25. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Axel
E d continued to stare at me.
“You’re telling me that wasn’t the cheesiest song ever? In the history of all cheesy songs?”
He squinted, as if in thought. “Well, first, I’m not certain I was supposed to hear it.”
I glared. “He gave you the song to give to me .”
“Yes.”
“Hugo.”
“Well…yes.” Ed scratched his elbow. “He said something about unread messages and unanswered calls and that it was super important that you get this.”
I rolled my eyes. The super important song was a cheesy, mopey song about a pretty prince who got his wires crossed and got angry at the wrong person. “Ed.”
“Yes.”
“You realize I’m the pretty prince.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I know. That’s imagery I could do without.”
“Why are you defending him?”
“Axel—”
“Don’t start.”
“Okay, but you just said—”
“I know what I said.” I might’ve snapped that.
“Oh, sorry—” Thornton’s voice reached us.
Ed and I sat on the couch, but Thornton wouldn’t have been able to see us from his vantage point.
“I’ll just—”
“It’s fine.” Ed and I might’ve said that at the same time.
“Right.” Thornton moved to the kitchen. “I’m just grabbing a ginger ale. Do either of you want one?”
I gagged.
Ed raised his hand. “Thanks.”
“Axel? You want a cola or something?”
I sighed. “Sure, Thornton. Since you’re already there.”
Moments later, he returned with two cans of ginger ale and one glass bottle of cola. I maintained soda tasted best out of a glass bottle.
Thornton humored me.
Ed rolled his eyes.
I took the bottle.
Thornton began to move away.
“No, stay.” I glared at him.
He winced. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt. I was working and not paying attention and—”
“Was thirsty and wandered out into the living room of the condo where you live.” I offered a smile that I didn’t feel. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not, but we’ll leave it at that.” He nodded toward the television. “Were you watching something?”
“Play it for him, Ed,” I commanded.
This time, Ed winced. “Uh, I’m not sure—”
“ He gave it to you. He knows you’re engaged to Thornton as well as my best friend. He really didn’t have a right to expect privacy.”
Thornton’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh—”
“It’s fine.” Yeah, I snapped that.
After a long moment, Ed hit play and the sound of Hugo singing a song filled the air. His musical talent was phenomenal. His voice…not so much.
A couple of times, Thornton chuckled.
Yeah, at the cheesy parts. The same ones that made me laugh out loud and yet wince on the inside. Hugo’s message couldn’t have been clearer—I was acting like a spoiled brat. Or at least that was how I interpreted it.
The song ended.
Thornton cleared his throat. “That was…”
“Adorable and sweet?” Ed grinned.
“Cheesy and sappy?” Couldn’t let my best friend get the last word.
“Uh…” Thornton scrunched his nose. “Yes.”
Somehow, I was certain he meant all of the above.
“You going to respond?” Thornton eyed me in a way I often found disconcerting. Ed knew me, so when he looked at me that way , I knew he did it because he had some insight. Thornton, however, hadn’t even known me eight months. As far as I was concerned, he didn’t have the right to claim knowledge of me—of my soul. And yet, he gave me looks that assured me he knew more than he was letting on.
Which meant he was either fucking intuitive, or Ed was feeding him private information.
Or both.
Neither of which sat well with me. “When are y’all getting married?”
Ed blinked. “Christmas. After Rocktoberfest.” He cocked his head. “Are you okay?”
I pushed up off the couch. “I’m fine. Send the CD back. He should be sending you digital files.”
“He doesn’t have my email.”
“Oh, I’m certain he could find it if he really wanted to.” I stalked off to my room. Once inside—with the door firmly closed and locked—I called Geneva Alvarez.
“Axel Townsend. Lovely to hear from you.”
The sound of a door closing reached my ear.
“Is this a social call?” She paused. “Is Songbird okay?”
Confirmation, if I needed it, that the two women were still together and going strong.
“Song’s fine. We’re all doing well. Could…would you be interested in doing an interview with me?”
A long pause ensued. “Is Pauletta aware you’re calling me?”
“Pauletta’s not the boss of me.”
Geneva laughed. “Yes, that’s true. But I have a working relationship with her that I’d like to maintain.”
This time I hesitated. She has a point .
“But perhaps you let me know what’s on your mind and we can figure something out?”
I chuckled. “I like how you think.” I took a deep breath. “I just…there are still lots of rumors swirling—”
“Hang on a sec, do you mind if I record this? I’m big on accuracy and my shorthand sucks.”
“Don’t they teach that in journalism school?”
She chuckled.
I steadied myself.
“I’ll take that as positive affirmation on the recording. Now, you were saying about rumors swirling?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I don’t want you to think that I think that I’m hot shit—”
“Okay.”
“But I’ve seen social media. And a few reports on websites. Well, more like blogs and—”
“I get it, Axel.” Her soft voice hit just the right note—likely as she’d known it would. “You want to set the record straight.”
“Yes.” I drew in a deep breath. “On the record. Hugo Threadgold was my high school music teacher. I’ll always be grateful for what he did—for both Ed and me. But that’s as far as it goes. He’s no one special to me. I need you, and fans, to know—I’m not in a relationship with Hugo. Or anyone else. I’m taking the time to be true to myself. To figure out who I am. And what I want.”
“And that is?”
“To make music. To sing songs that fans can relate to. That they can say, ‘hey, he gets it’ or ‘he’s going through what I’m going through’ or, best of all, ‘he went through something rough and came out the other side—maybe I can too’.”
“That’s laudable. You want to make a difference in the world.”
I laughed. “Geneva, I’m just a rock singer. I’m not going to change the world in any perceivable way. But when I get a note from a fan that my song impacted them, then I know I’ve done something right. I always want my songs to be a force for good in the world. To give people hope.”
“Like “Calling for Help”.” She paused. “Like “Sunrise”.”
“Yeah.”
“Off the record?”
“Sure.” I squinted, wondering where she was going with this.
“I think you did a good thing. With the documentary. People have responded positively to it. For the most part.”
Yeah, like except those few people who condemned Ed and me for not being there when Kyesha died. As if we could’ve somehow saved her from tainted drugs. We couldn’t have, of course, but that didn’t stop the critics.
“There are days I wonder.”
“You shouldn’t. I’ve heard a few stories of people going to get help with their addictions since your story came out.”
“And Ed’s.”
“Yes, and Ed’s. But yours has a greater impact, Axel. You’re the lead singer. You’re the frontman.”
“Shouldn’t that be front person?”
She laughed. “You calling me out on sexist language—that’s priceless.”
“I know what you mean. I don’t necessarily agree with it, but I can respect it.” I wiped my sweaty hand on my jeans. “So you’ll write the story?”
“I will. Would you consider letting me do some stills to go with it? Human interest pieces always do better with something unique to go with them.”
“Uh…” Crap. This is getting way more complicated and…I might be losing my nerve. Maybe this was a bad idea. “You know—”
“I’m going to co-ordinate with Pauletta.”
Oh shit. “That’s not really—”
“This is a good story, Axel. About how people can have healthy relationships with themselves and not always need to be with someone.”
“Well, I’m not certain that’s what I meant.”
“But it’s a conclusion readers can draw. Being alone these days is common. We can talk about the importance of friendship…”
Damn. She had me. Because Ed meant more to me than any woman ever had and any future partner might. He was my rock. My foundation. My world. “Yeah, okay.”
“Great!”
And so, three days later, I found myself at a café, having casual photos taken by a professional photographer and tons of equipment. So much for not a big deal —which was what Pauletta promised.
She’d liked this idea…thought it was one of my better ones in this entire clusterfuck that just kept going.
I’d taken down the kissing video right away but, as Pauletta predicted, people had downloaded it and were still sharing it.
Hugo was back at work, of course, but that didn’t fix the rest of the mess.
Perhaps the article would.
So you hope.