Page 51 of Whirlwind

I paused at the drum set and the guitars from his band back in his early days, performing with Elvis when they’d all started out together. So many handwritten letters, notes, handwritten lyrics of Folsom Prison Blues. 78 singles, eight track tapes, vinyl. He’d seen it all. Now we taped sounds on our phones, recorded on a laptop and a tablet, communicated with email and sent digital fragments to people and got immediate responses to create immediate results.

In the last room there was a screen playing that final video of his singing Nine Inch Nails’s “Hurt.” Cash fragile, physically and emotionally, baring it all, and I couldn’t tear myself away from it even though I’d seen it many times before. He offered what he was in that moment in that song. My hands jammed in my pockets, my heart squeezed. The vulnerability in his worn voice was humbling.

Leaving the museum, I stood on the sidewalk, taking in a deep breath. I loved Freefall, and I loved the guys. I didn’t want it to be a fucked-up situation. We had so much more good music to make together. We had gotten so far, and gotten there together. Accomplished so much, together.

My eyes opened and I took in the energy of the bustling crowds moving up and down the streets going in and out of the bars and restaurants. Music spilled from each establishment, even from the rooftop bar overhead.

My gaze landed on a huge billboard next to that bar. A colored photo of Mae on the cover of her latest album, “Run with Me.”

A sour taste filled my mouth.

I bet Johnny and June inspired each other, challenged each other all the time. Was that how I’d seen me and Mae? Two musicians creating together, living some kind of ideal life? That had been theidea, but the reality had been far from it. She and I could certainly talk the same language when it came to music, we could have a laugh, have “fun,” go to the right parties, but we’d never really spent more than a couple days at a time together. And when we did, everything was heightened and intense—dodging the public, me helping her with a song at the last minute, getting in as much sex as possible in as little time as possible.

Was there room for a partner in MaeWorld?

She ran her show, and she had literally changed the music business with her insistence on handling so much of her own production. She was a superstar, a multi-millionaire with a heady schedule, lots of ideas crackling in many fires to expand her brand, her appeal, her creative universe. Had I seen myself with her in that universe in the long term?

Frankly, I hadn’t given “long term” with Mae much consideration. What she and I had fit in my right now and I was good with that.

Now it was taken away. No longer there. And I wasn’t devastated, was I? Yeah, her sudden and public rejection had been a punch to the gut, a slap to the ego, a shock, but it hadn’t destroyed me emotionally or mentally. It was a rude awakening, a hard wake-up call.

What disturbed me the most was what all this said about me.

Mae’s current hit blared from the open top level of a double decker bus filled with drunk girls dancing and singly loudly along with Mae’s hit song about a girl rejecting her boyfriend and figuring things out for herself. The girls wore mini tiaras and one had a short wedding veil on. They waved at the crowd on the sidewalk as they zipped past, a couple of them flashing their rears and boobs at us, and I let out a laugh.

Being with Mae had served a purpose. With her, navigating the celebrity bullshit with us visibly “happy” had been smooth sailing for the most part. And the whole non-monogamous but monogamous set up she wanted was pretty much free of major responsibilities and emotional struggles.

“Oh, sorry!” A young couple arm in arm bumped into me. They bounced down the sidewalk, laughing, not paying too much mind to pedestrian traffic.

If I was honest with myself, there were plenty of times when being with Mae wasn’t smooth sailing for me. A few times on the tour I hadn’t been able to reach her by phone and that had upset me. I’d needed to talk and I’d wanted to talk to her. She’d take her time getting back to me, and then I couldn’t talk. Then I’d felt spikes of jealousy when, in the spirit of honesty, she’d tell me about hanging out with other men. I’d started cutting off those conversations.

Maybe free for all go with the flow was not my flow at all.

Maybe I wanted the responsibilities, needed the emotional struggles.

Maybe that’s how I’d get to the gold. The once in a lifetime hell yes gold. Trial and error, learning. It was a risk—look at Dad. But then again, look at Mom and Finger. I knew their happiness hadn’t come easy, they fought for it, worked on it every day in little and big ways. But at the core was real trust and real emotion. Gold.

I didn’t know the blood and guts of what a relationship entailed.Haven’t been there, haven’t done that.But right now I knew that what I’d had with Mae was not for me. Not anymore.

How much Violet have to do with that, I wasn’t sure. But I did know that where I stood right now, post Violet, still humming with Violet, humming with the anticipation of being with Violet again, I was…excited. I grinned to myself there on Broadway, the crowd parting around me on the sidewalk. Yep, genuinely excited.

I headed back up Broadway. I was going to go with that feeling of genuine excitement and be open. I checked my watch. Violet would be in town in two hours. At my loft. In my arms. In my bed.

And I couldn’t wait.

21

Violet

“Nashville lookslike one big disco from up here. Bright and brash by night.” Giggling, I gaped at the view outside the loft’s never-ending windows. Beck and I were alone in a different city. Alone together. My finger traced a line down the cool glass of the window as my stomach curled. I was finally here.

“And brash by day,” his voice was warm and rumbly and it sent zings up my spine.

“True.” I turned around and faced Beck. Those unique bright blue green eyes gleamed back at me, swallowing me whole in their turquoise glory. Heat twisted inside me leaving behind sizzling parks in my veins. He was beautiful. I’d missed him. My lips swept up in a grin and he grinned back. Slightly wicked, very pleased.

I’d come here on a total whim, taken up his wild invitation and told no one what I was doing. I’d told my parents and grandmother that I’d come out here to see my cousin Tara who lived in the area. Tara and I had spent a day and one night together. I’d have a true story to tell when I got home.

Now I was here, with Beck in his amazing luxury loft rental high above this fantastic city on a sexy weekend getaway. I couldn’t say no, I hadn’t wanted to. I wanted this, I wanted him. My heart thudded in my chest as his warm fingers stroked my cheek.

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