Tone Deaf(13)

She holds out her hand and wiggles her fingers. “I’ve got to see this conversation.”

I shrug my shoulders hopelessly. “Sorry. I already deleted it. Didn’t want any trace of him on my phone.”

For a moment, Avery’s frown reappears, but she quickly replaces it with a triumphant smile. Then she runs over and envelops me in a hug. My bruised cheek presses against her shoulder, and I try not to cringe.

I hug her back, driving away whatever remaining suspicions she has. I try to push away my guilt over the lies I’ve just told. Jace Beckett, you’d better come through on your end of the bargain.





6


JACE


“I SHOULDN’T HAVE to do this.”

I’m not sure who I’m talking to; Tony isn’t listening to me, and I’m sick of hearing my own voice.

“You were an absolute * to her, Jace,” says Tony. So apparently he is listening. You never know with that guy; he always has his ear to a phone or his nose pressed against a screen, so it’s hard to tell if he’s paying attention or not.

He’s on the couch with his phone in his hand, clicking through emails. Probably all of them are about me or some event I’m about to participate in. As my manager/royal-pain-in-my-ass, it’s Tony’s job to keep my career in order.

Tony quickly types out a message before glancing back up at me. He looks nothing like a band manager should: short dirt-brown hair, pale complexion, wire glasses that sit on the end of his nose. He hardly looks professional, let alone stylish, like most people in the music industry try to be. But what Tony lacks in appearance, he makes up for in marketing genius. There’s no way Tone Deaf ever would have gotten off the ground without his skill.

“Jace? Are you listening to me?”

I ignore him and focus on the notebook in front of me. In my sloppy handwriting, the front reads, THE PERFECT SONG. Although, I’m beginning to wonder if that will ever be true; I’ve been working on this song for years, and it’s far from perfect.

Strong hands clasp on my shoulders, making me flinch. I still half expect those hands to cause pain, even though I know Tony would never hurt me. But the fear is ingrained in me, and it makes my words sharp as I growl, “Get off me, Tony.”

He keeps his hands right where they are, and even gives my shoulder a little squeeze. Bastard. He knows how much I hate it when he does emotional crap like this.

“Jace, listen to me,” Tony says, his voice surprisingly even. “You were terrible to that girl. She doesn’t deserve what you did, and you know it.”

I grunt in response and turn back to my notebook, reading over my revised first lines: When clarity’s gone and logic is done and love flees out the doorway,

When kisses hurt and your heart is cursed and so carelessly cast away . . .

. . . And then nothing. I’m stuck on the next line, and even though I have three dozen previous drafts of this verse, nothing seems to fit.

Tony sighs and lets go of me. I slowly release a breath and unconsciously flex my shoulders, checking for damage.

“I’ve told you before,” he says, “stunts like this could ruin you. We’ve all seen it happen before. One bad media story can flush a music career down the toilet.”

“I don’t care,” I mutter, knowing I sound like a three-year-old.

“And what about the rest of the band? Are you willing to ruin their careers, just because you’re too petty to make things up to this girl?”

Damn it, I hate it when he does this. He’s pulled the think-of-your-bandmates card plenty of times before to convince me to act like a nice little rock star. He knows our band is a family, and that I could never hurt any of them. Never.

I raise my hands in exasperated defeat. “I’ll give her the tour. Just don’t expect me to suck up to her or anything.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I’d never expect you to suck up to anyone.”

“Good.”

A knock comes at the RV door. Before I can even respond, the door whips open and Killer pokes in his head. “The deaf girl is here!”

I rub my eyes with my palms and bite my lip to hold back a yell of frustration. “Thank you for announcing that to the entire neighborhood, Killer.”

“Dude, she’s deaf. You really think it matters how loudly I say it?”

I sigh and stand from my chair, stretching to work out the kinks in my neck. This is the part of the job I hate: the people. I got into this business because of the music. Not for the fans, not for the attention, and definitely not for the socialization. Unfortunately, all those things are necessary if I want to keep the band alive.

Tony gives me a pat on the back, which I shoot him a glare for. How hard is it for him to keep his hands to himself?

“Thirty minutes,” he says. “That’s it. Give this girl thirty minutes of your time, take a couple of smiling pictures with her, and then you can forget about her forever.”

I walk out of the RV, silently chanting his words: thirty minutes, thirty minutes, thirty minutes.

And then forget about her.

Forever.





7


ALI


I CROSS MY arms over my chest and gaze around, taking in the empty stadium. One of Tone Deaf’s tech crew members greeted me at the entrance gates and led me here to the base of the stage. Then he ran off to fetch Jace, leaving me to wait.