Starting from Zero (Starting from 1)

“Thanks.” I flung my hand over my forehead and yawned. “I should go.”

“No. You should stay. Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“No. I’ll stay too. C’mere.” He tugged me against his chest and kissed the top of my head, then pulled the covers around us. “Rest now.”

I burrowed against him, closed my eyes, and fell fast asleep.

* * *

Of course, I woke up alone.

I didn’t overthink it. My bladder wouldn’t let me. I used the adjoining bathroom, pulled on my jeans, and padded down the hallway through a maze of sunlit rooms toward the main entry. I paused to listen for voices or the smell of coffee. The quiet was eerie as hell. It was almost noisier than being freeway-close, I mused before moving into the great room.

“Good morning, Justin. You’re looking very well…rested. Coffee?”

Charlie set his enormous rainbow unicorn mug on the kitchen island and flashed a bright smile. His blond curly hair framed his face sweetly, but the spark in his eye was full of mischief. He wore a blue checked oxford shirt with a pair of fitted yellow chinos and black loafers. And somehow he pulled the peculiar combination off.

“Um…hi. Yes, please.” I pushed my right hand through my hair and rubbed the back of my neck. Okay, this was embarrassing.

He chuckled at my awkward greeting, then motioned for me to take a seat at one of the black leather barstools. I obeyed, thanking him when he set a plain white mug in front of me. “Cream or sugar?”

“No, thanks. This is good. Where’s Gray?”

“He had a meeting. I’m here to work in the library for an hour before I head to campus,” Charlie replied as he rounded the island and perched on the barstool next to me. He caught my dubious look and chuckled. “Okay, the alternate truth is, I dropped off a key and ran into the man of the house making a mediocre pot of coffee. I remade the one you’re drinking.…You’re welcome for that. Anyhoo, he mentioned he had a sleepover party and that his guest wasn’t awake yet. I think he said, ‘Leave him alone, Char,’ but it sounded vaguely like, ‘Grill him, Char,’ so here I am.”

I took a sip and set the mug down slowly before answering. Charlie was a lot before noon. “Right. So are you leaving me alone or grilling me?”

“What do you think?” he snarked, cradling his coffee. “I’m a master griller and you, my friend, are a kabob.”

I chuckled softly. “What do you want to know?”

“Did you ask him to help you?”

“Help me do what?”

“Put your band together, pull you out of the gutter…you know, break the Gypsy Coma curse and move on,” Charlie replied irritably.

“No.”

“Good. That’s my job. It will be anyway. Please just tell me you agreed to write the love song.”

“Not that it’s your business, but…I agreed to try.”

“Try?” He twitched his nose comically and furrowed his brow. “Amateur! You don’t tell a Grammy award winner you’re going to think about working with him, you seize the opportunity!”

“In a normal world, maybe so, but Xena being part of this makes me very leery,” I said, raising my mug in a mock toast.

“Understandable. But as your manager, I think you should do it.”

I barked a quick laugh. “Manager? When did this happen?”

“At our first meeting. Don’t you remember? I want to launch a band. Or help, anyway. I’m more interested in brand management. I’m finishing my master’s degree right now, so I don’t have a ton of time, but there’s no reason we can’t start talking about your social media presence. You need a slow but steady campaign with lots of cross-brand advertisement.”

“What does that even mean?” I asked, frowning so hard my head hurt.

“It means we spark interest and get the ball rolling. I’m a genius at this stuff, if I do say so myself. I’ve been building my own brand for a couple of years. Check out my Instagram page. I have over a million followers, a number of sponsorships, and I don’t really do anything. I just go places and take photos. I want to do something important. And when my dad asked me to run interference with you and Gray, it came to me. You’re it. Your band…what’s it called?”

“Zero.”

“Oh.” Charlie set his hands on his hips and cocked his head. “Really? Don’t you want something catchier? Spider Invasion or Arachnoid Alien Zombies or—”

“Did you have a dream about spiders last night?” I deadpanned.

“How did you know?”

“I think I’m beginning to understand you. And that’s scary as fuck,” I grumbled, taking another sip of coffee.

“It’s fate! I’ll need to meet with all of you to do a photo shoot. Do you have a sample recording we can use for your blog?”

“Uh. I can get you one.”