Chapter Fifteen #2
Margaret gave her loud, sharp laugh again. “Oh my God, he sounds like a keeper. Does he have a brother? Sister? Uncle? Hell, is his mom single?”
Jem had had just enough hundred-dollar champagne to think asking would be funny, so he said, “I dunno, I’ll find out.”
And then he remembered he’d told River he was home in California, catching up on the sleep he’d missed while writing report cards.
That was stupid. Why did he do that? Just because he was afraid of what his father and his father’s shitty rich friends would think or say?
They were the kind of people who had sugar babies and treated them like dirt.
They should see River parading him around with stars in his eyes and spoiling him like a pampered lapdog.
Before he could beat himself up too much, Margaret touched his wrist and indicated one of the guests.
“Jesus Christ,” Jem said in disbelief. “Did someone tell her it was a costume party? Is she supposed to be a pair of curtains? That’s the only reason to have that many tassels—”
Somehow that led to Margaret taking video of Jem verbally eviscerating the night’s worst choices, though mostly this consisted of picking out the really pricey designer labels and making fun of how much money the wearers had spent to look the exact same as the people who’d spent a fraction.
Jem did a whole tight five on his dad’s wife’s hair, though. “If she gets any closer to God, Saint Peter’s going to be out of a job.”
By this time Dana and Andrew had returned, and Dana laughed so hard Andrew checked his pockets for her inhaler.
The hangover the next morning was less funny.
Jem woke up naked, with a mouth like sandpaper and a headache like Eric had moved his drumkit into his skull.
He had just enough spare brain cells to be thankful that he’d taken Colton’s bedroom instead of the pull-out couch, and to roll out of bed and pull on a T-shirt and boxers, before he lurched pathetically toward the kitchen in search of water, coffee, and food, not necessarily in that order.
Jem’s mom had never been a churchgoer—she was a single mom and church ladies were still notoriously judgmental—and it seemed like Paul wasn’t either, because the family was in no hurry to get breakfast on the table.
Mom was hulling strawberries while Paul made homemade waffles; Penny and Colton were sitting in their pajamas at the table, each with a phone in hand, which reminded Jem he’d left his own on the kitchen counter last night after he chugged two glasses of water.
He made pathetic eyes at it, but it didn’t get up and make its way into his hands, so he slouched around Paul, grabbed it, and then collapsed back at the table.
Paul gave him a knowing look. “Rough night?”
“Andrew is an animal,” Jem rasped.
Chuckling, his mother deposited a mug of coffee on the table. It had way more milk and sugar than Jem would’ve added, but it might as well have been the nectar of the gods. He drank half the mug before he remembered his manners. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I haven’t seen you like this since your high-school graduation,” she teased.
Jem had still been drunk at five the next day.
“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Penny put in, obviously hoping to laugh at the evidence.
Jem’s mom clucked at her. “You’ll be next. You know what they say about payback.”
Penny stuck out her tongue. Jem smiled at the exchange and thumbed open his phone.
He’d forgotten how close Colton was sitting until he almost screeched in Jem’s ear. “Holy shit! That’s River Wild!”
Because yeah. Jem was a sap and he’d made a selfie of him and River his wallpaper.
He winced and downed a little more coffee.
Jem’s mom and Paul turned around at the exact same time and chided, “Language!”
“Who’s River Wild?” Penny wanted to know.
Where’s the rest of the coffee pot? Jem wondered.
Before he could answer, Colton said, “From the Flat Tires. He’s the guitarist. How do you know him?”
Several inappropriate answers went through Jem’s hungover mind. “Uhhhh,” he stalled.
“Don’t be so nosy,” Paul chided. He set a huge waffle topped with berries and whipped cream in front of Jem.
“No, it’s okay.” Jem wasn’t going to get a lot of time with these kids.
He wanted to bond with them in whatever way he could, while he had the chance.
And apparently in his concern over whether people would know he’d once been River’s sugar baby, he’d forgotten that some people would just think having a rock-star boyfriend was cool as hell.
“Will you think I’m lying if I say he’s my boyfriend? ”
Colton squinted, assessing him. “Prove it.”
Fuck it, Jem wanted to eat his waffle. He didn’t have anything incriminating on his phone.
He navigated to his camera reel and passed it over in favor of picking up his fork.
He didn’t take a lot of selfies, but he had a few pictures of him and River together or separately, along with a few clips of River playing guitar at home.
Colton played a few of them, completely ignoring the waffle that appeared in front of him two minutes later. Penny rolled her eyes and stole his plate, though she did cast occasional looks over his shoulder. “Hey, I know that song.”
“You definitely don’t,” Colton told her. “I’ve never even heard it. Must be new.”
Jem ignored them and looked at Paul. “This is the best waffle I have ever had. Teach me. But like, after I finish this and maybe three more.”
It would have been better, River decided the morning after the concert, if he’d gone to bed early and ridden back to California on the bus, rather than spending the night.
Not because he was so hungover. At least not from alcohol.
No, this was an emotional hangover. His face was swollen and his eyes were itchy from crying and his throat tickled like the early stages of strep throat.
He had a dehydration headache too. See: crying. He was blaming Ward. He started it.
Also he was roasting, because apparently in their sad-sack shenanigans last night they’d decided to curl up together on the king-size bed in River’s room, and he was being spooned on both sides.
“Eric.”
The body behind him twitched but didn’t otherwise move. Fuck.
“Ward.”
A low, incoherent groan.
“If one of you doesn’t move this second, I’m going to pee the bed.”
That worked. Ward rolled over so fast and so far he fell off the edge. Eric pulled his arm from around River’s midsection like he was on fire.
“Thank you,” River said, and slunk off to the bathroom to pee and try to rinse the grogginess from the inside of his skull.
God only knew how he still had any liquid in his body. He was sure he’d cried and sweated it all out the night before.
After he’d stood in the shower for twenty minutes, slurping the water coming from the head like a psycho, he brushed his teeth and stumbled back out to the room.
Eric and Ward were upright when he returned, Ward in the armchair by the window and Eric propped against the headboard, scrolling on his phone.
“Well, that was fun,” Eric said. “Let’s never do it again.”
River pointed at him. “Great idea.” He flung himself onto the couch. “We should make plans for the LA show. So that we don’t end up doing this.” He gestured to encompass the room.
Ward made a noise. “I think Ted booked out a restaurant for us for the after-party. Families, friends, industry people, whatever. Don’t you remember?”
“No,” River said honestly. “Can we put the label people in their own room?” Otherwise they were going to spend all night begging them to reconsider. Again.
“We’ll just kick them out if they’re assholes.”
That would work.
Eric grunted. “Hey. You see TMZ this morning?”
The fuck. River peered around the top of the couch to look at him. “Yeah, I’ve got the live feed beaming straight into my head.”
Eric flipped him off and gestured toward the room at large. Somewhere, River’s cell phone pinged. It took a minute to find it hiding amid the wreckage of last night’s room service.
He had a handful of texts from Jem, as well as a voice note, which he wanted to open first, but he also wanted to listen while he was alone, so he tapped the link Eric sent instead.
TMZ was also showing Jem’s face, apparently. And the long lean line of his body as he danced at what was obviously someone’s wedding, given the décor and the tux. River was having feelings about that jacket. Only things River had bought should fit Jem like that.
There were a handful of shots. Jem standing with a happy couple River presumed were the bride and groom and a tall woman with a flower pinned to her lapel, all laughing, Jem’s bow tie hanging loose and unwrinkled like he hadn’t even tried to do it up.
He had his arms around the other man on one side and the tall woman on the other, and was holding a pilfered pair of River’s sunglasses in one hand.
God, he looked good. River wanted to bite him.
Jem and just the groom, arms around each other, mugging for the camera; there was something similar about the set of their eyes and noses.
That had to be the half brother. But how could it be? Jem was supposed to be in bed in California, recovering from the end of the school year.
River flicked open his email. There—the delivery confirmation for the gift he’d sent. No answer at apartment. Left package at front desk.
Numbly, he went back to the photos.
Jem dancing with the bride, unselfconsciously getting down.
Jem sitting at a small table with the tall woman, his head thrown back in laughter as she looked at him with fond speculation.
River had no right to the stab of jealousy that went through him. He knew that. He was the one who had to go on tour; he couldn’t expect Jem to sit at home for two months while was gone. Actually, he’d have felt terrible if Jem sat at home.
But Jem hadn’t even mentioned he was going to a wedding, never mind that it was his brother’s. He certainly hadn’t told River he was leaving California for the weekend. In fact, he’d specifically said he was home doing nothing.
Why lie? It didn’t make any sense. And it hurt too, because a family wedding was the kind of thing you told your boyfriend about, surely? Especially if you were going around looking that beautiful. Where was River’s bathroom mirror selfie?
He shoved down on the spike of jealousy. Just because the woman in those photos was exactly Jem’s type—
And then he scrolled back up and read the headline.
River Wild’s Beau Steps Out Amid Rumors of Band Breakup
River Wild and flame Jem Anderson have been romantically linked since they attended a movie premiere together in February, and by all appearances things were going well. At the Flat Tires’ last LA concert, fans spotted Anderson in the crowd, sitting with the families of Eric Warner and Ward Glass.
Now, Wild is widely believed to be the artist behind viral TikTok hit “All that Glitters,” spurring rumors of an upcoming split from the rest of the band.
One might expect Anderson to be glued to his side at such a time.
Instead, photos have surfaced of Wild’s man getting cozy with the country-club set.
Anderson was in attendance as influencer Dana Haight and budding tech mogul Andrew Wentworth tied the knot at a swanky golf course in South Carolina.
Does this herald the end of more than Wild’s business relationship?
River’s stomach dropped between his knees. “Ah, fuck.”
Ward must’ve been reading too, because he put his phone down and rubbed his temples. “You don’t think Jem…?”
Spilled about the Flat Tires’ expiration date? Seven weeks ago River never would’ve believed it. Three days ago he wouldn’t have believed it.
But he was looking at evidence that Jem had lied to him before. What else could he have lied about?
River had been so sure that this time, his judgment of character was sound.
Jem was the real deal, funny and caustic and hot and sweet.
Honest to a fault. He wouldn’t hurt River like that.
But who else could’ve done it? Amanda wouldn’t; she was too professional.
Someone in Eric or Ward’s family? Even less likely than Jem.
“I don’t know,” River said. His palms were damp.
A second later, his phone vibrated with an incoming call from Amanda. Then Ward’s went too.
Ward held up his phone. “Ted.”
The Flat Tires’ manager. Great.
River pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe as though his heart weren’t breaking. “Guess we’d better answer.”