I placed an order for two coffees, two waters, and a pastry we could split. When I turned around, I saw him throwing little rocks he held in his fist into the peaceful water, still on his bike. He looked…happy. Like he wasn’t used to doing something so mundane and casual. Alex smiled when I got back and hoisted myself back up on my bike, and my heart almost threw itself at him like a stupid groupie throwing panties. That heart of mine was starting to feel a lot like a liability. I wished I could surgically remove it and stay alive. I handed him his coffee and water, putting my cup of joe to my lips.
“What are you thinking about now?” he asked, his eyes still hypnotized by the water.
I wondered why he wanted to know that all the time. Did he really find inspiration in whatever’d gone through my head? Then something even more depressing occurred to me—no one else had asked me that in years. Not since my parents died. Craig and Natasha, they loved me, but they were too busy surviving to care. Feeling wanted and desired was addictive, and he doped me. If you want to put a spell on someone, make them feel special. That would do the trick.
“I’m just wondering”—I let the hot liquid burn my tongue, but continued without even flinching—“why are you after me? You seemed to want me gone, and now you want to sleep with me.”
“I figured if I couldn’t get rid of you, at least I can have fun with you.”
“I’ll never sleep with you.” I poked at the pastry without even considering eating it. Alex took a big gulp of coffee, still looking at the ocean.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not as stupid as to willingly put myself in a position where I get hurt.”
He swiveled his head to face me, and suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. Like all artistic geniuses, he had an expressive face. Kind of funny-looking. Sort of imperfect. The type you couldn’t look away from. Mick Jagger, Steven Tyler, Jimi Hendrix, Keith Richards. They all looked a little funny. A little too mischievous. With mouths too wide and eyes too droopy and smiles too open. Alex’s face was like a great book. Every time you looked at it, you found a different something.
“I’d never hurt you. I will leave you kindly. And you will leave me happily. That, I can promise.”
“How can you promise me that? How can you promise me I wouldn’t fall in love?”
He looked up from his coffee, a sad smile on his face. “I’m sort of unlovable once you get to know me.”
Silence.
“My appeal is in my mystery, you see.”
Rain started pouring down on us, seemingly out of nowhere. Tropical weather. Short sleeves and a downpour. He tilted his head to the other side of the promenade.
“Come, Stardust. The night is young and full of promise.”
We rolled to the parking lot, dripping and laughing.
And I decided not to ask Alex Winslow any personal questions, just to keep my sanity at bay.
Another show.
Another hit.
Blake speculated that the YouTube video’s views of “Secondhand Love” that had been leaked from Japan were so high, whoever had posted it was making twenty grand a day from ads alone. Not gonna lie, writing a great song numbed the notion of being categorically defective as a human being, and for a day there, I’d even forgotten about Fallon and Will and revenge and the champagne—side note: the latter sat in the back of my mind the whole time. I didn’t even like champagne. Getting pissed, though, was another story.
When I got off the stage, I rushed to the dressing room, disregarding the shambolic queue of staff and local celebrities milling around trying to get a moment with me. I threw the door open and collapsed right on top of Indie, who was sitting on a silver sofa, sewing.
“Alex, gross! Get off my fabric.” She pushed my chest, but there was laughter in her voice.
I climbed atop of her like a monkey and tickled her armpits—and what do you know? Indie Bellamy was ticklish. She squirmed and made the most fuckable sounds, making me want to stuff my fingers into her mouth and take out those little sounds and put them in my pocket.
“Off, off, you caveman, off!” That hint of a giggle bloomed into a full-blown laugh.
Something had changed. We’d changed. She’d melted a little, and I wanted to shove off the ice and see what was underneath. Alfie, Blake, and Lucas walked through the door, watching us from the threshold, mesmerized. It thrilled me, the look on Lucas’ face. I didn’t even need to lift my head to see it to know it was there. He was hurting. Not in the way I was hurting when he’d booked the hotel for Will and Fallon under his name so they could fuck when I was still with her, but still.