Eyes on Us

LANEY

“Fuck!”

Eric slams his phone down on the counter and mutters under his breath.

Addie seems worried. “What’s wrong?”

Eric doesn’t hear the question. He just keeps cutting tomatoes for the pasta he wanted to make for Addie and me after our terrible day.

My face is still hot and red from crying and shouting. After I left that asshole Ace Flanagan alone in my studio, I practically cried all the way to Addie’s apartment.

When I arrived, I had every intention of cursing her out for what she did. Calling Ace to Chicago without telling me was wrong.

But this is far from the first time my sister’s gotten over-involved in my life.

Even though we’re twins, Addie has always acted more like an older sister. Ever since we were kids, she’s mothered me, making sure my shoes were tied, my hair was brushed, my lunch packed.

And no playground bully ever fucked with me when she was around. Dainty as she is, her brash mouth and skin-piercing glare have always scared away the burliest of brats.

As an adult, her invasive but well-intentioned nosiness continually reaches new frontiers. And when it comes to guys I’ve been involved with, she’s a regular one-woman FBI.

But as much as it galls me how prying she can be, I must admit, she always steers me right.

When Addie opened the door and I saw her face, I couldn’t bring myself to scream anymore. Fighting with Ace had exhausted me. I just wanted to plant my face in my sister’s lap and cry.

So, that’s what I did.

For three hours straight.

Eric started making us comfort food without being asked. He’s a sweet man, and wonderful to my sister. I truly couldn’t ask for a better brother-in-law.

By the time I’m breathing normally again, the apartment’s full of the savory smell of Eric’s specialty: creamy tomato and spinach fettuccine. For once, my morning sickness isn’t making me gag. I’m ready to eat my weight in Italian food.

That’s when Eric slams his phone.

“Are you okay? Who was it that called?” Addie gets up and puts her arms around Eric’s waist.

Eric is intent on the tomato he’s slicing. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are burning with a fire I haven’t seen in him before.

CHOP.

“It’s fucking Ace.”

CHOP.

“He’s off playing a solo show tonight.”

CHOP.

“The asshole didn’t even call.”

CHOP.

“Dammit!”

Eric accidentally nicks his finger with his last chop. He rushes over to the sink and rinses out the cut.

“He’s out there playing a show on the day he finds out he’s gonna be a dad? He is an asshole!” My sister sounds furious.

I can feel the heat in my face again.

He’s out playing around while I’m sitting at home crying?!

Is this what it would be like if we tried to have something together?

When something goes wrong, will he just retreat to some dive to drown his sorrows in cheap booze and even cheaper applause?

It doesn’t make sense how someone so immediately sincere when we met could do something so shallow in a time like this.

Maybe it really would be wiser just to forget about him and figure this out on my own.

Eric wraps his hand in a paper towel. “I’m going to the show. I need to make sure he doesn’t play any of the new material we’re working on.”

Addie gets a Band-Aid out of their first-aid kit. “Well, I’m going with you.”

Eric looks at her and then over at me. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not a child. I can be by myself.” I cross my arms in mock defiance.

Eric laughs. “You guys are definitely sisters. There’s no denying that.”

Addie sticks the Band-Aid on his cut. “I think Laney should come, too. She deserves the chance to face him down in public.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “Okay…”

Addie puffs up and gets defensive. I know this look—she makes it every time she knows she’s wrong but won’t let anyone change her mind. “Laney deserves the satisfaction!”

What a horrible idea. I don’t even want to talk to him about the baby in private. Confronting him on stage feels like a nightmare. I don’t want to be at the center of a media circus.

Eric can see the resistance on my face. “Maybe that isn’t the greatest idea.”

“Yeah, Addie. I just want to stay here and eat.”

Addie hustles out of the room and returns with our jackets in her hand. She throws mine right at my face.

“Woman up, Laney. We’re gonna pin it to this jackass.”

“Let’s not get carried away here. He’s been insensitive, sure, but he’s my cousin and my bandmate,” Eric mumbles. It’s like he’s trying to patch a leaking cruise ship with duct tape.

When Addie starts moving, the world either moves with her, or has to get out of her way.

Before I know it, I have my jacket on and I’m getting pushed out the door. Eric is getting pushed out with me.

Addie stops herself before locking the apartment. “Just a minute. I forgot something.”

She slips back inside for a moment and returns with a bag of tomatoes in her hand.

Eric seems worried. “What are you going to do with those?”

Addie smiles. “Make some salsa.”

ACE

Vince is a miracle worker. Not only did he find me a bassist and a drummer in a matter of hours, he also found me musicians who could improvise and even knew most of Vagabond’s catalog.

He also found a cool little venue to host the show. Some hole-in-the-wall called The Woodshop. It’s a cramped place, but it reminds me of all the tiny shows I played in Brooklyn before Vagabond hit it big.

The stage crew is setting up the instruments and testing all the levels. I should be backstage preparing, but I’m not ready to leave my perch at the back wall by the bar.

The smell of stale beer and cigarettes has permeated the dark wood walls and floor and fills up the place with the stories of its past.

I look at the stage. I wonder how many other bands have played here before me. I wonder how much beer has been spilled on the floor. How many fights have broken out in the crowd?

Why am I being so sentimental? It’s just another bar. I’ve played hundreds of places like this.

Still, I can’t seem to shake the feeling that…

“We’re all set.”

I nod distractedly to the stage manager.

Why am I doing this?

Is it to forget about everything?

Is it to forget about the baby?

Am I trying to forget Laney?

I’m so confused right now. All I know is, I need to play music. That’s the only way I can sort out my thoughts. After the set, I think I’ll be ready to confront whatever comes next.

“Would you like something to drink?”

I turn to the bartender, a gruff, Hell’s Angels-looking guy in his fifties.

“Yeah, get me a lager and a shot of whiskey.”

“What kind?”

“Whatever’s strongest.”

I take a seat and soak in the space. This is the part of the job I love. I could do without all the fame and fortune as long as I could keep playing guitar in rundown joints like this.

The bartender sets my order on the counter.

“Thanks.”

I down the shot in one gulp and take my beer with me to the front of the stage. These places always look so different with the house lights on.

When the lights are low, it feels like it’s just me and the crowd—moving together and enjoying the music. I love that feeling.

I lean against the stage and take a big gulp of my beer.

A hand slides across my back. “Remember me?”

Stephanie Cox. Sexy as ever.

“How could I forget you?” I say with a wink.

My gut tightens. This already feels wrong.

“It’s been a while, Mr. Flanagan. Probably three years.”

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

“That’s not true.” She leans in close and whispers, “I’m a lot more experienced.”

Her breath tickles my neck and gets me excited.

Vince knew what he was doing when he called her in.

“I bet you are.”

“You haven’t changed either.”

She slides her hands over my arms and squeezes my biceps. I feel my whole body stiffen uncomfortably.

Haven’t changed? If only she fucking knew.

“Are you going to just stand there slack-jawed or buy me a drink?”

She gives me a puppy-dog stare.

A beer is the least I could give her after she came all the way out here.

“Okay. One drink. But then, I’ve gotta get backstage to warm up.”

Stephanie purrs, “You’re forward this evening.”

“I mean for the show.”

Her cherry-red lips curl mysteriously.

I can feel myself getting hard.

I may not want this, but my body craves it.

“Stephanie, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m just not feeling it tonight,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as her.

I sincerely hope it’s true. I touch the streak of blue paint Laney accidentally left on my shirt.

How could I be such an asshole?

I wish Vince had taken me seriously when I said no girls. Stephanie is only adding to the confusion.

Suddenly, I feel her lusty fingers glide across my hard-on.

“You can’t hide from me, Mr. Flanagan,” she enunciates every syllable with her bubblegum tongue. “I can feel what you want. It’s practically bursting out of your pants.”

She has me right where she wants me.

“Steph…please, not tonight.”

She whispers, “Did you say, please?” directly into my ear, tickling me with her hot breath and giving me goosebumps.

I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. My head is swimming and it’s hard to focus on what I wanted so badly just moments ago.

She wraps her arms around my neck and closes her eyes.

She presses herself as close to me as possible.

I can’t help it.

I lean down and kiss her.