Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“It’s weird that you’re that far away and I can see you like you’re right here with me.”
“Mmm … yes. But if I were in the same room, you’d feel me. In that way, video is incredibly inadequate.”
Jersey wet her lips, unsure how to respond. She just liked seeing him on her screen.
“And the concert is tonight. I have a full day of press, so I wanted to seize my chance to chat with you before you went to bed. What did you do today?”
“Worked out—”
“Wait.” He took another sip of coffee. “Start from the beginning.”
“That is the beginning.”
“No. You skipped the part about waking up.”
“Um … okay. I woke up. Worked out—”
“Woke up in my bed?”
Jersey cocked a single brow. “I’m not your girlfriend or even your sometimes girlfriend. So if you think—”
“Why not?” He removed the lid from his coffee and blew on the steam. “If I don’t have anyone in my bed and you don’t have anyone in … well, my other bed with you, then you could be. Right? You could be my girlfriend. My sometimes, anytime, or all-the-time girlfriend. Right?”
“No.” She laughed.
“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“I could be your first. You could do worse.”
“Which means I could also do better.”
“True.” He inhaled and let it out slowly as his lips turned downward.
“Coop, you’re supposed to say I can’t do better than you.”
“Well …” He lifted a single shoulder while glancing away like Chris did when he made his awkward confession in the kitchen. “That would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”
Jersey didn’t respond because she didn’t know what to say. So she propped the phone up against the adjacent pillow and rolled to her side, resting her cheek on her folded hands. “What would you do if you weren’t in a band?”
“Curl up next to you in that bed.”
A shy smile overtook her lips. “That’s not a profession.”
“I don’t know.” He sipped more coffee, glancing at his watch. “I never formulated a plan B. I knew it would hold me back, a safety net. Like the ladder to the high diving board. If you climbed to the top and someone took the ladder away, you’d have to jump. I didn’t want a ladder, a safety net, or a plan B. I wanted to play my music. So if I weren’t in a band, I’d be somewhere begging for stage time, sending tracks to record labels and producers, playing my music for absolutely anyone who would listen to it.”
He glanced at his watch again.
“You have to go?”
He nodded. “I do. Are you going to bed?”
“No.” She yawned.
“You sure about that?”
“I’m going to take a shower. Then have popcorn with Chris while he reads to me, if he hasn’t given up on me and gone to bed already.”
“He reads to you?”
“Yup.”
“Why?”
“Because he likes to read, and I don’t. But after he forced me into listening to him when we were at Marley’s, I started to like the stories.”
“Then why don’t you read to yourself?”
Jersey picked at a piece of dry skin on her lip and shrugged. “I just don’t. I’m not into blowjobs and reading. You have a problem with that?”
“Jersey …” Ian rubbed his forehead as someone knocked on his door. “I have to go.”
“Okay.” She pressed the red button that said “End.”
A few seconds later a message popped up on her screen from Ian.
You have terrible video-chatting manners. It’s like a phone conversation. We end with a goodbye. So … goodbye. Goodnight. I miss you already.
She grinned.
Goodbye Coop
Jersey typed I miss you too, but then she deleted it. No need to miss him while he’s alive.
Several days later, Ian messaged Jersey, instead of doing a video chat. He strained his vocal cords and wasn’t supposed to speak between concerts if at all possible. A week later, the problem continued, but they hadn’t had to cancel any concerts yet.
Jersey emerged from the workout room, covered in sweat. Chris glanced up from the kitchen table and the laptop in front of him. He wrinkled his nose.
“What are you doing with Ian’s computer?” She fetched a bottled water from the fridge.
“Things. I was able to login as a guest user.”
“What sort of things?”
“Well, I thought of a way to make our rock star buddy feel a little pain in his life.”
Jersey set the bottle on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest, attempting to look curious instead of defensive. Ian wasn’t hers to defend. He was the target. “How?”
“You said he had some issues with his throat or vocal cords that were affecting his voice.”
“So?”
“Well, I thought it might be fun to start a few rumors.”
“About?”
“Lip-syncing.”
“Lip-syncing?”
“Yes.” Chris took a bite of his toast. “People don’t like to pay a premium for concert tickets only to have the artist stand on stage and lip-sync to something prerecorded.”
“He’s not really singing on stage?”