Page 77 of Opening Strain

“It’s going to start our comeback tour. The movie actually launched us back into the public eye, so we’re going to capitalize on the hype. We’ll be on the road for more or less of the next year.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize the tour was going to be so long.”

“Platinum Records, our label, wants us to go all over the world to remind our fans who we are.”

“As if they could forget you guys.” She removes the ice pack. “How’s it feel?”

“Cold.”

“Then it was doing its job. Want to explore the basement level? We never did get down there before.”

“Sounds like fun.”

She assists me off the bed. Even though I don’t need the help, I’m too much of a bastard to turn her down. She challenges me. Doesn’t let me get away with anything. Treats me like a regular human being. I don’t want to resist her any longer. The kisses we’ve shared haven’t been enough.

We walk to the elevator and take it all the way down and enter the enormous basement. The exercise room is the first thing we see. “Shit. This place is dope.”

“It is,” she agrees. Her fingers brush over the exercise bike and free weights. “Maybe we can move your rehab down here tomorrow?”

“Don’t see why not. I own this place, at least for the next four days.”

“I feel like a kid in the candy store. Let’s go see what else is down here.” She trots ahead of me, oohing and aahhing over the bowling alley. “Oh my goodness!”

Her exclamation brings me to her side. My eyes widen. “Arcade games.”

Without another word, Jenna runs to the Donkey Kong machine while I start the Asteroids Deluxe. We spend the next half-hour grunting and yelling and wailing and cheering.

She’s the first one to step back. Adjusting her ponytail, she says, “That was fun. I even made it to the bottom of the leaderboard.” She points to her name at the twentieth position.

I run my fingers through my hair. “My time at the arcade has paid off. I’m number seven.”

She giggles. “Impressive. The twelve-year-old inside you must be jumping for joy.”

This. This right here is why Jenna’s so special. She can see the little boy I was—rather imagine me as an idealized version of him. I’m not merely the lead singer of Untamed Coaster, the unofficial leader of the band, or a rock star with all that entails. To her, I’m a regular guy. Another human being with a profession—not defined by it.

Do I think of myself outside of it?

When I’m performing, I’m in my element. I get a rush from taking the stage and singing UC’s songs, many of which have hit the top of the charts. Tons of perks follow this job, like money and chicks, tempered with the annoying media attention. But Jenna’s the first person to want to know who I am beneath all those trappings.

The walls surrounding my entire persona start to tumble. For the first time in a long while—since my high school girlfriend’s betrayal with my ex-best friend, since Dad died—I’m willing to allow her see who that man is. If there’s anything to see.

I walk over to her and run the back of my hand down her cheek. “Tween Bennett wouldn’t understand how insightful you are.”

Her hand covers mine. She swallows but remains silent.

I continue, “How do you do it? You see beneath the hood, beyond the rock star standing in front of you.”

Her arm falls, and mine follows. “You’re part of a band, a group of guys who play music together. That’s what you do, not who you are.”

My lids close at her profound statement. One I couldn’t have accepted a couple of years ago. When UC was at the top and Darren was still our keyboardist. After everything that’s gone down, now I think I’m able to believe her. But what happens if all that’s underneath is a black hole?

I open my eyes and stare into her grey ones. “What if there’s nothing there?”

My whispered words cause her to flinch. “There is. I’ve seen it with how you interact with the band. With Luke. With King and Angie.” She steps forward and taps my chest over my heart. “Beneathall the cocky attitude is a heart filled with so much love, ready to come out.”

This woman. I don’t know if she’s right, but I want to prove she’s not wrong. I want to be worthy of such a description. “Jenna.” I scan her face, from her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail to her unique scent of roses and vanilla to her features, unembellished by plastic surgeons or a ton of make-up. She possesses a rare, true beauty. It steals my breath away.

I stare at her capable fingers. “I hope you’re right.”

---