“I’m working.”
“I know,” she replies, her tone nonplussed with my shitty attitude. “But as your assistant, I am obliged to inform you that if we don’t leave now for the studio, you will be late to meet your band members. Per the schedule I have on my calendar for today, you have eight hours booked starting at ten am.”
“Already on the ball, I see.”
“It’s Monday. Most people are.”
I open my eyes and find her farther away than I thought she would be. She changed her dress too. She’s still got her flip-flops on, but now instead of the short, lavender halter thing she was wearing this morning, she’s in a more demure pale blue tank top dress that flows down to mid-calf. The only problem is she’s still wearing a sports bra, so her tits are pushed up and together and revealing enough cleavage to draw the eye. Unfortunately, I know she can’t help that and I’m not about to offer to help her put on a different bra since it’s obvious she can’t do that herself.
It’s one thing if she’s dressed like this in front of me or Marco, but I hate the idea of her walking into the studio, being around all those people like this.
“How are you getting along with your arm? Do you need help with anything?”
She never asks for help. Never. I either do something for her without asking her first or she finds a way around it. It’s not great.
“What do you think I need help with?”
Your bra? “Nothing in particular. I just want to make sure you’re not overdoing it.” And I even manage to pull that off with a warm smile and not the slightest hint of desire. Go me. Life rule #327: When you make a promise to yourself, commit to it all the way and never break it. This is what we masters of the universe call control, motherfuckers, and clearly I’m slaying it.
“I’m fine for this morning, but I would appreciate it if you’d be willing to do the plastic bag thing later so I can shower. Other than that, I’ve learned some good tricks in the last ten days.”
“Like wearing dresses and flip-flops?”
Her cheeks pink up a little bit, but she nods with a self-satisfied smile. “Like dresses and flip-flops. Something I’m going to purchase a few more of once I get my first paycheck.”
“I can—”
“Nope.” She holds her hand up stopping me. “Don’t even try it. Now come on, we need to leave. I won’t tolerate being late on my first official day on the job.”
She’s spent all last week learning and going over things with Marco, but today is the first day she’s coming into the studio. Honestly, I kept her home to make sure her head and concussion were fully healed. But today I’m bringing her along. Not something she really needs to do, but in addition to her probably going stir crazy, I want her to watch us play.
We hop in my truck and I instantly set it up so that Jasper’s newest is playing through the sound system. “Tell me what you think of this.”
Maia’s brown eyes flash to me and then to the dashboard as if she’s watching the lyrics unfold before her. I’m tapping on the wheel, still hearing this new beat in my head as I maneuver us through Los Angeles traffic, heading farther east where Turn Records, our label and studio, is located.
Time is a capsule unexplored.
Time is a lie with no detour.
But if time is a lie then you saw my truth.
A switch of fate no one can undo.
So brighten my sky, my darkest day.
Loves a game I no longer know how to play.
Switch. Switch. Switch it for me.
Lost in that memory pushing me out to sea.
Switch. Switch. Switch it that way.
The high I feel in your eyes is here to stay.
Switch. Switch. Switch till it stops bleedin’.
Finding you could be all I needed…
“This is about his wife, right?” she asks softly, and all I can do is give a non-committal half-nod and shrug.
But the more I listen to it, to all the lyrics, the less I’m sure. That’s just one verse, but the lyrics of this song are all about the past. They’re all about love and loss. They’re all about finding something, someone, new who can switch up all that heartache for you.
I mean, it’s possible that it is about Vi. Jasper wrote our entire first album about her who at the time was dating Gus. All his secret, pent-up love that he hid from everyone, especially from her. And after she broke up with Gus and walked out of our lives, there were more songs about her that followed.
We all pretended like we didn’t know. But we did.
And when Viola came back into our lives and she and Jasper finally got together, there were more songs. More romantic prose all about her, his muse. Plenty about Adalyn and his newest daughter, Cora too.
But this feels different. This song has a darker note to it. A pain interlaced in the lyrics.
Why do I have the sneaking suspicion he wrote this song for me? About me?
Or maybe I’m reading too much into it and extrapolating my own thoughts based on his lyrics. I suppose that’s what a great artist does to their listeners and Jasper is the best.
“Well, it’s beautiful. I obviously haven’t heard the others on the album you’re working on, but if they’re like this I have to imagine you’ll have another hit on your hands. I will be honest; this is quite the trip. I’m speaking metaphorically, of course. Not about the ride to the studio. I mean working as a band assistant. Especially with a band I’ve always loved and admired as much as I do. It’s crazy, right? Surreal. That’s the word I constantly flitter back to. Surreal.”
“Nervous about something?” I quip.
She flips me off but she’s smiling so wide and her enthusiasm is infectious.
“Terrified more like, but really excited. For the first time since I left for college two years ago, I’m excited about something.”
That’s unbelievably depressing. “You weren’t even excited when you moved out here?”
“Nooo. I was running. And needed money, ASAP. That was all that was on my mind. Surviving and not getting in deeper. But this feels like the best of both worlds. Something I can do for me and be good at and use to pay off those debts.”
“This is your way of saying thank you, isn’t it?”
She giggles with gleeful abandon. “Yes, but I didn’t think you’d like me to say it again, so I’m just relaying my supreme joy with my new job in the hopes that you’ll understand what it means to me and how grateful I am for the opportunity.”
“I’m glad, sweet darlin’. You’re fun to watch when you’re happy.”
And making you happy makes me really happy and I refuse to think too deeply on the darker side of why that is.
A sparkle of mischief hits her eye. “Sweet darlin’? Is that mean to be ironic?”
I laugh, throwing her a quick eye. “You’re sweet. I’m sure.” I tilt my head, winking at her. “Well, I’m sure you have some sweetness mixed into all that fire you breathe.”
“Maybe once. Maybe sometime again. So I’ll keep your new nickname for me. I like it.”
She shoots me a saucy grin, and as I stare at her lips for the umpteenth time just today, I woefully admit to myself that this sexy blonde is officially my devil. If Amy was my angel, this woman is her opposite. They may share some physical resemblance, enough that I occasionally internally trip a little, but this woman sitting beside me is nothing but trouble.