I rolled my eyes, unable to help myself. “What talents are those, Mom? And how is this more of a waste of them than answering phones at an insurance agency?”
“Honey,” my dad said, trying to placate both of us. “Your mom and I are just concerned. Is this really what you want to do with your life?”
The question haunts me. No, I don’t want to be someone’s assistant forever. But going home and getting another assistant job isn’t going to get me any closer to whatever it is I really want to do.
Largely because I have no idea what that is.
At least here I’m traveling, experiencing life, doing more than sitting in one box for eight hours only to return to the box I live in where I watch TV or read a book till it’s time for bed, only to wake up and repeat the same dull routine the next day and the next day and the next day, broken only by weekends, where I sometimes meet up with friends in the evening for drinks or brunch on Sunday. Or occasionally go on a date when I feel up to braving the online dating scene. Without apps, my dating life would’ve been nonexistent.
While I’m not seeing much of the cities we pass through because I’m busy or exhausted, at least this job is challenging. Engaging. Things go wrong, stuff comes up, and I have to deal with it on the fly. I get to meet people and listen to music and have fun.
Do I want to do this forever?
Probably not.
But for now, I’m having fun for what feels like the first time ever.
Yeah, college was fun, but it wasn’t the freeing experience most of my friends seemed to have. I still lived with my parents, because I attended the university where they taught. Free tuition is too good of a deal to pass up.
And while I’m not saddled with student debt—which is a major bonus as far as I’m concerned—I never got out from under the weight of my parents’ expectations.
And now, at twenty-three, I’m finally trying to break free, only to have them calling me nonstop trying to convince me to turn around, give all this up, and come back home.
I open my email app and read through the email Mom sent me this morning one more time. It’s a list of job openings near where they live. All of them boring assistant or receptionist jobs in stuffy offices. The same type of quiet, stifling jobs that I just escaped.
But because I hate conflict, I respond with a single sentence. “I’ll look them over.”
It’s a lie. I won’t. I don’t want to.
But at least it’ll placate Mom, and maybe she’ll let up for a while.
And maybe time will stand still so I can get enough sleep in one night. Yeah … both are equally likely to happen.
Chapter Thirty-One
Mason
Apprehension skitters up and down my spine. Beckett Stone’s tour is joining us today, and we’ll be traveling together for the next six weeks.
When I first heard about this plan a few months ago, I’ll admit I wasn’t thrilled.
Yeah, Beckett seems like an alright guy from what I can tell. But I went out of my way to not spend much time with him the last few times our paths have crossed.
Because I was still butt-hurt about Blaire leaving. I blamed him for stealing her from us. From me, really, even though she wasn’t mine at any point. Not like she and Beckett belong to each other.
And yes, I’ve moved on and let all that go. But there’s a new twist now in play—namely, Viola. And my relationship with her.
Is Blaire going to think I’m just replacing her with her cousin? Like they’re an even trade? Or that I’ll fuck whoever’s the assistant regardless?
Because that’s not what’s going on. Even though I know at least some people attached to the tour think so. I’ve heard the muttering, and I just hope Viola hasn’t.
I’ve tried to be circumspect with her in front of other people. We haven’t had the discussion about how public she wants to be, so I’m trying to give her the time and space to decide.
It’s difficult, though, I’m not gonna lie. I want to have my hands on her any time she’s in the room. Holding it together in front of the fans isn’t too much of a chore, mostly because she’s usually flitting between the four of us, ushering the fans around, making sure everyone gets equal time and attention and no one hogs any of us. They all paid the same amount for their tickets. No one gets to monopolize anything.
But when it’s just the band? That’s a lot tougher.
Yeah, she sits next to me, even going so far as seeking me out during band meetings or the pre-show meals. But I’m careful not to put my arm around her, even though I want to. And I definitely don’t kiss her unless we’re in my dressing room with the door closed. Of course, kissing isn’t usually all that happens in my dressing room with the door closed …
“Are you okay?” Viola whispers to me from her spot next to me on the couch. We’re gathered in Marcus and Kendra’s suite for a band meeting, and Marcus is going over how the shows will work with the addition of Beckett. “You’re all fidgety.”
I force a grin. “I’m fine. I just get antsy during meetings.”
She gives me a narrow-eyed look like she’s not buying it. Then her fingers close over mine where they drum on my thigh. Then, to my utter astonishment, she pulls my hand into her lap and threads her fingers through mine. I sure as hell hope she’s paying attention to what Marcus is saying, because I’m too flabbergasted to notice anything other than the fact that she just very clearly outed us as a couple to everyone. Not that they didn’t already have their suspicions, but
