Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
GIA
Wow. Wow. Wow.
My head spins in every direction from the back seat of our town car.
Life before felt small. This feels huge.
And I am just a speck compared to the sheer size and oldness of London.
The steady drizzle of rain while the driver loaded our bags smelled centuries old.
All the dark stone buildings look like they’ve been plucked from a fairy tale.
It makes Vancouver feel like a backwoods Legoland.
JC, texting nonstop with Rhys since we landed, glances over. “All good?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “This is wild.”
And intimidating, I don’t say.
I thought I was ready for this, but now I’m wondering if I even belong on a stage this big.
I’m still catching my breath after the razzle-dazzle of Heathrow.
Crowds on a mad dash, ten different languages echoing in my ears.
JC rested his hand on the small of my back, steering me through the chaos.
The heat lingered far longer than the brief touch.
“Wait until we get to the hotel.” JC’s knee bumps mine, and he doesn’t move it. “The Rose Dylan Agency has pulled out all the stops."
And then there’s that.
The Savoy Hotel. Our glitzy home for the next twenty-four hours.
Dani booked us suites, and the gala introducing their agency takes place in the River Room, a sophisticated venue where no woman in fishnets has ever set foot, guaranteed.
She also wrangled up a beauty SWAT team to make us red carpet ready.
Not saying I’ll transform into a princess, but at least the crowd won’t wonder if I recently escaped from jail.
“Are they meeting us there?” I ask.
“Around noon,” JC says, thumbing through texts on his phone. “That gives us time to clean up and relax. Oh, and Rhys and I plan to grab a drink before the event. A director he wants me to meet is in town. Could be another film to score.”
My heart pinches. A reminder that before this tour even starts, JC walks when it’s over. Back to his life before me. And, quite possibly, without me.
“And it sounds like Dani has your afternoon dialed in,” he adds. “You two will be doing the diva thing.”
“Hardly,” I mutter under my breath. I didn't sleep a wink on the flight. And I’m still a little drunk, judging by the blur around my edges.
JC bumps me with his shoulder. “Hey, chin up, rockstar. This is how you leap. Every media bigwig in Europe will be in the room tonight. All eyes on you.”
I take a breath. Right. Like I can just choose when to be a flawless socialite, floating around an alien landscape of martinis and millionaires. Will they see through my pumped-up smile to the world of crushed beer cans and stained jeans I normally inhabit?
“No pressure, right?”
“You will kill it, Gia. I have no doubt.”
JC leans over and ruffles my hair. Again, with the fucking hair ruffle? He has no idea how close I am to biting that hand. And I want to believe, a little too much, that the glimmer in his eyes is more than faith that I won’t shoot myself in the foot.
Honestly? If he keeps looking at me like that, I might start believing in fairy tales.
I’m flipping through endless beaded, bedazzled gowns stacked on a wardrobe rack, when JC and Rhys pop into Dani’s suite to say hello before they take off for JC’s meeting.
“Looks like the beauty brigade is in full swing,” Rhys quips.
It’s more like Sephora exploded in here, leaving behind a landslide of high-end cosmetics. The makeup artist arranges her brushes like flowers in a vase, and next to a table full of fancy shoes, our stylist and hairdresser are deep in conversation over tonight’s vibe.
JC admires a red satin stiletto, the thin ankle strap adorned with a glittery band of diamonds. His arm brushes mine, turning my insides into a pile of crumbs.
“I think you’d look great in these.”
“Not sure I can even walk in a heel that high,” I admit.
“Heels take getting used to.” Dani grins at me. “We'll practice your strut in the hall.”
Rhys laces an arm around Dani’s waist and whispers in her ear, making her giggle.
Blond and sunny to JC’s dark mystery, Rhys’s face is, like, weirdly perfect.
He makes every head turn, mostly to figure out if he’s human or an AI creation.
But he’s got serious depth, is thoughtful and down-to-earth, and trails after Dani like the happiest golden retriever.
Dani’s a few years ahead of me in life and love, but I want to be like her—poised, stylish, successful, and have my own Trenton look at me the way Rhys looks at her.
“We’ll be back by seven,” he says to Dani. “Is that cool?”
“No later than seven thirty, please,” she warns. “Formal intros start then.”
JC gives me an easy wink. He looks like he'd be cool hanging out with the glam squad. “Can't wait to see what you two come up with.”
Dani shoos them out. “Go have fun. Rhys has been dying to hang with you all week.”
“Love you, babe.” Rhys drops a lusty kiss on her mouth that makes my heart stutter. “I’m psyched for tonight.”
Once they’re gone, Dani elbows me with a sparkle in her eye.
“Now the fun starts.” She wanders into the adjoining lounge—apparently nothing in this hotel comes in one room—and rolls out a trolley stacked with cheese, grapes, chips, cans of Coke, and a sleek bottle of Equiano rum way beyond my pay grade.
I swing her a grateful smile.
We bonded from the minute we met last summer.
Soul sisters, if a rough-and-tumble musician and a polished princess could ever be related.
Her skin looks airbrushed in real life. I’ve got toothpaste drying on a zit.
She makes it all look effortless while I’m kicking and screaming my way through life like the class act I am.
Gotta say though, I could get used to this pampered world damn quick.
An hour later, I’m feeling lightheaded from lack of sleep, top-shelf rum, and hairspray.
Marta, the hairstylist, is busy transforming my hair into a complicated updo.
Dani looks like a million bucks in her emerald velvet gown, and we’re both tipsy enough to slip back into easy conversation.
She’s just finished telling stories about JC and Rhys as kids—powder kegs of trouble—and it makes me curious.
“Can I ask you a question? About JC?”
Her hushed voice drips with scandal. “Don’t tell me … are you two…?
“No,” I blurt out. “Nothing like that.”
She hums her disappointment. “Rhys and I were hoping it might happen. After your gig in Osoyoos, everyone was talking.”
It wasn’t my intention, but I set myself up for failure that night. Debut with JC on a star-filled evening in wine country and practically have musical sex on stage in front of the Hollywood elite? Who lives down that hype?
I glance at Josephine, the intense Portuguese stylist who is hemming the metallic slip dress I chose and lower my voice. “Did Rhys ever tell you why JC walked away from it all?”
Dani pauses, dabbing smoky perfume on her wrists.
She sees it on my face: the legit desire to understand the human Rubik’s Cube JC is.
“Rhys said burnout. That he needed to go quiet for a while.” She leans closer to whisper, “Between us, I don’t think that’s the full story. Has he said anything to you?”
I relax a notch. I’m not the only one with questions. “No. I just want to make sure we do whatever it takes to make him feel comfortable.”
Her face lights up. “I know he feels very comfortable around you already.”
“He said that?” God, could I sound more hopeful?
“Not in so many words.” Dani meets my eyes in the mirror. “When he joined us on Corfu for New Year's Eve, all he talked about was how inspiring it was to be in the studio with you. He called you his sonic soulmate. It sounded like he missed you.”
The room shrinks around me, dark and whispering. JC had invited me to Greece, and I bailed. Spent an hour recovering from a heart attack after seeing the flight price. I told him I had a family thing I couldn’t get out of. He’d shrugged it off with a casual, “Too bad. Would’ve been fun.”
Hearing this news, doubt floods my chest. Did he really want me there? Why didn’t he say more?
I flip the conversation back to Dani. “You and Rhys seem super happy together.”
She sighs, a sound of pure contentment. “We are. It’s been great. We're helping each other grow into who we need to be.”
“Thanks for the discount on all the tour designs.” I roll my eyes. “Sawyer, the tightwad.”
That launches a ten-minute roast of the infamous elder Trenton, who once macked hard on Dani. Thank god she chose the right brother.
When our dissing peters out, she asks, “Anyone special in your life right now?”
“Playing the field,” I lie, for protection. Dani’s my girl, but she’s also deep in the Trenton family. And Marilyn, JC’s mother, was on me like white on rice at Christmas, fussing over JC like he wasn’t a full-grown man.
“As you should.” Dani leans back in the director's chair, eyeing me with an approving nod. “You’re glowing, girl. Not just from the hair and makeup. Don’t waste that on the wrong person.”
I chew on my thumbnail. “How did you know Rhys was the one for you?”
She laughs. “It sounds so lame, but it's true: When you know, you know.”
“Did Rhys feel the same way? Has he ever told you?”
“He knew,” Dani says with the warm glow of nostalgia. “Almost right away. But sometimes knowing scares the hell out of them.”
My body reacts in a way it shouldn’t. Could JC be scared to make a move? Hard to believe a man with his reputation would hesitate if he really wanted me.
Dani rests her hand on my shoulder. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“Keep an eye on JC. He hides it well, but I get the sense there’s a sadness in him. That one extra layer he keeps hidden, even from Rhys.”
What feels like a spear passes through my lungs. My thoughts exactly, that he’s carrying around something. “But they’re so close.”
“I know.” Her look says I'm not alone in this. “Rhys said JC can talk his way out of, or around, anything. It’s a skill and his deflection method.”
Ain’t that the truth? Every time our conversation veers into personal territory, he steers us back to something neutral. It’s a relief in some ways to hear this, if only to confirm I’m not insane.
Marta pauses her assault on my hair. “Are you talking about the handsome, dark-haired chap?”
“He’s my guitarist,” I say with pride. “She’s dating his brother. The blond hottie.”
“He kept stealing looks at you while you sifted through the dresses.” Marta winks at me in the mirror. “Blokes like him don’t have couture on their minds.”
Dani grins and squeezes my hand. “See? I think you need to lean into that.”
My heart does a funny flip in my chest. I take a breath then ask The Question. “You don’t think I’m too young for him?”
“I think you’re the right amount of kick-ass he needs,” Dani insists. “Everyone wants a piece of him, and you’ve flipped the script. He’s in awe of you.”
Marta engulfs me in one more haze of hairspray. “And tonight, the entire room will be in awe of you two fierce dames.”
For a second, I don't recognize the woman in the mirror smiling back at me.
I picture JC seeing me like this, and my breath catches.
What happened in his studio felt like a preview of something deeper—that maybe he sees more than just Gia the bad-ass rocker.
But what happened on the plane shredded my hope.
It felt like he was embarrassed to be with me.
I adjust the neckline of my dress and smooth my hands down the shimmery fabric. Throw my shoulders back.
I belong in this world, his world.
Tonight, at this gala, surrounded by all those people watching us … maybe it’s time to throw caution to the wind.
Give them something real to see.