Page 176 of The Comedown

I don’t answer. I can’t. I’d do something like cry, but it wouldn’t be a sad cry, it’d be an angry cry. I’m that fucking pissed off right now.

“You label wants you, and they’ve proven they’ll do anything to keep you.”

Shit, if that’s true, then I’m as fucked as Collette is with Bodee. Neither of us will ever be free.

“Let’s just get through tonight, so we can focus on The Mousais,” she soothes, her tone along with her body language transforming before my eyes. Her lips even spread into a smile for the first time since I entered the locker room, but it’s forced, fake. Placating. She’s placating me just like all the others used to do.

I recognize it for what it is now. I know the reason behind it, too—to keep the ticking time bomb from blowing everything up.

“Yeah. The Mousais,” I make myself say, grabbing her hands to kiss her middle finger, the one she used on me that first day, then the pointer finger with the music note tattooed on it.

Her silence started as a choice, but it’s turning into a death sentence.

I’ve killed every person I’ve loved. This time, the only person I’m killing…

Is myself.

Collette

Julian and I walk the red carpet at The Mousai Awards side by side, stopping every couple steps for the long row of press, posing the same way we did in our now infamous billboard shots—with my hand over his crotch and my back to the cameras while I gaze into Julian’s eyes. Sticking with the jewel-tone aesthetic from The Family Julez Tour, I’m wearing a floor-length backless emerald gown that has high-reaching slits up both thighs, and long sleeves. I did ask the designer to cut one of the sleeves though to display my new tattoo, so technically it only has one long sleeve. On top of waves of midnight-blue hair falling down my chest sits a crown, the one Julian gave me.

Meanwhile, Julian’s in a well-fitted white tux with matching emerald-green lapels, pocket square, and lining, and he left the shirt that came with it off entirely so his tattoo of my signature is also showing from under his unbuttoned jacket. His tips are freshly dyed a deep blue, too, making us look like rock-and-roll royalty.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t feel that way.

Or maybe everybody walking these things feels like a fraud. It’s hard to say because I only know what’s happening inside my own head, and right now, it’s a wreck.

Every time Julian and I pause to get photographed, our eyes lock on each other’s like they normally would, but something’s off. Even half tuned in, I can feel it. Holter hasn’t arrived yet, and just like whenever I’m on tour without my son, I’m counting down the minutes until I see him in person again. Bodee always makes an entrance, and this place will swell up like a tidal wave when he does, so I’ve been paying close attention to the spikes in energy around us while still trying to sell this happy, put-together image to the press and surrounding crowds.

The Family Julez Tour wrapped three nights ago, then we took the red-eye here immediately after. Since the moment we landed in LA, it’s been one thing after another. In between back-to-back rehearsals, it’s been dress fittings and promo shoots, both requiring full hair, makeup, and nails each and every time. The barrage of colors, fabrics, mic checks, and blinding flashes have left little time for me and Julian to follow up on our conversation regarding our relationship.

The first time either of us even got a break that matched up with the other’s was when we climbed into the limo to come here. The ride over was the longest stretch of silence we’ve had in the past two weeks, but there was nothing relaxing about it. It was tense and unnerving, and I hated it. Julian’s usually loud, boisterous, and wild. Tonight, he’s distracted. And it feels like he’s been distracted ever since our last private conversation together.

Eventually, we come to the end of the carpet, meeting up with Irelynn along with Julian’s newly hired assistant, Tomás, who are both already waiting for us. We step off to the side, and our stylists immediately rush over to poke, and smooth, and fluff, and tuck while Axel finishes up his walk along the step-and-repeat behind us. As soon as he joins us, his hand brushes the back of Irelynn’s, causing her to blush a deep crimson color that rivals the carpet we just traipsed across.

Neither of them has admitted to being together, and I have to wonder if it’s because what they have is an actual tour-mance.

I peek at Julian, but his focus is still elsewhere. At least I know he’s sober right now.

I’m almost positive he’s sober.

Obviously, logistics is my biggest concern for our relationship, but Julian’s sobriety is a close second. Maybe even tied for first truthfully.

I have a child, an impressionable teen that I’m trying to raise into a good man. The only father figure he’s had, the only father figure I’ve been able to give him, is not who I want my son to take after. Getting involved with Bodee was an unfortunate mistake, but one I can’t take back. All I can do now is make sure I don’t do it again. Mistakes are lessons disguised as hardships, and as hard as mine was to make, I’d like to think I’ve learned from it.

Since we’ve been together, really together, Julian’s been amazing, not just to me, but also to Holter and the rest of my team that feels like family. He’s really cleaned up his act. He fired Slade, and he got rid of all the remoras.

The question running on a continuous loop through my head now is, will it last? Because I remember the person Julian was before we were together, and every time things didn’t go his way, he disappeared under a cloud of marijuana smoke or into the bottom of a bottle. Or more accurately, both. He’s pretty liberal with his substance intake.

It won’t just be different once he’s not on tour anymore, it’ll be worse. During tour, we were in our own little solar system where we were wrapped up solely in each other, letting our love warm us thoroughly, but after tonight, the galaxy’s about to open up, showing us how cold the bite of reality actually is.

Parenthood, relationships, they don’t always go according to plan, and that’s exactly what he’d be signing up for with me. In one fell swoop, he’d get it all—a girlfriend and her kid. A family essentially. I’m not expecting him to be Holter’s dad, but he would be an important part of my son’s life, and with that comes a certain amount of responsibility. Responsibility Julian knows nothing about. Responsibility he’s only glimpsed in small doses so far.

As a songwriter, Julian’s really good with words, and he’s almost got me convinced he could do it. He says he does want kids with me, that as long as his vasectomy reversal works, he’ll keep me pregnant until I decide I’m done having babies, and yet, that prospect still scares me as much as it excites me, maybe more.

I tour. It’s what I know, it’s what I do. I have no plans to stop, or even slow down anytime soon.

I want to.