Encore (Stereo Hearts Book 2) (26 page)

Then, with four simple words, his world would come crashing down.

“Never contact me again.”

Carmen read those words over and over, dreaming of all the different ways he would take them. She thought about the album he’d write after reading
this
message. The sweet songs he’d written for his precious Aria wouldn’t be quite so sweet the second he was blasted with this doozy.

Dragging in a haggard breath, Carmen hit Send.

18

It had been a long time since Aria had cried herself to sleep.

The first month, she’d gotten used to it, the tears lulling her into the sweet release of unconsciousness. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d wondered if this was her life now. Unable to close her eyes without the debilitating weight of the pain in her heart helping her along.

Then the second month came, and she only cried herself to sleep every other night.

The third and fourth month, only every once in a while.

And now, the fifth month. The month when she only cried herself to sleep if she’d been triggered. Turning on a radio and accidentally hearing his name, or one of his songs. Tuning on the television and being accosted by a commercial with his face on it. Even buying eggs at the damn supermarket made her feel like she was on a mission with Seal Team Six, danger lurking around every corner. Display cases, overhead music, magazine racks—the threat of his presence was constant, and it was everywhere. There wasn’t a single corner of the world that was safe for the ex-girlfriend of a pop star.

But last night, she’d brought it on herself.

Last night, she’d purchased his new album. She’d played it from beginning to end. She’d known buying it had been a colossal mistake.

And it had been. Oh, it had been.

She pulled open the door of her Manhattan apartment and was met with exactly what she expected after hearing a knock on her door that morning.

“Oh, friend,” Shaun Green said, her wide brown gaze filled with pity as she took in Aria’s puffy eyes, dirty pajamas, and rat’s-nest hair from the hallway. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to listen to it.”

Aria stepped away from the door and entered her apartment, heading to the kitchen where her coffeepot was calling her name.

She knew Shaun had work that morning. Since she worked right down the street at
The New York Times
, she’d often stop by Aria’s place to say hi on the way. Aria was rarely in the mood for company, but she could hardly turn away the woman whose apartment she was subletting.

“Would you like a cup?” Aria asked, looking to Shaun as she took a seat at the small dining table that separated the kitchen and living area.

“No, thanks. That stuff will have me bouncing off the walls,” Shaun said. “So, how are you?”

Aria shook her head as she made her coffee. “I shouldn’t have listened to it. You were right. My mind told me no. My psyche told me no. My heart told me hell no. But I still pressed Play. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s had that same effect on the entire world. The
world
can’t say no to him. How the hell did I expect myself to?”

“It was pretty dark. The first album was so sweet. Simple. Dance-y. This one?” Shaun whistled. “I knew you’d open the door looking like a bulldozer had hit you square in the nose, and sure enough…”

“Thanks,” Aria said dryly, taking the seat across from her, steaming cup of coffee in hand.

Shaun didn’t say much else, giving her the option to keep the conversation going or drop it.

“I was fine,” Aria said after taking a swallow. She didn’t usually drink her coffee black, but she hoped the painful taste would force the pain in her shattered heart to redirect itself to her taste buds. “I was
fine
…
until I got to…”

“‘Howling at the Moon,’” Shaun finished.

Aria nodded, sucking in a breath. “He sang that song to me when he took me to the London Eye for the first time.”

Shaun nodded. “The second that song went off, Adam and I were in the middle of breakfast. I looked at him. He looked at me. He tried to play it off, something about putting too many onions in his hash browns, but he got a little teary-eyed. And we both just said ‘Aria.’ Then I raced over here.”

Aria buried her fingers in her hair. “I just don’t understand how he could write such a heartbreaking,
accusatory
album—when he’s the one who left me. He’s the one who never returned a single phone call. He’s the one who texted me saying he didn’t love me anymore. He’s the one who didn’t want to fight for us. It wasn’t me, Shaun.”

“I know.”

“He’s the one all over Instagram and the tabloids with that—” Aria bit her tongue, hating where it nearly took her. “With
Carmen.
He’s the one who chose to make his fake relationship with her real when he still had a chance to fix things with me.”

“We have no way of knowing whether their relationship is real, or whether it’s still PR.”

“It doesn’t matter. He knows how I felt about her, and he’s still in the streets with her on his arm. All while ignoring my phone calls. Clearly, he doesn’t give a damn about me, and never did.”

Shaun pouted, unable to argue. “It’s just so strange how it all went down. I still can’t get my head around it. You two grew up together. Inseparable for years. Even Adam is lost. He said that, of all the things he saw coming, he never in a million years suspected you and Yoshi would grow apart.”

“He grew away from me,” Aria said. “And Adam called that from day one. He told me to count my blessings because once Yoshi got swallowed up into that media machine, there’d be no escaping. He was right, but I refused to hear it. I thought I knew better. I thought we loved each other enough to roll with the changes. But love doesn’t exist in his new world. It can’t exist…” Aria thought back to the night before, listening to a song where Yoshi had written a lyric that said exactly that. That love couldn’t be real in his world. His voice had risen during that line, breaking as it hit the highest point, striking her in the deepest pit of her heart. Her face curled and she burst into tears. “Why did I listen to that album? Oh, my God.
Fuck.
”

Shaun sighed as she watched Aria plop her elbows on the table before burying her head in her hands.

“He abandoned me,” Aria wheezed. “The one person who promised he never would. Maybe this is just my fate. Maybe it’s been my fate since the day I was born, when my parents decided I wasn’t worth keeping. Maybe I’m just completely unlovable—”

Shaun was out of her chair and around the table in an instant, encircling Aria in her arms and letting her crush her weeping face against her stomach. She pulled her in tight, cradling the back of her head.

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” Shaun whispered. “And don’t you ever let your mind entertain that ugliness again. You’re not unlovable. Did you not touch down in New York and get swept up by two people at the airport? Did those two people not have an apartment ready for you to sublet, no questions asked? Have those two people not been in your ear on the phone, or at your front door, damn near every day?”

Aria sniffled, laughing softly as she thought of Shaun, Adam, and the amazing support system they’d given her since the moment she’d moved back to the city.

“Adam loves you,” Shaun said, shaking her head gently. “I love you. You’re never alone in this world. Not as long as we’re here.”

Shaun didn’t pull away until Aria’s cries had ebbed, claiming the seat beside her. They joined hands on top of the table.

Shaun squeezed. “And you know what, Aria? It’s not just Adam and me who love you. You
love you.”

“Yeah, I love me so much that I subjected myself to that album, knowing it would rip me limb from limb.”

“That doesn’t make you a woman who doesn’t love herself. That makes you human. Any woman who says she wouldn’t listen to an album her ex-boyfriend wrote about her, and then released for the entire world to hear, is a lying-ass ho.”

“Did you just say lying-ass ho?” Aria squinted, fighting a laugh. “I didn’t even think you knew those words.”

The corner of Shaun’s mouth lifted as she reached up and swiped Aria’s tears. “You’ve enrolled yourself in school. Doing well in your classes. Got yourself a gig playing at The Rum River once a week. You’re following your dreams, your heart, your bliss. You’ve even stopped wearing that patch over your eye all the time. It might seem inconsequential, but it’s not. Take it from a girl who’s been through it her damn self.”

“Shaun.” Aria looked down, suddenly feeling shy. “You’re a really good person.”

Shaun smiled softly.

“I can see why Adam fell so hard for you.”

“Believe me, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes with Adam.
More
than my fair share. But it taught me that, one way or another, everything will always come full circle.”

“Thanks for being my friend, and letting me squat in your apartment.”

“Thanks for giving me the perfect leverage to force Adam’s hand so I could move into his penthouse. It’s way nicer than this place.”

They laughed softly, the sound floating through the air and soothing them to the deepest depths.

--

Sandwiched between two huge Australian men, one with salami breath and the other who’d forgotten to wear deodorant, Yoshi tried to keep a smile on his face. It didn’t help that these two mammoths had chosen the smallest love seat ever built as the spot to have this interview.

Yoshi attempted to keep from touching either of them while still appearing to have a good time, but as he looked up and saw the amusement on Gus’s and Phil’s faces, he knew he was doing a piss-poor job. The production staff at the radio station that morning all smiled at him from behind their cameras, nodding to urge him on.

If it were possible, the Australian man on his right leaned even closer. The moment their arms brushed, Yoshi felt his skin crawl. His smile wavered as the salami stench grew borderline unbearable, but he kept it pasted to his face, even as Phil and Gus burst into laughter from behind the cameras, attempting to hide their secondhand embarrassment by putting their hands over their mouths.

The foul-breathed interviewer asked a question, and as Yoshi went to answer, he realized he couldn’t remember his name. This was his tenth interview of the morning and it wasn’t even noon, so the names had quickly become a blur.

He tilted his white fedora back on his head and turned to Salami Breath. “What’s the secret to my success?” he asked, making sure he’d heard the question correctly, since he’d been only half listening.

Salami Breath nodded, but his thin, greasy hair stayed put, slicked back on his head, shining under the studio lights. He was middle-aged and balding, but spoke like a teenager. “Yeah, man. You’ve got the number one album in the country, the number one single, you’ve just been confirmed for the Super Bowl next year, which makes you the first artist in
history
to do it on one album alone, you pulled up to the studio in an Aston Martin, you’ve got a house in the hills… I mean, you’re just living the life. What’s your secret? How do you make it look so easy, mate?”

Yoshi brought his microphone to his lips. “I guess it’s because I’m so much more talented than everybody else.”

Both interviewers roared with laughter, bumping their shoulders to his.

Yoshi felt the urge to flee, but instead he looked up at Gus from under his mischievous eyelids. He found exactly the picture he’d hoped: Gus with his head in his hand, shaking it back and forth. The interviewers thought Yoshi’s arrogant response was a joke, but Gus knew it wasn’t.

Yoshi
was
much more talented than everyone else. He knew it, the world knew it, and the repulsive interviewers on either side of him knew it. Still, Gus had been working with him on humility for months now. But Gus was also the man who’d forced Yoshi out of bed that morning, after a bender that brought him to his knees the night before. Gus was the man who’d shoved enough coke up his nose to wake him up, and then plopped him on this couch, where he’d been suffering through interviews since the crack of dawn. Yoshi could hardly remember how he’d gotten there—hell, he could hardly remember the last five months of his life. So whenever he had the opportunity to punish Gus, the main face on all the madness, he took it without hesitation.

“It really does get tiring being so much better than everyone,” Yoshi said, seeing Gus’s shoulders visibly collapse from where he still held his head in his hands. All the studio employees around him, however, were doubled over in laughter, still sure Yoshi was joking. He smiled. “It’d be great if the rest of the world could catch up. Try harder. Be less forgettable. It’s mad lonely up here at the top.”

When the laughter all around him became deafening, Yoshi finally lowered the microphone, giving Gus a break. He was aware that he could spit on these interviewers’ shoes and they would still kiss his ass. He could’ve kept going, but torturing Gus wasn’t as much fun that morning as it usually was. Probably because Yoshi was still lethargic from the rough wake-up he’d had that morning.

Still coming down from laughter, Salami Breath gave Pit Stains a chance to jump in with a question.

Pit Stains lifted his arm, making his stench all the more fragrant. “Really, Yoshi, the new album truly restores my faith in this generation.”

Yoshi was so bored he could shoot himself. “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

“I love the grit of ‘Kong,’ the suffering of ‘When I Loved You,’
the absolute depth of ‘Howling at the Moon
.
’
This album is a lot heavier—”