CHAPTER 23

JARED

“Dude, you do know that there are hundreds of furniture stores in this city, right?” Every time I was over at Caleb’s house, I gave him shit for how sparsely decorated his place was.

The guy had two couches that should have been donated to the Salvation Army at least a decade ago. He’d picked them up at a yard sale long before we took off and refused to replace them. There was a small, distressed looking coffee table between them that we’d grown up with, and he had a mattress with only a base and no frame in his bedroom.

Other than that, he had a few odds and ends scattered around. Souvenirs that he’d collected from the places we visited and some art on the walls that he considered an investment.

The only concessions he’d made that hinted at the fact that he had two pennies to rub together was the eighty-five-inch, 4K Ultra HD TV that was mounted on his wall, the impressive equipment in his music room, and the location of his house. The location thing didn’t really count to my mind, though, because again, he’d only bought it because he considered it an investment.

“You’re a millionaire, but you’re living like you could still be booted out any second,” I said, walking into the mostly empty space of his living area. Raising my beer, I pointed at him. “In case you missed it, no one’s chucking you out of here.”

“I know,” he grumbled. “It’s my signature on the paperwork.”

I held my arms out wide and turned slowly. The living area we were standing in had high ceilings with views of the yards of his famous neighbors and across the city below. “If that’s true, then why are you still living like a squatter?”

“I’m not, Jared,” he snapped and grasped at the back of his neck. Turning, he led the way through the wide double doors that led outside to his deck and across it to his shimmering blue pool.

No bar. No patio set. No loungers by the pool. Nothing but a foldable camping chair that sat facing the view of the city in the corner of the large wooden surface that formed the entirety of Caleb’s yard. That was all that was out here.

The city’s lights blinked up at us as we kicked off our sneakers, sat down by the edge of the pool, and lowered our legs into the cool water. It was something of a ritual for us and the reason I knew to wear shorts when I came over.

Caleb made a sweeping gesture with his hand across the panoramic view he had of the city. “You think squatters have views like this?”

“No, probably not. I wasn’t talking about the house. I was talking about what was in it. Or rather, what isn’t in it.”

He scowled and raked a hand through his hair. “What more do I need? I can lie on the couch and watch TV, play Xbox, eat, sleep, and make music.”

“I don’t know, maybe a couch that doesn’t look like it went through the first world war. Or how about a dining room table?”

Caleb scoffed at me, kicking his feet around in the water. “What? Like that monstrosity you bought? Have you ever even eaten at that thing?”

“Of course, I have. You were there. Christmas last year.”

His eyes met mine, the ends of his hair moving from shaking his head. “We didn’t eat at that table, we drank at it. Just like we’re drinking right here. And nothing out here set me back a cool thirty grand just to look pretty.”

“That’s because there’s nothing pretty out here.”

Caleb snorted and sipped his beer. “Maybe, but have you even thought about all the useless shit you spend your money on?”

“What useless shit?” I shrugged innocently, and Caleb full on laughed, but not in a way that any humor reached his eyes.

“Let’s see. How about the inflatable, motorized bumper boats for your pool, the full-sized air hockey table in your game room that you hardly ever use, or the bubble tent that we put up in your garden until you realized how hot and humid it was in those things?”

“Oh yeah.” I grinned. “Those things. They’re not useless. They’re awesome.”

“You might think so, but they’re a waste of money. You have to start thinking about our future, your future. We might be hot right now, but that’s not going to last, and you know it. You need to start planning for when this chapter ends and put some money away so that you don’t end up with nothing and crashing on that couch of mine that you hate so much.”

I waved him off, wishing he would loosen up for once. “That’s what our financial planner’s for. He’s making sure that we’re set up for the future. I mean come on, what do you and I know about money and investment? Nothing. Zip. Nada. Let the suits deal with that stuff and have a little fun with the spare cash that you have lying around. There’s enough of it to go around.”

“That’s your fucking problem, man. It’s all about fun, the here and now.”

“I don’t see how having fun is a fucking problem.”

“You wouldn’t. That’s part of the problem. Take Alicia for example. We need that chick. She’s blown this album into something that legends are made of, and it hasn’t even been released yet. Of course, you didn’t take that into consideration before you whipped your dick out and started ramming it into her on a daily basis.”

“What does that have to do with anything? We have an understanding, her and I. She’s not going to leave us when that comes to an end. “

“Jesus,” Caleb muttered and chugged down half of his beer. “You’re in the first long-term relationship you’ve had in years, and you don’t even fucking know it. You might have an understanding now, but what happens when you start parading groupies around in front of her when we’re on tour in a couple of months? What happens a year from now, if and when we’re recording another album, and she’s not there to ramp up the hype to higher levels than this one? You ever think about that?”

“We’re not in a relationship, firstly,” I started, stressing the one point that had jumped out at me immediately. He didn’t know what he was talking about when it came to what Alicia and I had agreed to, and he had to back the fuck out of it.

Caleb laughed incredulously at my objection to our relationship status and didn’t let me say anything more before he interrupted. “You’re not in a relationship? Tell me something then, Jared. How many other women have you fucked since you started fucking her?”

I swallowed and followed his example in draining half my beer because I knew what his assumption was going to be when I answered. “None, but that doesn’t mean that I’m dating her.”

“You’re not dating her, but you dragged the woman off for a quickie while we were doing those ‘making of’ interviews at your house the other day.”

“Oh yeah. That was fun. I should convince her to organize more things at my place.”

Caleb rolled his eyes and continued. “Holy shit. You’re so oblivious. If we didn’t look so much alike, I would be sure that you were adopted. You know what regular sex, on demand, with the same woman, and only that woman, is called, Jared? A relationship.”

I blinked. I hadn’t thought about it that way. But no. Alicia knew the score between us. “Nah, you’re wrong. Not for us.”

Caleb’s jaw twitched, and he now had a white-knuckled grip on his beer. Damn, now he was getting angry. “Let me spell this out for you in a way that you might understand. Where in your house are you fucking her?”

“Everywhere,” I answered without hesitation.

“Everywhere but in your guest bedroom, right? You’ve fucked in your bed, am I right? No way a girl like that hangs around if you do nothing but fuck everywhere but in your own bed and never let her sleep over.”

“So? Yeah, I’ve fucked her in my bed, and she sleeps there. That doesn’t make it more than what it is.”

“You’re a fool if you believe that.” He jumped to his feet and didn’t look at me as he marched into his house, biting out an irritated, “I’m going to need something much harder than beer for this conversation.”

“Dude seriously needs to get laid more,” I mumbled into the darkness and the warm night air.

Talking about Alicia with him made me really think for the first time about the fact that this thing with her—not being a relationship and all—was going to end sooner or later. I honestly didn’t know how I would feel when it did.