6. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Lila
“ Y ou’ve got to solve this problem.” Blaze threw another piece of popcorn in his mouth. “I can’t keep our fans’ interest up forever.”
We sat in our shared house in LA. Technically, it was only mine, but Blaze had moved in the second I bought it, saying rent in this city was way too high and we needed to move in together anyway since we were a couple. I’d been all for it back then, but ever since the end of my tour, I’d wanted more space from him. All I could muster was telling him to move into the guest room, something he endlessly complained about.
If it wasn’t about the water pressure in the en suite bathroom, it was that sunlight didn’t hit the windows correctly.
“I’m doing the best I can,” I said slowly, trying not to snap.
“You’re thinking too hard about the wrong thing. That waitress was nothing to me, and it’s been forever since it happened.”
I gritted my teeth. I stared at the empty page in my notebook. It had been a long time. Months of no progress on either of our ends. Blaze was the perfect man in front of cameras, always trying to hold my hand, always talking up this next album. In private, he was always saying I wasn’t doing enough. I needed to write more about him, do more interviews, and be seen more.
Other pages in my notebook were filled with songs, some angry, un-releasable rock songs, but most longed for a man across the country.
Just write something about Blaze. Anything.
All I could feel was anger.
“I can’t.”
“It was just a little messing around that got out of hand. It wasn’t a huge deal.”
If I had to hear about this little affair one more fucking time . . . I’d heard everything about it, how they talked about how much he missed me, how the kiss was a slip of his judgment, and how she’d been around when I wasn’t.
But I hadn’t heard that it would never happen again or that he was sorry.
“Obviously it’s a big deal if I can’t write songs now.”
“Push past it, Lila. Come on.”
I twirled my fake hair, feeling the thicker strands run through my fingers. I didn’t even want to be Lila right now. Being back in LA grated on my nerves. Everyone—whether it be paparazzi on the street, my fans, or my own team—was begging for more news on the in-progress album, especially since we couldn’t stop the rumors of trouble in paradise.
“How about you fucking apologize,” I snapped back.
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic about it. But if you must hear the words: I’m sorry .” They were said mockingly. “I couldn’t help that you were busy and on tour.”
“I was on break and you were traveling with me!”
“But you were always practicing .”
“Yes, to be sure I could actually do the show.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face. “You always have an excuse. I remember when I could simply look at you and you’d want me. My balls are going to shrivel up and fall off at this rate.”
“Then you shouldn’t have kissed the waitress.”
“It’s just one hurdle, Lila. We can figure this out once you get over this and get back to writing. I’m your muse , remember? You should always be able to write things about me.”
“You’re not my muse.”
“Oh? Then is it someone else?”
My mind flashed to Barry. Shit. I didn’t need to be thinking of him right now. “N-no.”
“Is that guilt I hear?”
“No. You’re not hearing anything.”
“Then let me see the other pages of your notebook.”
I instinctively went to grab it to protect it, but he ripped it out of my hands. “Blaze!”
“Chill, Lila. You’re so dramatic.” It felt like my soul was being examined as he flipped through the pages. “Huh. Looks like I was right. These aren’t about me.”
Shit. I was in trouble.
“Give it back.”
His dark brows rose as he surveyed the lyrics about a man with hulking arms and long hair. “Have you been cheating, little Miss Perfect?”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “You’ve just been a little less interesting to me since you cheated.”
“Of course. You always have to take the moral high ground.”
“Don’t you care that I’m not attracted to you?”
“Oh, honey, you have to be attracted to me. It’s what the fans want.” And he wasn’t wrong. People loved that I’d only written about him since I was discovered. They all said it was amazing how I never lost him as I got caught up in the glitz and glamour of music. “We’ll just change the lyrics a bit,” Blaze added. “This can work.”
“I’m not changing the lyrics,” I said. “Or making a song out of it.”
“This has the bones of a good song. If it were about me, Mia would love it.” He threw my notebook down on the table. “Write more like this.”
“Wh-what?”
“Write. More.” He said it like I was a clueless child. “Wherever you found this guy, go back. Make an album, and then we’ll make it about me. I can work on growing my hair out to match your lyrics.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m already blond.”
There was a huge difference between his platinum bottle color and what I assumed was Barry’s darker, natural shade.
“You want me to write an album about another man?” I asked. “Why would I—?”
“Because it’s what the fans want. They want an album and we can make it about me like you always do. Besides, you’re in your head about me kissing that girl, and this is your way of getting revenge. So have it, and then come back to me like the good girl you are.”
My stomach lurched. I hated every second of this. “I won’t do it. I’m not going back to Nashville or to Movers and Shakers to write anything.”
Blaze laughed and pulled out his phone. Was he texting someone? “Now you are. I’m having Mia get you a hotel in Nashville.”
“What?” I nearly yelled. “I can’t just go to Nashville.”
“Take your bodyguard. You’ll be fine.”
I groaned. As much as I liked Juno, having her there meant I’d never be able to step foot out of the hotel as Rose. She was a hulking mountain of a woman that would catch me instantly.
“I can’t —?”
“You can for your career,” he said, turning toward the door. “This is what you signed up for—and I’m not losing all of this because of your morals .”
He waltzed out, leaving me to my fate.
It looked like I was going to Nashville.
Barry
The last thing I expected was to run into a woman in front of my office door. She stood as tall as me and wore the most serious expression I’d ever seen. She was a huge figure who had even me wondering if I could get her out of the bar if she were causing problems.
But it was the end of the night and no one should have been here.
The bar had no guests in it and I’d told Liam and Audrey to head home as I cleaned up.
I’d never been a paranoid person, but I didn’t like the idea of a stranger being close to where I kept my cash. My fists balled and she caught my reaction.
“Relax, I’m not here to rob you.”
“Then why are you standing in the back room of my bar?” I asked suspiciously. “No customers are allowed here, so I’d suggest you get out.”
“You’re fierce, huh? I like it. Makes me feel better about bringing her here.”
“Who?”
She gestured into my office and I poked my head in.
I never thought I’d see Lila again. But there she was, sitting at my desk, twirling her hair between her fingers.
My throat closed.
Her black hair was straight today and her dark lashes were stark against her hazel eyes. She looked up and her gaze landed on me immediately.
“Barry,” she said. Her voice sounded exactly like it had in that alley where she’d been running.
“What happened?” I asked.
She took a shaky breath and then looked at the woman guarding the door. “Juno, can you give us some space?”
That must have not been a sentence she was used to hearing. “You know I’m not supposed to—?”
Lila’s face fell. “Just shut the door, at least.”
“Okay.” I walked into the room, feeling odd that a woman I didn’t know was shutting my office door behind me.
“I . . . I don’t even know how to explain why I’m here. But long story short, I need to write an album.”
I took in her frown. “Why do you look upset about it?”
“Blaze saw that I’d written snippets about you.”
“Oh. Was he angry?”
He should have been, but I wouldn’t feel guilty. This was what he deserved.
Lila’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No. He wasn’t. He sent me here to use you to write the album and said we’d change the lyrics later.”
“What? Is that . . . what you want to do?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Then don’t.”
She let out a long breath, eyes falling to the floor. “I have to. I need an album. We have a tour booked and ready to go. Everyone is waiting for me to write something so we can get started.”
“Why don’t you write one about what an asshole he is?”
“That’s even worse. Fans want us together.”
“What do you want?”
“I want my fans happy.” She said it like it was obvious.
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. Blaze thinks you can help me and I . . . I agree. The only song close to being finished is about you.”
“About me ?” That sent a jolt straight to my heart.
“I can show you if you want.” She pulled out a notebook and opened it to a page filled with scribbled words.
I took it with shaky hands, reading it slowly. It was a love song, or so I hoped. If it wasn’t, it was the most charged friendship track I’d ever heard. As I made it through the lyrics, my eyes caught on one line.
“‘A man with a voice better than mine’—that line. What does it mean?”
“Oh, um, it’s about when you sing onstage.”
“You saw me sing onstage?”
Her eyes widened for a moment as I scanned through the last times I’d performed, trying to remember when she could have been here. “I heard you did. From a friend of mine.”
I tried to hide my disappointment. I wish she’d seen it herself.
“So you’ll make this about Blaze? As far as I know, he can’t sing.”
“I don’t know how . . . For now, I need something .”
“Did he come with you?”
And can I kick his ass?
“No, he has a modeling gig in LA.”
“He sent you here alone, then?”
“He said I could get my revenge for the waitress.” Her shoulders fell and she looked defeated.
“He’s an ass.”
“Maybe. But he’s my ass.”
My fists tightened and my teeth ground together. I shouldn’t have been jealous of Blaze Matthews, of all people, yet here I was, wishing I was the one who was hers.
After years, I thought I would be good at being alone. I thought I would never feel jealous because I never got close enough to people to have feelings for them.
Lila was the exception.
To everything, it seemed. I should have said no and went back to my life of being alone. It was what I was good at, after all. But when Lila Wilde asked to spend time with me, I knew turning her down wasn’t an option. She’d been with me through everything.
“Let’s write more.”
She looked at me, eyebrows raised. I didn’t blame her for her confusion.
What kind of self-respecting man would let someone write songs about him and then use them for someone else?
Me .
Because I knew I wouldn’t sleep at night if I turned her away now.
There was a stupid, almost useless hope that if I showed her what a real man could be, she might leave Blaze.
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“Even if nothing between us can happen? I’m not like Blaze—I won’t cheat on him, no matter how gorgeous you are.”
She looked at the ground and I had the distinct feeling that she was not supposed to say that.
I hoped she’d say more like that.
“I understand. I do have one condition, though.”
“And what’s that?”
“I want you to write one song that tells exactly how you feel about Blaze. You don’t ever have to release it, but write one. And then I want to see it.”
“I can make that work,” she said. “We could get started now if you wanted to. I have a lot of scattered lyrics about him.”
“Yeah, let’s start there.”
She smiled but then paused.
“Would you kill me if I asked you to sign an NDA?”
“Not at all. I hear they’re standard.”
“They just feel weird to ask about, but I need to cover myself so . . . What’s your email?”
She looked sheepish, but this was the least of my worries. I wouldn’t tell anyone, just like I never told anyone anything.
Once I signed the digital copy, I turned and took the extra seat shoved into the corner of my office. I sat across from her, looking at what she had.
And we got to work.