Cayson

I lie awake all night thinking about that damn book and how it ended. How am I going to make this right for the both of us? I’ve got a month to make it right before the band and I embark on our world tour. Last year, when we planned out all the cities, I couldn’t have been more excited. Paris, London, Amsterdam, Munich, Barcelona, Lisbon, and then back to the States. A few dates on U.S. soil and then Asia. When all was said and done, the last show would be in Phoenix, our hometown. Now, just the thought of being away in another country without making things right with Kayla scares the shit out of me.

If I leave without her knowing how I feel about her, the chances of me losing her forever are good. Hell, I might not even have a chance now, but I’ve got to try. I need to enlist my mom’s help. If anyone can help me get to Kayla, it would be her, or Patricia, but I’d rather keep this one in the family.

I mindlessly walk to the kitchen and go through the motions of making a cup of coffee all the while trying to figure out how I’m going to get to Kayla and whether or not she’ll be willing to see me. Absentmindedly, I forget to put the K-Cup in the machine and brew myself nothing but a cup of hot water.

“FUCK!” I yell at myself. Pull your head out of your ass! the voice inside my head screams back. Normally, I like the voice in my head; it’s where all my creative concepts come from. Some of the band’s best compilations stem from the voice in my head, but today it’s not my friend. You’ll never get her back if you can’t pull your head out of your ass, buddy. “Oh, shut the fuck up,” I tell myself out loud. If anyone walked in right now, they’d think I’m out of my mind. Actually, I probably am. Kayla is all that consumes my mind these day.

Just go to her house, knock on her door, and tell her you’re sorry, that voice tells me. “It’s not that simple; she doesn’t want to to see me, dumbass,” I reply to myself. Yep, I’ve lost my mind. “Stop talking to yourself, Cayson,” I verbally scold my reflection in the glass insert of my kitchen cabinet.

I place a K-cup in the machine and try brewing myself a cup of coffee once again. This time I’m successful. Cup in hand, I make my way to the table, take a seat, and let that fucking book taunt me once again. Three cups later, I’m still no closer to having any ideas that would actually work, and now I’m going to be late for my meeting with Sean. I quickly dress in my favorite old, tattered blue jeans. They’ve been washed so many times that they’ve begun to fray, but I just don’t have the heart to toss them away. They’re the exact pair I wore the day we signed with the record label. These jeans symbolize my rise to success; tossing them away would be like spitting karma in the face, which is something I won’t do.

As I climb into the car, I shoot off a quick text to Sean letting him know I’m on my way. Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling into the driveway of Sean’s Paradise Valley home on Mummy Mountain. The views are amazing, but it’s not me. I don’t need the prestige that comes with living in the area. I just want my life to be simple; just like myself.

Before I can knock on the door, Sean pulls it open and steps aside, letting me enter. “CJ, we’ve got to talk about Rocky. We can’t afford any more issues, and frankly I’m concerned about him and our stop in Amsterdam. Hell, I’m concerned about him in general.”

I sit on the couch and lean forward, resting my forearms on my legs, clasp my hands together, and brace for what’s to come.

“We were lucky it was just alcohol this last time. What happens when it’s drugs again, CJ?” Sean questions me as he sits across from me in his favorite wingbacked chair.

“Look, Sean,” I say, “these same questions run through my head all the time. But hey, Rocky has already been by my house, and he is worried himself. In fact, he’s being very proactive about this and wants to hire his own personal security person. Someone he feels comfortable with who will help him toe the line. He feels he’s got the drinking under control now, but he isn’t oblivious to the fact that temptation will be in his face on some of our stops.”

Sean sits back with a look of surprise on his face. “I’m impressed.”

I want to tell him to go fuck himself and to stop treating Rocky as a fuckup, but I don’t. I probably shouldn’t even have said anything because I know Rocky wanted to be the one to share this. “Look, he’s not going to ask the record label to pay for this; we don’t need any red flags. But when he finds someone, I want you to make it happen. You do the necessary paperwork, screening and anything else involved regarding an NDA, but I want to split the cost with him. I want him to feel like we’ve got his back and he’s not in it alone. Do you understand?”

Sean stands and stretches, placing his hands on his lower back, and arches forward. “Fucking chair is so uncomfortable,” he complains, then continues, “Sounds like you and Rocky have it all under control. I’ll do whatever you need me to. I’m in.”

I laugh for a minute. “I thought that was your favorite chair. If it’s so uncomfortable, why do you sit in it all the time?”

Sean clasps my shoulder. “Simple, CJ, Patricia bought it for me on our anniversary. I hate the damn thing, but I’d never tell her that. She put a lot of thought and love into that purchase, and no matter how uncomfortable it is, I’ll tolerate it because I love her. That’s what you do for someone you love. You take the good and the bad and love them regardless. You might want to think about that.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Sean? You know how I hate it when any of you talk in riddles,” I say as I follow him to the front door.

“Someday, you’ll figure it out, CJ, but until then,”—he opens the front door—“get out. You were late, and I have plans for the rest of the day that you are making me late for. See ya, buddy.”

* * *

For three days, I’ve tried to come up with the perfect way to see Kayla, but nothing came to mind. Let’s face it; I’m downright scared she’ll slam the door in my face. I’m not afraid of anything, but when it comes to her, I’m absolutely terrified. I’ve had more arguments with the voice in my head than I care to admit. Every suggestion I come up with, he immediately shoots down, only confirming that when it comes to Kayla Marshall, I’m not a Rock God but just an ordinary man. My fame and fortune don’t impress her like they do most women, and without that, what do I have to offer her?

Day after day, I try to find what is it that I can possibly offer Kayla. I’m nothing special. As a child, I was a confused and lost boy who believed that love was nothing and happily ever afters didn’t exist. As a man, I still held those same beliefs until my mom set me straight. I’ve never had a relationship with anyone who wasn’t just sexual gratification, and even then I was selfish about my needs and avoided anything that would let a woman believe she could ever be anything more than a one-night stand. I’ve never put a woman above myself, and I’ve shied away from anything remotely similar to commitment. Now, I want everything I never believed in until I met Kayla. These are the things I ponder for weeks as I find the strength inside myself to know I can be everything she needs and I’m willing to do anything it takes to show her. As luck would have it, Kayla is doing a book signing at a local store in Phoenix called The Blazing Book Bar. I didn’t even know we had such a place, but it exists. It’s a combination of a bookstore, wine bar, and small restaurant all in one, and in two weeks, Kayla will be there promoting the release of her book in paperback and signing autographs. This is my one chance to see her and talk to her again. That gives me two weeks to figure out what to say to her, and two weeks after to make her mine before I leave for a month to tour abroad. If all goes well, by the time we get back to the USA, I’ll be able to convince her to travel with us for three months before we hit the Asian portion of our tour and I’ll be gone again for another two months.

* * *

When I enter the room, Kayla is standing at a microphone talking about ‘Love’s Lost Melody.’ She is breathtakingly beautiful dressed in a sleeveless pale blue dress that ends mid-thigh. I’m so mesmerized that I don’t even hear a word she’s saying. I just stand there watching her. Her lips are moving, but I can’t hear anything over the beating of my heart. I make sure to stay out of sight for fear she will have me thrown out of the place if she sees me.

When she asks if the audience has any questions about the book, hands are raised throughout the room. Kayla calls out to a young girl probably in her early twenties sitting in the second row.

“Hi, my name is Talley, and my question is, why didn’t Lara ever tell Richie how she felt? Did you even think of writing the book from that perspective? I’ve read all your books, and they always end with the couple finding themselves together. This is the first book where I was sad at the end.”

My heart speeds up even faster as I wait to hear what Kayla has to say. “Nice to meet you, Talley, and thank you for being a loyal fan. Honestly, I never saw a happy ending for this couple. Lara was too afraid to tell Richie how she felt. She knew she meant nothing to him, and he was always so sure that love never occurred in real life, so in my mind, she didn’t see a reason to make a fool of herself.”

Quickly, Kayla moves on to the next hand raised that belongs to a man sitting next to an older woman located halfway into the seating area. “Yes, sir, what is your question?”

The man clears his throat before he speaks. You can tell by his body language that he is a little uneasy. “I read this story with my girlfriend.” He looks over at the woman sitting next to him. “She’s a huge fan, by the way, but we have different perspectives on the two characters. I actually think Lara was the weak one in the story, not Richie.”

Gasps come from all over the room, and a few rude comments are made before he has a chance to finish. “Hold up, ladies, don’t castrate me just yet.” A few laughs echo around him. “Why does it always have to be the man who chases after the woman? If Lara was so in love with Richie and was brokenhearted, why not just tell him so? What’s the worst thing that would happen? He would deny having the same feelings, and she would be no worse off than she currently was, but at least she’d know there was no hope? What if he professed that he felt the same way and was too afraid to say so himself? Wouldn’t they have been able to overcome their hurdles and be together, then?”

Heads begin nodding all around the man, and Kayla’s face shows that she is contemplating what he said. After a few moments, she speaks up. “I guess you could be right, sir. Maybe she was too afraid to find out the answer, and if she was stronger and actually asked the question, the ending could have been different. But as luck would have it, the book is already finished, and the ending is the ending. Maybe I should add you to my beta staff.” Laughter erupts throughout the room at Kayla’s comment.

Several more minutes of Q&A continue before attendants start filing everyone into a line to have their books autographed. A hand appears in front of me holding a copy of ‘Love’s Lost Melody.’ “You’re not as inconspicuous as you think, son. Now, take this and go have her sign it. Say hello and be nice.”

I should have known that my mom would be here. “Thanks, Mom, but I think I’ll pass. I just wanted to see how the book release went.”

With a slap to the back of my head, I stumble forward. “CJ, you are a complete idiot if you think your mother is so naïve as to why you are really here. Take the damn book and say hello. In fact, stay put right here, and you can get her to sign it when she goes into the back room after everyone leaves. I’ll let Patricia know.”

“Why the fuck is everyone always slapping me over the head these days?” I ask while my hand rubs away the sting still remaining on my skull.

Without hesitation, Mom responds, “Apparently, because we all know what an idiot you’re being and you’re the only one who is too blind to see it. Now, do as I say before I slap you again.”

I stand out of sight as I watch my mom walk over to Patricia and whisper in her ear. Patricia’s eyes glance in my direction, spotting me, and then she smiles from ear to ear. The line of readers dwindles down slowly, and the longer I stand waiting, the more uneasy I begin to feel about my decision to come here tonight. Just about the time I decide to make a run for it, Mom curls her finger at me, telling me she wants me front and center. Shaking my head, I mouth the words “never mind” to her, but she is having none of it. Mom’s hands go to her hips as she mouths the word “NOW.”

Feeling like a five-year-old child being scolded, I slowly saunter over to where my mom is standing, book in hand. Mom quickly laces her arm through mine and starts pulling me toward the back room, where I see Kayla standing with her back to me, talking to Patricia.

“Kayla,” Mom says, “you have one more book to sign. Oh, and Pat, can you help me clean up out here, please?”

Kayla turns, and her eyes meet mine. Those beautiful hazel eyes lock with mine and grow the size of quarters. Kayla’s mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. Both Pat and my mother left the room, and I know it is now or never if I’m going to get a chance to talk to her.

“Hi,” I stammer quietly then clear my throat and start again. “Hi, beautiful, care to autograph a book for me?”

Kayla doesn’t acknowledge my presence; she just stands there and looks right through me. A sick feeling churns in my gut as I stand there and stare back in silence.