Chapter 7 – Dylan #2
“Because your boyfriend’s an asshole and because I’m . . . because I need it too.”
I stare at him as he tosses back the amber liquid, and the sights and sounds of the bar buzz around us. He doesn’t give me more than that, and I accept it without prying further.
“You want to tell me why Jett was speaking about you as if you were still together?”
I sigh and finish off my drink. “Our agent wants us to keep our split under wraps.”
“You have the same agent?”
“Yeah.” I snort. It sounded good at the time to have the same one. I can only hope that’s still the case once this project is done.
“Why would they want you to keep quiet?” He looks as confused as I felt when Ava made the request.
“While Jett’s bad-boy reputation may play well with his audience, the label isn’t too fond of it.”
“Why do they care so long as he sells albums?”
“Selling albums is one thing. Being manageable is a whole other matter. Jett is far from manageable. When an artist has a hard time recording an album, let alone promoting it, because his antics get in the way, it’s a problem.
” I sigh. “Temper tantrums where he’s trashed the studio when a song isn’t working.
Refusing to show up and record a song because I’m not in town to be there. It’s just—”
“He sounds like a real winner, Dylan.”
I glare at him, feeling like I’m being judged while justifying in my mind that he doesn’t know Jett like I do. He doesn’t understand him. And then I roll my eyes at myself. How stupid does that even sound?
“There’s a part of him that’s all image. Then there’s the guy he was before he hit it big.”
“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “So where do you fit in all of this? Why does your agent need you to keep up the charade?”
“Because I was told I ‘soften’ his image. I’m the only one who tames him. The label knows I’ll deliver. The producer will work with me, not Jett. Ava fears that if they know we’ve split, they’re going to delay or table the album like they threatened to from the get-go.”
“So let them table the album. Maybe he deserves to be taught a lesson,” Grady says, giving the most logical commentary .
“I’m not sure anything will change him. It’s obvious he hasn’t learned from any of the repercussions he’s faced before, but when he’s punished, I’m punished. Tabling the album would damage my career and livelihood too.”
“How so? It’s not your fault he’s unmanageable.”
I think of the contract Ava constantly reminds me about. I think of the billing statement in my inbox from the rehab center. I think of this surreal bubble bursting that I’ve actually made it in this business when Jett fucks up and the album isn’t delivered on time.
But I don’t say any of those things. Instead, I toy with the edge of my cocktail napkin and refuse to meet his eyes.
“You know you don’t owe him anything after what he did to you, right?”
“You’re right. I don’t.” I mentally shake myself from my thoughts. “I sound like a doormat agreeing to our agent’s request, but I assure you, I’m not.”
“You’re the furthest thing from being a doormat, and yet . . .” He lifts his eyebrows as if he’s disappointed in me. It’s a look so very similar to one my brother would give that it has my back straightening.
“Look, I’m not proud that I misjudged him.
I’m not proud that I agreed to pretend to still be with him.
” I take a sip of water before I look up to meet his eyes.
“What I am proud of is that I’m a damn good songwriter, and I have the reputation to match it.
I’m proud the label knows it can depend on me to deliver the songs it asks for, quality songs, as well as songs for their other artists.
The last thing I want to do is jeopardize that relationship because of Jett.
I’m between a rock and a hard place, and the only way to survive is to try to climb up using the only hand I have extended to me.
Swallow my pride and pretend for a little while, so in the end, I’m the one who wins.
I come out with songs that will net me royalties, and I get to keep the door open to keep my career going beyond him. ”
He stares at me for a beat, and the intensity of those aqua eyes bearing down on me makes me shift in my seat.
“You finish the album with Jett, then what?”
“Long-term? I sell songs to other singers. I make a name for myself beyond Jett’s cowriter.” I shrug. “But for now I need to get through this current mess.”
“And you think you can do that and come out the other side unscathed?”
I angle my head and stare at him, hating being questioned but knowing it’s a valid point.
“I can play the game that needs to be played while at the same time protecting my heart. But it doesn’t make seeing the things he said in that interview any easier.
All the things he never said to my face but that I needed to hear. ”
“I’m sure it’s brutal.”
“It’s hard not to feel like a coward for heading for the hills, but I couldn’t stay.”
“Nah. I get it. You gravitate to comfort. To what’s familiar . . . even when that familiar has done you wrong and is now saying all the right things.”
“Hmm. True.”
“Did you fear you’d get back together with him if you stayed?” Grady asks the question I’ve asked myself a million times. When Jett calls. When he texts. When he’s mentioned on the radio.
Because I’ve taken him back before. Not for cheating though . . . this time was a first. That I know of.
“It isn’t something I’d admit aloud because feminists would be in an uproar . . . but, yes.”
“At least you’re honest. So many people say they wouldn’t put up with it but then end up taking the person back. Hell, I’ve done it.”
His admission takes me by surprise, but I appreciate that he’s trying to put me at ease with my decisions. “You know what the best way to get over someone is, don’t you?”
“Drink?” I ask and laugh as I hold up my empty glass.
“That’s a start, but no.” A mischievous smile curls up the corners of his lips and his eyes fill with amusement. “Sleep with someone else.”
His eyes hold mine as my mind spins. Is he offering to be the someone else? Is he feeling okay? Is he . . . holy shit.
“Wh-what?” I stutter the word out as embarrassment floods my cheeks. “Are you—?”
“There are plenty of guys in here who wouldn’t hesitate to spend the night with you.”
Thank God he cut me off. Thank God he just saved me the embarrassment of asking if he was offering.
It has to be the alcohol making my brain fuzzy.
“C’mon, Dyl. What would it hurt? You have some fun, clear your head for a bit, and realize there are other guys besides Jett Kroger who want you and think you’re attractive.”
“We’re in a bar with a few dozen drunk men. I don’t think my looks factor into anything after a certain number of drinks have been consumed.” But I laugh at the notion anyway. “Besides, you’re crazy if you think I’m going to pick up some random guy and take him home with me. Like that’s safe.”
“First off, it’s my home, so no need to worry about your safety. Remember? Chief Malone’s son, here. And secondly, he wouldn’t be a random guy. I know everyone around here, so I’ll make sure he’s a good fit.”
“A good fit?” I laugh.
“Yeah. Someone who’s not clingy. Who’s not a dick—”
“This sounds so promising already.”
“A guy I don’t have to worry about being—”
“You’re actually serious, aren’t you?” I ask as he stands some from his seat and cranes his neck to survey the patrons of the bar.
“I never joke about getting laid.” He laughs while all I want to do is shrink in my seat and vanish.
“I have to keep up pretenses that Jett and I—”
“Fuck Jett.” He rolls his shoulders. “This is a small town. No one’s even talking about Jett being here so that means he’s keeping a low profile. And his low profile means that no one has connected the dots that the two of you are together. Or rather, not together.”
“This is a bad idea,” I groan.
“You didn’t say no.” He stares at me, eyes alive.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” he asks as he scans the crowd.
“No firefighters,” I say, prompting him to whip his head my way.
“What’s wrong with firefighters?” he asks. If I could kick myself under the table I would.
It’s a one-night stand, Dylan. One. Night. It isn’t as if I need to worry about them staying around long-term. It isn’t as if I have to worry about them leaving like my dad.
His eyes narrow, and the look he gives me demands an answer. “No firefighters,” I reply and lift my eyebrows as if to say that’s the only explanation I’m going to give him. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“And you are so getting laid.”