Chasing the Music: For the Love of Music Book 0.5 Read online

  “I don’t think I’ll ever feel solid in my career,” Lita mused as she bit the end of the straw.

  Chandler started his car and pulled onto the highway. “That’s not very reassuring.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  He pushed down on the gas as they made their way back into the valley, and she relaxed into the speed and steadiness of his driving.

  Her stomach dropped. “Oh, crap.”

  “What?”

  “My phone. It’s in the dressing room at the theater. We left right after, so I—”

  “It’s only been a couple hours. I bet cleaning crew’s still there. Let’s get it.”

  “Great.” And then she wondered why she cared. Her phone felt more like a chain than anything else. A way for her to be kept track of and managed. Though she did use it for nearly everything…

  In minutes he squealed across the parking lot, and her heart sped in a rush as he slid to a stop behind the theater.

  “Trying to get a part in the next Fast and Furious movie?” she teased.

  “Always.”

  They stepped out together, and knocked on the back door, which was opened almost immediately by a guy she recognized as being from the venue staff.

  He gave them a nod and they stepped inside. This would be her stage again tomorrow, and the day after would be the first real day on the road. She’d been on the road more often than not over the past two and a half years, and days, weeks, and hotels had long since blended together.

  “What’s that noise?” Chandler asked as he paused behind one of the backstage curtains, cocking his head to the side and listening.

  She stopped and held her breath. “An electric guitar. Unplugged.”

  “Huh.”

  Who would be playing now?

  “Hey…” She tapped Chandler’s shoulder. “Can you go get my cell? It’s in the closet of my dressing room, top shelf.”

  “No problem.” He moved down the hallway and Lita walked toward the stage.

  The melody was smooth and soft, and the voice warm.

  They said we’d never get this far,

  at nineteen,

  married in your car…

  wedding bells,

  over a drive-thru window…

  She moved closer until she was around the black curtain and the soft light silhouetted a man’s lean frame sitting on the stool playing a guitar. Not hers, but one she recognized as a back up. The sound was slightly country, but more rock, or… Jack Johnson like? Interesting. Lita held her breath as the words continued.

  Life hasn’t always gone as planned, but we’ve conquered all, hand in hand, it amazes me, what love can do…

  Griffin’s face tilted to the side, and his eyes were closed as the words flowed.

  She wanted to sit with him. Feel the music. Breathe it the way he did. Damn, she missed that.

  Her body nearly pulled her forward, toward him, but she held still. She hated being interrupted, so she certainly wasn’t going to do it to someone else.

  The song ended and she blinked a few times, emotion making her chest heavy.

  Griffin leaned forward and picked his phone off the floor, putting it to his ear. “Night, Stace. I love you.”

  There was a pause and her chest pooled into something warm as goose bumps broke out across her skin. He’d been singing for a girl. Her cheeks heated up as she realized she’d been listening in on a private moment. Still...she wondered if it happened every night, or just sometimes. She hadn’t felt so...full...in such a long time.

  She backed away from him, and all the things that filled her up a moment ago felt like they were suddenly missing. Like her body replaced the warm energy of Griffin with the familiar twinges of panic over opinions on her new music, her new show, her in general…

  Listening in on someone play shouldn’t affect her so much.

  Chandler’s footsteps echoed behind her and she spun to meet up with him before ruining Griffin’s peace.

  “You okay?” Chandler asked as she jogged for the back door.

  “All good.” She panted as she caught her breath, and Lita glanced behind her at the short distance she’d run. Not far enough to be this winded. She had to get some sleep. “Take me to my hotel, give me a scandalous hug in the lobby, and I’m going to crash.”

  “Breakfast?” he asked. “Aren’t you starving?”

  She shook her head. Something inside her felt hollowed out after watching Griffin onstage. There was no way she’d be able to eat after that. And anyway, sleep was probably more important.

  “Sometime I’m going to want to meet this guy you’re crazy in love with,” Lita said.

  “And before that happens I’ll need to be out about it, or you’ll need to be a lot less popular.” He grinned but her stomach sank.

  How would she ever find something normal?

  Lita couldn’t sleep. Chandler had dropped her off hours ago, but her mind was stuck on the dark stage, a handsome man, and the girl on the other side of the phone. What would it be like to be loved like that?

  New lyrics hit her hard and fast. Another song she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to use, but the compulsion was too strong. She picked up a pen and started writing.

  The softer edges of midnight,

  pulled down into the starlight,

  and lifted us into flight...

  as I…

  watch…

  you…

  The softer lines of feeling

  leave me open, peeling

  you’re an array on the ceiling

  as I

  find

  you

  And in the stars it is written that love conquers all

  And in the way inside your arms, together we fall

  All the ways

  and all the things

  that draw me to you

  The softer edges of midnight will pull us through…

  For two weeks Griffin sat onstage alone and played starting about an hour or two after the show. And for two weeks Lita often found an excuse to come back, sit backstage, and listen to him play.

  Lita sat in the dark, Apelu waiting nearby, never saying a word.

  Her heart ached at the sincerity of his words, at the loyalty that would keep a guy calling his girl night after night. And each night she watched him play, her room and her bed and her life felt a little emptier.

  One thing was for sure—without them directly talking to one another, she was getting to know Griffin.

  She wasn’t sure if she needed to find a way to be friends with him, if she was starting to hate him, or if she’d turned into a stalker.

  Seven

  Griffin grasped the handle of another box of equipment, jerking it off the floor and straining his shoulders. No need for workouts on the road. He felt as if he were forever lifting something, moving something, or running between the truck and the stage.

  There had been eight shows before they left California, but the rest of the tour required much longer distances. Two weeks into the tour, they were in the Gorge in Washington State; a gorgeous setting on the Columbia River and a hot, sunny day in the high, almost-desert country. No hotels that night—they’d be camping on the buses or driving in the middle of the night.

  Every show turned up something new. Someone new. The songs never got old. The energy never got old. Watching Lita never got old. Ryker’s ability to pick up a girl within five minutes of the start of the show had been old on the first night.

  He stacked the guitar cases in the coolest part of the van as the summer heat beat down on the dry grass of the amphitheater. Griffin was amazed that every night after a show, he (along with Ryker) were responsible for Lita James’ guitars and all the small things that went with them. The novelty hadn’t worn off, and he hoped it never would.

  His phone buzzed in a text, and he sighed as he sat down in the back of the large truck.

  “Mom or Stacy?” Ryker frowned. “They seriously need to leave you alone for like five mi
nutes.”

  “Mom this time.” Griffin hit his message button. At least they could both text so he wasn’t always forced to talk on the phone.

  Ryker shook his head in disapproval, and Griffin hunched over his phone so he wouldn’t have to hear or see Ryker’s annoyance.

  Mom: Where’s the dustpan? There’s a lot of stuff on the kitchen floor and I can’t find it.

  Really? He clenched his jaw and wrote back.

  Griffin: Under the sink.

  Mom: Thank you!

  “Stacy will be next. Better keep it out.” Ryker bumped his brother’s shoulder.

  “She’s gotten better.” Griffin took a moment and sat next to the stack of guitar cases. “I thought I was going to go insane the first week, but she’s used to having me around. It’s not her fault.” At least his mom was cool with Stacy staying there while he was gone. He wasn’t sure he’d have left if Stacy had been stuck with her aunt.

  Ryker sat next to him.

  “Remember this is good for Stacy, and for Mom.” Ryker pulled out a cigarette and Griffin tried not to think about smoking. He hadn’t smoked a single one since being on the road, and it wasn’t for lack of temptation.

  Griffin grabbed his Pepsi and unscrewed the cap needing to be busy. “How do you figure?”

  “They rely on you too much. And you let them. They both need to learn how to be independent. On top of which, they think they have you, but they don’t really have you because you don’t want to be there.” Ryker pulled out his own phone and tapped into his email.

  “They have me. Of course they have me. And of course I want to be there.” Still he was pushing out the words. He just hadn’t been gone long enough yet. Hadn’t had enough of a break to be excited to go back. To want to sleep next to her again, instead of sleeping next to her because that was the routine.

  “No.” Ryker’s eyes met his brother’s and Griffin held his gaze. “No, Stacy doesn’t have you. She has half of you, and you know how I feel about that.”

  Griffin took another drink to avoid his brother’s stare. “I’m not you.”

  “You’re definitely not me. I have no plans to settle or get married or even be in a relationship. It’s fine. We’re wired different, but Griff… It’s one thing to be in a relationship, it’s another to be everything to that person. You cannot be everything to anyone—least of all someone you don’t want to be everything for.”

  “I love Stacy,” he said simply. That was the truth. That would always be his truth, and he wouldn’t hurt people he loved.

  “I know you love Stacy.” Ryker stood. “I know you do. And I know you’d spend your whole life with her if that’s what she wanted, but Griff… Maybe what she wants right now, isn’t the best thing for her in the long run. Think about that. You can love her, and not be in love with her. That’s not the worst thing that could happen here. The worst thing would be staying with someone you’re not insanely crazy about. Love isn’t enough. Maybe it’s her that deserves better.”

  Griffin opened his mouth to fight back, but he had nothing. How would he get back that insane passion they used to have if Ryker was right? The situation felt too big to solve. He’d feel better once he’d had his adventure and was back home again.

  He dropped Stacy a quick text.

  Griffin: All well?

  Stacy: Going out with Tina tonight. Kind of excited. Is it weird for you that we’re going to be having so much fun?

  Griffin: I think it’s great. You two be safe, k?

  Stacy: Text if you need anything, but maybe we’ll just talk tomorrow?

  He hated that he felt relieved, but he might have a chance to be alone on the stage if he played after the show instead of calling her like he did most nights. Or her calling him even when she said she didn’t need a call.

  Griffin: okay. I’m wiped and will probably crash as soon as the show is over. More tired than I thought.

  Stacy: love you like crazy.

  Griffin: love you too

  And then he slid his phone in his pocket and let himself be weighted with guilt for being so relieved.

  Griffin was once again sitting onstage, hours after the concert, strumming on one of the backup guitars. Normally his phone sat on the stage in front of him for Stacy to hear, but that night he was actually alone.

  He fingered over a few riffs he’d been playing with and started the new song he’d been working on.

  smoother planes… softer lines… crazy ways… longer times… This was where it should have gotten louder, but he continued in his soft voice anyway. I look to you… To fill my soul… I look to you… to let me go…

  “You’re really good,” a woman’s voice stopped him and Griffin spun around.

  Lita James.

  She’d barely spoken to him since the tour began. There wasn’t really a need to.

  Her hair was wet and resting in a ponytail on top of her head. Her face bare except the remnant smudges of black liner around her eyes.

  There was something so human about her in that awkward moment, with her standing on the dark stage in the cooling air, listening to him with open eyes. She had definitely created a persona for herself, and it was damn convincing. After the first day he never thought he’d see anything but rock star Lita James when he looked at her. But now… Now he wondered if he’d ever be able to see her that way again.

  “Thanks,” he managed.

  She backed up a step, her bare feet hardly making a sound on the stage. It was the first time in two weeks he’d seen her without boots. That alone had to be exhausting—those things could not be easy to walk in.

  He touched his hand to the floor next to him. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want.”

  She paused and it was as if her body swayed with indecision.

  “I’m totally safe for you,” he said. “I hate magazines. I hate people who talk about other people, and I… I have a girlfriend.” And he was talking and not freaking out or bumbling over his words.

  Nerves bubbled up inside him, and he wanted her to stay. Wanted a connection. Anything. To go home and say he’d hung out with Lita James after a concert…just… wow.

  A corner of her mouth kicked up and she moved toward him.

  Without her makeup, he could see the smoothness of her skin, but worry etched in at how thin and sallow her cheeks seemed to be.

  “Are you okay?” he asked automatically.

  She sat and tucked a few strands of wet hair behind her ears. “Just tired. Rough schedule.”

  His eyes floated over her face, taking in her forehead, smooth cheeks, soft lips. He may never see her like this again—alone and without her hair or makeup done.

  “I’m going to sound like a total dick, but you look like I did when I got this horrible flu and hadn’t eaten for like a week.” Crap, Idiot. Way to start the conversation on a light note.

  She crossed her legs and then pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them in a gesture that felt childlike and protective.

  “Are there things you feel like you know you should do, but you can’t do them?” she asked quietly as she stared at the empty seats.

  “I…” He wanted to say yes. He wanted a point that they agreed on. Something they both knew or wanted or shared. When he knew he should do something, he generally did it. And Lita James was sharing a stage with him. “I don’t know.”

  “No then.” She stretched her legs out in front of her, resting on her hands like she’d suddenly decided she was going to be comfortable next to him. “You’re out here every night.”

  “How would you…?” Crap. “Guess you’re out here too.”

  She pointed in front of him. “Normally your phone is on.”

  She’d been watching? Or more likely, just noticing. “It’s silly, and I know she wakes up for it, but my girlfriend will call a while after the show is over so I can play. I play for her a lot when I’m at home. She misses me.”

  The flatness of Lita’s expression felt sad. “Sweet.”

>   “Ryker gives me no end of hell over it, especially because she’s three hours later, so for her, it’s some ridiculous hour of the morning.”

  Lita scoffed quietly. “I can see Ryker giving you crap for that.”

  “Did I take over your quiet space?” He shifted his weight. “Because I can go.”

  The problem was that sitting next to Lita, who looked so vulnerable, he didn’t want to go. Something was going on with her, and like with everyone, he wanted to fix it.

  “Don’t go. And you did take my peaceful place, but I can always find quiet, I just tell everyone to go away and they do.” Her words got harder at the end, making Griffin wonder what she was really thinking. “Except Apelu, of course. But he’s good at keeping his distance when he knows I need it.”

  “That only works for people, though.” Griffin watched her. He wanted to know what she thought of him. Of what he said. “I think to get real quiet, you have to find a space that lets your brain shut down, too.”

  Lita swallowed hard and nodded, still not looking at him. “Yeah.”

  His stomach rumbled and he laughed. “Don’t worry about my stomach. I have reinforcements…” He reached behind him and pulled out a small bag of potato chips. If he said one more horribly dorky thing, he should really just stand up and walk away.

  Lita stared at the small bag and then back to the empty chairs and grassy hill.

  Griffin ripped open the small bag and reached toward her. “Want some?”

  She shook her head.

  “If you’re not feeling good, they’re starchy and salty.” He nudged the bag closer to her. “That usually helps.”

  She reached out and took a chip, slowly placing it in her mouth.

  Griffin laughed. “Stacy can down one of these bags faster than me. If she were here, that would be your only chip.”

  Lita chewed a little more and then said, “I didn’t know you played so well.”

  “Yes you did,” he countered.