For Love or Money Read online

  Chapter Nineteen

  STDs and Rehearsals

  Lana

  I look at the paper and sigh. It’s nerve wracking every time, but I always feel better after it’s over.

  James kisses my cheek. “You sang that beautifully.”

  I’m shaking, not because he is kissing me in front of anyone, but because there are seven people in the room with us who have just heard me singing. My palms are burning and my breath is short, and no matter how hard I try, I just don’t seem to be able to get enough air.

  Leo and his new flame, Jake—the guy from the party, who he is completely out of the closet with, both smile at me like adoring parents watching their child at dance class. I wave at Jake. I like him.

  Nick pulls a duet sheet and gives Leo a nod. “Me and Leo were going over this all night when we went to visit Weaver, Googling the biggest successes for bands. Duets make performers connect the best with a crowd.”

  I turn and look at Leo, not sure which part stuns me more. He went and saw Weaver or he is taking such an interest in the band. He’s been the one giving us advice all week long and he hasn’t missed a single practice. It’s weird and cool all at once. He shrugs. “It’s true. On live shows, like this one, a guy and girl together do the best. Loving eyes staring at each other and voices rocking it to the heavens. The TV cameras really pick up the glossy stare you have and the sexual chemistry.”

  I could choke them both. Singing backup for James is one thing, “Islands In The Stream” is totally another. Just being on a stage makes me gag. I shake my head. “I don’t want to do some cheesy shit duet. I have to live with this for the rest of my life. Singing ‘I Got You Babe’ on a stage in front of millions of people is not my idea of a memorable evening. Whatever we do is loading instantly on iTunes and YouTube. I have enough drama in the media to deal with, I don’t need to add shitty duet to the list that will include me freezing up onstage and maybe even getting sick.”

  “You both are amazing singers. So let’s cut the crap, Lana.” Leo laughs. “Is this really going to be a big deal or are you just going to give it a chance? You want to win, right? You want to conquer your fear, right?”

  I bite my lip, thinking about the weeks of rehearsals we have under our belt. I do want to win, and I do want to be done being afraid of something so irrational, not to mention, I haven’t felt this good ever. We sound like a seasoned, badass band. I don’t want to kill the vibe we have going and I’m sleeping better and eating better. Este has made me go jogging twice, which has so far sucked ass, but she says it will make performing easier. I still get winded when I sing. If I give up now I could end up back where I was. Or I can see this as the fork in the road it is and pursue the stupid dream. Just let myself care about something again.

  Glancing around the room, I realize it’s all in my head. I can perform in front of ten people. I did it yesterday. I managed to perform in front of seven plus the band today. I don’t even count Leo or Mr. Sherman as part of the crowd anymore.

  “Lana!”

  My eyes drift to James. He’s talking but my mind is wrapped up in its argument. I can’t let my stage fright kill it all for everyone else.

  I don’t want to.

  I want this to be the greatest moment ever. I want to look back and say this was the summer I turned it all around.

  “Earth to Lana,” Leo says but James looks worried. I take a huge breath and the booklet from Leo, seeing the songs. As I turn each page, the selection gets scarier. When I see the song from Dirty Dancing I cringe, but James turns the page. “I was thinking this one.”

  Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown. I contemplate it and shake my head. “That’s a pretty big diva song. I don’t know if my vocals can carry ‘No Air.’ She’s badass.”

  Leo stands, tucking a pencil behind his ear and bringing me an iPad. “We saw it more like this. Let him be the diva and you be soft, like a Julia Stone or the chick from Civil Wars. That’s more your sound. Like an acoustic version, instead of divalicious.” He plays a video of Nick playing the keyboard and singing softly, very indie sounding. Weaver is in the video. It makes me smile, wondering if Weaver thinks it’s crazy waking up to the world looking like this suddenly.

  I pick up James’ guitar, making them all grin. James cocks an eyebrow. “Guitar too?”

  “Yeah, and I can play piano. Violin was just always my favorite.”

  He looks stunned, but I don’t want to talk about it.

  “I took lessons.” I roll my eyes and start to pluck the cords from the page, letting my fingers adjust to the mellower tune of the song with the guitar. James and Simon start singing, bringing a smile to everyone’s lips. Simon does Jordin Sparks’ part perfectly, bringing his voice up like hers.

  If he were a little smugger, winking at the ladies in the crowd, he’d be set.

  I need to get him laid. The virtuous vibe coming off of him is intense. He’s still friggin’ star struck by James. It’s almost enough to make a girl sick.

  James is swoon worthy, just not enough for someone to worship. Not with his fifty-eight notches.

  He gives me a sideways look as he lets his voice own the Chris Brown part of the song. It gives me chills.

  Fuck it! He is someone you could worship.

  How the hell can one person be so perfect?

  It’s intimidating and overwhelming, and deep down my brain shakes its head and spouts off doubts. Rachel’s words of wisdom swirl through my head as my fingers tickle the strings, making the guitar come to life. The other week when I talked to her on the phone about the whole thing, she told me she dated a guy like James once. They burned so hot they burned each other out. He emotionally exhausted her and drained her of everything she had worked so hard to build up. Her confidence depended on his approval. Her body craved his touch. Her heart beat because his did.

  She stopped being an individual.

  She asked me if that was the case and I couldn’t answer. I did have an answer but it wasn’t a good one. I fear her past is my truth too, but I also fear him not being there to make me feel everything I do when he’s with me.

  I’m on this proverbial stage because he is here with me, like a blanky I need with me to fight off the demons.

  We finish the song to the outburst of cheering from the guests Mr. Sherman has invited to observe and make my stage fright go away one day at a time.

  This is our last time playing at Harvard. The show is being announced tomorrow and we are leaving for LA in the morning.

  I’m excited to be back home in a small way, but at the same time, I’m scared of who I will be there. I’m scared that I’m not ready to lead this group of people. I haven’t done it here. Leo has.

  I cock an eyebrow and give him a look. He makes a weird face, trying to make me laugh but I don’t. I have an idea and it’s going to consume me until I speak it aloud.

  I pass the guitar to James and walk to where Leo is sitting. “Want to take a walk with me?”

  He gets up, winking at Jake. “Be right back.”

  We walk out into the hall and it slips from my lips without warning. “I think we should enter the contest with you as the applicant.”

  He stops walking. “What?”

  I nod. “You are better at it than I am. I love music. Love it. I always have. But that makes me a musician, not a music exec.”

  His jaw drops. “You serious?”

  “Yeah. I don’t think I can do it. I’m going to fly home tonight—right now actually, and talk to my dad. I know he’s going to hate me and be pissed, but I’m backing out. I’m putting your name in there. I’m going to conquer this thing that has controlled me forever and be a musician because I love it.”

  He looks shocked, maybe not in a good way. He swallows and shakes his head. “This is your dream. Music mogul of the year.”

  My eyes are stuck open, staring at his. “My dream was to make my dad not hate me. If I can explain to him that I can’t be that girl he wants me to be, because I genuinely am
not that girl, he might love me for the girl I am.”

  “I’m honored you would think to ask me, but I can’t. My dad is going to get over his hissy fit and forgive me.”

  I shake my head, cupping his face and making him see my sincerity. “No, he isn’t. Your dad is an idiot and your mom is weak. But I say screw them. Because this is you. You are ten steps ahead of the game as a music producer and executive. You are savvier than anyone I know. This is your chance to make something amazing of yourself without your parents’ interference.”

  “I’ll try it out but I’m not making promises.” He leans in, kissing my forehead. His lips tremble against my face. “Go. I’ll tell the guys you have to take off.”

  I glance back at the door, contemplating talking to James before I go. I would be pissed if he just left, even if we aren’t actually dating. I hate that we don’t know what we are. “Can you just ask James to come out here?”

  He hugs me and walks back inside, and like they’re playing musical doors, James comes strolling out into the hall. He smiles until he sees my face. “You okay?”

  I shake my head. “I need to go home.”

  “We’re going tomorrow.”

  “I need to go ahead and see my dad, privately.”

  He nods. “I can see if one of the flight attendants wants to take your place tomorrow in my plans for the mile-high club, no biggie.”

  “Whatever.” I roll my eyes.

  He pulls me into him, kissing my cheek. “I’ll see you in LA then, at the party?”

  “Yeah, or the hotel.”

  His brow furrows. “What’s going on?”

  “I just want to go into this like a band and not a couple. I don’t want to just fall into this and not be able to get back out when the summer is over and the band moves on. You want to get your MBA and I want to figure myself out before I waste anymore time pretending to not care.”

  “You breaking up with me before we even start dating?” His accent gets thick.

  The way he says it makes me frown. “I guess I am. I just want this to be about the show and the music and all of us as a group. I don’t want my dad to think we’re having sex and again somehow I used my libido to get me something or somewhere. I want him to see that I’m serious about—everything.”

  He nods, kissing my cheek. “Okay. When you’re ready for this to be more, then it will be. Until then, I’m just your partner in crime. I can be your friend, Lana. I have been trying to be that too.”

  God, he really is perfect.

  A terrible feeling like I might be blowing it rolls through me.

  He presses his lips into my cheek again as Simon comes out. “See you in LA, Lana.” He waves.

  I wave back, whispering to James. “Get him and Brandon laid, hard. Go tonight and get them drunk and sexed up. They won’t last a day in LA like this.”

  He chuckles into my cheek. “Roger that. Have a safe trip and text me.” He steps back and I turn away, feeling the strangest sensation, like I want to run. I want to get home.

  “Hey, Lana!”

  I turn to see James still standing there, smiling at me with that goofy smile he gets sometimes. “Yeah?”

  “You ever hear that saying that sometimes things that start big end big?”

  I scowl and nod, still walking backward but slower.

  His grin gets wider. “This didn’t start like that so I don’t think it’ll end like that. It just started with a kiss. Everything else came after, but the start was just one simple kiss. So I reckon that means it’s building big and strong and able to survive anything.”

  He makes me smile. I shake my head teasingly. “Did you just say reckon?”

  A chuckle slips from his lips again. “I reckon I might have.”

  “Well, I reckon you better keep that cowboy charm to yourself until I see you in LA or I reckon you might get into some trouble.”

  He nods, almost bowing slightly. “Yes, Mistress Lana.”

  I laugh aloud and turn, shaking my head and wishing I could choose the things he makes seem little and easy, instead of it always being everything he says and does.

  Este drops me off at the airport, hugging me tightly on the sidewalk outside the drop-off zone. “See you soon!”

  “I’ll send those tickets to the finale. Even if we don’t make it, we’ll be at the show. So if I’m not playing, I’ll be hanging in the audience.”

  She waves a hand dismissively. “You guys have this in the bag.” She watched us yesterday. She was stunned. That gives me hope. She thinks I’m the perviest of the pervs. If she can change her mind on me, everyone in America can.

  The flight feels like it takes forever. My stopover in Denver is like pulling teeth. I am dying to see him and just get to the house and get some sleep.

  Somehow, when I land, Henry is waiting at the bottom of the escalator in LAX with a sign that says ‘I love you, welcome home!’ and a cheesy smile.

  I sigh, exhausted and ecstatic at the same time. “How?”

  “Please, I have been tracking your Visa since I gave it to you.”

  “Of course you were.”

  He wraps his arms around me and sighs like he’s taking a deep breath of me. “Tell me there is more to this band than you and that old violin case?” He’s sarcastic, but I can see the tears of joy lingering behind his stare. I laugh weakly. “They arrive later. I wanted to see Dad.” His eyes are gleaming and weird. “What?” I ask.

  He shakes his head and wraps his arm around my shoulders, walking with me to the baggage claim.

  The small talk isn’t a necessity. He knows all the good, the bad, and the ugly. So I don’t have to pretend that we’re not awkward. We are, and yet somehow there is comfort in that awkwardness.

  There is peace in the fact we both have a hundred things to tell the other person, but we don’t say a word. That is the beautiful part of true love, whether it be parental, platonic, or based on something physical and emotional. True love means that you don’t have to talk about your broken heart. The other person’s silence acknowledges it, but it tells you they love you so much, they accept you broken.

  I wake as the car stops, not realizing I was even sleeping. We are outside of the beach house in Malibu, which seems odd to me. Dad isn’t at his house in the hills. I climb out of the car, not worrying about Henry getting the door, and stroll up to the front of the house. Dad answers the door. I can see the smile before I see anything else. His arms are open and he’s rushing me.

  I almost flinch, not sure what to expect, but he wraps himself around me and kisses my head. “My darling girl, you came to see me. I had hoped you would.”

  I hug back, closing my eyes and exhaling into him.

  “How was the flight? You must be exhausted.”

  I shake my head, not answering his question but stopping it altogether. “Dad, we need to talk.”

  His eyes dart to Henry and then me. He is bracing himself, which makes me feel worse about what I’m about to say, but I have to get it out. “Dad—“ I close my eyes and blurt, “I don’t want to be a music exec. I just want to play my music and be a starving artist and a failure, and I know you probably are disappointed in me but—“

  He pulls me back, and instead of rage or judgment, there is a smile I have not seen in a very long time. He starts to cry, maintaining the smile that is alarming.

  He hugs me again, kissing my head and trembling. When I think he’s done, I look up and see the strangest expression on his face. I don’t even know what it is, but I have to assume it’s bliss.

  He wraps an arm around my shoulders and leads me back into the house. “You had me scared, kid.” He pulls me to the kitchen, where he’s cooking.

  What the shit?

  He’s a great cook but he never does it.

  I look around, trying to figure out what kind of hell I’ve walked into—or worse what kind of midlife crisis. “Where’s Rach?”

  He nods at the sea. “She went yachting with the Jensons.”

 
“Why didn’t you go?”

  A smile crosses his lips. “I wanted to make something special.”

  “Mom’s tacos?” My nose always knows.

  He smiles wider and pours me a glass of lemonade, like I’m seven all over again.

  I look back at Henry and wonder if he’s been here all along. How would Dad know I was coming and that I’m better if he hasn’t even been calling me? “Did you—have you been spying on me?”

  “You caught us!” My dad’s face cracks. “Nicholas doesn’t just play the keyboard.”

  My jaw drops. “You sent him there to spy on me? You knew I was forming a band before I even knew?”

  He nods. “I knew.” His eyes dart to the violin case in my hands. “I knew something important had found its way back to you.”

  I’m not even angry—I don’t think I am anyway.

  He gives me a look. “You understand, I just needed to know you were trying, right? I needed to know you were taking this all seriously.”

  “Yeah. I know you don’t trust me.”

  He looks hurt, but I make myself see the pain on his face is my doing. He has a thousand faces that look similar to this one. So many times he’s bailed me out while making this face. Germany last summer was the worst, but there have been others. Too many to count, and if I think of them fast they blur and become the expression he has now.

  I reach my hand across the marble island. “Dad, I broke your trust and I screwed up everything. I want you to know, I know it was me and I’m sorry.”

  He clenches his jaw. He looks like he wants to say something but he doesn’t. He serves us both up a plate of spicy chicken tacos with homemade guacamole and salsa. The secret to the recipe is the chipotle coleslaw she always put on them. We load up and start to eat.

  “So how good are you guys?”

  I shake my head. “It’s stupid. Like we’ve played our whole lives together.”

  His eyes gleam but that makes me uncomfortable. Like my success might not be my own. “Did you set up everything?”

  He scowls, but I can see the smile he’s hiding and the fact he doesn’t answer is a bad sign.

  It makes my stomach ache. “Did you set up James and me? More than just giving him my old violin?”