Starting from Scratch (Starting from 2)

But Ky was different. Maybe he wasn’t as straight as I’d thought, but he was still off-limits. And while crushing on a coworker was hardly a new phenomenon, these weren’t ordinary conditions. And he wasn’t some random guy I could harmlessly flirt with and cut ties with when things got carried away. He was Ky, for fuck’s sake. The skater-boy bassist who desperately needed a haircut and a new pair of Vans. The same guy who was outside right that very second teaching my little brother how to stand on a skateboard without falling while the rest of the band cheered him on and gave pointers of their own.

I pushed away from the kitchen island and peeked outside. Ky laughed at something Oliver said, then held his hand up for a high five. Ollie smacked Ky’s palm with a grin so wide it had to hurt. And even though I should have been wary and perhaps a bit jealous of the blatant show of hero worship, I smiled. Maybe it was a combo of relief that Oliver seemed happy and that Ky didn’t look half as shaken as I felt by that unexpected lip-lock.

But when my smile spread and made me feel a little gooey on the inside, it occurred to me that I might have underestimated the situation. Did I actually have a crush on Ky?

Fuck. Me.

* * *

The problem was, I couldn’t avoid Ky. I did my best, but it wasn’t easy. My job was to promote Zero and look after the best interest of every band member…including the bassist.

I had all kinds of great ideas to launch their brand. I wanted them to be in a strong position when we negotiated a recording contract with a label. I wanted them to be set with everything from studio time to health insurance to keeping the business portion completely separate. I’d been told that nothing fucked up the creative process quite like landing in the hospital and having no idea how to pay your bills. I viewed myself as a conduit to the outside world. And fucking around with any part of the creative machine could be disastrous.

By unspoken agreement, Ky and I steered clear of each other over the next week or so. I watched his lessons with Oliver through the window, but I didn’t go outside. As much as it pained me to admit it, Ollie didn’t need me to hover. He seemed to flourish under Ky’s guidance. Don’t get me wrong, he was still uncoordinated and kind of clueless on a skateboard, but he liked being one of the guys. The band stopped what they were doing and greeted him with fist bumps and high fives, then asked about his day before breaking out their own boards or hanging back to watch Ky show off doing…wheelies? I didn’t ask for the terminology, but he was obviously very comfortable zipping around the deck and doing tricks over the lounge chairs.

I knew Ky was a professional skater person before Tegan invited him to sign on as Zero’s bassist, but I didn’t know what that meant then. I still didn’t. I made an effort to keep all conversations “business only.” In other words, I spoke to him when necessary about band stuff, like what time Zero was set to go onstage and to remember to schedule his physical for the insurance forms.

Of course, I probably could have saved the physical info for after the show or even Monday.

* * *

Ky checked the laces on his leather boots before frowning at me under the brim of his sexy-as-fuck fedora. He looked seriously drool-worthy tonight in his snug black tee and ripped jeans. I wished I hadn’t noticed the frayed bit on the inside of his thigh. There was nothing more inconvenient than having your khakis shrink when you were standing crotch height in front of a hot guy.

“I’m sorry. Did you really just tell me to schedule a doctor appointment five minutes before I’m supposed to go onstage and play in front of three hundred people?” Ky asked incredulously.

“Five hundred people,” I corrected. “And I’m not just telling you, I’m telling everyone. I’m going in too. All of us are getting all the blood work done. They need to test for STDs, etcetera. Oh, and in case I forgot to mention it, there are a couple of record labels in the audience tonight. An indie one and a bigger name too. Just be yourselves. Nothing to worry about.”

Justin and Tegan exchanged wary glances; then Justin said, “You okay? You’re acting shifty. Like you know something. Have you narrowed down a couple of candidates?”

“I’m not shifty. I tell you everything. Vin Records and Sky Limited are both—”

“Douche operations,” Tegan intercepted. “If they’re here, tell them we’re not interested.”

“T’s right. Vin asked me if we’d consider adding Declan and Xena to the band. Fucking asshole,” Justin commented as he pulled his guitar strap over his head. “I liked the sound of that other indie firm…sand something. Are they out there?”