23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Axel
A s I held my seltzer aloft, toasting Ed and Thornton, I managed a smile.
Thornton had asked the entire band to join the happy couple at The Georgian for an engagement dinner. He’d offered to pay—which was almost insulting given how good our album sales were. Then I glanced at the menu and was grateful Thornton had the dough to cover this. The band was doing well, but Pauletta still preached economy. We needed a lot more sales before we could look at anything lavish. That being said, she’d funneled a good chunk of my and Ed’s share into our mortgage, and the condo was now ours free and clear. A good twenty years ahead of schedule.
So yeah, I could’ve paid for my meal.
This was for Ed, though. He’d thought this was going to be an intimate dinner with just Thornton. He’d been truly shocked to find all of us.
Hopefully not too upset at having his special dinner crashed.
This was, after all, the place where it all began.
The grand love affair.
A few things were different.
Kato and Lydia, members of Thornton’s crew were here—all cuddled together and cooing.
Mickey, Thornton’s director, was here canoodling with our Pauletta. Looking at their unrelenting sweetness should’ve made me nauseous…but I was so damned happy for them. Pauletta had been waiting her whole damn life for the right person. Who knew Mickey would prove to be that person?
Big Mac was trying to tuck Meg against him, but she was having none of that. Clearly she wanted the best view of the engaged grooms-to-be.
The surprise tonight was Songbird sitting next to none other than Geneva Alvarez. Who swore tonight was entirely off the record.
Pauletta hadn’t looked thrilled, but in seven years with the band, Songbird had never asked to bring someone as a date. Had never told us she was seeing someone romantically. Had never even expressed her sexual preference. Or preferences. Ed and I were both definitely bi. Was she?
Although these days, a certain ginger kept popping me into my mind.
Why I’d sent him the video link was beyond me. He would’ve heard about it eventually. Sending it to his friends? Vaguely stalkerish. Both had responded with thanks and suggestions I might want to speak to Hugo. Both had also sort of hinted that Hugo didn’t know they were making that suggestion.
I’m glad he’s got friends taking care of him.
Because I sure as shit wasn’t.
Pauletta nudged me.
“What?”
Thornton cleared his throat. “Ed was just confirming you’re going to be his best man.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. I held up my glass again. “Of course.”
“And my brother, Pietro, has agreed to stand up for me.” Thornton grinned. “And all my sisters are planning a spa visit with Ed before the big day.”
I raised my hand. “Can I get in on that as well?”
The entire table laughed.
I mock glared.
Thornton and Ed kissed, then sat back at the table.
Pauletta rose.
The happy couple—the ones we were celebrating—exchanged confused looks.
Still, our manager scanned the entire table, lingering her gaze on Songbird before finally landing on me. “I got a call from our record label.”
I gulped. I’d done what Songbird insisted—passed the song by Pauletta.
She’d approved the release.
Panic engulfed me. We had another two records on our deal. They’re not going to cancel the contract…are they? Did I break clause 43-point-six? Crap. Should’ve read it closer . Naturally, I’d trusted Pauletta and the lawyer her father insisted we use.
Paulie raised her glass. “One million views.”
I gasped.
No one else did.
I gazed around the table.
Ed snickered. “You think we haven’t been watching like hawks? We left it up to you whether or not you did. But we also agreed we’d share it if hit a million. The song hit that mark three hours ago.”
“Holy shit.” I might’ve been a little louder than I should in one of Vancouver’s swankiest and most expensive restaurants…but I sort of couldn’t help myself. “Uh…crap…?”
“No, not crap.” Pauletta held my gaze another long moment before breaking into a huge grin. “The execs decided that even though the song isn’t vintage Grindstone that they want it on the next album.”
“Yes.” Big Mac pumped his fist in the air.
Meg giggled. “Excited much?”
“It’s an amazing song and will be a huge part of the success we’re going to have on the next record.” Big Mac beamed.
His certainty disconcerted me.
But that was me—never quite happy enough. Never quite satisfied. Always worried about the next song, the next album, the next concert, the next tour… Hell, I still hadn’t absorbed that we were going back to Rocktoberfest as a Friday night headliner.
“To Axel.” Pauletta raised her glass. “May his angst earn us big bucks.”
The entire table erupted in laughter.
I managed a smile. “Yeah.”
The rest of the table toasted me just as our server, Tracey arrived with our meals. As she sorted everyone’s order, the reality of the situation hit me like a freight train.
How did you miss this? It’s so obvious. You’re the only single person at the table.
Well.
Shit.
Fuck.
Up until October, we’d always attended events like this solo. Even if we were dating someone seriously—although that had only been Meg and her asshat ex—we always showed up alone. Solidarity. Yet, somehow, since October, everyone had hooked up. And yeah, Songbird was super new to the couple club…but she now belonged. If the looks she kept exchanging with Geneva were anything to go by, this might turn out to be serious.
I wish Hugo was here .
Which made precisely zero sense. I was mad at him. He didn’t know anyone here. Except Ed. Okay, so he’d probably fit in just fine. He was that kind of a guy. And man, did he know music.
“Yes, he got his job back at the school.” Geneva smiled. “Hiring that pitbull lawyer, Wentworth Chamberlain, really got things moving.”
Her words finally penetrated. She was talking about Hugo. She glanced around the table. “Didn’t you all know?”
Meg cleared her throat.
Geneva’s eyes widened. She turned to me. “I apologize.”
For the second time tonight, I plastered on a smile. “It’s great news. I must’ve missed it. I’ve been busy writing music. As Ed can attest, everything falls to the wayside when I’m hyper-focused. Like bathing, cleaning, eating—”
Pauletta kicked me under the table.
Undeterred, I kept going. “I’ll even forget to change my underwear. Music comes first, you know? Always has. I always had the love for music, but Hugo nurtured that.” I swallowed, then blinked several times. “What they did to him was nasty. He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s never done anything wrong.” I pushed back my chair. “I have to go.” I directed my gaze to Thornton. “Apologies. Thanks for the meal, sorry I couldn’t—” I coughed to cover my choking.
Ed rose.
I waved him back down.
Then I fled.
Right out to Georgia Street.
I nearly bumped into a group of women who I assumed were tourists. They all had their phones pointed at The Georgian’s stunning fa?ade. Something I never took the time to look at because Vancouver was my city. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I’d seen the seedy underbelly, and I’d also been toasted by some of the elite at a charity function Pauletta dragged me to last year.
Before Rocktoberfest.
Before my career took off.
Before Hugo broke my heart. Or maybe I did.
I stalked down West Georgia, headed back to the condo. Ed would find me there, of course. And he’d have Thornton with him.
They’re getting married.
Ed let me know they were planning a Christmas wedding. So the craziness of Rocktoberfest would be behind us.
Thornton’s family had reserved a floor at The Georgian for a freaking week. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what kind of money that took. Even with the group-discount rate, that kind of money could feed a serious number of kids.
Except both Thornton and his parents donated tons of money to charities as well. Mostly in Portland, but Ed let it slip Thornton had sought out a couple up here as he felt a new kinship to Vancouver.
God knew, we had plenty of people needing help. Canada’s most expensive city. Unbelievable wealth and unfathomable poverty. All residing within less than a mile of each other.
I halted, nearly knocking into a couple of guys holding hands.
One glared, but then his companion yanked on his arm. “That’s Axel.” He smiled. “Oh God, so sorry, man.”
Typical Canadian. I stopped abruptly, and they were apologizing.
“All good—” I started to walk away.
“Could you…” The first man met my gaze, looked at his companion, then back at me. “My husband’s a huge fan. I am too.” He added that quickly and so transparently, I had to smile.
His grin turned rueful.
“What can I do?”
“A selfie?”
His husband started vibrating. “But you look busy and—”
I waved off the objection. “Always time for a fan.”
Carefully, I positioned myself between the two men and—
“Hey, would like me to take your photo?” A gorgeous redhead tugged her companion over with her. “Because I’d love to take your photo.”
“And then one with yourself?” Wild guess, but—
Her friend squealed.
My thought of heading back to the Downtown Eastside—back to my old neighborhood—got completely derailed.
Probably for the best.
Yeah.
That.