Starting from Zero (Starting from 1)

All traces of warmth and friendliness drained from his face so fast, I felt it like a physical thing. A blast of frigid air on an already cold day.

“You know nothing about me,” he hissed.

“Sure, I do. It’s pretty obvious. You don’t like that I’m with Gray. You’re trying to buy me off and send me away. I’m not falling for it.”

“Don’t be a fool, Justin. It’s business. Period. Gray has nothing to do with this.”

“Bullshit. I’m not playing your game,” I said before stepping into the elevator.

We stared at each other in an intense standoff I couldn’t quite explain as the doors slid shut. I just knew I had to get away from him and out of this office building. I felt dirty here. This was a place for buying and selling a piece of your soul. This wasn’t who I wanted to be. I didn’t need or want the “get rich quick” scheme. I wanted an honest chance. I was pretty sure my bandmates would agree once they got over the strange turn in our meeting. But I wasn’t waiting to find out.

* * *

The driver dropped me off at the bottom of the driveway. I hurried to the front door, past the succulents and perfectly groomed rock garden and entered the security code to let myself in. The soft strains of a piano floated in the air. Something melodic and soulful coming from the formal living area. Gray normally played in his studio. He claimed to like the controlled acoustics, but I suspected he liked having multiple instruments within reach just steps away from the pool house and his video game console. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him play this particular piano. I was used to seeing him bent over the keys with his eyes closed, pausing frequently to make notes and correction on sheet music. Today, his regal posture and high chin gave him the aura of a concert pianist.

I paused a few feet away and wondered how I got here. With him. God, he was beautiful. The perfect combination of rugged and wild with a touch of geek. He looked hot in his holey Levis, an old NYU T-shirt, and bare feet. He lifted his hands above the keys and stared at them, no doubt twisting the note in his head before attempting it.

How could I know him so well and yet still be completely in the dark?

Gray glanced up and caught my reflection in the window. He grinned as he twisted sideways on the bench to face me. “Hi, there. You’re back early. I was going to greet you with champagne at the door.”

“No need for that,” I said, moving into the room.

“Did you sign the contract?”

“No.”

Gray frowned, then shifted to make room for me on the bench. When I didn’t join him, he cocked his head and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

I shrugged and let out a bewildered half laugh. I’d been running on a dangerous mixture of indignation, outrage, and heightened adrenaline for the past thirty minutes. I’d planned my self-righteous speech on the ride over, thinking I had every right to be pissed off. But the tension seeped out of me like air from a tire. I wasn’t angry. Not really. I was sad. So fucking sad. And so overwhelmed, I could barely hold my head above water.

I bit the inside of my cheek and walked to the window. I glanced over at the pool house and the view of the city beyond before turning to Gray.

“The contract was for a Gypsy Coma song. Not one of ours. It’s still a vehicle for Xena and hey, good for her. But that’s not going to work for Zero…or me.”

Gray jumped to his feet. “What the fuck is Seb thinking? I’ll call him. He can’t—”

“No. I don’t want you to,” I said softly. “He can do anything he wants. I don’t want his handouts. And I don’t want him to do you a favor on my account.”

“But he likes your voice and your sound. He wanted you and Zero. Why would he sabotage this at the last second?”

“He didn’t want me, Gray,” I huffed derisively. “He wanted my story. He can’t have it. I’m not selling my past. It’s mine. I’m plenty good at beating myself up. I’m not interested in whoring myself out and giving someone else the right to retell a slice of my personal history to line their pockets. The contract was for Zero to sing backup for Xena on a Gypsy Coma song, by the way.”

Gray shook his head. “I don’t get it. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure, it does. He loves you, Gray. He doesn’t want me around. Get it?”

“No. That’s not like him. We’re friends. Best friends. Not lovers.”

“But you were,” I said. “I didn’t know.”

Gray regarded me for a moment, then nodded. “It was a long time ago, Jus.”