Chapter 36
36
JORDAN
I ’ve been to Boston a few times, but truthfully, I’ve never really seen her up close.
I can say that about most cities, actually. Between the rush of getting there to the stress of putting on a show to getting everyone back on the bus and doing it all over again, I rarely see the sights up close.
Tonight, I get the chance. I get the chance to see some public parks within a few miles of the Botsford Plaza, anyway.
The air is warm with just enough breeze to stay comfortable in the long sleeve navy blue shirt Harmony lent me. It slots nicely into my black pencil skirt and matches the pair of comfortable flats on my feet; perfect for a long walk through the winding pathways of the park. I spot a few others in Ivy League sweaters hanging out and tossing frisbees and I smile, remembering a time when I considered higher education before becoming a band manager.
I take in the scents around me, from the freshly cut grass to the faint saltiness of the harbor somewhere nearby. The city hums quietly beyond the trees, the sounds of traffic softened by the rustle of leaves overhead.
Bronson would love this.
Bronson would?—
“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”
I blink at the sound of Christian’s voice, momentarily confused by the company until I remember, uh…
I’m on a date with Christian Myers.
I glance at him walking beside me and my teenage heart goes thump-thump against my ribs. He’s wearing an old pair of ripped jeans and a classic leather jacket over a tight white T-shirt — a jacket that I’m pretty sure he’s had since long before I was even legal.
“Yes,” I answer. “It is.”
Christian points down a pathway toward a bench about twenty feet away. “I passed out on that bench one time,” he says.
I spot it and nod. “Neat.”
“Yeah, it was a good night,” he says. “At least, I assume it was. Memories are a little fuzzy from that era.”
I chuckle. “I can imagine.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, pausing on the path. “I know check out all the places I’ve passed out is horrible first date behavior.”
“No, it’s okay. I mean, for a normal guy, maybe. But for you? That bench might as well be a historical landmark.”
He grins. “Wow. I never thought of it that way.” We chuckle. “Still, I’ll try to keep it to a min.”
“If you want.”
“You make me kinda nervous, is all.”
I widen my stare. “Now I’m the one who’s sorry. I what?”
Christian presses his lips together, highlighting that pair of deep dimples on his chin. “You’re intimidating as fuck, Jordan Peck.” He tilts forward slightly. “Don’t tell me that’s the first time you’ve heard that.”
“It’s not.” I shake my head. “But I’ve never heard it from… someone like you.”
“Well, you are. But I can’t think of a nicer trait in a woman.”
Warmth tickles my cheekbones. “Is that right?”
“That and a willingness to kiss on the first date really puts her ahead,” he hints.
I swallow a rock of nerves building near my throat as Christian steps forward, bridging the short gap between us. For a moment, he stands tall, nearly a full head higher than me, and gazes down, the lamps on the walkway illuminating the sea green texture of his eyes.
He leans close, close enough for my nose to tickle from his cologne, and then pulls away, his mouth arched in a teasing smirk.
“Not yet,” he teases. “Let’s keep going.”
We continue down the path, passing a few other couples along the way. Some of them perform double-takes, their casual tones lowering to hushed whispers behind us.
“That was Chris Myers!”
“Who?”
“From Cobraville!”
“Oh, shit. Really? Who was she?”
“I don’t know!”
Each time, Christian smiles wider. And hey, who could blame him? He went from being on the top of the charts to tabloid fodder almost overnight. For him to get the chance to begin anew, to rise from the ashes and reinvent himself... Not everyone gets that.
“Tell me about your track with Dade Connery,” I say on the path. “If you’re allowed to say anything about it, I mean.”
“Oh, it’s wild!” Christian says. “Like nothing I’ve ever recorded before. And Dade, man! Dade’s incredible. I just wanna crack open his brain and pick at all the secrets inside. He’s a genius!” He glances at me, his eyes straying toward my smile. “But tell me something first. Why the hell did you let Criminal Records pass on his album?”
“Because contrary to what people might think, I actually have very little control over what they do.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“It’s true! It’s up to them to decide what they want to do and where they want to spend their time. It’s my job to make it happen. In this case, they received an offer. They said no, and that’s that.”
“But... come on.” He arches a brow. “You think they should do the album, don’t you?”
I bite my tongue, the situation loaded with factors outside the realm of should or should not. “I think they made their decision.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Christian pauses on the path again, and I halt my stride, too. “Do you — the great Jordan Peck — think they’re doing the wrong thing?”
I tilt my head, curious. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious,” he answers. “Hell, everyone is.”
“Everyone?”
“People are talking about it more than they are about my solo album, so yeah. Everyone.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s true enough.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Be honest, Jordan. Don’t you think they’re making a mistake?”
“A mistake? No.”
“No?”
“I think they’re doing what’s best for them right now,” I say. “With this summer tour and Jonah’s wedding and the Battle of the Bands just around the corner, the last thing they want is more on their plates. And I support that one-hundred percent.”
Christian softens a bit. “Hm.”
“What?” I ask.
“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. And they shine in the prettiest way when you talk about them.”
“Well, they’re my life,” I say uneasily, helplessly trapped beneath his microscope.
“They really are, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
Christian hums softly, his shoes grinding against the walkway as he pivots forward again. I step lightly, keeping up with his long gait as the strange silence stretches between us. We quickly come to a fork in the path. One way goes deeper into the park, while the other angles toward a busy city street.
“Is that weird?” I ask, pausing at the fork.
Christian looks up and shakes his head. “No,” he answers. “Just felt something I haven’t felt in a really long time.”
“What?”
“Envy.” He breathes a laugh. “You know, when you’re on top of the world, it’s like there’s nothing you can’t have. And I had everything at one time or another, but...” He looks at me, his eyes soft but frayed deep within. “I never had someone like you. I didn’t even see you when...” He stops himself briefly, his lips thinning into a hesitant line. “We should keep going.”
“No, wait,” I say, too curious not to. “What were you going to say?”
He pauses, looking away as a couple passes us on the path. He waits for them to get far enough out of earshot before answering. “I was going to say that... I didn’t see you back then, but I should have. I’ve got a lot of regrets, Jordan, but it wasn’t until I saw you looking up at me on stage at The High Note I realized... I made a huge mistake.”
“You did?” I ask.
He steps forward, narrowing the space between us. “You’re the one that got away from me, Jordan,” he says.
My spine shudders beneath his stare and, for the first time since we left the hotel, my gut clenches.
“Eh?” I ask.
Christian reaches out, resting his hands on my cheeks. He locks eyes with me, the sea green colors crashing against his pupils. “Christ,” he whispers. “I wanted to wait until the end of the date to do this, but I can’t wait anymore.”
He kisses me, his thick lips enveloping mine. I stiffen, taken aback by... all of it.
I’m the one that got away from him?
I... huh?
Christian breaks the kiss, but stays me close. “Jordan.”
“Yeah?” I ask, wanting to slip out of his hands.
“When we get to Washington,” he says, his words so sure, “I want you to stay with me.”
I lurch back a step, shaking his hands off my cheeks. “What?” I ask.
“I know it’s sudden, but I don’t care.” He stands tall on the path. “If it feels right, then it feels right, and this feels right.”
Christian drops to one knee.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
“Jordan Peck.”
“Christian—”
“Will you be my manager?”
I stare blankly at him. “Your manager?”
“This isn’t public yet, but I’ve been offered an amazing contract with Sugar Sound,” he says.
My stomach drops.
“Sugar Sound,” I mutter.
“It’s even better than anything Midnite Music ever offered me before,” he continues, balanced on his knee. “All that’s missing is the perfect partner to share it all with me.” He smiles. “All that’s missing is you.”
“Christian,” I say, calmly easing a step back. “I’m with Criminal Records.”
“For now, sure.” He chuckles. “We both know they don’t deserve you.”
“And you do?”
With eyes full of stars, Christian Myers smiles. “I’m willing to spend the rest of my life proving I do.”
Uh... huh.
He pulls himself up to stand. “And call me crazy...”
“Oh, I might,” I say.
“But I think the two of us can create more than just music together,” he says, still gazing. Still... yeah. “I want you, Jordan Peck. I want all of you.”
I glance down the path, somewhat tempted to flag down one of the myriad cars passing by. “I...”
“Don’t—” Christian juts forward. “Don’t give me an answer tonight,” he says sweetly. “Tell me over breakfast in bed tomorrow morning.”
There was a time when that line would have sent me reeling.
There was a time when I would have done anything for Christian Myers.
But that time has passed.
This time has Paul Monroe’s stank all over it.
I’m such an idiot.
I take a step toward him, purposefully tilting my face upward, but I don’t give him the kiss he so desperately wants. I smile instead.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?” he repeats, hopeful.
“Tomorrow morning. You’ll have my answer.”
Christian grins, his fingers slowly coming to my cheek once again. He caresses along my chin, sending tender tickles down my throat that... end as quickly as they begin.
“Come on,” I say, stepping back before he can kiss me again. “Let’s go meet up with the others.”
I offer him my hand and he takes it with a victorious smile.