Page 19 of Concerted Chaos

“That’s ridiculous,” Powell says. “Jace rejected her.” He knows, he spent hours comforting me the night I threw myself at Jace and he mocked me and broke my heart.

“Jace rejected her when she was seventeen. People grow up. He assumed he had another shot. Cass, don’t pretend he never tried.”

“He didn’t. He was always joking,” I insist, but I’m replaying some of Jace’s frequent flirtations back in my mind, and maybe he wasn’t. I stopped looking at him as a romantic option years ago, and that might have colored my interpretations of his actions. It takes two to fall in love with each other, and I don’t think I would have gotten there. Perhaps if his initial rejection hadn’t been so cruel. Forgiveness is one thing; forgetting is another.

“He told me he was going to ask you to be his date for the reunion concert. He planned to dedicate a song to you and confess in front of the whole world.” Devon polishes off his whiskey and signals the waitress for a refill. “I guess he should have tried sooner.”

“He did ask me to go as his date, but I assumed it was like all those other times.”

“All those other times when he didn’t have the guts to tell you how he felt?”

“Wait,” Powell interrupts. “Jace could have had anybody—no offense, Cass—there’s no way he was sitting around pining for my sister.”

I’m not offended. He’s right. Jace was world-renowned. He was the sexiest man alive, twice. He did not lack for confidence.

“Jace lacked confidence,” Devon reads my mind and corrects my unspoken thought. “Sure, he was famous and loved, but you know about his parents, how those narcissists spent his childhood tearing him down. He never believed in himself, and he never believed he was worthy of any of his achievements. You, Cass, you’re so tough and self-assured. He admired that about you. But he had a crippling fear of being rejected, and you’re the only one who didn’t fall at his feet. You intimidated him. That’s why he hadn’t told you yet.”

“This is absurd.” The waitress, fortunately, refilled all our glasses, so I take another swig of mine to wash these thoughts away. “What am I supposed to do now?” With this knowledge, with this music, with this burden of carrying the weight of a dead man’s heart?

“Learn to sing, I guess? Release the songs yourself.” Devon is not as supportive as I would like, but I suppose that’s to be expected. He probably imagined a future of double dates, him with Brix, me with Jace. And he imagined a future with a solid career, shaking his booty on stage alongside his best friend. Probably with me handling the backstage work for my boyfriend, the way I do for my brother.

“How about you record the songs?” I suggest. That’d be the easiest solution for me.

“Forget it. There’s a reason we didn’t use them for JaDed. They’re good, but not my style. Too morose. They’ll be worth a lot though. And don’t ask this guy either, he can’t pull it off.” He uses his glass to indicate Powell then downs its contents. I haven’t been keeping track, but that’s at least his fourth. I should probably warn Brixley she’s going to have to hire someone to carry him home.

“Hey! I have a five-octave vocal range. I can sing anything Jace wrote better than you can,” Powell protests.

Devon winks at me. “You’re welcome.”

That’s when my brother realizes he’s been set up. “Wait! I wasn’t volunteering. I haven’t even looked at them. Maybe they’re horrible.”

“You think Jace left me horrible music? I’m offended, Powell.” I’m not, really. Anything Jace wrote is sure to be amazing. He had the Midas touch. “And don’t worry. I wouldn’t ask you. I need to find a talented singer, one who can do justice to his work. It’s about emotive skill, not vocal range.”

Powell points a finger at Devon. “You hear the way she talks to me? Someone is about to get fired and evicted.”

That’s my cue to stand up. I need to get out of here, have some time by myself to think. “If you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment, someone is about to log in to Powell’s SwiftaPic account and post some embarrassing pictures. And someone is going to change all his passwords, too.”

Powell’s outraged shout and Devon’s laugh follow me as I walk away.

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