Blame It on the Tequila

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

And in typical guy fashion, he shrugged like it was nothing.

“Okay. Good. Got that out of the way,” Oren said, clapping his hands together, back to his goofy self. “Now, you and Parker need to make up, and all will be fabulous. Let them lyrics flow.”

“I think that’s about half of Parker’s issues,” Brogan muttered.

“Oh, yeah,” Oren said, wincing.

“What?” I asked. “What else does he have going on?”

Alarm bells rang, and my mind went rampant with the most improbable issues. Cancer? Dying? Wanted for a crime?

“His mom sent him an invite to his stepbrother’s graduation. She gushed about how proud she was that he’d already been accepted into the top ivy league schools.”

Brogan snorted. “Yeah, and when Parker reminded her he was on tour, she mentioned something about priorities and how his silly band could take a day off for family.”

“Oh, shit,” I drawled out. “When did he get that?”

“Last night, after the show.”

“Fuck,” I breathed, the anger from earlier draining out of me.

We’d struggled yesterday to get started but mostly worked our way through it. Today, it was like pulling teeth, but at least I understood why. Parker’s mom was his Achilles heel. Shoving the paper aside, I pushed up from the booth and headed to the back of the bus.

I turned the knob, half expecting it to be locked. When it gave, I entered cautiously, not sure of my welcome. I popped my head in to find him stretched out on the u-shaped couch, his arm thrown over his eyes. I tapped on the door in case he didn’t hear me, but he still didn’t move. Deciding to take no answer as an okay to come in, I shut the door behind me and sat on the other side of the couch, facing him.

Well, shit. What now? I probably should have come in with a plan and contingencies, like if he laid on the couch and stayed silent, ignoring my presence. My heart dropped at yet another reminder of our reality. I could no longer come to him and get an open smile and easy conversation.

“I didn’t realize your mom was still being a bitch,” I started.

“Fucking Oren and his big mouth.”

“I’m sorry. I know how stupid her words can be.” I infused as much sincerity in my words, making sure any snarky comment waiting to pop out without notice stayed far away. I hated how that woman made him feel small and insignificant, and I’d hoped she’d had to eat her words as he rose to worldwide fame. It pissed me off that she hadn’t.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is. It may be why you’re struggling with writer’s block.”

“I’m sure it’s part of it, but being able to understand that doesn’t really change that I can’t think of any words.”

It might not, but I could approach him with a bit more empathy.

We both needed this to work. He needed a kickass album, and I needed the money, and adding our shit on top of his own shit wasn’t helping.

“Listen, Parker,” I started. When I stopped, he finally uncovered his face and pinned me under his ocean blue eyes that looked tired. It took actual effort to not fall to my knees beside him and run my fingers through his hair to soothe him—to comfort him like I always did.

But that wasn’t my place anymore. My place was to do a job.

“If we’re going to make this work, we need to be able to be around each other without bickering, and I know some of it comes from me,” I admitted when he cocked a brow. “But it doesn’t help when you keep bringing it up either. I just…don’t want to talk about it.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked, but he didn’t fight me.

“So, let’s just put it behind us and start fresh tomorrow. No more snarky comments and heavy history. A clean slate.”

He raised a dubious brow, and I knew it was a tall order, but maybe if we both agreed to try, we’d at least have a fighting chance. I desperately needed an opportunity to bury these feelings, and if he kept cornering me to talk every day, I’d never get the chance to ignore them. They could sit in time out until I was done with my job, and then I’d face those demons. Just…not yet.

He looked ready to argue, and I pleaded with my best puppy dog eyes for him to agree.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he muttered, “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“So, what now? How do we make this work?”

“We’re in Raleigh tomorrow, but you don’t have a show until the next day, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. It all starts to blur together.” He laughed, but exhaustion kept it from sounding anything but tired.

“Good. I have ideas.”

Fifteen

Parker

When Nova said she had ideas, a museum was the very last place I expected.