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I close the laptop and take a deep breath, again. I lie on the couch and stare at the wooden ceiling beams of my apartment. Despite the exhaustion, I’m so unsettled by this that sleep is not an option tonight.
***
“What the hell happened to you? You look like you just crawled out of a cave!” Emily’s worried voice makes me look up at the conference room door where I’ve been holed up since this morning at five o’clock. When it became clear that I would not be able to sleep a single minute after finding her on that website, I stopped tossing and turning in bed, got dressed, and came to the Jail Records offices.
If Emily is already here, after going to Tribeca to check out the venue hosting the Jailbirds’ charity event to be sure everything is in order, it means the afternoon has arrived without me realizing it. She didn’t come by the office this morning like she usually does, and I lost all track of time.
“Rough night.” I force a smile, even if the muscles of my face are tense, and I’m sure it looks more like a grimace rather than a reassuring grin.
Emily, in fact, sits next to me, her brows furrowed. She is close, too close not to feel my nerves tense, to awaken in her presence. I am forced to look into her eyes and don’t know if I have the courage. The bikini photo on that beach haunted me all night. I’ve always felt attracted to her: that toned physique, sculpted by long hours in the gym, intelligent hazel eyes, and gorgeous brown hair that makes me want to wrap my fingers around it and grip it in my fist.
Although my body reacts whenever she’s next to me, I’ve always managed to keep it under control by convincing myself that she’s off-limits. My rational side puts up a wall to block the feelings stirring in my chest whenever she enters a room. But seeing her on that site, offering the part of herself that I’ve always denied myself, broke down the barrier my rational side has been trying with so much effort to keep up. It’s poured into my chest all the feelings I should not feel, not for her. I daydreamed of sticking my fingers in that hair, clenching it in my fist until I hear her moan my name. It’s as if that site has sounded my inner alarm clock, pointing out the fact that Emily is sexy and has sex with men in exchange for gifts. The filter of innocence I’d placed around her to take my mind off the arousal my body feels when she’s near was torn so brutally it’s left me disoriented.
“Evan, are you listening to me?” Her voice creeps through the blanket of fog that envelops my brain.
How long has she been talking? “Sorry, I was distracted.”
She turns to me with her whole body, and her knee inadvertently touches my leg. Is it possible to feel the warmth of her skin through all these layers of clothing, or is my brain showing the first signs of madness? And her scent—how have I never noticed it? The fragrance of incense with a few notes of patchouli is so strong it penetrates every synapse and imprints into my DNA.
“Are you sure you’re fine? You’re pale.”
Has she always had lips so sexy I want to kiss her until we lose consciousness? I’d never noticed she wears cherry-colored lip gloss that makes her mouth look even more full than I remembered.
“Yes, sorry, I just need to get some air.” I stand up and walk to the bathroom before she can say anything else.
I lock the door and rest my hands on the sink, observing my reflection in the mirror. My hair is disheveled, and the circles around my eyes stand out even more on skin which looks paler than usual. I look sick, and I understand why Emily is worried. I take a deep breath, turn on the cold water, and splash my face. A few drops slip down my arms, dampening my jacket and shirt.
I look at the dark spots and shake my head. On a typical day, with my brain awake and functioning, I would take off my jacket, roll up my shirtsleeves, and stick the tie between the buttons on my chest to avoid this disaster.
But today is not a typical day. That website has corrupted every cell in my brain. Emily is the same as every other day she sets foot in these offices, but my body perceives her differently. Or rather, my brain caught up with the rest of me and began to see her as she really is: gorgeous and sensual. It’s as if I turned on a switch, a light, and now I’m looking at her for the first time as a woman, not just a colleague.
I inhale deeply and fix my hair. On the other side of the door, a slight knock brings me back to earth. “Evan, I’m sorry to bother you, but you remember we have lunch with Lilly, right? If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late.”
I had completely forgotten about it. “Yes, I’m almost done. Give me a minute.”
I don’t hear any response from her, but a shadow moves in the crack under the door. I turn the latch, grab the handle, and open it without giving myself time to think about how much this day has started uphill and shows no signs of improving.
Lilly is already sitting at one of the tables outside the usual café we often go to for lunch. In front of her are a cup and a blueberry muffin. I observe her tired face and almost stumble on a small step on the sidewalk. Beside me, Emily throws me a questioning glance and immediately looks worriedly at her friend. I’m not the only one struggling with this terrible band situation. I’ve never seen Lilly with a frown like that.
A smile appears on her face when she sees us coming, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. We sit across from her without even thinking about food.
“How serious is it?” Emily asks without beating around the bush.
Lilly smiles and shrugs, but I already know the news is not good. “I’ve been sleeping for a week in the old apartment I shared with them because Luke alone can’t convince Martin and Taylor to shelve the idea of changing managers.” She grimaces.
I expected this reaction after the meeting we had. They have to release that album, or the anger they carry will never go away. It’s been smoldering inside them for too long to disappear with a simple promise from me.
When Emily realizes I am having a problem finding words, she glances at me, and her expression softens as she grasps that she will have to take the reins of this conversation.
With any other client, I would have loosened my grip sooner. The work and effort to resolve this situation far outweigh any economic benefit that justifies my commitment at the expense of finding new customers. My income is a percentage of their earnings. I don’t see a penny if they don’t sell or go on tour. But this is not a normal situation. Lilly is the partner of one of my best friends, the record company will try to exploit her to the point of crushing her, and I want to be there, personally, to make sure that they do not take advantage of her. At the moment, I am failing miserably.
“And what does Damian think?” continues Emily.
These days I realize that I took the Red Velvet Curtains to heart almost as much as the Jailbirds, and their animosity toward me touches me personally. Lilly is part of my life as much as Damian, and with her, everyone else. Our lives are so interconnected on an intimate level that it is impossible to separate them from professional relationships. I grew up with the Jailbirds. I built my career around them because they were the first to give me unconditional trust. It’s impossible to stay detached when your whole working life depends on the personal relationships you have created with your clients. If it had been any other, I would have offered up my usual reassuring phrases for when a situation is difficult, but I need them to trust me. I cannot say a word at the moment.
“He says we have to solve the issue among ourselves. No one can help us. He’s hurting to see me like this, but he doesn’t get in the way and smash the heads of my two bandmates. At least I’m not worried about him ending up in jail.” She looks up at the sky and inhales deeply. I watch her try to calm down and wonder how many times she has done it these days, feeling guilt making room in my chest.
“And you? What do you think of this situation?” I ask her when I can find my voice.
