Best Friend's Ex Box Set

“Thanks,” I replied, grinning like a schoolboy. “This was the first car I bought after the band signed with Capitol Records. Reminds me of one my granddad had when I was a kid.” I caught myself before I teared up. Talking about Gramps had a way of getting to me. “But enough about my car; let's go!” I said, changing the subject.

The ride was mostly silent on the drive to my place, but I noticed her looking around the car and out at the hills as we drove. When we reached the gate that led to my house, she let out a quiet gasp, and I smiled, knowing she was at least a little impressed by the size of it. This is what happened when you were successful but didn’t have someone else to spend all your money on.

I liked my mansion, but it did tend to get lonely at times. Perhaps it was even lonelier than an apartment would have been. I mean, I had a shit ton of rooms, a ridiculous span of land, and just myself to occupy them most of the time. I frowned as I thought about it, but immediately did my best to push the thoughts out of my mind. Why the hell was I feeling so sentimental all of a sudden? Now wasn't the time for such things.

“And this is my humble abode,” I commented as I opened the door for her.

“Humble, huh?” she teased, grinning at me.

“Okay, maybe not so humble. Come on. Let me show you around.” I crooked my elbow out, offering it to her. She slid her hand in and rested it on my arm. She followed along, taking in everything. I led her through the foyer, showed her the living room, the game room (mostly made for me and Talon to shoot pool and bullshit or play PlayStation), and then I showed her the practice space and the recording studio.

/>

“So, how come you guys practiced at the record company today?”

“It’s more centrally located for the guys,” I answered, leading her upstairs. I showed her the bedrooms and the balcony upstairs that overlooked the backyard and the hills. Then led her back downstairs to the kitchen. “Do you like seafood?” I asked.

“I love it,” she replied, following me into the kitchen and letting out another little gasp as she stepped through the entryway. Even I had to admit it was fairly impressive, considering the professional setup I had going on in there.

I loved my kitchen, and I loved to cook, especially with company. So, making a meal for someone other than myself would be a treat for both of us.

“Great! I picked up salmon and veggies from the store this morning. Want to help me cook?” I asked her, pulling the food out of the fridge.

“I love cooking. Sure.”

I was getting more and more into her by the minute. The more we interacted, the more I wondered if she could have been more perfect for me. Still, I did my best to keep my emotions in check. After all, I had to be professional about this situation. Not that it was going to be easy, but I couldn’t allow anything to get out of hand.

“There’s an apron over on that hook, so you don’t get anything on your blouse,” I nodded toward the aprons just before I pulled out a few pans and utensils. She grabbed an apron, put it on, and then pulled the veggies to the area on the counter in front of her.

“So, what am I doing here? Chopping, slicing, or dicing?” she asked, waving the knife back and forth playfully.

“Well, as long as you’re talking about the vegetables, slicing. We’re going to grill them,” I replied with a chuckle.

She starting to slice them up and, while she was busy with that, I started prepping the fish. I took a break from it after a few moments to pull a bottle of wine out of the wine cooler, pouring us both a glass. She sipped hers and watched me.

“You must really love to cook to have this kind of kitchen.”

“I do. It's a great way to relax and a good way to get creative at the same time. While music is my first love, cooking is definitely high up there among my list of passions. I think if being a musician hadn't worked out for me, I might have even been a chef.” I smiled at her, seasoning the fish and placing them just so into a pan to sear.

“So, are you excited about organizing this tour?” I asked. “It should be pretty big. We’ve been getting millions of hits since we announced the tour on our Facebook and Twitter accounts, not to mention the band’s website.”

“Millions? Wow, that’s crazy. Though, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. And yes, I'm definitely excited. Maybe even a touch nervous, but only because I’m excited. All you need to do is fill me in on details, and I can guarantee you everything will go exactly as planned.”

“We’re going to start on the West Coast. Seattle is the first stop, then we’ll come down the coast, do a show here in L.A., next San Diego, then head toward the East Coast, stopping in Vegas, Dallas, Austin, and a few other spots. Then it’s on to New York for a couple of shows. After that, we'll just take it down the East Coast, with the last show being in Miami.”

“Wow, that’s quite a cross country trip. That’s going to be one hell of a drive.”

“And, that’s why we hire a professional driver and a luxury tour bus,” I winked at her. “Back when we were still indie, though, we would drive ourselves from one gig to the next in a van all day and then played shows that night. Some weeks, we had a show every single night. It was exhausting and a pain in the ass.

“A driver is well worth whatever they cost so we can focus on music and resting up for each show. Trust me, the last thing you want to do is have to concentrate on the road when you've been up half the night drinking after playing a hard show and having only had three hours of sleep—every night for a week. Looking back, it was pretty stupid, but we were young.”

Nalia nodded thoughtfully. “I can see how that might not have been the best of situations,” she said with a grin, taking another sip of wine. “But, bright side, you’ve learned a few lessons since then. Like, hire a driver and a few beds on wheels.”

I laughed, “And, an assistant who just might keep us halfway in line.”

“Oh...I have a whip, and I’m not afraid to use it,” she announced. Then her face turned a little red. “Wait. That did not come out the way I meant it.”

“Are you sure?” I joked. “Because I might be a little disappointed if you don’t have a whip.”