Chapter 3 Not Long Ago
Not Long Ago
A few hours later, Jace sat at Sabine’s dining room table, staring into an empty coffee mug and nursing a tension headache.
She’d agreed weeks ago to come over for brunch as her friends’ thank you for treating them to tickets to the fundraiser.
Given last evening’s fiasco, she’d thought about canceling, but after a sleepless night, she needed some TLC.
Sabine’s little Victorian in Corktown was the epitome of cozy: squishy pillows on the purple velvet sofa, a window seat where her regal feline did her birdwatching, and kitchen cupboards stocked with everything from Sleepytime tea to top-shelf liquor.
Plus, her friend was a talented cook, and Jace was all for drowning her misery in carbohydrates and caffeine.
Mo and Sabine listened patiently as Jace took them through the backstage drama, then dove in with advice as soon as she’d finished the recap, despite Jace’s protests that she’d figure things out.
“Is there any chance Adoption Academy will reconsider?” Sabine asked, putting a pancake on Jace’s plate.
“She already emailed me the termination notice,” Jace said. “And just like that, more than half of my annual revenue went poof! and, with Madeleine knowing most of the CEOs in southeast Michigan, it won’t be easy to find new clients beyond the handful I already have.”
“Good riddance, though,” Mo said.
“Easy for you to say,” Jace said, her temples pounding. “You’re not going to have to face down my staff tomorrow, trying to explain how standing up for The Community is worth putting them on furlough.”
“Maybe you can branch out to other lines of work,” Sabine said, taking a second helping of strawberries. “Ever thought about doing weddings?”
Jace stopped chewing mid-bite. “There is not enough money in the world for me to go into the Bridezilla business.”
“You could probably get a lot of jobs in Oakland County,” Mo offered. “Those suburban parents will throw down crates of cash to capture every minute of their kids’ lives. I took my nephew to his friend’s seventh birthday party last week, and I swear the mom hired a film crew.”
“No,” Jace said, going into the kitchen to nab some more coffee.
“If you don’t like kids, they do the same thing for their dogs,” Mo yelled after her.
“Again, no.” Jace came back and sat down with a loud sigh. “Let’s face it: I feel like I’ve been treading water for years. Maybe the universe is telling me to do something else. Something that makes me feel like I’m living my life on purpose.”
Sabine looked at her, dark eyes hopeful. “Go back to managing bands!”
Jace’s stomach tightened. She’d considered this on and off for two decades, yet every time she thought about it too long, she’d recall how her talent management career imploded the first time around.
“I don’t exactly have a stellar record. I had one good act, and she bailed on me.
And the others I tried to make happen? Well, we don’t exactly hear their tunes on TV shows, now do we? ”
“C’mon, Booty Bar was a killer act,” Mo said with exaggerated enthusiasm. “And Bitemother? Timeless.”
“That proves my point,” Jace said. “My management career was a very public disaster.”
“That was Paloma’s fault, not yours,” Mo said.
“Paloma was an idiot!” Sabine fired off, balling up her napkin and tossing it onto the table.
“She would have been living in her car and burning demo tapes for warmth if you hadn’t entered her life.
And I will never forgive her for breaking up with you by leaving New York without so much as a thank-you for getting her the gig of a lifetime.
You deserved so much more, so much better. ”
As grateful as she was to have Sabine rise to her defense, Jace wished she would stop talking. She hadn’t dragged herself from Clawson to Corktown on fifteen minutes’ sleep to feel worse than she did when she arrived.
No such luck.
“All those frantic weeks you searched for her, worrying that she was on drugs or suicidal when she was just being selfish,” Sabine continued, her volume rising.
“All those months you spent on my couch, piecing your broken heart back together. And the fact that you haven’t had another long-term relationship since then? I blame Paloma for that, too!”
Seeing Jace wince, Mo spoke up. “Okay, enough reopening old wounds. What we’re telling you, Jace, is that you were a great talent manager back in the day and could be one again if you wanted to get back into it. Right, Sab?”
Sabine looked sheepish. “Right. That’s exactly what I meant. You’ve still got it.”
“Thanks,” Jace said with a grateful nod to Mo. “Let’s face facts, though. All my promo work was before social media, and most of my contacts retired or lost my number long ago.”
“So make new contacts,” Mo said, pushing the rest of her scrambled eggs onto her fork with her thumb.
“And you can hire someone for the publicity and social media stuff,” Sabine added. “I did that for the Artemis.”
“Who?” Jace asked.
“Rennie.”
Mo hooted. “What is it about Rennie that you’ve got them doing every odd job at the club? Do they owe you money or something?”
“I appreciate a striver,” Sabine said. “They love the club, they will do anything to help us succeed, and in the last few months, they’ve tripled our Instagram followers.”
“So now you have nine?” Mo snorted.
Sabine ignored her. “Jace, getting back to what you want to do with the next chapter of your life—”
Before Sabine could finish her thought, Jace put up a hand to silence her; she thought she heard somebody walking down the stairs from the second floor. “Is someone else here?”
On cue, a tall and lanky twenty-something in flannel pajama bottoms and an oversized Grand Valley State University T-shirt trundled into the kitchen.
Jace and Mo watched with interest as they rummaged through Sabine’s fridge, extracted a bottle of oat milk, and fixed themself a mug of coffee.
As they meandered back toward the staircase, oblivious to the fact that there were people staring at them from the dining room, Mo called out, “Rennie?”
They turned and pushed a shock of magenta bangs off their forehead to reveal lovely hazel eyes and a silver bridge piercing with delicate chains connected to the pointed studs. “Hey, friends,” they said, lifting the mug in a salute and smiling broadly.
“I did not expect to see you here,” Jace said, her mind full of tantalizing questions for Sabine.
“Me either,” Mo said, tamping down a giggle. “You live here now?”
“Sabine is letting me crash until my lease starts next month,” Rennie said after taking a sip. “Thanks again, Sabine. That was super cool of you. You’re a lifesaver.”
“You’re welcome,” Sabine said affectionately. “Would you like something to eat?” she asked, gesturing to the half-empty platters and bowls on the table.
“No thanks: band practice. I appreciate the offer, though.” Rennie looked at Jace and Mo in turn. “Nice to see you all,” they said and padded back up the stairs, mug in hand.
There was a beat of charged silence before Mo blurted out, “So you and Rennie are a thing now? I totally understand. That smile is something else.”
“No,” Sabine said curtly. “I have an extra bedroom, and they needed to get away from a toxic roommate. It’s platonic.”
“You sure Rennie thinks so?” Jace asked. “They work for you plus they want to get on stage at your club. And now they’re sleeping two doors down from your bedroom. You gotta wonder why they’re spending all their time at your elbow.”
Sabine waved off her friend’s concern with a pfft!
“Rennie is trying to get busy with some barista, and I have no desire to relive my twenties, vicariously or otherwise. Besides, you know my spare room is always available for those who need it. Believe me: There’s no funny business between me and Rennie. I’m just here to help.”
“That’s too bad.” Mo shook her head. “I mean, look at us three single ladies. We were so randy when we were Rennie’s age, but now? It’s fucking depressing.”
“I wasn’t sure you wanted to start dating again,” Sabine said.
Mo’s bravado softened. “I will never love anyone like I did Gabby, but she’s been gone for five years. Right before she died, she told me she’d come back and haunt me if I didn’t find someone new. And she will, too.”
“I’ve decided I don’t want to start with someone new at this point,” Sabine said firmly. “It would take a decade’s worth of dates to go through all my backstory and baggage, and I have better things to do.”
“I don’t want to date because I don’t want to settle,” Jace said.
“You’re worried that no woman wants to settle for you,” Mo said.
Even though she was teasing, Mo wasn’t wrong.
“I don’t even know anymore,” Jace said. “When I was in college, all I wanted was sex. Then with Paloma, I still wanted sex, but I also wanted a life we could build together from every angle. Then that went completely to shit, and I decided to aim lower: find someone who’d like to have a few laughs.
But when I went on a few dates in my thirties, it seemed like every woman I met wanted to raise kids or run a dog rescue. ”
“Not all of them,” Sabine chided. “Some wanted to own cat cafés.”
Jace continued her rant. “By the time I hit forty, all the women I was matching with online were as bad as I am. They’re so focused on their careers and their hobbies and their friends and ex-lovers that they don’t want to venture outside of that comfort zone to meet anyone new.
Then I make it to fifty, and bam! The pandemic hits at the same time as menopause.
I’ve pretty much lost interest in the whole dating game.
I gotta accept that my time has passed.”
“Or, you could just say, ‘Fuck it!,’ get a YOLO tattoo, and not give up yet,” Mo said with a laugh.
“You first,” Jace retorted.