The next morning while I’m cooking brunch at home the door swings open unexpectedly. Into my loft strolls Justin wearing his usual uniform of expensive suit and tie, shoes shined to mirrors. “When do you leave for New Orleans?”

With a twist of my wrist I flip the breakfast-quesadilla in the air, and without losing any of the egg inside, it lands neatly back in the pan as I inform him, “I’m not going to the concert.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Nope. I’m really not.”

He waits until he’s right next to me before crossing his arms. “Why the fuck aren’t you going?”

I answer flatly, “Because she didn’t ask me. And I need a break from Sarah.”

There’s been something going on between me and Simone’s assistant/friend that I can’t define. She’s grown harder to ignore. There I was recording one of the best voices of our time and Sarah’s close proximity to me was holding my interest more? That’s insane. I could hear her breathing like it was sensually right in my ear, and she was a normal distance away. When she paced her soft scent made me want to look over and see what she was up to.

And right there on the other side of the damn glass was Simone Ross-Taylor crooning a future Number One hit! I knew it, but couldn’t lock onto the importance of that fact.

It was like I just wanted to sit down and ask Sarah about herself. Learn more about her history. Does she have family? Is she as loyal to them as she is to her friend? Does she want one of her own?

Fuck it. I’m acting like a crazy person. We don’t even get along and I can’t get her out of my head.

I just need some distance.

As I turn my back to grab a beer from the fridge Justin says, “You produced the album. She’s debuting a song from it. You’re fucking going! And I’m going with you.”

Chuckling, “Oh, you are?” I throw him a can of Cadence beer.

He catches it, reading the label. “This from Reformation Brewing?”

“Yep, you need glasses or something? Why are you squinting?”

“Fucking computers have been eating away at my eyes. I’ve been meaning to try this.” He pops it open and takes a big slug.

My brothers and I only buy from local brewers when we’re in Georgia, and there’re plenty to choose from. Craft brewing has become the thing and we’re all on board.

“Verdict?”

“Fucking delicious. I got us rooms at Bourbon Orleans Hotel.”

Sliding the quesadilla onto a red plate, I cock an eyebrow at the visual. “Wait, are you saying that’s right on Bourbon Street?”

“Fuck yes,” he grins before taking another sip. “Location location location.”

Laughing I shrug. “Fine. I’m in.”

“You’re dying to be near the bitch anyway.”

I glance to him in surprise, mistaking which bitch he means. He misreads my expression and laughs, “What? You said don’t call her a whore! I didn’t say whore, did I? I called her a –”

“You’re such an asshole,” I mutter, pouring a good-sized glob of salsa onto the center of the circle.

“You’re going to eat that like a taco?” he asks as I roll it up.

I nod through a bite. With my mouth full, I explain, “Don’t feel like cutting up the triangles”

“And now I can see your half-chewed meal. Thank you for that.”

Opening my mouth wide and leaning toward him, I make a noise like someone showing their tonsils to a doctor.

Justin shakes his head like he’s the only adult in the room, and walks away from me.

“Concert’s tonight so pack your things.”

Quickly swallowing, I blurt, “Oh shit! That’s right.”

After listening to her song all day and night yesterday, and layering the harmonies until I fell asleep on the dials, her concert slipped my mind. I woke up needing a shower and some food. This is all I’ve had since yesterday.

Whenever I’m working I forget to eat.

My brother lowers himself onto my leather couch and picks up a Rolling Stone magazine. “My bag’s outside in the Audi. Get to it.”

There’s a single divider between the bed and the rest of the room. I’ve found the ladies like the illusion of privacy, even when I live alone, because Justin’s got a penthouse apartment two blocks from here and he comes over all the time. Has a key and never knocks. More than once he’s interrupted some hardcore fucking.

Throwing jeans from my dresser onto my king size bed, I call over the divider, “Did you notice at the last BBQ how Dad and Jaxson were acting?”

Thumbing through my magazine, he mutters, “Nope. Why, what’d you see?”

Frowning at the memory of the day Jax proposed to his future wife I call over, “They were really stiff with each other.”

“Dad’s stiff, Jason. You know that.”

“Nah, it was like how he is with Jett. There was an anger between them. You didn’t see it?”

From a distracted place Justin mumbles, “I was too busy being pissed you guys didn’t include me in the surprise. Assholes. Hey, Simone’s not headlining right? Who’s she opening for again?”

“Jager Barris.”

“Who?”

“You don’t listen to the radio do you?”

Justin tosses the magazine onto my coffee table and I hear him kick his feet on top of it. If we were at Jake’s place those shoes would be at the door, not on my fucking table. I should start implementing that rule.

“I listen to podcasts and that’s it,” Justin tells me. “Face The Nation. Decode DC. Candidate Confessional. And those are just my top three. I don’t have time for music.”

My hand freezes while folding my favorite grey hoodie. “You don’t have time for music?!!”

“Nope.”

Jumping from behind the divider, I thrust my arm toward the door. “Get out of my house.” When he just sits there smirking at me like, come make me, I shout, “OUT.”

Chuckling, Justin stands, dusts off his slacks, adjusts his junk and cocks an eyebrow at me. “I’ll be in the Audi listening to anything but Simone Ross-Taylor.”

I lower my arm after he’s gone. “Dick. Who doesn’t have time for music?” As I fold more clothes into the black suitcase, I’m still shaking my head. “How are we even blood-related much less identical twins? I mean what the fuck?”

I’m so disgusted with him that I zip up the case, thinking how I’m going to ride his ass about time-management and lack of taste the second I climb in his car. I’m so focused on it I completely forget that Simone doesn’t know I’m coming. Which is why I completely forget to text her and let her in on the news.

Besides, why wouldn’t she want to see me?