And this song… my favorite song of the whole album… it was stunning. Maybe there were better songs on the album, in some ways; songs that would be singles before this one. But some of those songs were still so hard for me to listen to, knowing the truth behind them. The love songs were the easiest for me to get swept up in.
I had a stone in my throat by the time it finished.
“You like?” Johnny nuzzled into me, his arms encircling me. Like he instinctively knew that I had all the feels coursing through me right now, and the only thing that would make them feel even better was him, touching me.
“You’ve finished it?” I asked him, with a glance at Noah.
“It’s as finished as finished gets with Johnny and Cary in the room,” Noah said.
“We’d probably tweak it forever,” Johnny admitted. “If we could.”
Noah poked Johnny’s knee with a drumstick as he got to his feet. “Perfectionism. It’s a terrible disease.”
“It’s an affliction,” I agreed solemnly, playing with the soft hair at the nape of Johnny’s neck.
“It’s finished,” Johnny admitted, grudgingly.
“I love it,” I told them both, sincerely. “And not just because it’s about me. The whole album is amazing.”
“Cary said he’s bringing the Players in to listen on Monday,” Noah said. “Think you can get your sister in here?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said coyly. My sister would be here in a heartbeat if I told her Johnny’s album was finished, and she was invited to listen. For one, music was her jam. And two, she’d love to give him her two cents on it. She wanted his band and his album and his career to be a huge success. Because it mattered to me. “Nervous?” I grinned at Johnny.
He smiled back. “Not at all.” He kissed me, then nudged me off his lap so we could get up. “See you back here Monday, bright and early?” he said to Noah.
Noah was stretching languidly. “Savage. I’ll be here sometime in the afternoon.”
“Alright, brother.” They hugged, then Noah headed out the back door.
The engineer seemed to be busy with something on the other side of the window, and I slipped my arms around Johnny’s neck. “Your music gets me hot.” I bit his lip, and his strong arms went around me. He squeezed my ass.
Then I pulled away. “I am punishing you, though.”
He gave me a devious look, interested. “How?”
“Hmm. By not fucking you right here, right now?” I tugged him toward the door. “And taking you to a party instead?”
“Cruel.”
We pushed out through the back exit, into a stairwell that led down to the parking area along the back alley. Johnny slung his arm around my shoulders and I cuddled into his side as we headed down. I was so fucking proud of him, I could burst.
Some scars told stories. His wrote songs.
And what incredible songs they were.
That was the name of the album…Scars.
He kissed me on the top of my head, like he could feel my pride in him. “How was your day?” he asked me, like he always did.
I fucking loved that, because seriously: he was a rock star. His days, no matter how mundane, were way more interesting than the average person’s. I knew that because my sister was a rock star, too. And now, living with Johnny in his house—our house—I’d learned that even a “nothing” sort of day was comprised of things like working out in his state of the art gym with his personal trainer, swimming in his heated pool, eating at the hottest new restaurant in town with friends, playing guitar, writing songs, front row tickets and backstage access to whatever he wanted to see, etcetera. Of course, I got to enjoy those perks too, with him, but the fact that he still wanted to know every detail about my day… it warmed my heart.
Because I knew he cared. He cared about all the little things that made my life mine, especially when he wasn’t around. Because he didn’t want to miss a thing.
“It was epic,” I gushed. “I had the big meeting with Danica and her team. The photo shoot is a go.”
As he knew, I’d taken on a new client a few months ago. Danica Vola, wife of the Players’ lead singer Ashley Player—and their bassist, Matt Brohmer. Technically, Danica wasn’t legally married to both men, but Danica, Ash and Matt had been in a committed three-way relationship for a few years now.
Danica made custom jewelry for VIP clients, and while she handmade each piece and had no interest in expanding her business to a whole line of products, her work—and her relationship—got a lot of media attention. And now she and her work were being profiled in some popular fashion magazines—thanks to her publicist,me.
