The Heartbreakers (18 page)

“Suit yourself,” he said, happily sipping his vegetables as he pulled out the bar stool next to me. “So why are you up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I told him. “I added some new pictures to my website yesterday, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

So far my personal website was doing well. It didn’t have nearly as many views as the Heartbreak Chronicles—in fact, it only had a few hundred—but that was to be expected. I was still proud of myself, and every time someone left me a positive message, I found it reassuring.

So last night I worked up the courage to post the pictures I’d taken of Cara—the ones I’d shown Alec—and although the response was positive so far, it was still nerve-racking to bare the most personal part of my life to the world. I felt vulnerable somehow, like I was playing cards and while my hand was exposed for the entire table to look at, I couldn’t even see who my opponents were.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “How’s that going?”

“Well,” I said, “so far so good…at least I think.”

Xander scoffed and waved his hand to dismiss my doubts. “I’m sure it’s amazing, Stella. Have you thought about what you want to do when your contract is up?”

“Not really,” I said, the words faint on my lips. His question brought on a whole new wave of worries and concerns, things I didn’t want to think about. “I was supposed to start school in the fall, but I deferred when Cara got sick.”

He took another sip of his drink and then used his sleeve to wipe away a green mustache. “You think you’ll ever decide to go?”

“I don’t know.” I raised my hands in the air and let them fall, feeling lost. “So much has changed since then.”

He was quiet for a second, choosing his words. “Well, what about photography school? Ever consider that?”

I had to stop myself from laughing. “No, of course not.”

“How come?” he asked. I thought he was joking, but my amusement faded quickly when I saw the serious look on his face.

Grasping my coffee mug between my hands, I stared at an unfixed spot on the wall. “It never occurred to me,” I admitted after a minute of consideration. “I wouldn’t even know what schools have good programs.”

Xander perked up. “Let’s look,” he said and gestured at my computer. It was resting on the counter in front of us, waiting to be turned on.

He seemed much more excited about the idea than I did, but to humor him, I set my coffee aside, opened up my laptop, and for the next thirty minutes we researched different schools. We discovered a handful of universities that frequented every top list. Yale was the most surprising because I didn’t realize they had a photography program, while the School of the Art Institute of Chicago seemed liked the most practical choice for me since I wouldn’t be too far away from home. But the place that really caught my eye was the School of the Visual Arts.

“I like this one,” I told Xander as we looked over the website. “I always wanted to live in New York.”

“Then apply,” he said and clicked on the admissions tab.

“Apply?” I said, and this time I wasn’t able to hold back my laughter. “I already missed the deadline. Fall semester starts in September.”

“So?” he said, pulling up an online application. “Who said you have to go this semester? There’s always spring and next year.” He wasn’t even looking at me now. Instead, he was concentrated on reading over the information displayed on the screen in front of him.

Okay, I hadn’t really considered that, but this idea to go to school was so abrupt and hasty. I needed time to consider how a choice like this could possibly fit into my life. “Yeah, but I don’t even know if I want to go,” I said, shying away from the computer.

“It’s not like you have to make a decision now,” he said with a chuckle, already typing in information for me. “Full name?”

“Stella Emily Samuel,” I responded, the reaction instant. “Won’t there be an application fee?”

Xander shot me a look. “Really, Stella? I’ll pay the fee if you’re so worried about it. Male or female?”

Now it was my turn to give Xander a look. “Funny,” I told him, and he grinned at me.

“Come on, Stella,” he said and crossed his arms. “Giving yourself options won’t hurt.”

I glanced from him to my computer in thought. This was silly. If SVA had one of the top photography programs in the country, there wasn’t a big chance I’d get in. That part, as disappointing as it sounded, was the easiest to accept. The real issue was Cara. Leaving for school would be long-term and what if she wasn’t better by then? When I accepted Paul’s job offer, it was with the knowledge that my contract would be up in two months and then I could go home.

I quickly shook my head to clear the negative thoughts. I hated that I always got so worked up and confused whenever I imagined my future. Here Xander was trying to do something nice for me, and all I could worry about was something I had no control over—well, at least in this moment. He was right; SVA would be a nice option to have even if I wasn’t accepted or never went.

“Fine,” I said, and gave him a curt nod. “What do I need to do?”

Just
in
case.

A week later the fighting started again.

“God, you’re such a pretentious asshole!” JJ shouted, the hotel door slamming open and bouncing against the wall. I knew from the tone of his voice that, for once, he wasn’t joking around.

This morning, the band had some type of meeting with their label to discuss the new record that would go into production as soon as their tour was over. While they were gone, I hung out at the hotel and worked on my post that was due later today.

“Me?” Oliver shouted back. “I’m not the one who kept mouthing off the whole damn time. Were you trying to piss him off?”

Alec was the first to appear in the living room. I jumped to my feet when I saw him, but he didn’t stop to tell me what was going on. He swept by silently and disappeared down the hall without a word.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” JJ said, clearly anything but. “I didn’t realize asking for a little creative freedom was considered mouthing off. Next time I’ll consult you before thinking or breathing.”

“Dude, why are you mad at me?” Oliver demanded.

“Because! I want to do something different for our next album.”

I had a strong feeling that neither Oliver or JJ wanted me to hear their fight, so I decided to hide in the suite’s office before they saw me. I scooped up my laptop and dashed across the living room, but when I reached the edge of the room, I realized that their voices weren’t getting any closer.

“What’s wrong with what we have?”

“It’s not us, Oliver,” JJ said as the two continued to fight in the front hall.

“Of course it is,” he shot back. “I wrote it.”

“No, it’s not. You only wrote what they wanted to hear. I’m sick of the sucking up and the sugary music and the stupid clothes. I want things to be like they used to when we had fun and you wrote killer songs.”

I held my breath and tried to ignore the slow burning feeling of guilt in my stomach; I knew I shouldn’t have been standing here, eavesdropping on an exchange that was probably private, but I was tired of not knowing and I couldn’t make myself move. Whenever there was some kind of tension with the band, I always felt like I was catching the tail end of the conversation. Not because I was literally only hearing half of what was said, but because the Heartbreakers seemed to have all these little secrets that everyone knew, but weren’t willing to talk about.

“I’m not sucking up!” Oliver shot back.

“Yeah?” JJ said. “Prove it. Let’s play one of our old Infinity and Beyond songs tomorrow night.”

Oliver’s voice dropped, and I almost didn’t hear his response. “You know we can’t do that.”

“Why not? Because they don’t want us to? Don’t you get it, Oliver? We made it. We don’t have to take their shit anymore.”

“The set list is already set and—”

“
Screw
the
set
list! Screw them
!
” JJ shouted. “And you know what? Screw you too!”

The door opened and slammed again. It was quiet for a moment and then, before I realized that the fight was over, Oliver stepped into the living room. When he saw me, he scowled.

“Were you listening to that?”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, my cheeks warm. “I wasn’t trying to, but you guys were shouting and it was kinda hard not to hear.”

“God dammit!” Oliver swore and kicked the armchair in front of him. Then he dropped down in the seat and buried his face in his hands. After three painfully long seconds he said, “Sorry for yelling, Stella. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

As I looked at him I was hit with another wave of guilt, but I pushed the feeling away. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked tentatively, and he was quiet for so long that I thought maybe he hadn’t heard my question.

“Thanks for the offer,” he finally said without looking at me. “Maybe tomorrow. Right now I kinda want to be alone.”

“Oh, okay,” I said after swallowing a few times. It hurt that he didn’t want my comfort, but he sounded so dejected that I couldn’t be mad and I left him in the living room to his thoughts.

At first, I didn’t know where I was going—maybe the office where I originally planned to slip off to or one of the many balconies where I could get some fresh air—and I wandered down the hall slowly, trying to process what just happened.

This most recent fight helped clear up some of the mystery surrounding the band’s breakup rumors, filling in details that I’d been oblivious to, but I wanted the full picture. Xander hadn’t returned to the hotel with the rest of the band, and with JJ gone and Oliver not willing to talk, there was only one person I could ask.

I hesitated when I reached Alec’s door. He was a hard person to gauge, and I didn’t know if he’d even be willing to talk to me. I twisted my nose stud around a few times before taking a deep breath and knocking on the door. There was no answer, but the light was on and I could hear someone moving around inside.

“Alec?” I called, knocking again. I bet he had his headphones in and couldn’t even hear me. After a moment of silent debate, I twisted the doorknob and poked my head in. Sure enough, Alec was pacing the room, buds in his ears. “Sorry,” I said, when he turned to me. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer.”

“Hi, Stella,” he said, and I took that as an invitation to come in.

“What’s going on?” I asked, not beating around the bush. As the question left my lips, a million more came forward. “I mean, with the band. Why were JJ and Oliver so mad at each other? Is the label making you do something you don’t like?”

Alec turned toward the window and fixed his gaze on the city outside. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” I said, which wasn’t entirely true. My latest blog post was almost due, but I still had some time. I needed to hear what Alec was going to say.

“All right,” he said, breathing a long sigh; it wasn’t one of exasperation, but of weariness. He gestured toward the bed. “Do you want to sit?”

Nodding, I tucked a leg under my butt as I plopped down. Alec sat next to me, but instead of diving into the story like I thought he would, he pulled his headphones from his neck. Without a word, he handed them to me.

Curious, I stuffed one of the buds into my ear. It was silent as Alec searched for something on his iPod, but then he clicked a button and a song started to play. It was grungier than the music I usually listened to, but the feedback effect with the song’s slow tempo and gruff vocalist worked well together. My eyes closed as I enjoyed the rest of the song. There was something strange about it—I knew I’d never heard it before, and yet I had.

When the music faded out, I handed the headphones back to Alec. “It was good. Who is it?”

“Infinity and Beyond,” Alec said, watching me closely.

“Bull,” I said, but I knew he wasn’t lying. It was Oliver’s voice that I recognized. Without the backdrop of a sickly sweet melody, his voice opened up, the sound throatier and layered with edge.

“This is one of their old songs,” he said. “Before we were the Heartbreakers.”

“They were so good,” I said.
What
happened?
I almost asked, but I didn’t want to insult Alec. I carefully worded what I asked next: “Why’d they change?”

Alec ignored my question and chose to respond with another. “Did anyone ever tell you how this all happened?” he asked, waving his hand around.

“You mean the band?” I responded. “Yeah, Oliver did. Isn’t your dad the CEO of Mongo Records?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and he didn’t want me to be a musician.” Oliver had told me that too, but I wasn’t going to interrupt Alec’s story. “And he definitely didn’t want to sign me.”

“Why not?”

“Ever heard of Jackson Williams before?” he asked, and I shook my head. “Not surprised. He was a one-hit wonder. My dad took him on a few years after he started the record label. He helped Jackson produce his first single. It did really well, but then Jackson wanted to do his own thing, take his music in a completely different direction.”

“So what happened?”

“My dad let him because he’s family. Jackson is my cousin, his nephew. When the record flopped, my dad blamed himself.”

I frowned. “It was just one record, right? That happens to artists all the time.”

“Yeah, but this…” Alec said, shaking his head, “this one was bad. Like destroyed-his-career bad.”

I suddenly realized where he was going with this. “And he didn’t want that to happen to you.”

Alec nodded. “He wouldn’t even take a chance.” His eyes flashed with a rage so fierce that I leaned away—not because I was scared, but because I’d never seen such raw emotion from him before—but Alec clenched his fists, reining in his anger, and it passed as quickly as it appeared. “I was good,
really
good, and he wouldn’t even listen.”

I pursed my lips as a growing annoyance for Alec’s father built inside of me. “What’d you do?”

“I wasn’t willing to let it go,” he said. “I told myself there were other labels, different producers, more chances for me, but nothing seemed to work out. Nobody wanted to take on a kid whose own dad didn’t believe in him. That’s when I found Oliver, JJ, and Xander. It was totally by accident. I was just surfing YouTube, watching music videos and stuff, and then I came across this band. They were sick, and I knew my dad would want them, so I emailed Oliver saying I could get them a meeting, but only if they let me join.”

“You were right,” I said, and for the first time since Alec started his story, a smile spread across my face. “Your dad liked them.”

“He still hated the idea of my involvement, but eventually he agreed to sign them, me included. Of course, there was a catch—we had to agree to a whole list of conditions.”

I’d gathered as much from past conversations with Oliver and his fights with JJ, but I wanted to know all the details. “Like what?”

“Everything. He wanted complete control—the music, our image, even the name of the band. He wanted to make sure what happened with Jackson wouldn’t happen again, and we went along with it,” Alec said. He was speaking quickly now, the words flowing from his mouth. His voice was on the verge of cracking, and I knew the more Alec spoke about this, the harder it was for him to hide his mounting anger. “But now, even though we’re more successful than anyone ever thought we’d be, my dad won’t loosen the reins. He’s strangling us.”

“What’s that got to do with JJ being pissed at Oliver?” I asked in a gentle voice.

“JJ’s sick of doing whatever the label says. He wants us to write our own music again. Actually, we all do, but Oliver…” Alec grunted in frustration. “It’s like he’s on my dad’s side. He refuses to go against him, even though we all know he misses how things used to be. JJ and Oliver started fighting when we left for the tour. It got so bad that rumors started spreading about us breaking up. Things cooled off for a little bit when you joined us, and I thought maybe they’d settled things, but then…well, you heard what happened.”

When Alec finally finished, he glanced at me with an old-before-his-time look. My heart sank as I stared back at him, and it was impossible not to sense the pain wafting off him in waves. He thought
he
was responsible for this whole mess—the rules, the arguing, the rumors. I desperately wanted to say something, anything that would ease his guilt, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t matter what I said.

I tried anyway. “It’s not your fault, you know,” I said, reaching out to comfort him.

Alec looked down at our touching hands before making eye contact with me and shaking his head. “But I forced them to let me join their band.”

“You didn’t force them to do anything,” I told him. “They could have said no.”

“I guess,” Alec said. “It doesn’t really matter though, does it? Oliver and JJ are fighting, and my dad is still being an asshole.”

“Maybe,” I said, a small smile forming on my lips, “but I think I have an idea. Do you mind if I borrow your iPod?”

• • •

“You did
what
?”

It was early morning, and I was sitting at the kitchen counter, legs dangling from the bar stool, in the boys’ current hotel suite. They had a show in the evening, so we were all fueling up before the busy day. Courtney’s assistant had dropped off breakfast, an assortment of Panera bagels, four different flavors of cream cheese, and orange juice.

Yesterday’s fight still lingered in the air, and everyone was relatively quiet. That was, until I told Oliver that I’d added an Infinity and Beyond song to my blog update last night. It was the first time I’d added music to a post, but Paul had shown me how to do it when he first taught me how to use the blog, and it had been simple.

I didn’t do it to piss off Oliver or cause more drama. I wanted to know how the Heartbreakers’ fans would react to such a different style of music. Alec helped me select which Infinity and Beyond song to use, and I prompted the boys’ fans to give me feedback once they’d given it a listen. I didn’t once mention that the song was Oliver, JJ, and Xander’s from pre-Heartbreakers days, because I wanted an unbiased opinion.

“Why are you so angry?” I asked, calmly spreading veggie cream cheese on my last bite of bagel. “I’ve been meaning to add music to my posts, and I thought using one of your old tracks was the perfect way to start off.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Oliver snapped.

“But it’s a great song,” I said, defending the music and myself. “Besides, it’s not like I told people it’s yours.”

“You still shouldn’t have done that,” Oliver was saying, but JJ had a completely different reaction. He leaned forward in his chair and actually set down his bagel.

“You really liked it?” he asked. “No joke?”

“I did,” I told him. “Promise.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think, Stella,” Oliver said.

That hurt, but I ignored his comment. “Would you care if your fans liked it?”

“No!” he said, shaking his head, and I knew he wasn’t really hearing what I was saying. His knuckles were white from gripping the countertop, and beads of sweat were gathering on his forehead. “You need to take it down. Now.”

“Would you just shut up and listen to her for a moment?” JJ said to Oliver.