Chapter 38
VAN
A WEEK LATER
Life with Brodie in private was incredible.
Life with Brodie in public took our relationship to a whole new level of intensity.
We’d been busy all week—me fielding inquiring calls from friends and coworkers about Brodie and my (former) job, and Brodie doing pretty much the same. They were all kind, offering us support in any way they could.
I knew I’d done the right thing by resigning, but I also recognized that the reality of this enormous change in my life hadn’t hit yet.
Earlier this week, Brodie and I finally ventured outside the gates of his cottage and drove to Providence. With our security team, of course.
We had interviews set up—or, rather, he had interviews. I was there as his partner, no longer as his rep working for Bandit Music.
Before, I’d only had the occasional fan who recognized me from events. But now?
We stopped at a bookstore after the interviews and were mobbed by a crowd eager for selfies. I still couldn’t quite believe it until Dawson and Regan had to usher us out of there as the number of people around us multiplied exponentially.
I’d never felt so strangely anxious and numb at the same time. Like this was happening to me, but it hadn’t fully registered yet. For someone who’d spent most of their life working with entertainers and the press, I found the barrage of attention overwhelming.
People were eager to know how we met, how long we’d been in love, and what our plans were. Most were well-meaning, but some were aggressive.
Then there were the online trolls.
Brodie warned me to stay off socials for a while, and he’d been right.
All this to say that it had only been a week since we’d officially come out as a couple, since I was out myself, and I was admittedly feeling the stress.
So was Brodie, but he’d been living in this fishbowl for a while now.
The weird part was I wasn’t a Bandit employee anymore, but I still had to deal with Zoe and their PR team because I was Brodie’s partner. So, I was in tune with what was happening at the label but on a distanced level.
The only constant in my life was Brodie. And my songwriting.
Losing the pressures of being a manager and focusing on my craft? And collaborating with him? It opened an abundance of creativity inside me. One that was fulfilling in a way I hadn’t experienced in my twenty years on the corporate side of the music business.
Still, I wouldn’t trade my time as a manager for anything.
It had all led me here. To him. To us.
We’d spent Thanksgiving with Brodie’s family on Thursday, and it was the best holiday I’d had in over a year.
The loneliness that usually gripped me was tempered with the abundance that was a James family gettogether.
Lots of great food, music, and sibling mayhem.
By the end of it, my face hurt from smiling so much.
Then Brodie and I went back to work on creating songs for the next album. Like it or not, Wayward Lane was still contracted for that, and there was no way out. Not without a long legal battle. But Brodie vowed that once the album was done, they were done with Bandit.
Meanwhile, Greg had assigned the band a new manager, a guy named Harlow Hines. He was brought in to the company two years ago. His reputation was pretty solid, and the band he managed, Vadium, was now climbing the ranks.
Brodie, of course, was not happy about having someone new to work with and was ignoring the many calls and texts that Harlow was sending. I finally convinced my boyfriend to call him back and talk to him. After all, none of what had transpired lately was Harlow’s fault.
Brodie had a video call with Holls, Ronin, and Faise, and everyone agreed on the next plan of action.
Their contract renewed in May, and they’d be looking for a new label.
Would it mean less money? Probably. Was their brand strong enough to carry them on to continued success without Bandit? Absolutely.
And soon, me and Brodie weren’t the only hot topic in the entertainment biz. Rumors of Wayward Lane’s unhappiness with Bandit ran wild and fast. Soon, competing labels were sending the guys emails, calls, and gifts to woo them.
Bandit was the biggest music company, but plenty of other successful labels were eager for a shot at representing Wayward Lane.
And finally, Brodie and I both agreed that “Sideline” would wait for a future album. We didn’t want Greg anywhere near it. Not when the song meant so much to both of us.
And speaking of meaningful, we were about to make our first public appearance together tonight.
One of Brodie’s friends was hosting an art gallery event in Providence. I was nervous like I rarely was, unsure how I would handle being under the microscope.
I’d changed into my navy suit and was wondering if I should remove my necklace when Brodie slid in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Don’t take it off; I love it,” he confessed as his eyes caught mine in the mirror.
I rubbed the silver coin that rested in the divot of my throat.
“I bought this when I first moved to Nashville. Every piece the artist made has a musical reference. The coin is made from a metal tuning peg that’s been heated and hammered to a flat disk.
Then she used guitar wire to string the beads. ”
“It’s very sexy.”
Instead of leaving it on, I reached for the clasp and unhooked it.
“What are you—”
I turned and placed it around Brodie’s neck.
“It’s not platinum or diamond, but I want you to wear it. I love it when you wear my things.”
Whether it was a shirt, a hat, or my favorite necklace, there was something primal in seeing him wearing my stuff. I loved claiming him in that way.
Brodie rubbed the disk, just like I had, and stared at me with heated tenderness in his eyes. I didn’t know if I would ever get used to him looking at me like that.
“You’re in danger of losing your entire wardrobe because I love wearing what’s yours. And I don’t need platinum or diamonds, just you,” he responded and leaned up to kiss me.
He nipped at my lips, and I playfully bit him back. Until his tongue slid around mine, and then all thoughts about playfulness vanished. I buried my hands in his thick hair and angled his head so I could delve deeper and taste every part of his sinful mouth.
“We have to get going; we’re already late,” Brodie murmured against my lips.
“Or we could naked again and stay here?” I suggested.
He shook his head. “My friend is dying to meet you.”
“I’m really nervous.”
“They’re going to love you,” Brodie reassured me.
“I hope so,” I replied and held him tightly. “But it’s not just that. It’s the media attention. It’s more than even I expected.”
“I know. But it’ll calm in a bit. You know these things come in waves.”
I nodded in agreement. But while Brodie was confident, I was less so.
And I became more agitated as the evening wore on.
We arrived late to a huge amount of press outside the gallery. The flashes and shouts were something I was used to, just not aimed at me. They were calling out my name along with Brodie’s. We stopped for a few shots and then moved on with our security.
Once we got inside, Brodie was swarmed with guests vying for his attention. More pictures and autographs and questions.
His friend, Jojo Raines, the owner of the gallery, was kind and took me under his wing while I let Brodie deal with his fans.
Jojo was a force of blond energy, talking a mile a minute as he paraded me around the room, introducing me to the who’s who of the Providence social scene.
“Brodie’s always been special. People are drawn to him,” Jojo remarked as he passed me a glass of champagne.
“They are.”
I was the prime example.
But that niggle of doubt at the back of my mind had me questioning what Brodie was doing with me. I never considered myself special or deserving of any kind of accolades. And shouldn’t he have a partner that shined just as brightly as him?
“When did you two meet?” I asked, trying to distract myself from my negative thoughts.
“In school. Third grade. I was a new student, having just moved here from Vancouver. I was getting picked on during lunch, and Brodie came to my rescue. We’ve been friends ever since.”
That sounded like my Brodie, feisty and protective as always.
“And you didn’t want to join his band? Wait, are you the secret fifth member of Wayward Lane?”
Jojo laughed and rolled his eyes. “Please. I couldn’t carry a tune to save myself. No, I stick to the visual arts, thank you. My paintings and my gallery.”
“You’re an artist as well as the owner?”
“That’s right. I met my husband at this place when I was a starving creative. Now we run it together.”
“I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”
“Oh, Ethan isn’t here tonight. He’s in Spain, visiting his kids. His ex-wife lives in Seville.”
“How long have you been together?”
“Five blissful years,” Jojo replied with a smile. “So, you and Brodie?”
My face flushed—damn nerves.
“Yeah. Our working relationship evolved.”
“I totally understand. You know, he’s mentioned you often over the past few years, so I’m not completely surprised at this turn of events. And Brodie’s not a person who’s easily impressed. Even though you and I don’t know each other yet, I can see that you two have something special together.”
I nodded, unsure of what, if anything, I should say.
“We do. He’s… he’s my heart. The most incredible person I’ve ever met. But, sometimes, I wonder what he’s doing with me. Look at him.”
My boyfriend was still holding court, and I was noticing all the men who kept circling him like hungry predators. I couldn’t blame them.
Then he looked back at me and smiled, waving me over. But I wasn’t sure that was the best thing right now. My nerves were starting to fray, and I’d be likely to snap at anyone who wanted a piece of the man who was mine.
Another fan held up their phone, and Brodie’s attention turned to them as he posed for more selfies.
I finished my champagne and turned to the bar.
“Go on and rescue him,” Jojo encouraged as he handed me another glass.
“I don’t think he needs rescuing.”
“He’s been following you with his eyes for the past hour. Haven’t you noticed?”
The only thing I noticed was my jealousy.
I turned back to find Brodie being greeted by another fan. But not just any fan.
A man I recognized.
A man I once saw walking out of Brodie’s trailer.