CHAPTER EIGHT
AUBREY
VOICE MAIL: “Peaches ... Damn, I miss your voice. I ... things are fucked up. I shouldn’t be calling, but I ... well, Dad had me meet with a record label, and it went well. It went so well, Peaches, and the only person I wanted to talk to was you. I know it doesn’t make sense. I know you’re mad. You sounded so damn mad. I wasn’t gonna call. I shouldn’t be calling this late after, well, I don’t have a right to anymore. You’re back in school and I’ll be here and I know this isn’t right but ... I love you. So fuckin’ much it hurts. Peaches, you’re still mine. You’ll always be mine. Remember that.”
It had been six years and I still had the same stupid voice message saved. The one time he called even though I tried to contact him countless times after he left. Someone may wonder how that’s possible. Well, after a not-so-proud moment of Googling how to forward it to an email, I had it saved on my laptop.
Pathetic, yes, I know.
I could tell someone where every sigh was in the message, when he slurred the words together, and how clearly he announced he loved me for the first time.
Those three little words. They were a sort of battle cry, the first one I’d ever heard. I found myself in a war with my own heart because it belonged to the enemy.
I listened to Jax’s drunken voice as I took another swig of Macallan. He sounded sincere, disoriented, ruined.
I blinked back the tears I sure as hell was not going to shed. Tonight, the words that sounded so sincere over a recording rang hollow, because tonight, Jax was on TV. Jax Stonewood, the guy I had tried to get over, was singing on TV. He was singing to a girl on TV. Then, he was hauling her up on stage, kissing her, and singing some more to her.
The crowd roared. I contemplated throwing my bottle at the screen.
My little friend, Control, reminded me of the obvious—waste of alcohol. I tipped the bottle again. Another swig and burn as I listened to that horrendous song.
When I said horrendous, I meant beautiful and heart-wrenching.
This was the song I could have sworn was written just for me, until he pulled the same damn woman on stage every time he sang it.
How many times could he sing this stupid song and get on TV for doing it?
It had been six years since he left and then called me to leave that message. Which meant six years ago, the record label started working on his album. Four whole years ago, it released and set the world ablaze. The album went triple platinum more quickly than any other, and he sold out every concert. Magazines claimed him to be the most eligible bachelor, and Rolling Stone titled him the Hot Male Version of Adele. He was Adele’s equal because he didn’t intend to come back or make another album. The spotlight, news outlets claimed, had been too much for him.
Seriously? After four years, they couldn’t give it a rest when he didn’t even want to be in the spotlight?
I tried to soothe my anger over the fact that he had only made the one stupid album. His fans had to start forgetting about him soon.
Right?
Right.
Except now he was creating a music app that was about to take over the whole damn world. He would get to be behind the scenes of the app and push other musicians to the forefront. Some of the marketing for it had him performing this same song.
Vick and Rome walked into my apartment and found me in my drunken stupor.
“Brey, you didn’t lock the door again,” Vick announced as she dropped her purse on the table. Then she spun around and saw me. “What the hell happened to you?”
Code for I looked like crap.
I continued staring at the TV.
She looked over and then snapped up the remote to turn it off. “You don’t need to be watching this!”
She and Rome were like overbearing, helicopter parents disguised as friends when it came to my history with Jax. So, I wasn’t surprised when Rome snatched my bottle of booze away and united with Vick in her Battle Jax Out of Aubrey’s Mind campaign.
“You need to stop focusing on this prick. And lock your damn door,” he grumbled.
I sniffled and smeared the mascara that I was sure had formed a raccoon mask over my cheeks. “I know.”
God, the pity in their eyes almost suffocated me.
“Just leave the alcohol, will you, Rome? I don’t need this from you two tonight. You were both out drinking. Why can’t I sit at home and drink?”