Starting from Zero (Starting from 1)

“If he just signed as a solo artist, he could pick up his paycheck and get his band started in style. Why is he being so difficult about this?” Seb griped.

“He’s seizing opportunity. You should approve, Dad,” Charlie commented. “I, for one, think you should give his band a shot.”

Seb furrowed his brow in agitation. “This is a big fucking movie. I don’t want any mediocre BS associated with it.”

“But you signed Xena,” Charlie countered. “She’s not special. She just looks the part. Gray, pass the ketchup, please.”

I slid the ketchup across the island and groaned when Charlie liberally doused his french fries. “You just killed those.”

“No, I preserved them for me. I’m not sharing,” Charlie said before casting a wary gaze between his dad and me. “And I care about the Zero because…I’m going to be their manager.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I want to use my social media platform to create a new brand-slash-band. Zero.”

Seb gaped at his son, then turned to me. “Did you know about this?”

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Charlie is a grown man, Seb. It’s his story to tell, his project to take on, and frankly, I think he’s doing a good job of it.”

“Oh. So this is already happening?”

“Well, yes. Zero practices here a couple of days a week. And they’ve started recording a few songs. I sent you the tracks. Didn’t you get them?” Charlie asked, wiping his hands on his napkin nervously.

“No. I didn’t. I received something from a C. Robertson. I didn’t listen to it because I didn’t know my son had anything to do with this. And since when is Robertson your last name?”

“It seemed fitting since Gray is…involved,” Charlie said, glancing sideways at me. “Why aren’t you eating? You love In-N-Out.”

“I already ate. I didn’t know you two were coming over,” I replied, sneaking a fry from his plate. “And bringing drama with you.”

“Should we have called first?” Charlie asked.

“Why would you do that?” I made a face as I reached for another fry.

“In case you had extracurricular company.” Charlie’s deliberate intonation and carefully chosen words had the same effect as a fire alarm ringing in the middle of a busy day. Everyone wanted to ignore it, but it just got louder and louder.

I flicked Charlie’s ear and shot an irritated look at him. He had his dad’s eyes and they shared a few mannerisms, but that was where the family resemblance ended. Charlie was slight, and his halo of blond curls gave him a deceptively angelic look while his dad was tall, lean, and looked like trouble.

I’d wondered when this conversation was going to come up. When I’d told Justin I had no family, I hadn’t exactly been honest. Seb and Charlie were my family. Not by blood, but they were my chosen people and had been a major part of my life since Charlie was a toddler. They both had keys to my house and knew all of my security codes and a few important passwords. And vice versa. Charlie might not look like his dad, but he had a talent for finding innovative ways to get what he wanted, and he’d definitely inherited Seb’s mischievous streak.

“None of your business, Char.”

“Hmm. I don’t want to get in the way of a booty call. Nothing throws a man off their game quite like an ill-timed Donna Summer hit blasting through the speakers,” he said with a laugh before breaking into the refrain from “Last Dance.”

I let out an amused huff, then glanced at Seb, who looked…upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were still”—he put his hands over Charlie’s ears and continued—“fucking him? I thought that was a one-time deal.”

“Why would you care?” I snapped impatiently.

“I don’t, but it’s curious that you’re fucking the guy who’s trying to screw up my project by making ridiculous demands. Jesus, Gray, he’s using you. He’s using both of you to get to me!”

“Fuck you.”

Charlie darted his gaze between us before landing on me. “Gasp! I was not prepared for fireworks.”

“Then why did you bring it up?” I asked sharply.

“Because if you’re in love with someone else, he should know.” Charlie pulled his designer bag from the barstool and hiked it over his shoulder. “Work this out, dads. Remember the children.”

If I wasn’t pissed, I might have been amused at Charlie’s over-the-top exit and Seb’s openmouthed stare. But I was angry…at myself. I hadn’t told either of them about Justin because I honestly wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing anymore. We had more than enough material for me to put together a sweet love song with a catchy hook I knew would do well. But I wasn’t ready to let him go, even though I knew saying nothing at all would come back to bite me. Like now.