Locked Heart (Cash Me Outside 1)

Locke laughs. “As long as you remember you were kind of a big deal to me first, so your fans can’t have you.”

All I do is smile. It’s probably a weird reaction to have.

We do a lot for our fans. Our private lives are splashed over the media like it’s entertainment. We’ve accepted it and know it’s part of the lifestyle we lead.

Deep down, I hate the celebrity title. I love being famous, but I still feel like me. Not some over-the-top celebrity. And Locke claiming me and wanting me to be all his and not belong to my fans, it makes me want this for real.

I want to be Locke’s again.

I want to find a way to make it work.

But unless a casino on the Strip suddenly wants to book Cash Me Outside as a Vegas residency act, I don’t see how it could work when I’m constantly on the road. After this tour, we’ll be back in LA recording another album, but maybe I could convince the guys to do a writing retreat somewhere out here in the desert.

Though, I don’t know how much writing I’d get done if Locke was in the same vicinity as me.

“What’re you thinking about?” Locke asks.

“How to turn three days into three months.”

Locke hums. “That would be nice.”

“Okay, let’s shake off thoughts of the inevitable. You should tell me what we’re gonna do in Vegas and where you’re going to take me.”

“There’s a hot new gay bar open in my casino.”

“Your casino, huh?”

“Well, my boss’s casino. Where I live. But yeah, same thing, right?”

“Why do you live in a hotel?”

Locke side-eyes me. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, how long have we got until we’re there?”

He looks like he contemplates giving up the full details, but then he changes his mind. “I’d rather hear about your life as a rock star. Is it everything you thought it would be?”

“It’s everything and more. It’s hard work. It can be crazy. But … I fucking love it.”

“You were born to do it.”

“Just like you were born to work with numbers in that genius brain of yours.”

Locke purses his lips. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“You know why I took off for Europe as soon as I had my master’s?”

“Because you spent seven years studying without a break and deserved a vacation?”

“I realized I’d spent all that time and energy getting a degree I didn’t even want. I did it for my parents, not for me. I did it because I thought numbers came easy, so it was the right choice. But …”

“You hate it?”

“It’s so boring.”

I laugh. “Duh, I told you that all through senior year when you were studying for all your advanced math classes that confused the shit out of me. The alphabet does not belong in math.”

“It does belong in math, but let’s not get into this decade-old argument.”

“How about you tell me what you do want to do with your life, then?”

“Is becoming Cash Me Outside’s groupie a real job?” Locke asks. “Because I’d take that in a heartbeat.”

“Say the word and I’ll create a position for you on my team somewhere. Anywhere. I don’t care.”

His eyes go back to the road. “As nice as that fantasy is, I’ve only been at this new job a few months. I don’t want to fuck that up.”

“But if you’ve only been there a few months, you’re not exactly committed. They wouldn’t be holding you to any long promises you’ve made.”

“It’s … complicated. My boss has done a lot for me without really knowing me. I don’t want to let him down.”

“Like you didn’t want to let your parents down, so you went to school and studied something you don’t even like?”

“Touché.”

“Okay, real talk.”

“As opposed to the fake talk we’ve been doing this whole time?”

“Don’t snark at me, nerd.”

“Don’t call me a nerd. I mean … can you really still call me that?” Locke gestures to his filled-out body.

“Are you still all smart and genius-like? Your nerdiness had nothing to do with your scrawny ass. I loved your scrawny ass.”

“I wasn’t scrawny,” he mumbles. “I was lanky.”

“Okay, well, what does your lanky ass want to be when he grows up? Real talk now.”

He sighs. “You know, I was hoping all the travel would help me figure it out, but I guess I don’t have that thing.”

“I hope you have a thing, but I take it you’re not using it as a euphemism for a dick, because unless my mouth is mistaken, it was just wrapped around your thing.”

“For real, Cash. You have music. You’ve always loved music. It’s been music or bust for you for as long as I’ve known you. I’ve never been that passionate about anything. Except maybe …” Locke bites his lip. “Except maybe you.”

“If you remember correctly, I was willing to give up LA for you, so you have to be pretty fucking special. And that means you’re special enough to find what you love doing. Whatever it is, you should go for it. And, if it’s something like be a luggage bitch for a rock band, I know some people.”