Stone Cold Notes: A Rock Star Romance (The Seasons Change)
Stone Cold Notes: Chapter 8

ADAM WAS WAITING FOR ME OUTSIDE GOOD MUSIC. As soon as he laid eyes on me down the block, I stopped walking, and he closed the distance, shouldering me into the brick wall at my back. I had known this confrontation was coming. I’d put it off as long as I could. Seemed my time was up.

“What the hell was that Friday night, and why have you been avoiding my calls all weekend?”

I couldn’t read if he was angry or confused. Quite possibly a mix of both.

Adam and I didn’t fight. We had a twisted symbiotic relationship that required each of us to bare parts of ourselves we didn’t show to anyone else, but we weren’t best friends. We didn’t clash because we didn’t have anything to clash over. There had never been any stakes between us. Adam was laid back about most things, and I avoided attachments and getting in too deep, even with my bandmates.

No stakes. Nothing to fight for.

But Wren? I would fight over her. There was no way he was going to have her. She was too good for either of us. Too sweet and soft to be corrupted by our habit.

“I don’t want her with you,” I answered.

Scoffing, he shoved a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I got that message.”

“Then why are we still talkin’ about it?”

His brow furrowed, and his eyes rolled around in his head like he was close to having a seizure. “Are you for fucking real, man? You pulled the girl I’m interested in—”

“Don’t use present tense. You were interested. That’s done.”

He jabbed a finger into my shoulder. “You, asshole, pulled the girl I was very clearly interested in off my lap and had her riding your dick in seconds. You have literally never expressed interest in a girl in front of me, and definitely never this particular girl. I’m gonna need more of an explanation than you’re giving me, because right now, it feels like I’ve walked into an alternate universe.”

Icy wind whipped my hair into my face. I pulled my leather jacket a little tighter around my chest, almost laughing at the memory of Wren being concerned about me only wearing a hoodie and dying an untimely death from the cold.

“I told you, I wanted her.”

He scrubbed his face with both hands and growled in frustration. “I noticed you used past tense.”

I lifted a shoulder. “I wanted her Friday night. I haven’t thought beyond that.”

I very much wanted her still. The question remained whether it was mutual.

His eyes narrowed as he leveled me with an assessing stare. “But if I still want her, then what? I can’t go for it?”

The pit of snakes in my gut writhed in a sickening flurry. I swayed on my feet, and my hands curled into tight fists. If this motherfucker thought for one second he was going to lay a hand on Wren, he was sorely mistaken.

“She’s not for you, Adam.”

Even if I didn’t exist, Wren wouldn’t be for Adam. He meant well. I understood that. But he fell in and out of love at the drop of a hat. At least, his definition of love. From what I had gleaned in my lifetime, deep, real love wasn’t so easy to shake off. But when Adam was done with women, he was like a dog after a bath, tossing them off his back like pesky drops of water in his fur. A girl like Wren deserved a lot better than that.

He took a step back, turning his head to the right to scan the sidewalk. I leaned against the brick, waiting for him to come at me again. He could challenge me all he wanted, I wasn’t backing down.

He turned back to face me, his nostrils flaring. “Tell me what it is about this girl.”

“Does it matter? I’m not backing down or giving her up to you.”

“It matters. I want to know why the hell you’re acting so out of character, and yeah, I’m gonna need to know what your plans for the girl are. I don’t know her well, but I like her, and I don’t want you fucking her up.”

His accusation was an icy dagger to my chest. He had no reason to believe I would fuck Wren up other than his perception of the kind of person I was. I had never hurt a woman. I had never dumped, cheated, or misused them. He’d done those things. Not me.

“I would never hurt her.”

That was the truth. Beyond the truth. It was a statement of fact that had been written in the stars. I would hurt myself before I hurt that girl.

“I know.” He heaved a sigh and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, I know, man. I’m just so…I don’t know, perplexed by this whole situation, and you’re not giving me anything to go on.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I wanted her. She liked being with me. No one got hurt. You found a couple new friends to spend the evening with.”

The corner of his mouth hitched. “That’s the only reason I’m not more pissed at your breach of bro code. Melissa and Andrea were pure delights and all too happy to nurse my broken heart.”

I straightened, giving him the laugh he wanted. “All’s right in the world.” I plucked a toothpick from my pocket and rolled it between my lips.

“I guess it is.” He cocked a head toward the studio. “My dick is about to snap off from the cold. Let’s go in. No doubt Iris is frothing over us being late.”

We entered Good Music side by side, both of us focused on the empty front desk. My chest tightened at the absence of the timid, cheery greeting I’d come to expect when I arrived every day.

“Where is she?” Adam’s head swung back and forth, like he’d find her hiding behind one of the oversized planters.

She appeared from a doorway at the back of the lobby, hurrying toward her desk with a lime green mug in her hand. Her long, purple dress danced around her legs, and the lights seemed to follow her, glinting off her shiny hair like her own personal ray of sunshine.

She stopped in her tracks when she noticed us hovering near her desk.

Her mouth fell open in surprise, but she quickly schooled her features and forced out a smile. “Good afternoon.” She set the mug down on her desk and smoothed a hand over her hair. “I stepped away for just a moment to get some water for my plant. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.”

She held up the small plant Adam had given her, and I swore he preened, puffing out his chest like a proud rooster.

“No worries, cutie. I’m glad you’re taking care of your gift,” he said.

She petted a leaf gently. “I’m trying. I have a black thumb, so it’s going to take some luck for me not to kill it.”

“Good luck. Better you than me. It’d be dead within a day in my care.” He tapped her desk. “Are you good after everything that went down at the party?”

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Her gaze darted to mine, then back to Adam. “We’re fine. I’m good.”

He tapped the desk again. “Rad. You’re a good girl, Wren. Too bad tall, dark, and devastatingly charming isn’t your type.”

Adam swaggered off, leaving Wren giggling and me still lurking near her desk.

“Every two weeks,” I said.

Her laugh fell away, and she canted her head in confusion. “What’s every two weeks?”

“Last week you were wondering how to care for a succulent. I looked it up. You’re supposed to water them every two weeks, after you allow the soil to dry out completely.”

Looking away from her curious gaze, I shoved my hands in my pockets.

“Well, shit,” she whispered. “Did I just kill my poor plant? The soil definitely wasn’t completely dry.”

I peered over the high top of her desk to her work surface below. The small plant was nestled between her computer and phone in a bright pot.

“If it dies, I’ll buy you a new one. This one’s too small anyway.”

A laugh burst out of her. “By whose standards? I think it’s cute.”

I lifted a shoulder. “No standards, it just is.”

A smile still played on her small mouth, and amusement lit her wide, amber eyes. There was no balance or symmetry to her features, yet they all fit on her heart-shaped face. She really was pretty, whether she knew it or not.

“Well, I’m not going to kill it, so it doesn’t matter if it’s too small.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Don’t you have to get upstairs? The rest of your band arrived a while ago.”

“They’ll be all right without me.”

“Isn’t the bass important?”

Resting my elbow on the desk, I leaned closer to her. “I’ll tell you a secret, Wren.” Her nose was smattered with freckles, and I wondered if they darkened in the summer. Did she burn in the sun? Probably. Didn’t redheads burn easily?

She crossed her arms and rested on her elbows, giving me a subtle glimpse of cleavage. “Tell me, please. You have me curious.”

Snapping out of my wandering thoughts, I focused on the woman in front of me. “The truth about recording an album is we spend ninety percent of our time talkin’, writin’, and riffing. They don’t need me there for that.”

“You don’t talk and write and riff?”

I shook my head slowly. “I don’t. I’ve written one song, but I kept it to myself.”

The place between her pale brows pinched. “You don’t want to share it?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“You should.” Her owl eyes were locked on mine, shining bright with something unsaid. “If they’re having trouble getting the album right, maybe they could use your song.”

“No.” I took a step back, and Wren straightened, eyeing me warily. “See you later.”

Wren lifted her hand in a wave before I turned and walked to the elevator. I stuffed my frozen hands in my pockets, staring at the numbers lighting up as the elevator rushed to the lobby to pick me up.

That interaction with Wren could have gone better, but knowing me, it could have gone much, much worse. I’d call it a win for today.

As soon as I walked into the studio, I was accosted by an angry woman.

“Nice of you to show up, Callie.” Iris charged toward me, her cheeks flaming bright red. She was drowning in her pale pink sweats, but her presence was bigger than both of us combined. That was how she drew in crowds, even when we were the first opener for a shitty, has-been band back in the day. “You’re never late. Why are you the last one here? I need you to be the one person I don’t have to worry about.”

Rodrigo waved his hands in the air behind her. “Hello. Responsible AF here. I’m never late.”

Iris twisted around to talk to him. “That may be true, but you’re only half here lately. Your big-ass head is up there in the clouds. Callum is the steady one in this band.” She faced me again. “Like a glacier.”

I didn’t have easy relationships with anyone. It wasn’t in my nature. But Iris and I came to an understanding in the very beginning. She left me alone while keeping an eye on me, and I did the same for her. Nearly six years of being bandmates, and I couldn’t say we knew each other intimately, but I cared for her, and she cared back.

“Those fuckers are melting down.” Adam raised an eyebrow at me from his place on the couch. He had a guitar in his lap but didn’t really look like he was going to get to work anytime soon.

“I’m here. What do you need from me?” I asked.

She threw out her arms. “I need you to not be late again, all right? I got a call from Saul fucking Goodman this morning. He’s been a monster since his child bride ran off with her bodyguard. I’m pretty sure he hates me since that bodyguard happens to be Ronan’s best friend, as if I control his freaking dick.”

Iris’s boyfriend, Ronan, had been her bodyguard for a minute before he became a lot more. He showed up to our rehearsals and recording sessions sometimes, rumbled in an Irish accent, beat his fancy-suited chest to make sure none of us had eyes for his lady, and whisked her away. Iris seemed to like him, and he seemed to be enamored by her, so that was all I needed to know.

“What’d he say?” Rodrigo asked.

“What do you think he said?” Iris pursed her lips like she was sucking on a lemon. “Assholes gonna asshole, you know? There was a lot of ‘time is money, young lady,’ and ‘if I don’t have a hit single in my hands soon, you’ll be in breach of contract.’ Ronan tried to soothe me by calling them empty threats, but damn, boys. I really don’t love having to kiss Saul’s puckered and hairy asshole because we can’t seem to get our shit together on this fucking album.”

Roddy hopped up from his seat to give her a hug. The truth was, the lot of us could be spoiled and difficult, and sometimes we fought, but we’d been through thick and thin together. Nothing was going to change that. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bad bandmate. Give Saul my number. He can rant at me.”

She hit her head into his shoulder. “We’ve gotta finish this week, guys. This is it. I need you here with me, focused and working your asses off. Please?”

Adam unfolded himself from the couch and wrapped his arms around them both. “You got it, Iris. I’ll get my shit together.”

I stayed rooted in place, but I nodded to myself. “I’m here. I’ll be here.”

Iris looked up from Roddy’s chest and flashed me a watery smile. “Thanks, Callie. I know you’re here. You’re the best.”

That was a major fucking overstatement, but I was here. I’d be here as long as they were.

Three and a half years ago

Little Bird,

Happy birthday. How does it feel to be in your last year of your teens?

If I was near, I’d take you anywhere you wanted to go. I really fucking hope you don’t want to do something that requires balance or grace. As you know, my center of gravity is too high for me to have any chance. I would like it if you asked me to take you bowling or to make pottery. My long, spider fingers would be aces at both.

Tell me what you’re wishing for on your birthday, Little Bird.

Are you happy?

Did someone make you feel special?

I did get you a present. I wish I could give it to you in person, but I don’t think I have the nerve.

So, here it is. I wrote you a song. The first song I ever wrote. I’m crossing my fingers you like it, even if it’s shit.

A Little Bird Said

I’m stone cold in the dark

Waiting for something

Time stands mostly still

I thought it would happen by now

But it’s all the same

Day after day

A little bird said

What are you waiting for?

The sun is out there

The day is bright now

Open your eyes and see that

Times have changed now

Oooh, delicate feathers

Let’s fly together

I’m standing in the light

Watching for someone

The world is spinning

’Cause life has begun

But I haven’t changed

I’m still the same

A little bird said

Are you trying to find her?

Your someone is right there

Shining like the waxing moon

Open your mind and see that

Change is coming inevitably

Oooh, delicate feathers

Let’s fly together

I’m writing down notes

And reading her letters

Her words dance in my mind

My heart is melted ice

’Cause of the fire in her eyes

That I’ve never seen

Oooh, delicate feathers

Let’s fly together

Into daydreams of you and me

Bright and stubborn and free

From the bonds of our tethers

And withstanding the test of time

Oooh, delicate feathers

Let’s fly together

You and me

Oooh, you and me

Little bird

Happy birthday, little bird. You’re on my mind. I hope all your wishes come true. If not today, then soon.

Callum

Dear Callum,

Thank you.

Thank you.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

I’ll write tomorrow when I stop sobbing. That was…

Okay, I’ll write tomorrow.

Your grateful little bird,

Birdie

Little Bird,

No, don’t cry.

Did I fuck up?

I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Callum

Dear Callum,

My heart is brimming.

I’ve heard that idiom before, and I thought it sounded trite, but god, it’s true. It feels like you took a pitcher of affection and warmth and care and poured it into each chamber of my heart until it was overflowing.

You made my birthday great. Perfect. I don’t even remember the other stuff that happened. You made me feel special. All you.

You wrote me a song, Callum. A song of my own. I don’t know how to thank you.

If you were here, I’d probably stare at you for a while. I wouldn’t ask you to take me anywhere special. We could go for a walk—you’d have to go slow because I’m very, very short—and we wouldn’t have to worry about eye contact awkwardness because we’d be beside each other. I guess I should think of something more exciting, but that’s it. I want you to take me for a walk.

Want to know something sad? My parents forgot my birthday. When I mentioned it to my mom, she got defensive and angry. Told me I’m an adult now, I shouldn’t expect to be celebrated for being alive. She said if I’m going to be ungrateful, I should go live with my great-aunt Jenny in Queens since I clearly like her more than my mom. My dad got in the middle, and for a second, I thought he was going to defend me, but he backed my mom. He called me a bitchy little brat on my nineteenth birthday.

So, I want you to know how perfect your song was. It erased everything and patched me up so well, I barely even feel the barbs my parents threw at me.

Tell me how you are. Where are you? I want every detail.

Xoxoxoxoxo forever,

Birdie

Little Bird,

Fuck them. Go live with Jenny in Queens if she treats you right. There’s no reason to stay with parents who don’t appreciate and care for you. Family is only a word if it’s not backed by feeling and action.

You aren’t any of those things your parents said. You are the most thoughtful, sweet, and real human I’ve ever known.

I wish I could do a lot more than write you a subpar song, Little Bird. You deserve everything. I’m sitting here feeling stupid and helpless. And you want to go for a walk with me. Look at you, Little Bird. I tell you I’ll take you anywhere, and it’s a walk you request.

One day, when I get my shit together, I’m going to ask for your address and show up for our walk. Would you want that?

I’d walk slow for you. Tell me how tall you are. Are we going to look silly side by side?

I’m in Chicago for the next couple months. Adam, Rodrigo, Iris, and I are sharing a two-bedroom apartment in the basement of Adam’s friend’s house. I sleep in the van half the time just to get space.

How are you? Tell me the truth.

Callum

Dear Callum,

I’m okay, I promise. My birthday was rough, but I’m okay. Your emails are always a bright spot.

Sometimes I think about moving in with Jenny. But she’s single and lives this fun, amazing life. She doesn’t want a teenager with social anxiety cramping her style. And I’d have to transfer schools, get a new job, become a city girl…I don’t think I’m a city girl. But I could be, I think? One day.

I’m only 5 ft. tall! We would look extremely silly together. Like I’m your child or something.

Would I like you coming to visit me? Are you kidding me, Callum Rose? I would die. You could drag my corpse around on your walk.

But there’s no hurry. As much as I want to stare at you, I’m scared of messing things up between us. Aren’t you?

BTW, why have you never asked for a picture of me?

Your freakishly short friend,

Birdie

Little Bird,

I guess we’re never going to meet because I don’t want to live in a world where you don’t exist.

Move to the city, Little Bird. Have adventures. Don’t shrink just because your parents aren’t good enough to even know you, let alone call themselves your family.

Last night, I slept in our van, and I guess I forgot to lock the door. This morning, I woke up next to a homeless man who introduced himself as Crazy Leon. He’d let himself in while I was asleep. So, yeah, the city is rad as hell.

I don’t need a picture of you, Little Bird. It never even occurred to me to ask. I’ll see you when I can look at you in person. Okay?

I like knowing you’re short, though. You’ll come up to my chest.

Promise me not to die when I show up at your door, and I’ll start working really hard on getting my shit together so we can make it happen.

Callum

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