But it wasn’t easy.
“Fake boyfriends? Are you fucking kidding me?”
I stopped in front of Zero’s open studio door and peeked inside. Tegan stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed while Justin circled around him like a shark toying with his prey. Johnny and Ky were in the corner, tuning their instruments with—oh great, Bobby J. I hiked the strap from my guitar case on my shoulder and stepped into the room.
“Hey, is there a meeting going on?”
“No, Justin’s just losing his shit,” Tegan replied matter-of-factly.
“And you knew I would!”
Tegan threw his hands in the air. “It wasn’t my idea, asshole!”
“It’s true,” Ky chimed in. “Sebastian came up with that one.”
Justin rounded on Ky. “You knew about it too?”
“I sleep with Charlie, Jus, so yeah, I knew about it,” Ky replied.
Johnny raised his hand. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know.”
“Me either,” Bobby J said. “But I’m curious. What’s the point?”
“To hijack the headlines before Xena does.” I glanced around the studio at the mostly confused faces of our bandmates, then locked eyes with Justin. “It’s a weird idea, but it’s not a bad one.”
“If I one hundred percent trusted you, I might agree. But I don’t, so I’m really not sure what to think about you having a ‘legit’ reason to cozy up to Tegan. How do we know you’re not going to use anything against us? This is exactly how the last fucking ship went down,” Justin seethed.
“Look, I don’t know how many times I have to say I’m sorry. I’m here and I’m trying to make this fucking thing work. I stayed on my side, did my part, and wrote a kickass album. I want to sell it, and I don’t want Xena to fuck up Jealousy’s chances or cost Zero momentum. Sebastian knows what he’s talking about. Sex and innuendo sell. If she comes for us, and you know she wants to, Tegan and I are the ones who can offer distraction. We’re not doing a fucking sex tape, dude. We’re posing for a few photos. So grow the fuck up,” I yelled.
Justin clenched his fists like he wanted to punch me. If looks could kill, I would have been a goner. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out, turning to Tegan.
“Okay. Fine. We’ll see how it goes. We’re not running a circus. This is a concert tour not a traveling reality show. If Xena pulls any stunts, we can rethink it.”
I snorted derisively. “What you’re really saying is, you’ll keep an eye on me to make sure I’m not a secret spy for the enemy.”
“Can you really blame me? I don’t trust you as far as I can fucking throw you, Declan.” He twisted his lips into a menacing smile devoid of humor, then stalked out of the room.
Bobby J whistled. “Wow, it’s like a soap opera over here. Sounds like a cautionary tale in crazy exes.”
“You can say that again.” Johnny picked up his guitar and strummed a few chords before casting a knowing glance between T and me. “For the record, Justin’s more angry at himself than at you guys. Give him a heads-up before you start making out in public.”
Tegan beaned him in the head with a drumstick. Johnny threw it back and tossed a pillow at him too. I made my way toward the exit as a mini war broke out, pausing in the doorway just when Tegan looked up. A silent conversation took place in the melee. The gist was…Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay.
I hoped so.
Jealousy’s debut album was scheduled to release mid-January. Three days later, we were heading out on the road with Zero for a four-week tour. And at midnight Eastern Standard Time, we’d drop our first single, aptly called “Jealousy.” I couldn’t remember ever being so damn…nervous and edgy, but I had good reasons. Shit was getting real.
I’d been in a few bands and I even released a couple of songs, but this was the first time I felt completely invested in the outcome. I’d poured my heart and soul into our self-titled record. Every note and every word of every song had a piece of me. Releasing it into the world made me feel oddly vulnerable. What if everyone hated it?
“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. If you wrote it, they’ll love it. You’re very gifted,” my mom said matter-of-factly.
I smiled at the unexpected compliment as I settled onto my sofa, stretching my long legs over the edge. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Mmm. I think you’re wasting your talents, though. You should write a book. You love mysteries. Write one of those. Did I tell you about my new client? He’s a famous true-crimes author. We’re talking ‘New York Times Bestselling, on the charts for weeks on end’ famous. I’d love for you to meet him. I bet he’d be happy to give you a few pointers.”