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“I’m sorry, you did what?” I asked, the roar of blood in my ears making it impossible to tell if I’d actually heard what I thought I had.
He was so happy, so fucking enthusiastic, and I was…trying not to throw up. I’d heard the lilt in his voice, the glee in his tone, the pure excitement in his every word when he called, but I’d naïvely thought…I don’t even know. I guess I’d just thought he was like every man I’d ever engaged with biologically, and that he was just really, truly animated about having sex.
When he’d said he was on his way, I’d turned giddy.
I’d taken a quick shower and gotten so fresh and so clean and even put on my sexiest pair of lace panties beneath my cutest pajamas.
I’d had it all worked out in my mind.
I’d answer the door.
Smiles would occur.
Then Leo would walk inside, and we’d live up to the two-a.m. booty call hype.
I’d never thought it’d be…this.
Good God, what had he done?
“I booked you a gig at Monarchy,” Leo repeated, the exact words I was really hoping I’d misheard taunting me through each and every syllable. “Cam knows the guy in charge of booking acts—”
My heart woke the fuck up at his words and started pounding against my ribs like a hammer. I didn’t have the tact or care to stop myself from interrupting.
“You booked me a gig?”
“I did.” He grinned and bounced on his toes and nodded with pride as I grew a little greener. Part of me didn’t want to believe it was as bad as I could be making it out to be, so I stalled, hoping when I asked for the details I prayed weren’t true, he’d set me free from this hell.
“Monarchy? As in one of the most popular nightclubs in Manhattan?”
“Yep.”
I glanced around my living room manically, trying to focus on something, anything, to slow my heart, but the walls of my apartment were starting to close in around me. I was suffocating—drowning—dying at the very real certainty that he’d pushed me off a cliff I’d been scrambling away from for over a year.
“Isn’t it awesome?”
Instead of answering him, I had to sit down on my couch before my knees buckled out from under me.
He’d somehow, someway, booked me a fucking gig at one of the biggest nightclubs in the city.
Drag shows, karaoke bars, hell, even open mic nights with all of thirty people in the crowd were one thing, but an actual gig like this? A goddamn nightclub packed to the gills? Fuck, I wasn’t ready.
I wasn’t ready to be judged by all those people, and I wasn’t ready to even entertain the idea of music as something more than a hobby.
My parents—my grandfather—they would never be on board. I could be the next fucking finalist on American Idol, and they’d still tell me music was a pipe dream.
“Gem?” Leo asked and sat down beside me. “Are you okay?”
Around and around, my mind spun on the turmoil that would take over my family for years if I let myself do this…if I let myself get my hopes up. If I gave my everything to making it a career and… God, what if I failed?
If I put myself out there…if I sang my words, my lyrics…if I played my riffs, my notes, my music…what if I did all of that and didn’t get the warm, open-armed reaction I craved?
What if I threw my relationship with everyone I’d ever had my whole life out the window for nothing?
I knew my parents and my grandpa didn’t need to know about one performance, but what if one performance led to two, which led to three…which led to me attempting a career with music?
They’d disown me.
And fuck, what if they disowned me and I failed?
Anxiety burrowed itself in my chest, and I tried like hell to breathe through the choking sensation that had taken up residence in my throat.
“What’s going on, sweetheart?”
Leo’s concern was growing by the minute, but I clearly didn’t know what to say. So, I stared down at my hands that were now tightly clenched together in my lap. How did I even begin to broach turning him down without him making a big deal about it?
He’d been encouraging my music every time we were together, and he wouldn’t understand my rejecting this.
Hah. By the amount of excitement he’d bled all over my front door when he’d arrived, I could tell he wouldn’t understand at all.
“Gem?” Leo whispered my name, and I looked up from my hands and into his baby-blue eyes. “You all right?”
“No,” I answered honestly, finally finding it in me to make something other than my mind move. “I’m not all right.”
He searched my eyes and I knew it was my responsibility to tell him how I was feeling, but navigating this complicated of an issue felt like wading through water full of sharks.
