Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Hey,” I said as he turned. “Do you want to hang out tonight?” I made sure my voice was soft, just between us.
“I was going to go to Griff’s for a bit. I need to make sure everyone is prepared.”
We shared a look that made it clear what he was going to tell them. That I would be at the barbecue. Who I was—Remington—the Remington. Discomfort slid down my spine again, settling at the base of it. Would they expect something from me? It was always hard when I didn’t know what people expected, when I was trying to be Remy but they couldn’t see past Remington. I hoped it wouldn’t be that way with Law’s friends. There was this need tugging at my insides for this to go well, to prove to myself and to Law that…hell, I didn’t know what I needed to prove exactly, but that desire burned deep.
“Yeah, okay. And…whatever…just say whatever.” The words nearly got stuck in my mouth, but I had to say them. I trusted him, and Law trusted them.
He gave me a quick nod, but there was something else in his eyes…happiness, pride. I loved seeing it but hated that he had to feel that way over something so small.
“I’ll call you later, Rem.”
When my eyes darted up again, the two women weren’t paying us any attention. I didn’t tend to draw people’s eyes, so it wasn’t a surprise.
I finished eating, paid, and headed out. When I got back home, I went straight for my guitar and played, probably for too long. With each strum of the strings, and each time my fingers journeyed up and down, some of the tension melted away. I was home there, with my guitar and playing. It was me.
I tried to write some, but the words didn’t come. Before I knew it, late afternoon tugged me away from my music and I went for my phone. I needed to call Steve. I’d ignored a couple of phone calls from him recently, but I couldn’t do that forever.
I hit his name in my favorites, and two rings later his rough voice said, “What the fuck, Remington?”
“I’ve been busy.” I ran a nervous hand through my hair.
“Writing?”
“No…not really.” He was on my ass about it, about writing a new album, which was exactly what I needed to be doing.
“You know there’s such a thing as songwriters, correct?”
“Fuck off,” I gritted out. “You know how I work.” I wrote my own music. I always had and always would. I’d rushed my last album, and while people loved it, I hadn’t felt it in my bones. Music was deep in my marrow, and I needed my albums to be too. “I’m allowed to have time off.”
Steve sighed. “Yeah, I know, kid.” His voice had gone a bit softer. Steve and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but we knew each other, we understood how the other worked. Steve had been with me since the beginning. “How you doing? How’s the anxiety stuff?”
I could see him in my head, shifting uncomfortably as he asked me. It wasn’t something Steve had ever dealt with, and he was the type of guy who had trouble putting himself in the shoes of others. He tried, but it never quite worked.
“It’s been good, actually. The fresh air helps. And I, um…where I’m at…an old friend lives here. It’s been good to see him again.” My eyes went a little blurry, and there was a throbbing in my ears. It was such a benign thing to say, but I could tell by the tense pause that followed that Steve was putting two and two together. He knew there had been someone before, when we first started working together, but he hadn’t known anything about Law. Steve had said he’d rather not, and since I didn’t like talking, it had worked. He’d definitely told me to keep it a secret, that if it got out, it could put a roadblock in my career, at the very least. And there’d be a whole lot more attention on me, which was one of my biggest fears. He knew how much I hated that kind of attention. I didn’t want everything to become about my sexuality, but it would.
“Well, that’s nice, kid. Just, whatever you’re doing there, be careful. We wouldn’t want you to do something you’d regret. Your fan base…you’ve seen how it went when there were rumors. It would bring a lot of unwanted attention for something other than your music.”
Nausea churned in my gut. He was right, fuck, I knew he was, but I didn’t understand it. Why it would matter so much. But I knew it would. Every interview, every article, it would all be about who I was attracted to rather than my music. The thought made my chest get tight. Still, I managed to say, “I deserve a life, Steve.”