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“Speaking of guitars.” Dad holds up a black rectangle. “Hannah was dealing with this week’s laundry and found this in one of your jackets.”
I take the rectangle from him and suck in a loud breath. Shane’s business card.
“I know you need…space and for us to not cheer you on or pester you about your every step, but I am very curious about how you managed to weave yourself into ACD and Project Viper business at the same time. You are aware of the history between Shane and Jace, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I try to stick the card into my pocket, but my current pants have none. “Shane sto— married Jace’s best friend.”
Dad nods, eyebrows raised. “Why do you have Shane’s card, then?”
I can’t help laughing. “He asked me if I’d rep his new brand.” I tap at the logo printed on the card.
Dad’s eyebrows climb even higher. “Does Jace know?”
“Are you worried I’ll break his fragile heart? He was there. Jace is Shane’s first ambassador, so’s you know.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Right?” It’s satisfying beyond anything to know I’m not the only one who thinks so.
He shakes his head. “Be careful, Laurel. Anyone who believes that guys don’t do drama is sorely mistaken. Don’t get caught in the crossfire.” He lifts his arms, inviting me for a hug.
My father is too silly and a little adorable. On stage he’s a fortress. A tank. At home, he’s a teddy bear, or a squishy fox, I guess.
“I will be fine. I’m not getting involved with Shane’s brand, and Jace and I are…not close enough for you to worry about me.”
“Not close enough yet.” He boops me on the nose.
“Okay, now you’re being annoying. I’d like my space back.”
He releases me and turns to go, then turns around again. “Have you tried any of the Venom guitars?”
“Do you want to?”
Dad shrugs, feigning indifference, but I know him. If it’s got strings, he wants to mess around with it. Just like Jace.
“I can’t believe you’re only now hearing about this,” I tell him.
“Actually, I’ve been catching rumors here and there, but you know how it is. I can’t—”
“—show interest. Well, it’s your lucky day. A certain Shane O’Neal insisted on me having a sample. I’ll be right back.”
When I bring my Boyfriend, I watch Dad closely as he takes the guitar for a spin. He plays several of the songs he’s working on, twists the guitar in every direction, tries out several pedals along with it. I’m surprised he doesn’t lick it.
“Dad!” I exclaim as something occurs to me. “You’re not thinking of taking Venom gear with you on your next tour?” Why else would he be testing his latest work on it?
“Of course not.” He returns Boyfriend into the case and fidgets with his phone. “I’m still under contract with Fender. But it’s not bad.”
Not bad to the point of him looking up Venom Guitars’ promotional website as he leaves the room. “Kids these days,” Dad mutters. “Wizards everywhere.”
(two weeks later)
August arrives in full force. The days get hotter than at any other time of the year, chasing me into the pool for hours on end. The evenings are long and dreamy. A lot of the windows in our house are open, much to Jonas’ chagrin. He insists it’s a breach in security. Mom feeds him red velvet cake and opens more windows. I’m with her. The languid twilight evenings boost my creativity. I’ve recorded dozens of different tracks for Jace’s song. There are countless ways we could arrange it. We haven’t seen each other yet. He’s been out of town on band business, but he calls me every day. I wonder what he’ll go for.
I push away from the mixing board and perch on the windowsill. The recording studio windows face our backyard surrounded by thick pines and wrought-iron fence. I’ve been doing so many things out of my comfort zone, but they haven’t made me any more comfortable. Some of my older insecurities accompany me once again. I want to trust Jace, but my previous experiences warn me to be careful. I fill my lungs with the cool evening air and breathe out slowly. Whatever happens, I don’t have to be nervous. I know how to handle heartbreak inflicted by fakes.
Now, how do I deal with someone genuine?
My phone rings, startling me and almost toppling me off the narrow windowsill. Then my heart soars when I see the caller ID. Jace.
