25. Felicity
felicity
Fall has fully arrived on the foothills, and as I ride in the back seat of a blacked-out SUV, I watch a few of the leaves fall from trees and smile.
We have already made it through Halloween, and I’d had a wonderful time dressing up beyond recognition, helping my mom pass out candy, and making our way through the little street festival that Acton had put on.
Now, I am looking forward to pies and snacks and turkey and football as Thanksgiving approaches. I’m not a big football fan, but we turn it on like everyone else does, nonetheless. It is fun to be in the spirit of it all.
We make our way into the heart of downtown and find the small, hole-in-the-wall studio that agreed to work with me, though we’d put my guitarist, Phil’s, name under the reservation so there wouldn’t be any fans waiting outside every day if my name gets out.
It isn’t my favorite way to live, but with fame comes the cost of privacy lost.
Ezra parks, makes his way to my side, and opens my door. I’m wearing a beanie, oversized sunglasses, and a sweatsuit—something any ordinary person would wear.
Thankfully, in this part of town, it doesn’t seem like anyone cares who is walking on this sidewalk. There are a few people out and about, minding their own business, their attention on their own lives and phones to care about mine.
Just how I like it.
I enter the studio, the smell of a burning candle hitting my nose first before I make my way down a red-painted hallway, following the muffled sounds of a guitar.
That is Phil.
I smile as I enter the room. A sound engineer sits behind the big soundboard, and Phil is in the studio fiddling around inside. He waves when he sees me, and I take off my sunglasses, sliding them into my purse and waving back.
“Holy shit.” I turn my attention back to the sound engineer and give a smile to the gaping man.
“Hi, I’m Felicity.” I knew he knew that, but not introducing myself felt too strange, even now.
“I know.” He stands, nearly knocking his chair over as he stumbles over his feet, holding out a hand for me to shake. Ezra comes forward protectively, and the poor man pulls his hand away, embarrassment flushing his cheeks.
I eye my security. “It’s okay, Ez. He’s just introducing himself,” I say, subtly prompting the man to introduce himself.
“Hi, yes, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be rude.” He holds his hands up in front of him. “I’m Gavin. I own this studio.”
“Oh, you’re the owner?” I ask with interest, looking around the spacious room.
There is a chair against a wall, a comfortable looking one I fully plan to sink into as we dive into our session, and a large couch shoved against the back wall.
It is mismatched and clearly all that could be afforded, but I love everything about it.
“There she is,” Phil’s voice pulls me back to the present, and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding my familiar and one of my best friends close.
“Phil! I can’t believe you’re here.” I pull back, keeping my hands on his shoulders, and smile broadly.
He shakes his slightly graying hair and says, “Well, Colorado is much more chill than LA. I’m digging it.”
Phil has been a guitarist since before I could walk, but the minute we met and he took me under his wing, even though my manager and the studio I’d worked with before had hired him, he kept me safe from some shady shit that I could have gotten involved with.
There is no shortage of bad influences in LA, especially in show business.
“Right?” I head for the large chair, digging through my bag for my notebook and tablet.
“Okay, so I was working on a chord progression for that song you sent and came up with some ideas,” Phil says, sitting adjacent to me and grabbing an acoustic guitar I know well.
Gavin sits at the soundboard. “I can leave if you want?” He says the words with a hint of hope, like he doesn’t want to leave.
“Did you sign everything her manager sent?” Ezra asks, acting like the big brother I saw him as.
“Yes.” Gavin stumbles out, nodding his head vigorously. “I won’t say a word that you were here.”
I smile kindly, sweetening the vinegar that Ezra is showing him. “I really appreciate that, Gavin. We’re just trying to keep a low profile for now. I promise, once things settle, your studio will get credit.”
Then I turn to Phil, and we lose ourselves in lyrics and chords and melodies. New ideas spark every few minutes as I jot down notes, losing myself in the music.
I haven’t been able to do this in months. I haven’t had the inspiration to want to do this in a couple of years, only forcing myself when I owed labels my work.
But actually sitting down and giving a shit about what I was jotting down, what I was working on, and the music that was coming to me? That is a feeling I had been missing, and finally, I was feeling it.
I won’t lie that I feel some of the inspiration feels like it is coming from my newly sparked relationship with Jax, from that fire that is igniting into the inferno it should have been the entire time.
Whenever he texts or calls, whenever I consider seeing him again, I feel that familiar giddy sensation swirling in my stomach. And no, it isn’t gas-related to the baby. I checked.
I sigh as we come to a point where we want to run through some lines in the studio.
Phil plays through a chord progression, giving me something to sing along to, and I step into the studio, working through what I consider to be the rough draft of the song.
Ezra and Phil watch on the other side with Gavin at the board.
Then I open my mouth and sing, letting myself fall into this new sound, into the lyrics that actually mean something to me. I let myself feel every single word, knowing that this stuff is what I’ve been looking for the past few years.
This is the sound I want. This was the message that I want to deliver to my fans. The real me, without any editing.
Without thinking, I take a photo of myself in the studio, holding a sheet of paper over my mouth with the lyrics facing me, and for the first time in months, I post willingly on social media.
I am ready to take control of this brand that grew out of my control.
Which means there are going to have to be changes, that I am going to have to be the one to make them, no matter how hard that is for me.
But I’m not a scared little girl anymore. I’m not worried about how this will affect my brand because it is finally becoming my brand, not something someone else cooked up for me, but mine.
I finally feel like I can take back control of my life.
Before I can open my own door or Ezra can exit the vehicle, my door swings open wide, and I smile at the sight on the other side of the door.
Jax is standing there, grinning at me with his full cowboy gear on. He has his black felt cowboy hat on, his button-down is peeking under a black canvas jacket, and his jeans and boots look pristine.
“Going dancing?” I ask, eyeing Bottle Grounds behind him where he invited me for dinner and dancing tonight. Well, it is dinner, drinks , and dancing, but I am going to carefully avoid that topic. Just for a little bit longer.
Ezra shows up next to Jax, eyeing the rowdy bar entrance and grimacing. “It seems a little chaotic, Ms. Vogel.”
I give Ezra an impatient look. “It’s been five years, Ez. Please call me Felicity.”
Jax interrupts whatever Ezra was going to argue back.
“My sister-in-law is the owner. She’s got a private booth set up for us tonight so we can eat in peace, and there’s a table marked for her security if you feel the need.
” Then he turns his gaze to mine, his eyes full of excitement and hope, and I know that if I look into a mirror, I will see the same thing reflecting in my own.
“But if I’m being honest, sir, I’m not going to let her out of my sight. ”
I blush at the comment, taking Jax’s hand and making the decision for myself as I slip out of the back seat. I had Ezra run me home really fast so I could slip into a fresh sweater and some jeans. The jeans are currently unbuttoned, given my current predicament, but I don’t think they’ll fall.
“It’ll be fine, Ezra,” I say, patting him on the shoulder and holding in a laugh at the impatient sigh he gives behind my back, shutting my door and locking the SUV.
Jax wraps an arm around me. “You should have brought a coat.”
I snuggle into his side. “I have my reasons for not.” I waggle my brow at him, and he laughs, leaning down toward me, and right there in the middle of the street, the man of my dreams takes my lips with his own for a long, sweet, yet totally not innocent kiss.
And I damn near swoon.
“Jax! Get a room, brother!” I smile against his mouth, feeling his lips curve up with my own, and he pulls away, making me laugh when he flips his brother off.
Stetson waves us over and says, “City! You playing cornhole with us tonight?”
I laugh at Stetson, unable to picture him as anything other than a scrawny little fifteen-year-old. “Maybe later. This guy owes me some food first.”
Jax holds me tight to his side, and I feel Ezra behind me. People stare at him in confusion, probably wondering who he is and why he is so close.
I was used to feeling him at my six or following right behind him when I was going out somewhere at night, or to a studio for a show recording, or a concert, or hell, even going to the hotels. It was him for the last five years.
What I’m not used to is it happening in the small town I grew up in.
Jax keeps me grounded, shuffling me along while politely saying hi to anyone who comes by.
I smile at everyone who waves at me and take my seat at the booth that is tucked around the back corner.
I didn’t know it was here, and now that I am seated, with Ezra a few feet away at a table on his own, I feel like I can breathe.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell Jax, wondering if he is thinking the high amount of maintenance I require isn’t worth it.
He frowns in confusion, handing me a menu that was already there. “Don’t apologize. It makes me feel like a celebrity.” His quirked brow tells me he’s kidding, and I smile at how normal he is being.
“Well, that wouldn’t be the first time someone used me for that reason,” I say without thinking, and Jax’s eyes widen.
“I was kidding, City.” He reaches across the table, grasping my hand in his own and squeezing. “I want to be with my girlfriend, not Felicity Vogel, international superstar.”
I roll my eyes and mumble, “Hardly a superstar.”
“I beg to differ,” he replies with confidence. “I know exactly how famous you really are, Felicity. Since you’ve been home, you’ve downplayed every part of it, but I know the truth.” His eyes settle on mine more seriously. “They want you back in California, don’t they?”
“I would be a hell of a lot more controllable from there,” I admit, opening the menu. “So, what’s good?”
Jax lets me have my way—for now—clearly seeing how I changed the subject, and we discuss menu items for a few minutes, him teasing that a frozen raspberry margarita would knock me on my ass.
When the waitress comes, it’s a sweet-looking girl who looks to be about sixteen.
“Lue, what are you doing? Working again?”
Lue rolls her eyes. “As my dad would say, the car is not going to buy itself.”
“Lue?” I ask, astonishment in my tone. The last time I saw Jax’s niece, she was maybe four years old.
Lue looks to me, giving a wave. “Hi, Ms. Vogel. How are you?”
I stare in shock, my mouth actually hanging open. “I’m doing good. Oh my gosh. You’re so grown up.” I get out of my seat, shocking her when my arms wrap around her body, but she recovers quickly, returning the hug.
“Yeah, I keep getting that,” she says when I pull back and nudges her uncle in the arm. “He doesn’t think I should be working.”
“You’re so young,” he grumbles, looking at the menu again.
“I’m almost sixteen, Uncle Jax,” she says, looking like this is an old argument. “Dad says I have to pay for half of my car, and I want one for my sixteenth birthday.”
“I had a job at sixteen,” I say, probably butting in where I didn’t need to, but I thought her having a job was great.
“Really? What did you do?” Lue asks, intrigue in her eyes.
“I stocked shelves at the market,” I say, remembering working for Dani’s parents at their grocery store for almost three years before I quit unexpectedly and left town.
“Oh. See, Uncle Jax! She worked.” Lue turns her eyes on him, and he lets his shoulders drop.
“Fine. Then do your job and take my order.” His words are brash, but he gives her a grin that has her relaxing.
“What would you like to drink?” Lue asks me first, giving me a polite smile.
I grin back. “I would like a ginger ale, please.”
Jax looks at me with surprise and looks to Lue then, looking like he wants to comment on the drink but orders a Coke. He sends his niece away with the orders before turning back to me.
He smiles, and I smile back, wishing I had something more to do with my hand than fiddle with the menu.
“So…” He starts, reaching for my hand, and I gently place mine in his. “Tell me how your day at the studio was.”
Given a topic that I could talk about for hours, I launch into all the things that went through my head today, grateful that I can finally share it with someone and not worry that they will use my words against me.
It’s in this moment, where I spill out all of my fears, worries, plans, goals, and excitement, that I realize I have a level of trust in Jax that I have never had with another human.
It’s also in this moment that I realize I need to tell him the truth. As soon as possible.