Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lukas
I’m in the back of my buddy’s Toga’s tattoo studio where he allows me to work on VIP clients whenever I’m in LA. And none of my clients are more VIP than music icon, and the man of Waverly’s fantasies, Grae. He’s a loyal customer, booking a session every couple of years, and I consider him more of a friend than just a client. And according to the text with the dancing chipmunks he sent, he’s here.
I slide my phone in my back pocket and head toward the front of the shop. But it isn’t the music icon in a hoodie that makes me pause.
“Darren?” The two men walk in, and I lock the door behind them.
Darren’s in a sports jacket, not a suit like he normally wears when he’s working, but like he’s trying to keep a low profile while still being professional. “Hey.” He gives me a head nod. “You knew I worked the celebrity detail, right?”
I never gave it much thought. “Obviously not. I assumed you did some secret service shit.”
“He’s been my bodyguard for nine months.” Grae pushes his hood back and glances between the both of us. “You know each other?”
“We’re both in a wedding together in a week.” I nod and my client gives a little noncommittal shrug. “Small world.”
Very small world.
And yikes. Grae seems like he’s been through hell and back. Well, I guess he has. A few months ago, he was the hottest music producer in the world one minute, and fodder for the rumor mill the next. He looks rough. For every other man on the planet, his worst day is their best. Still, he’s shed about twenty pounds since I last saw him, his skin has a sort of faded sheen, and he’s about a month overdue for a haircut, which gives him a shaggy, mysterious vibe. I can see why Waverly fantasizes about him.
“You look like shit,” he says to me, and the irony is not at all lost on me. Then he squints like he’s reading into my soul. “Absolutely not.” Grae shakes his head and takes a step back. “No fucking way are you touching my body with a tattoo machine. I don’t want your bad mojo on me forever.”
“I’m fine.”
Grae side-eyes me and walks toward the couch, pulling his bag on his lap as he sits. “Listen, I booked time with you. I went through the hassle of getting a day pass, we’re hanging out, but you’re not tattooing me.” Day pass? Oh shit, he’s still in rehab. I guess he needed security to leave the facility.
Darren squints like he’s reading something far away and nudges Grae’s shoulder. “Wanna take bets on what happened?”
Grae frowns as he opens his bag and digs through it. “I’m not allowed to partake in any risky or addictive activities while I’m out, otherwise I lose the privileges I’ve worked so damn hard for.” He pulls out a sketchbook and a shit ton of pens. Seriously, like twenty, all different colors, brands, and styles. Dropping them on the table and spreading them out, he motions for me to sit next to him.
“How are you feeling?” It’s a dumb question. I’m not sure why I asked it.
He raises an eyebrow. “I was drugged by my personal security agent, OD’d, flatlined, came back, and spent five days in intensive care before being released into a drug treatment center for ninety days. It was supposed to be forty-five, but on day forty-four I had a panic attack and they decided to keep me longer. I’m great. Let’s draw.” He points to a blank piece of paper and grabs a drawing utensil.
Darren clears his throat and throws up his hands, “for the record, I wasn’t the one who tried to kill him. I was giving him CPR.”
“Right.” I take a pen and start to draw a little circle.
“Plus, I lay awake thinking about the cringiest thing I’ve done in years.”
“Do tell.”
He groans and drags his hand down his face before flopping back on the couch. “So, I wanted to thank the guys at Mastodon, and I heard they were in the hospital. I totally thought they were working. So, I go into the room and there’s the one person on the planet that fucking hates me. He says the building exploded and my instant response is, ‘Oh, is everyone okay?’ Dude’s hooked up to like a billion machines…so no, he wasn’t okay. And to make it all worse, he was the one who saved my life to begin with. Ugh.” He hangs his head.
“Yeah, Phoenix,” Darren laughs, “Lance really fucking hates you.”
Now I’m confused. “Wait. Who’s Phoenix? And who’s Lance? And why does he hate you?”
Grae points to his chest. “I’m Phoenix. Mastodon gives all their clients code names so they don’t get emotionally attached.”
Darren chuckles. “Yeah, that didn’t work for Lance. Not only did he fall for his client, but now she works for us too.” There’s more to the story, and I’ll have to ask him about it later.
“I’m glad Lance is happy.” Grae dips his head and grabs another pen. “I’m not sure exactly why he hates me, but I’m sure he has his reasons.” He sighs. “Everyone in the industry thinks I’m a cliché. Good news is a little time in rehab never hurt anyone’s music career. It’s not like I can explain I was drugged. No one will believe that. I’ll get the ‘oh right, sure’ sort of treatment. No, thank you.”
He lifts his head to look at me. “But that’s still not nearly as interesting as what you’ve got going on over here.” He waves his hand up and down my body.
He adds two smaller circles to mine, and I understand what he’s trying to do. Co-drawing—creating and building off each other’s design.
“Well, things are messy.”
Grae draws two lines coming off the circles and connects them. “You hate messy.”
“I like other people’s drama, but not my own.” I keep adding swirls and little things to paper. “Don’t write a song about this?”
“If I do, I’ll keep your name out of it.” He nudges my shoulder and makes my swirls into a jagged line.
“God, I don’t know where to begin. So, there’s this girl,” I start.
Darren pipes in, “Is it Waverly?”
I nod, unable to meet their eyes. “She came into my shop about a month ago, trying to cover up the worst tattoo I’ve ever seen. Thing is, she’s my sister’s best friend and maid of honor at her wedding. The same wedding we’re both groomsmen in.” I motion between me and Darren.
“And the problem is you like your sister’s bestie? That’s not a big deal.”
“Um, she’s also Lukas’s brother’s girlfriend.” Darren adds.
“Ex,” I add, a little too fast.
Darren lets out a long exhale. “Shit, when did that happen?”
“When he cheated on her and a few days later we started dating.”
“HOLY SHIT!” Both men say at the same time.
“I don’t know, there’s a lot going on.” I keep focusing on the picture’s transformation from a geometric outline into mountains and a landscape. “This isn’t exactly the first time Waverly and I have been on this road.”
Grae switches to a green pen and draws blades of grass in a Herringbone pattern. “Yikes. Between family and a history together, it’s no wonder your aura is all wonky.”
Darren shifts his weight around. “And I’m hearing about this now ? Have you told anyone else about it?”
I move my head from side to side. “No. We were kids, hooking up during the summers when I was staying with my mom. That’s the thing about Waverly, she’s great at keeping a secret.” And it’s safe to assume Angie isn’t in the loop because she’s never given me hell about it.
“When shit went down with my dad, I decided I wasn’t going back to the East Coast. So, I flew back here for a weekend, said my goodbyes to the family, and left Waverly a gift. It was my portfolio, all my art. She claims she never got it, which I believe because it’s literally the only logical answer.” My stomach drops as the forgotten but instantly familiar memory hits me. “It wasn’t just a few pictures, it was my heart and soul.” Every unsaid conversation, all of our late-night whispers, manifested in a true, visual form. I half expected her to meet me at the airport. Hell, she had applied to study abroad the next semester. I thought we had a future, that she loved me.
Grae asks, “If it was so important, why didn’t you hand it to her directly? Like in private?”
When she was in my arms, snuggling into the crook of my shoulder, I had the same thought. Why didn’t I give it to her?
Because she would open it in front of me. Because what if I was wrong and she didn’t feel the same way. What if I bared my heart to her and she rejected me, like everyone else in my family did? At the time I didn’t think I could handle the rejection. Hell at the time, I almost didn’t. My silence is the answer my friends need.
Grae takes a long inhale. “Shit, this would make a fucking awesome song.”
“I called her a few times, texted once or twice. But nothing.”
“And now she’s your girlfriend?” Darren asks.
“I guess.” Yep, vagueness is never good.
Grae switches pens again. “And how is she as a girlfriend?”
I drop my pen and cradle my head in my hands. “Adorable and perfect. She’s eager and excited and..” I let out a strangled groan and stare at the pile of pens now scattered around the table.
Change the subject, literally anything but this. “Why do you carry so many pens?”
A weird smirk crosses Grae’s lips. “A pallet of them gets dropped off at my house once a quarter.” He shakes his head and grabs a fine tip green pen. “So, when I started my career over a decade ago, my then girlfriend made some riders to my contract. Every time one of my songs would debut in the top 100, I would get a box of pens. I got highlighters if I reach the top 40, and the boxes would triple if the song broke in as a top ten hit.” He gazes off wistfully into the studio. “I think she did it as a joke. But she added in the rider that she was the only one who could remove it from all future contracts. Then she vanished.”
“She ghosted you?”
A faint shake of his head speaks louder than all the silence in the world. “No, she dumped me and then vanished. I’ve paid PIs to find her, and they all come up empty. All her social media are deleted and even her family won’t talk to me.”
He twirls the pen between his fingers. “So, I get this huge stock of pens every quarter. I’ve donated them to schools, hospitals, women's shelters, homeless shelters, everywhere I can think of. But I still have too many. Hell, I tried to buy the company because I’m their biggest client and I got sniped at the last second. I have a fucking storage unit filled with pens.”
I laugh. “There’s nothing you can do?”
“Nah, and why would I? She’s my Waverly. She believed in me when no one else on the planet did. The pens are a constant reminder someone loved me with every fiber of their being. So, I work insanely hard, trying to get as many pens as I can.” He gives a little shrug. “Besides, one day she might need a pen, and I’ll have exactly what she needs.”
I’m relaxed and calm for the first time since I left home. “Hey, I can clean up your Phoenix tattoo. How old is it, like a decade?”
“I got it when I was seventeen. It feels like two lifetimes ago.”
Darren slaps his head. “The tattoo… that’s why we call you Phoenix. I thought you liked birds.”
Grae and I shake our heads. “Don’t spread your DNA to the next generation.” I slap Darren on the shoulder. Then I turn my attention back to Grae. Waverly called it a red, but in case her interest changes, having basic information won’t hurt. “Random question, Grae. What’re your thoughts on threesomes?”
“Hate’em.” He starts throwing his pens into his bag. “They’re over stimulating and it’s hard to focus. I fundamentally need to get my partner off, and when there’s two, it’s more stress. Then when it’s my time… Well, most partners can run a 5 or 10K, but I’m a marathon runner.”
He zips the bag. “Why?” He squints his eyes at me and his lips curl in the corner. “Is that something Waverly wants? Hmm, I get the feeling I’m missing out. But it’s a no. One, I hate them. Two, your relationship is still new. And three, you’re clearly in love with her.” He stands and starts walking to the chair. “But ask me again in a few years. Who knows what will change.”