Starting from Zero (Starting from 1)

I didn’t get it. But I couldn’t deny that I wanted him. Not his talent, his connections, or his fancy lifestyle. I liked the mysterious guy with a nerdy side who seemingly had dozens of secrets he wasn’t ready to share. I wanted them. But mostly, I just wanted him.

7

Justin

Charlie called a couple of weeks later, demanding to meet the band. And he was very specific about the location.

“It has to be at Gray’s studio. We have access to professional equipment there and can record a track to send to my dad’s office immediately. We have to get the ball rolling, or the window of opportunity will close.”

“Whoa. This is a little fast.”

Silence.

“Oh. I see. And what are we waiting for?” Charlie prodded in a neutral tone.

“I just thought I had a little more time.” I caught myself from adding anything dramatic like, “before my two worlds collided.”

“You can’t win if you don’t play the game, Justin,” he said gently.

“You’re right. When do you want to meet?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. Four o’clock.”

“We all have jobs, Char. I don’t know if—”

“Make it happen. Time is ticking.”

I stared at my cell after he hung up on me. I couldn’t say why, but meeting at Gray’s to record a song or two as a group felt like a big step. The second I introduced my bandmates to Gray and Charlie, I had a feeling something—maybe everything—would change.

I was right.

It was funny to see my band’s reaction to Gray’s place. Of course they were impressed with the house, but the studio blew them away. Tegan, Johnny, and Ky moved around the room, touching instruments reverently while Charlie looked on from the sofa.

“They aren’t museum pieces. You’re supposed to play ’em,” he urged.

“Wait up. I don’t really get this whole situation. Who are you?” Ky asked.

Ky was a quintessential California boy with longish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin, and a lean swimmer’s physique. He was a professional skateboarder turned bass player. Tegan went to high school with Ky. They lost touch for a while but reconnected after Ky saw one of Gypsy Coma’s gigs. I didn’t know him as well as Tegan or Johnny, but he was a good bassist, and we’d neared the point where almost anyone who could play was welcome.

“I’m your manager-slash-agent-slash-social-media-director. You all know the plan, correct?”

“Uh. Sort of. We’re practicing here, and then I’m not sure,” Tegan admitted before turning to me. “This is the place with the insane record collection?”

“Yeah. I’ll show you after we play. So…here’s the deal.” I clapped, then rubbed my hands together before explaining that we wanted to present a track to the studio for consideration for the next Baxter movie. “Xena has already signed a contract with them. There’s no reason we shouldn’t give it a shot too.”

My bandmates stared at me with matching “What the fuck?” expressions. Johnny spoke up first. “That sounds good. Maybe too good. How did we go from hoping to get invited to Carmine’s to recording demos for a movie? Seems like we’ve missed a few steps. I mean, Ky just started playing with us. No one’s gonna take us seriously until we’ve put a few miles on.”

“Not with that attitude,” Charlie snarked.

I waved my hands above my head. “Hey, I know it’s a long shot. Nothing may come of it, but we’re at the beginning where every opportunity is worth a try, right?”

“Okay, but whose house is this?” Ky asked.

“The guy Justin’s working for. He’s alphabetizing records or something,” Tegan said. “Is he here?”

I caught Charlie’s eye, wordlessly asking him to keep his side of the deal. I didn’t want to share specifics about the studio’s offer to write a love song or my relationship with Gray. In my mind, they were separate. I knew they’d come up eventually, but I’d already decided I wouldn’t sign the contract for the love song unless I could finagle one for Zero too. And Gray was…mine. I wasn’t ready to share anything about us. Not yet.

“No. He’s at a project meeting,” Charlie supplied. “And full disclosure, Gray is my godfather, and my father is the producer. Neither is a point in our favor. If you suck, my dad won’t make exceptions to make his kid happy. Not his style. Speaking of style…what’s yours? Are you rock or folk or—”

“Both,” I said. “I think we should play ‘The Ocean.’ ”

“I’m assuming this isn’t a Led Zeppelin cover,” Charlie said, pulling his computer out.

“You know Led Zeppelin?” Ky asked, raising his brow.

Charlie glared. “I do. Very well. Shall we?”

I grinned at Charlie, then gave Ky a “Don’t be a dick” look before pulling an acoustic guitar down from the wall and adjusting the strap over my shoulder. Then I approached the mic stand, strummed the first few chords, and lost myself in the music.

We played for two hours straight and if I do say so myself, we fuckin’ rocked. Gray joined us an hour into our session. He sat beside Charlie, and other than offering a minor suggestion on a chord change on one slower song, he simply observed. I introduced him to everyone and hung back while they exchanged pleasantries afterward. Then Charlie gave them a brief tour of the library, laughing when Tegan asked if I’d gotten any filing accomplished.