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“Why?”
“What does it matter?”
“If it didn’t matter you wouldn’t look like you’ve been gut punched.”
He tugged at his hair, stiff with product and sweat. He didn’t want to talk about this. He never wanted to talk about it. He wanted to go home, take a long shower, sleep late, adopt a dog, foster a cat, avoid pasta, hang out with kids who needed to bang things and imaginary friends who didn’t get up in his business. “She lied. She came to apologize. We’re done. I’m not seeing her again.”
“That’s baller, quitting on someone you dig with no second chances.”
“A second chance to lie to me?”
“And you’ve never lied.”
Not where it counted. “Transparent as fucking glass. You know that. You just said I was a terrible liar.”
“Except for what happened tonight.”
No. Screw you, Jay. No. He’d kept a secret. It wasn’t the same thing. When he frowned it kicked a headache off, a dull throb behind his eyes. Yes, it was lie, you fuckwit, you know it. You are done with lies and liars. “You knew I played piano.”
“Not like that.”
“You mean like a trained musician.”
“What you did out there tonight isn’t anything like any of us can do. You lied, Grip.”
“Nope. I didn’t share the details, that’s different.”
“That’s not a small thing. You just added a whole new dimension to what Lost Property can achieve and for whatever reason you held that back all these years. Did she lie to you or did she not share the details?”
She had a secret, but it was his secret too and it was wrong to keep it from him. The two things were not the same. Nowhere near. “It was a pretty fucking big detail she left out.”
“I could say the same thing to you.”
That was like a whole load of bricks falling on his head, knocking his sense about, making him taste his own rage.
Jay’s hands came up, palms flat. “Okay, okay. You never get like this. You’re never pushed off your balance. Not with all the drama that goes on. You’re always steady. You’re Switzerland. But not the last few weeks. You’ve been distant. Irritable. Not yourself. That woman means something to you, and I know about fucking up on that score. I made assumptions about what Evie wanted because my pride was wounded. Missed a lot of time having her in my life. Almost didn’t get her back. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
“Once a liar,” he repeated, but the phrase felt empty of meaning now. Once didn’t mean shit. Once he was going to be a concert pianist. Didn’t make being a drummer a lie. Mena had tried to tell him something, he’d shut her down at least twice with kisses. He’d seen this business, the fame, the money, the drugs, the whole ride, change so many people, it was only fair she held back with him. Fuck, he was so tired, he couldn’t think straight.
“Let it go, Jay.” He needed to take his own instruction.
Jay fished his phone out and texted his driver, Hassan. “I don’t know what’s really going on with you, but I know something pushed you into letting go some truths tonight. Wicked licks I’ve never heard from you before. I hope I hear them again.”
Jay’s phone rang and Evie’s face came up on his screen. The man’s smile said everything that Grip’s body pained for, his mind craved. He wanted what his friends had together. That singular connection. Trust and desire. Clarity in all the commotion. Each other’s best interests front and center like a bass drum. A strong beat to create a lifeline, to lift up the good times, to hold steady though the worst.
His face must’ve given his thoughts away.
“Maybe you need to hear her again,” Jay said.
He gestured towards the party still raging in the backstage area. “Plenty of fish.”
“Plenty of songs. Most of them aren’t hits. None of my hits started out that way. Sometimes I only had a line, the barest idea to work with.”
“How do you know when a line is worth working on?” He’d thought Mena was worth it. That they’d work out what they could be. Give it a name and grow together inside it.
Jay’s eyes shifted to the vision of Evie making her w
ay to them, tugging a beat-up leather biker jacket over her arms. She might’ve been turning backflips for the way Jay lit up. “You feel it,” he said, tapping his chest, “here.”
