CHAPTER 50 (1)

“Do you have questions about recovery time? The procedure? Anesthetic?” The surgeon spreads his hands on his desk. He’s for sure taking for granted the range of motion in those fingers, those palms. The sixty-something man might be a doctor, but he’s pure California. In living here the past year and a half, I’ve learned Angelenos can take for granted almost anything. I shake my head. “I’ve done it before, at some of the best clinics in the country.” “Well, I like to think we have the best team here at UCLA. You’re on the schedule for three weeks from now. I sincerely hope we can get you the results you’re looking for in terms of both mobility and pain management.” “Me too.” I leave the clinic and head outside into the sun and get into the waiting car. It’s not my first surgery, but I’m hoping it’ll be my last. Jacob calls it my obsession, but I think of it as relentless focus. Since the night a single blade destroyed what I’d worked twenty years to build, I’ve been aching for the day when I can say I’m back to myself. I have a few hours before I need to be at the venue for sound check for the benefit concert tonight. I scan the set list, which I’ll go over again with my band once I get there. For the most part, I do vocals and some light chords. The lead guitarist who plays with me is probably good enough to play harder assignments than what I give him, but it makes me envious to hear him do it. To deal with the monotony of traffic, I go through my email, firing off responses to anything urgent and leaving most of it where it is. After, I open the list of demos Shane sent through from local bands. I listen to the first, then skip to the next. Another skip. I let the third one ride a moment. It’s sultry and raw. I glance at my phone to see what it is. It’s Shane. Not another band, but her. It’s simple, but catchy, and the vocals feel fresh and real. I file that away as the car reaches my destination, a toy store in La Brea. Inside, I tell the clerk, “I need a present for a friend’s kid. She’s four and a half.” “Get her a book on manipulating guys,” comes a familiar voice from behind me before the clerk can respond. “It must be some secret coming-of-age thing, because all chicks seem to know it by the time they’re twelve.” I turn toward Jacob and grin, clapping him on the back. He looks every part the actor in jeans, boots, and a white T-shirt. His aviators are shoved back on his head. “Thanks for meeting me,” I say. “Tell me you haven’t burned down the apartment yet.” “Nah, but you might want to stay in it sometime.” I shake my head. The two-bedroom place we share is way bigger than the New York apartment we had until I left on tour and that Beck kept until graduation. “I’m heading out again in a couple of days. I made a deal to help Eddie out with his new studio.” I huff out a breath as I scan the shelves for a gift for Sophia. “You’re supposed to be in your studio. Recording at your label,” he reminds me. “The one who pays your income, which covers half of our rent.” “Thank you for that lesson in pronouns. I have three weeks until my surgery so I’m taking a vacation.” I pick up a puzzle. Maybe Sophia’s into these. Something with fish or birds, exotic ones she wouldn’t see in Dallas. “A vacation with Emily Carlton. I saw your post the other night. You might not tagged her, but you’re so busted.” “Nothing to bust. We hung out.” But my abs clench under my shirt at the sound of her name. The purple dump truck on the shelf triggers my memory that Sophia’s into things with wheels. I lift it off the shelf as Jacob grins. “I bet you did.” I cut him a look, but my retort dies on my lips. My roommate’s the one person other than Emily and Eddie who can see through my bullshit. Still, I’m not about to tell him I lost control the moment she peered up at me with those doe eyes wanting to collect on what I owed her. Turned out I was on the receiving end of something priceless. I’m man enough to admit that the best moments of my life have been spent holding that woman. And yesterday, she was wild. From the second I found her under those tight shorts, soaked and squirming, it was a breakneck descent into madness. I wanted nothing more than to free my swollen cock and sink into her as far as I’d go, to see her beautiful body arch and writhe on that dark wood backdrop. But I spent the last two years knowing Emily and I ended because she got over me first. Still, the way she looked at me, the way she asked me for it… It took everything in me to remember we’re not together. Jacob squeezes a stuffed toy hard enough it squeaks. “I’m relieved to hear it’s nothing serious. Because you were fucked up after it ended. You both were.” I round on him, boxing him in against the shelf. “Go on.” “She couldn’t go with you, and you couldn’t stay. Someone had to be the bad guy. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have moved on—not just from her, with your life.” Hearing it spelled out is bringing up old feelings. Not even the bitterness of leaving, but the things it’s taken me two years to appreciate. How fucking incredible she is. How much I loved her. How much she loved me. “You didn’t tell me she was seeing someone,” I say. “Did you think I’d be jealous?” “Did I think you’d look like you’re looking right now? Yes.” “But they broke up,” I say, pouncing. He frowns. “I heard. He’s some big producer type. And—please use this for good, and not evil—apparently he cheated on her. A casting couch situation with some actress.” Jacob reads the disbelief on my face. “Fucking tool, yeah. You know our girl has always had some issues believing she was enough. With all she’s accomplished, I hope she sees it and never gives the guy another look.” I turn that over as I start toward the cash register, dump truck in tow.