“The embarrassing-question game. So far, we’ve asked two not-embarrassing questions and gotten two ridiculous nonanswers.”
“Speak for yourself. My answer about which instrument I play was fully aboveboard.”
Arching his eyebrows and twisting his lips in amusement, Reg said, “You’re saying you chose your musical instrument based on sex, which you don’t even like all that much?”
“That’s only one part of what I said. And besides, it was more the idea of sex. I started playing guitar when I was I middle school. It’s not like I’d done the deed at that point.”
“Okay, fine.” Reg rolled his eyes. “You chose to play guitar for a living because of theoretical sex and fame?”
“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded. “That’s about right.”
Sighing, Reg shook his head. “You can hear yourself, right?”
Jeremy wriggled around until he was comfortable and then lay on his side, facing Reg. “It’s not a weird answer, believe it or not. I bet most guitar players have the same two reasons, along with, ‘Because it looks cool.’ The only difference is they won’t admit it. I’m not screaming it from the rooftops either; usually I give some spiel about being inspired by my father. But you asked me for the truth, and you’re my pretend boyfriend, so I gave it to you.”
With a chuckle, Reg said, “Are you always 100 percent honest in your pretend relationships?”
“This is my first one, so, yeah.”
“Fair enough. How about in your real relationships? Are you always completely honest?”
It didn’t take long for Jeremy to come up with several examples of situations when he’d been less than honest with his ex-girlfriends. “No. I haven’t always been honest.”
“Why not?”
After giving it some thought, Jeremy realized the fundamental reason was always the same. “It’s easier that way.”
“How do you mean?”
“I told you how it is with people in this industry. They’re not with me because of me, and even if they are, it’s a small part. Mostly, it’s the mystique of dating a musician or someone famous, or a hope that they’ll elevate their own careers. With people like that, there’s inevitable disappointment because what they came into the relationship wanting and what they end up getting aren’t the same thing. The last thing I need to do is add to that frustration and resentment and guarantee some tell-all exposé. So instead of being brutally honest, I spew the garbage they want to hear.”
Reg cleared his throat and licked his lips. “Uh, JJ, I don’t think what you’re describing is a real relationship.”
“What do you mean? Sure they are. Some people stick it out longer than others, but usually we stay together for close to a year at least. That’s a decent length of time for a relationship.”
“I know. But like with my brother and his wife, they fight and stuff, but they’re in it together. It’s not about what they can get from each other. Even my parents, before my dad died, they were like a team. Do you get what I’m saying?”
In theory, Jeremy knew, but that wasn’t his reality. “It’s not like that when you live your life in the spotlight.”
“I’m sorry,” Reg said, and he looked sad as he said it. “That must be really hard and lonely.”
“It’s fine.” Jeremy shrugged. “It’s all I know.”
Reg squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. It was his determined stance. Jeremy had seen it whenever the man was about to embark on a challenge nobody else would dare try. He had seen Reg dive off a bridge against the advice of the bungee-jump operator because his cord was so long that most of his body dipped into the lake underneath, face included. His expression had looked exactly the same when he had jumped off, and when he had bounced back, he had been smiling from ear to ear.
“Not anymore,” Reg said.
“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked.
“You’re with me now, so that won’t be all you know.”
“Uh, I don’t under—”
“I’m going to show you what it means to have a real relationship, JJ.” Reg paused and grinned. “Even if it is pretend.”
Chapter 8
REG CLIMBED out of the cab and walked into the building where he was supposed to meet Jeremy after his interview with the local radio station that had been promoting his show in Portland. He’d offered to come along for the interview, but Francis, the publicist, said there wouldn’t be enough space in the small recording studio.
The station had been holding a contest for weeks to choose five winners who could come see Jeremy Jameson in person while he answered questions on the air. Between the winners, the radio staff, Jeremy, and Francis, there wasn’t room for anybody else. So Reg had taken the free time to call his brother and mother and then do some research about what he and Jeremy could do on their off days once they were on the East coast.