Starting from Scratch (Starting from 2)

“Does he have a label?” Justin asked.

“I really don’t know. I’m trying to get Zero signed with a label. I haven’t thought about what your ex-girlfriend’s former guitarist is up to.”

“We should probably know,” Tegan said thoughtfully.

Justin shot a meaningful glance at Tegan, then nudged my elbow. “We don’t trust him.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.” I closed my laptop, stuffed it in my man bag, and slung the strap across my shoulder. “I should go. I don’t want to be late for Ollie’s appointment. We’re picking up his glasses this afternoon and he’s not happy about it. Someone has to assure him he won’t look like a nerdy turtle with four eyes. Unbelievably, our dad thought I was the guy for that job. I see unnecessary ice cream consumption in my future.”

“Ice cream always helps,” Justin agreed.

“So do chocolate and red wine, but if you had any idea how long it took me to shimmy into my khakis this morning, you’d understand my reluctance to eat my feelings. I wonder if I have time to change into sweat pants before we leave and…” I ran out of steam when I noticed Ky’s bemused expression. “Why are you staring at me?”

Ky gave a half laugh and shrugged. “I’m just wondering if you ever stop, Char.”

I set my hands on my hips and frowned. “Stop what?”

“Talking,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You’ve covered hand jobs, your Tindr date, Declan’s new solo gig, ice cream, Oliver’s glasses, and your wardrobe situation in under two minutes. Impressive. Oh, and you mentioned that we suck too.”

His tone was more playful than confrontational, but in my current mood I was sure there was a hidden meaning behind it. I just couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

“Do you?” I deadpanned.

Ky caught the innuendo and snickered. “It’s been a while.”

“I thought you were straight. Are you saying you’ve actually…” I raised my hand like a traffic cop before he could reply. “Don’t answer. I don’t care. I’m more concerned about your rhythm. You were way off today.”

Ky pointed at his chest. “My rhythm?”

“Yes. All of you, but you in particular.”

“Huh. I haven’t had any complaints about my rhythm, Charizard.” He put his hands over his head and swayed his hips suggestively.

I should have laughed, but in my newly flustered state, I couldn’t think of a quick comeback.

“I hate it when you call me Charizard,” I said weakly.

“Why? It’s a compliment…Pokémon-style.”

“I don’t know anything about pokey men, but I should warn you, compliments from dreamy skater boys make me blush. If you’re not careful, I’ll think you’re secretly in love with me.”

“How’d you guess?” Ky’s lips quirked in reluctant amusement. He propped his bass on a stand, then bumped my shoulder as he turned to say good-bye to the others. Before I could ask where he was going, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “See ya, Char.”

His low gravelly tone and the scrape of his stubbled jaw sent an instant shiver of awareness through me. I lifted my fingers to my cheek like a starstruck groupie, then quickly lowered my hand. Dammit, what is wrong with me?

“If you ask me, you two should fuck and get it over with.” Justin snorted.

“Luckily, no one asked you. I wouldn’t touch him with your dick.” I stared at Ky’s retreating back and adjusted my bag to hide my crotch as I stepped into the doorway.

“Most people think Ky’s hot,” Tegan added conversationally.

“Yeah, like his girlfriend. And for your information, I am not most people.”

“That’s for fucking sure,” Justin murmured, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m joking. Good luck with Ollie, and when you find out what’s going on with Declan, call me. I want to know what label picked him up, so we know who to avoid.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, and Char…I think Ky’s single,” he added with a wink.

I flipped him off, then pivoted on my heels. The sound of laughter drifted after me as I hurried down the long hallway leading toward the main living area.

Justin and Gray’s two-story Hollywood Hills house was a modern architectural marvel perched on the hillside overlooking Los Angeles. It was divided into two sections: the main house and a guest wing that had been turned into a dedicated studio-slash-music-library.

Gray Robertson was a Grammy-winning songwriter and composer. He’d specifically designed that wing so he wouldn’t have to commute to work. But he graciously allowed Zero to practice here. The arrangement was ideal on many levels. The equipment, sound room, and studio were state-of-the-art and completely private. And the house was killer.

Generous high ceilings and massive walls of windows framed the LA cityscape from nearly every room. The glass-and-steel structure was tastefully appointed with a modern vibe. Sunshine spilled into the formal living area, glinting off the grand piano, priceless artwork, and the contemporary-style furniture. It was beautiful for sure, but a little cold. The real living took place in the great room.