Chapter 18 #2
“I swapped it with one of mine. Terminated her song without asking permission. And I won. Standing ovation.”
“How did that go over?” I ask.
She smiles cryptically. “Mama was in the audience. Her rage was biblical.”
“Ouch. Real-time termination.”
“She grounded me for a month. Called me The Terminator instead of Regina the entire time.”
“For real?”
Off my genuine shock, she says, “I’m telling ya, she's a piece of work.”
We both drink and stare silently into our glasses.
Can’t say I’m surprised. Brady and Tai have made overtures to Gia, the steamroller, collaboration a four-letter word.
In the case of the talent show, was she protecting herself from her mother's sabotage, or is she incapable of partnership? I've seen the controlling side of her.
Plan to turn the tables on that dynamic tonight.
But first…
“Have you considered that she might be jealous of you?”
She shoots me a sharp look, her face slowly reddening as she realizes that I’ve steered us straight into the truth. “Of course she is,” she finally says. “That’s what makes it so hard. I bet the idea of my success scares the shit out of her.”
I think for a minute while she trains that expectant gaze on me. “Knowing that, maybe you don’t battle so hard. Show her how much music means to you. That’s your common ground. Lean into it.”
A dude in faded overalls appears out of nowhere, interrupting our flow. He slides onto the stool next to Gia to order a drink, tossing his wavy hair as a signal that he’s got moves. I flash him a look. Easy, tiger.
“Anyhow, there's the story.” Gia nudges her knee against mine, asking, with heartbreaking sincerity, “Do you still like me?”
I slide my gaze off Mr. Overalls to look at her. She’s crashed my world of normal, and something beyond her sheer physical appeal makes me turn to jelly inside.
How can she be asking that question?
“I liked you from the moment I saw you in The Troubadour. That hasn’t changed.” I drink down a healthy chug of beer as if I can drown out the vivid memory of her that’s haunted me ever since. “But tell me, what did you learn from the talent show?”
Gia picks at the hole in her ripped jeans. Takes her time before replying. “That I need to be a team player. I was struggling, doing everything on my own. Then I connected with Brady and Tai, and Audrie stepped in. The momentum shifted.”
She looks back up at me, and there's something raw in her eyes. “But I'm still scared of letting go. Of trusting someone else to care as much as I do. Because what if they don't? What if they let me down?”
I feel that truth land in my chest. She's just described my exact fear—the reason my band fell apart, the reason I've been holding back with her.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I know that feeling.”
Gia studies me. Somehow, I know the question she plans to ask before it slips out. “So what happened with Read My Rights?”
I become aware once more of the dryness in my throat and take another swill of beer, but it’s suddenly harder to swallow. Every night I say nothing, the lie grows a little larger. I can’t be with her without her knowing the truth. But I’ve waited this long, and one more night won’t matter.
I hope.
“Remember what I told you at my condo? My Dad took every opportunity to shine the spotlight on me. He dragged me out to play at the office Christmas party and corporate events. Don’t get me wrong,” I’m quick to add, “music turned out to be my thing. If he’d put a tennis racket into my hand instead, maybe I’d be chasing a different dream.
Who knows? Luck of the draw, I suppose.”
The disco beats suddenly fade out, and I lower my voice to match the quiet.
“He lived vicariously through me, and it was in his nature to keep pushing. Eventually, I snapped. Walked away from everything he wanted for me. Or, truthfully, for himself.” I pause, the rest of it, the whole truth, lodged in my throat. “That's the short version, anyway.”
Gia waits, letting silence do its slow, surgical work. Her brows settle into a flat line as she thinks. “Are you here because of me, or him?”
In my peripheral vision, the bartender clocks us, calculating his chances.
Take a number, buddy.
“You, obviously.”
Something in her expression shifts. “How come you didn’t hit me up after The Troubadour? It felt like we had a connection.”
I feel my cheeks catch fire, redness betraying me. I look away. “The usual. Fear.”
“Of what?”
She sets her hand on mine and stays silent, waiting for me to go on. But I don’t.
To chase her meant to chase all my forgotten dreams, to be branded a hanger-on, a starfucker, a desperate wannabe.
Or something worse.
I squirm on the stool before I slide off. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Scanning the far end of the bar, I feel floaty and disconnected, like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
“You’re acting mighty defensive,” Gia observes.
My own laugh catches me by surprise. It’s perfect, really, exactly the comment I deserve. I’m guilty of stepping closer, only to retreat, all the growing layers between us getting denser and more complicated.
“This from a woman doing everything in her power to tear my defenses down.”
Gia smiles and tugs on my jacket, caging me between her spread legs. She covers my heart with her hand. I hold my breath, and the only sound in my ears is white noise. When she touches me, nothing else matters.
“See what I mean?” Her voice is the barest sound. “You have a heart. And it beats loud and true.” She searches my eyes, like there’s an unintended answer buried in them. “Tonight, no holding back. We get real with each other, K?”
The bar suddenly smells different, like when the top note of a perfume fades into a smokier, more mysterious secondary layer. I’m already in a weakened state from earlier, when Gia strutted around the bus half-naked, and my breath slowed until my lungs practically stopped working.
Oh, I like you, Gia. Too much, in fact.
Thing is, I haven’t been upfront about Amber, the song, or my intentions for it. Gia hasn’t brought it up in the context of tonight, and I’d feel less wary if we didn’t agree to make it a warped deal point for intimacy. I don’t want to be the incidental sitting between her and the song.
I want her to like me for me.
I need to be enough.
Because I wasn’t once before, and it almost killed me.