Best Friend's Ex Box Set

“Sure, why not? You’re professional; you can handle it. And while some of the guys in the band have a reputation—I can think of one especially—I think they're probably decent enough guys,” Grace said as she lay back on her blanket and replaced her sunglasses. “And, you can call and tell me all the fun stories from the road. I'm sure there'll be a ton of those.” She smiled at me.

“Humph. I might be a little scared to find those out myself…IF it happens,” I said, trying not to get my hopes up too high. But I couldn’t help daydreaming about it like other people daydreamed about winning the lottery. If this job existed, it was something I wanted.

“Just make sure to email me a copy of your resume, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Already on it,” I said, typing on my phone. “So what are the plans for the rest of the day, since you’re the one paying?”

“I’m thinking we catch a few more rays, grab a hotel to shower and get dolled up, then hit the clubs.”

“Nice. I should date you more often,” I joked.

Chapter Three

Owen

Jay and Talon lugged in several cases of beer. I sighed as I watched them sit them in a corner. I wasn’t much in the partying mood at the moment, but I was the one who’d said we could have a get together after our first practice, so I kept my mouth shut and didn't complain. I even forced a smile onto my face, hoping the others wouldn't notice just how put on it was.

Judging from the amount of beer they were bringing in and the number of cars already parked in my drive, I could tell it would be a bit more than an intimate get-together. A bunch of people I hadn’t invited had already arrived, and there I was, hanging out in the kitchen while all these strangers were drifting around my place. It was getting harder and harder to mask my annoyance.

“Here, have another cold one,” Talon insisted as he shoved a beer in my hand, no doubt seeing right through the expression on my face. “And lighten up some, bro. Seriously, you need to stop stressing about this. Things are going to come together with the tour. You already called your friend, we’ll get a hot tour assistant, and we’re going to rock. And, that's all you need to think about, man! Just like it was in the old days—rocking out until our ears bleed.”

I popped the cap off my beer—my third already—and took a sip, staring at my little brother with that shit-eating grin plastered across his face. I couldn’t help but smile myself. I loved seeing him so happy. Not to mention clean. He shot me a pleased-with-himself look and opened his own bottle, taking a generous sip. “To Bleeding Heart reuniting!” He held out his bottle, and I clinked mine against his.

“To Bleeding Heart. And you, Talon. I’m really proud of you, ya know,” I told him. He let out a “pfft” and waved his hand in dismissal. “No, seriously,” I persisted. “You kept your promise and got yourself clean, and in return, I kept my promise about the band. This is all because of you.”

“Quit getting all sappy on me.” He slapped my back and then rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right. You can have one sappy hug,” he said and gave me a hug. “Now, come on, have a drink and join in the party. Don't be a bore, sitting and chilling all on your lonesome here. You're the front man of the band, dude! People wanna see you.”

I followed him into the living room where more people than I even imagined were already hanging out. Jeremiah and Nate were perched in the center, jamming on their guitars for the guests. For the most part, it was a pretty mellow scene.

I polished off my beer and grabbed another before finding a spot to sit toward the back of the room. I always preferred to observe rather than to actively interact at these kinds of get-togethers, never being one to typically put myself in the mix. This was yet another way in which Talon and I were complete opposites. He’d already managed to wedge himself between two girls on one of the couches, both of them laughing and flirting with him.

If anyone could say he’d earned the title of ladies’ man, it was Talon. He had the rock star look down to a T, with his platinum hair, devilish green eyes, and thin but fit physique. I was a little thicker than him, taller, and more muscular. Unlike him, though, I actually worked out and, to be honest, I rather enjoyed it. That's not something you'll hear many rock musicians say, but hey, I was never about fitting into the stereotype. Not to mention, in contrast to my little brother, my hair was also dark and short, with the exception of a little bit in the front I usually kept spiked up.

“Hey, Owen.” A couple of girls walked by me, eyeing me up and down, then giggling. I just nodded to be polite then shook my head as they disappeared. I may not have had a big ego, but I was used to girls checking me out or trying to flirt. It had been a total rush in the early days, but now that I was older and wiser, I'd really gotten over it for the most part.

Still, that did nothing to damper their enthusiasm, especially if they knew who I was and the amount of money I had rolling in. It didn’t bug me necessarily, but I did my best to keep my distance with women because of it. It seemed I never knew what their real reason for liking me was, and that was something that had gotten more and more important to me as the years had gone by.

I finished off my fourth beer then got up, heading for the kitchen to grab a couple more. I was feeling a bit better, and it helped ease the pressure from some of the things that were constantly occupying my thoughts.

Two beers later, I was starting to feel pretty damn buzzed, and I certainly didn’t mind the feeling. It fogged out all the other thoughts and worries in my mind for the time being. I felt a lot more as if I was living in the moment rather than merely stressing about the future and forgetting about the present, which was, admittedly, something I was prone to doing.

“Owen, you going to come up and play something for us?” Jeremiah called across the room as I stood in the kitchen doorway and polished off my sixh beer. I waved him off, not in the mood to sing to a crowd of people. But Jeremiah didn’t give up that easily. “Aww. Come on. Grace us with the soothing sounds of Owen Young’s angelic vocals.”

I snorted. “I haven’t drunk enough yet.”

“Come off it, bro!” Talon chimed in, “You’ve performed in front of a lot more people without a drop of alcohol. Get your ass up there.” That’s when he started chanting my name so that it caught on, and within seconds, everyone in the room was chanting it as well.

Finally, I conceded, blushing a little despite—or perhaps because of—the alcohol now flowing thick through my veins. I put down my beer and strode over to the area in front of my fireplace that Jeremiah and Nate had been occupying. I picked up my acoustic guitar, slipping the strap over my shoulder, and settling myself on the raised stone of the fireplace.

“Fine then,” I said, relenting with a smile. “This is a little something I’ve been working on,” I told them, then started strumming my guitar. I was pretty decent on guitar, but with Bleeding Heart, I had chosen to focus on singing and songwriting. Writing was a form of therapy for me.

I found myself strumming a song I’d written about love. Not that I’d really ever felt I’d been in love. But just the idea of it and what I imagined love would be or, at the very least, could be, somehow found its way into lyrics and a melody. It was a newer song, one I hadn’t shared with the guys yet since I didn’t feel like it was fully finished. Still, now seemed to be as good a time as any to break it out and see how people responded, since it was pretty different to the stuff I usually did with Bleeding Heart.

Everyone listened intently; even Talon quit his flirting long enough to listen. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the music as I sang, not even paying attention to the large group in the room, just getting lost in the melody. When I strummed the last few notes, I opened my eyes to see everyone sitting there quietly, staring at me with smiles of fascination and appreciation across their faces.

“Wooooo!” Talon called, breaking the silence. Everyone else erupted in appreciative cheers, as well. I blushed, waving my hand dismissively. I wasn’t great at taking compliments. It was an odd trait for a performer to have, but I did appreciate the positive feedback.

“All right, all right that’s it. I’m done.” I smiled and put my guitar back on its stand, getting up and heading for the kitchen as their cheers quieted.