Page 115 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
I roll my eyes, but I don’t even bother commenting. I just trudge forward with the truth.
“Torren didn’t know about the lawsuit. None of the band did.”
“Bullshit.” Ezra barks out a laugh. “Is that how he got you? Told you he didn’t know? Wasn’t his fault?”
“I’m serious, Ez. I was there. When I told him, he blew up. Called a band meeting. The only person who knew was Wade Hammond, and he only found out last year. Torren. Sav. Mabel. Fuck, I think even Jonah—they were all angry. They had no idea.”
Ezra goes silent for a moment. I can picture him in my head, his brows furrowed, and his lips pursed. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him about what Sav said—she wants the names of the bands their label screwed over and out of the label contract—but I bite it back. That information isn’t mine to share.
“How could they not know?” Ezra asks finally, and I shrug even though he can’t see me.
“I don’t know. I really don’t. But I believe it.”
It goes quiet again, and then I hear Ezra sigh. “We’re in Houston auditioning for a band.”
Something about that information makes my stomach twist. “All three of you?”
“Yeah. It’s like this talent agency. Open call for musicians. If they like you, they’ll manage you. Fill in the holes of your group with other musicians they handpick. Pike didn’t want to do it. He’s got a job working at an autobody shop and a pretty steady girlfriend. But me, Rock, and Beck figured why the fuck not?” Ezra lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “Think this new internet interest will help us?”
My heart sinks at the idea of the guys making music without me. I knew it was possible when I left, but I didn’t have much time to dwellon it. I was too busy working my ass off to keep my family afloat. Now, though...
Now it fucking stings, and my eyes burn with the need to cry.
“Oh.” I force a soft laugh and make myself smile, blinking back tears. “Maybe. Probably. They, um, they’d be stupid not to pick you guys.”
Ezra hums. “It’s not the same without you, Cal. You and Pike. I know we said we’d wait until your mom was better, but when we saw all the press about you and that fuck—well...but you and Torren King...”
“No,” I breathe out, sniffling. “No, I get it. You guys have to do what’s best for you. You shouldn’t have to wait for me.”
“Right...Well, anyway...Think you can introduce me to Sav Loveless?”
I laugh. “She’s not going to bang you, Ez.”
“She could, though. She just needs to meet me. You’re myinnow.”
I roll my eyes and wipe the tears off my cheeks. My heart hurts, but my smile is genuine. “I’ve missed you.”
“I miss you too, Cal. Maybe respond to my texts once in a while, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. Tell the guys I said hey?”
“Sure. Tell Sav Loveless I have a ten-inch cock.”
“Goodbye, you idiot.”
“Bye, Calla Lily.”
I hang up with Ezra, then spend the next fifteen minutes sifting through the band’s old socials. It’s unbelievable. Of course, there are some really mean comments. Comments liketheir music is trash, andno wonder they were dropped from their label. One comment says I look like aporno leprechaun, and my personal favorite, posted by “bamaboy885” saysapparently to become relevant you only have to suck Torren King’s dick.
That one made me laugh out loud.
For the most part, though, the comments are really positive. They like our sound. They like our style. They likeus, and it makes me miss the guys. It makes me want to make music as Caveat Lover. It makes me long to be back in the band playing in front of an audience. It boosts my spirits up until my happy balloon is popped with the sharp prick of reality.
Ez is right. This new social media attention probably will help theguys with this whole talent agency audition thing. Beck, Ezra, and Rocky are going to continue making music while I’m stuck here collecting a paycheck for pretending to be Torren’s girlfriend for the rest of the American tour. By the time my job with Heartless is over, it will be too late. The guys will have already moved on without me.
Now, the more praise I see in our comments, the more my chest aches with loss. It’s almost like watching my dreams be crushed all over again. The day we were dropped from our label, it felt like someone close to me had died. The potential for success had become nothing but smoke through my fingertips.
Abruptly, I push myself off the bed and drop my phone behind me. I’m hungry, and I need to be out of this room for a bit. I need to get this shit out of my head and to stop wallowing, but as I step out of my bedroom, I run smack into a firm, tattooed, shirtless chest.
