Chapter 24
24
JORDAN
C hristian Myers.
I haven’t thought about him in a long time.
Back when I did, it always came with butterflies.
We met Cobraville just before our first tour. We were all bright-eyed with excitement but green in experience. In my eagerness to learn from the best, I reached out to the great Chrissy Earhart through Midnite Music, hoping she could offer some newbie advice.
What began as an email launched a fast friendship that brought the bands together for a sold-out show in Los Angeles.
The opening act: Criminal Records.
The main event: Cobraville.
That’s how we met Christian.
That’s how my school girl crush exploded.
Of course, I fell hard for Christian Myers. I had posters of him on my bedroom walls. In my school locker. I’m sure there’s a notebook in a box with Mrs. Christian Myers scribbled on it somewhere. He was hot. And charismatic. Fun and charming.
But as is often the case with us simple mortals, the rock god didn’t fall for me.
He barely even looked at me, actually. Our bands spent a month together on the road, touring up and down the west coast, and at the end I was just… Pecker .
I said he was hot. I never said he was clever.
Obviously, I got over my school girl crush quickly. And yet… tonight, when he gazes down at me from the stage at The High Note, my belly quivers with familiar butterflies.
We knew he was back. Harvey saw him himself at Dade Connery’s mansion in Nashville. His name has been all over Gossipa since Dade announced Christian was among those chosen to guest on his upcoming album. We knew all about his solo bid and his new beginning, but we didn’t expect to run into him here.
Once Christian’s set is over, he approaches our table. Chrissy immediately welcomes him with open arms. She stands up and hugs him, genuinely happy to see her old talent.
“Chrissy, you look incredible,” he says, his voice partially obscured by the rumble of bass as music blasts from the speakers again.
“And you look healthy,” she replies, giving his chin a motherly nudge — despite their count-on-one-hand age difference.
“I feel healthy.”
She kisses his smooth cheek. “Good.”
Christian scans our table, his eyes as playful as ever. “Criminal Records,” he says. “How the fuck are you?”
Knox and Jonah hop out of their seats, eager to give him a friendly group hug. Addison and Katrina offer their excited hellos as well. Christian greets Harmony with a warm smile. If I recall correctly, the two of them met only once before, but Harmony Max leaves an impression. Harvey shakes his hand with wide eyes full of fanboy-ish light and he damn near passes out when Christian says he knows who he is and loves his work.
Bronson does nothing. He stays seated, resting back with an empty glass in one hand and a curious scowl on his mouth.
“Come and join us, Chris,” Knox says. “Have a drink.”
Christian nods, stepping forward as the rest of us squeeze together to make room. “I’ll pass on the drink, actually, but I will gladly enjoy the company,” he says as he sits down next to Chrissy.
“How long have you been sober?” she asks, possibly the only one among us who would ask that question so bluntly.
“Four hundred and eighty-three days and counting,” he answers.
“Really?” Katrina asks, her eyes wide.
“Well, when a judge tells you to get clean or get fitted for a jumpsuit, you kinda lose a taste for it altogether,” he says, chuckling. “But don’t let me stop you guys. Drink up! And tell me all about your tour.”
Always happy to talk about how great they are, Knox and Jonah dive in with all the details — the surface level stuff, that is. Sold out across the country. Harmony rejoining them, and the whole fallout surrounding that . They make no mention of Paul Monroe bugging our bus. Nor do they mention Addison’s familial ties to his new bosom buddy, Dade Connery.
“Yeah,” Christian muses. “I heard all about you guys throwing down with that electric guy. Or what Gossipa published about it, anyway.”
“Logan Shock,” Knox says, leering into the corner.
“Is he here? Tonight?” Christian twists in his seat, craning his neck to see. “Point him out.”
We do. Christian spots him, his eyes narrowing.
“What do you think of The Electrics?” Jonah asks him.
Christian throws on a thinking face before briefly shaking his head. “I don’t like ‘em,” he says.
“Thank fuck, dude!” Knox says, raising his glass to him. “Finally, someone who recognizes crap when they hear it.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Christian says, raising his hands. “They’ve got talent. Especially the, uh... the blue-haired one.”
“Tesla,” Harvey says, prompting a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glare from Addison.
Christian snaps his fingers. “Yes! Tesla. Right. She’s got some pipes.”
Harmony nods. “We heard her do karaoke in LA. She’s ridiculous.”
“She and the gold one put on a show at Dade Connery’s place.” He holds up a hand. “And while we’re on the subject. Dade freakin’ Connery offers you a track on his album — and you saucy bitches turned him down?! What the actual fuck?”
We laugh.
Addison answers when the rest of us bite our cheeks. “It wasn’t the right fit for us,” she says.
Christian scoffs, amused. “The balls on you guys... are legendary.” He takes a sip from his club soda. “Anyway, Shock’s got himself an ace up his sleeve, snagging that girl, that’s for sure. But their sound?” He shakes his head again. “It’s been done.”
“Damn right,” Knox says. “I keep saying the same thing.”
“But also, you know...” Christian shrugs his shoulders, his eyes full of wisdom. “People like familiar things. I can see why they’re popular.”
Knox sneers at that, but it’s true.
“Still...” Christian’s grin returns, highlighting the deep dimples on his jawline that I... admittedly forgot he had. “I’m rooting for you in your Battle of the Bands.”
“Are you gonna be there?” Addison asks.
“Am I invited?”
“Hell yeah!” Jonah raises his glass, prompting the rest of us to do the same. “Come on out. Be our cheerleader.”
“All right. Under one condition.” Christian smirks. “You get me a penthouse suite in that big fancy house of yours for the night.”
“Deal,” Jonah says.
We seal the deal by tapping our glasses together around the circle before chugging our drinks.
Except Bronson.
Christian notices. He turns his smile toward Bronson and bows his head. “Mr. Isaacs,” he says, his voice light and jovial. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet this evening.”
We chuckle at the joke, while Bronson offers a shrug.
“Happy to hear you’re doing well,” Christian says to him. “All of you,” he adds, pointing around our circle. “Honestly, I couldn’t be happier. You’ve come a long way.”
“Still got a ways to go, though,” I say, making the others roll their eyes.
That’s Jordan, they’re thinking.
Work. Work. Work.
But Christian admires me, his bright sea green eyes taking their time as he looks me over. “There always is.” He smiles, and it reaches those eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit, Jordan.”
I will myself not to blush. This might be the first time he’s ever called me by my actual name. “Oh, I…”
My words fade, so I simply shrug.
Christian sits back in his seat, still smiling.