautiful eyes. Since I laid into her at the radio station, there’s been nothing but frost whenever she happens to look at me.
“Your guitar’s out of tune.” Levi bumps my shoulder, and the look he gives me tells me that verdict doesn’t apply only to my guitar playing.
“Gotta agree with Levi. You’re stinking up the place pretty badly with your attitude, man.” Carson clicks his mic off as he aims his gaze at me and puts in his two cents. “Apologize to her for being such an asshole,” he says, “and let’s get back to everyone having fun and making music.”
“No.” I rip my gaze away. “I’m good.” A lie. I’m nowhere near good on any level without her. But she’s another matter. She’s so much better off away from a man like me with a temper and a shitty attitude. I shouldn’t have agreed to a secret arrangement with her in the first place. I haven’t worked her out of my system. I’ve only gotten more obsessed with her. Every day that the tour gets closer to the end, I get more edgy. I can feel her slipping through my fingers. And today, I screwed up and did something completely unacceptable. I hurt her.
“You’re fucking full of it.” Car shakes his head. “But if you say you’re good, so be it. It’s not my life but yours that you’re fucking over.” He isn’t buying my BS.
“Let’s do the tune again.” I rip my gaze away from Peace.
“Yeah,” Carson agrees. “Only this time with you playing your guitar rather than eye-fucking the pretty intern.” He gives me a pointed look before clicking on his mic.
I nod once. Closing my eyes, I imagine Peace in my arms like she was in my bunk last night. She is the solace I don’t deserve. For some reason, she has faith in me and makes me believe I can be a better person. She reduces my anger from a boil to a manageable simmer. I don’t pop off and fuck shit up as badly when I’m with her.
Using her as my focus, my fingers pluck the proper chords. Car sings words Peace penned. They’re the anthem of an outcast longing to be understood. Relatable on a personal level and a fan favorite with the masses.
I pour myself into the music. On this stage, I have three brothers. My bandmates understand me. That should be enough. They used to be enough, but that isn’t true anymore. Not even close.
When I open my eyes, I search for and find Peace. Peace is my peace, but she’s not happy. Her bottom lip is trembling, and she quickly turns away. I’m not sure what I did this time to upset her. I just know I’m at fault, and I must fix it.
“George,” I call. “Come take my guitar. I need a smoke break.”
“I’ll go with you,” Carson offers.
“No, man.” I shake my head. “Just need a minute alone.” Alone with Peace.
“Think you need more than a minute.” His brow furrows as he studies me.
“I’ll be all right.” I pull a pack of cigarettes from my shirt pocket and stalk away. Searching the backstage area, I spot Peace. She’s sitting on a bench by the catered food spread with a serious look on her beautiful face and her phone pressed to her ear. Jealousy rears its ugly head again like it did earlier when I saw her with Levi. But now, unlike then, I’m able to get a handle on it. I find reason inside the red haze. I tell myself it’s unlikely she’s talking to a guy. It’s probably Melinda or her sister on the line.
As I make my way toward her, I notice a few of the groupies glancing back and forth between Peace and me. They’re wondering what’s up. Wearing her usual black leather and lace, Lilah is among them and seems particularly interested in my drama. She bats her lashes at me and sticks her tits out. But I have zero interest. The contrast between her and Peace is stark. Peace doesn’t need to flirt or flaunt anything. She outshines every woman in the world simply by being herself.
When I’m a yard away, I clear my throat to get her attention. She glances up. I point to the exit door. She points to her phone.
“Come outside when you’re done with your call,” I say.
She nods.
Peace
“Things are going well,” I lie to Melinda, hoping she believes me. I don’t lie well, and the biggest lie of all is pretending that I don’t want Bo however I can have him, even after the horrible things he said to me.
“I checked in with Carson today,” she tells me, her voice clear over the connection. “He says you’re doing a fantastic job. That all the guys like you, and that Bo and you work really well together.”
“I like them all,” I say in a neutral tone. But one the most.
“The tour photographer told me about the promotional photo he took of the band yesterday. He says it’s good, that Bo seems more relaxed than he’s ever seen him.”
“Yeah,” I agree. He was relaxed yesterday, but today is a whole other story. If looks could start a fire, the one he gave me when Levi was holding my hand would have incinerated me.
“I remember how close you two were as kids. I hoped that would carry over while you were out on the road.” She pauses to say something to someone on her side that I can’t make out. “It seems like it was the right call,” she concludes.
I don’t comment one way or the other. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” I’m in a hurry to end this call. The way I’m feeling right now, I don’t think it was the right decision to be Bo’s dirty secret.
“A repeat of the duet you did with Bo,” she replies, and it takes me a moment to remember the question I posed.
“How did you know about the duet?” I glance around, feeling uneasy.
Lilah’s eyes meet mine. She tilts her head to a considering angle. Her scrutiny makes me uncomfortable. So does the way she always seems to be around. She probably has a history with Bo, a fucking one. Hurt burns a hole through the center of my chest, and I wonder if he’ll go back to her when I tell him definitively like I know I must that our arrangement is over.
“There are videos all over social media,” Melinda explains. “One with professional video and sound quality has nine million views on YouTube.”
“What?” I shout.
“You’re a really good vocalist.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. That means a lot coming from her, not that I would ever do anything about it. Not without Bo. Getting up, I start to pace.
“Why didn’t you ever mention that you can sing?”
“I can’t sing,” I disagree. “Not on my own.” I freeze up, unless Bo is beside me.
“Maybe you just need some practice. Or the proper incentive.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No way.” I still remember how horrible it felt singing alone in front of the entire school auditorium. I wasn’t able to get a single word out. Thinking about my mortification back then nearly triggers another panic attack now. “Has my dad seen the video?” I whisper.
“Probably,” she replies. “But I haven’t talked to him about it. I wanted to talk to you first.”
I sigh. “I don’t want him to start pressuring me about singing publicly again.”
“I don’t want to pressure you either. But would you give it some consideration? Maybe be open to discussing your options at another time? With the video getting this kind of traction, we’ll need to put our heads together and decide sooner rather than later how to handle it.”
“Sure,” I agree. “I understand.” But I won’t reconsider singing. I just need some time to myself with one of my journals to organize my thoughts. I haven’t journaled since I arrived. I prefer talking to Bo. But talking to him is no longer an option.