Always Read online

  “Hey there. How’s Dillon?”

  “Good. He sounds fantastic, actually. Alive again.”

  “That’s great. I know you’ve been worried about him.”

  Across the room at the bar, Ari lowered her phone and covered it with her hand. “Sorry to interrupt, but Justine, did you get a chance to look at the email I forwarded to you from Rolling Stone?”

  “Um, briefly, on the plane.”

  “Are you okay with those terms?”

  “Sure, as long as you think it’s cool.”

  She nodded and turned back to finish her call.

  “You still look tense,” Ian said, leaning back and raising his arm so she could rest her head on his chest.

  “No, I’m great. He sounds better than he has in months. I’m so happy.”

  Ian chuckled and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You don’t sound happy.”

  “I really am. So why am I so tired?”

  Ian sighed. “Look, I know he’s important to you. Your best friend, or whatever. But you’ve been worried about Dillon pretty much as long as you’ve known him. And Ash. After what’s happened with both of them, it stands to reason you’d be worn out. You need a break. You’re not his baby-sitter, Justine.”

  She sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. “I have a few weeks off soon. I just need to rest.”

  Ian was silent for a moment, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her arm. “Are you set on going back to LA, then?”

  She turned her head to look at him. “Why?”

  “I’ve been thinking maybe you’d like to come home to London with me.”

  “London?”

  He nodded, a slow smile starting, the one she was powerless to resist. “To meet my parents.”

  “Oh.” Her answering smile spread.

  “I thought it would be good for you to take a break from all of it. LA, Dillon, everything that’s happened. Maybe get away from your circus of a career, too. It would be nice to take you out to dinner without a camera shoved in my face for once.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “For you, maybe,” Ian grumbled. “I bet it wouldn’t be so bad in London. What do you say?”

  Justine tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. She missed Dillon. Especially now when he needed someone to be there for him. But Ian was right— she needed a break. Well, maybe not from her career. She loved her career. But the rest… The idea of disappearing for a bit in London was very appealing. It would only be for a week or two, and she could call Dillon from London just like she had been. Plus, Ian wanted her to meet his family. It set off a warm glow in her chest.

  She turned her face until she could kiss the underside of his jaw. “I think it sounds perfect.”

  Ian smiled down at her. “I’ll call my mother and let her know to expect us.”

  “Justine?”

  Justine cleared her throat and sat up. Ariana certainly wasn’t going to get flustered by their cuddling, but it felt unprofessional to Justine.

  “Sorry. What’s the question?”

  Ari smiled. “No question. Just wanted to let you know before I head out that the Rolling Stone interview is confirmed. They haven’t settled on who’s going to do it yet, but I worked in a right-of-refusal clause, so it’s no big deal.” Ari paused and blinked, looking to Ian and back to Justine. “Hey, stroke of genius. Why don’t you request Ian for the interview?”

  “Ian?”

  “You’ve done some freelance work for them before, right?” Ariana asked him.

  Ian shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, a bit, but I don’t think—”

  “It would add a great angle to the article,” Ari pressed.

  Justine turned and was surprised to see the scowl on Ian’s face. She’d been about to tell him she liked the idea, but there was no way she’d say so now.

  “It’s not a good idea,” Ian said shortly. “I’m looking to get away from that kind of stuff anyway.”

  “What stuff?” Justine asked. “Writing?”

  “Writing about rock.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, really. Just some ideas I’ve been tossing around. Look, Ariana, I’m not the guy for this.”

  She held up a hand and smiled. “Not a problem. I thought I’d throw it out there.”

  She left a moment later, and Justine leaned back into the corner of the couch, watching Ian as he typed.

  “I didn’t know you were looking to get out of music.”

  He sighed. “It’s no big deal. Nothing to do with you, Justine.”

  She started to tell him whatever he was thinking and feeling was certainly her business, but he spoke again, his face softening with his smile. “What do you say we poke around online and see what you might want to do while we’re in London? I’m not big on the touristy stuff, but we can do it if you want. London Bridge, The Tower… the works.”

  She smiled in return. “Can I get my picture taken with one of those serious guys in the red coats?”

  “Sure. I’ll even buy you a t-shirt.”

  May, 2011

  “So how is life on the outside?” Keith asked, leaning back in his leather armchair. The chair was massive and it still looked too small for him.

  Dillon smiled and stretched. “It’s alright. I have to admit, I feel a little lost.”

  “In what way?”

  “It’s safe to say I wasn’t exactly managing my own life for a while there at the end. I stayed unconscious as much as possible. So now I’m back and I can’t even start to figure out where things were and where they need to go.”

  “Which things? Specifics, Dillon.”

  Dillon nodded at the familiar advice. “Like the legal stuff. The money. My band broke up, but there’s all this legal stuff I still have to deal with. And I have no idea how much money I have, or if I have any kind of income I can count on. I get these statements I can’t read. I feel like I need to go to college to manage my life.”

  “Is there anyone you can ask for advice on the money front? That stuff is complicated for people who know what they’re doing. It’s almost impossible to understand for your average guitar hero.”

  “Screw off,” Dillon said with a grin.

  “Seriously, is there someone you can trust to help you with this?”

  Dillon thought about it for a moment and shrugged. “Justine’s dad is an accountant.”

  “This is your friend Justine? The one who—”

  “Dragged my ass to rehab and forced me to sober up? That’s her.”

  “And this is the same Justine—”

  “Justine James. Yes, the same. But she wasn’t ‘Justine James’ when I met her.” Dillon air-quoted her name. “She was just a girl in a band. My friend. She’s still my friend, but now she’s this freaking global phenomenon. It’s a little unreal.”

  “And you’ve remained close through everything?”

  Dillon nodded slowly. “God only knows why. She’s put up with a lot of shit from me, and not just the rehab. Still, she’s stuck by me. We talk nearly every day, even though she’s been on the road forever. I probably trust her more than anyone else I know.”

  Keith nodded with what Dillon called his “sage shrink face,” and scribbled something on his pad.

  After a minute with no further questions, Dillon got antsy. “What?”

  “She seems to figure rather large in your life.”

  “She does. So?”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  Dillon rolled his eyes. “You know I hate that question.”

  “Humor me. She’s important in your life. It’s good to know why.”

  “Well—” Dillon thought for a second, figuring out how to describe it. “I don’t know what I’d do without her,” he finally began. “She’s the first person I want to call when I have news, good or bad. Like I said, she’s the only person I trust pretty much unconditionally. She’s brilliant and so freaking talented. She’s beautiful— w
ell, you’ve seen her— but it never goes to her head or affects how she deals with people. She’s tough as nails unless you get close to her and then she’s got the biggest heart you’ll ever know. She’s the one person who always gets me. Sometimes it’s like she can read my mind, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking or feeling about something. She’s…”

  Dillon trailed off as his thoughts swirled in his head, recombining and then clearing, finally revealing a truth that had been elusive for too long. He loved her. He loved Justine. So much it felt like his heart might crack open with it. How had this much emotion lain dormant in his heart undetected? Except… hadn’t he always known? Really? Yes.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  “You’re welcome,” Keith said quietly. “No lying to yourself, remember?”

  “Even when the truth hurts?”

  “Especially then.”

  May, 2011

  The Dillon waiting for her when she opened the door took her breath away. He looked good. Really good. His long slide into addiction had happened so gradually she hadn’t realized how much it changed him until now, when he was standing in front of her, sober and healthy.

  “Wow. You look great.”

  The smile he gave her was radiant, the kind she hadn’t seen on him in so long. He looked like the Dillon she’d first met, the one she’d fallen in love with.

  “So do you. Life on the road can’t be too awful.”

  She laughed and shrugged. “Come hug me.”

  He stepped inside and pulled her in close, his arms tight around her. “Missed you,” he murmured into her hair.

  “Me, too.”

  He pulled back and smiled at her, his eyes skating over her face. “So, what’s this you said about some songs?”

  Justine took his hand and pulled him after her through the house. “Well, I’m finally off the road, so it’s time to make another record. The label has some songs for me to listen to and some aren’t half bad, although of course I want your opinion. And I was working on a few songs on the road, but I seriously need your help with them.”

  She paused in the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” Then she let out a nervous chuckle. “Once I would have offered you a beer, but—”

  “Water. Water is fine.”

  “Okay. Water.”

  She handed him a bottle out of the fridge. “Come see what I did. I had the back renovated into a studio so I can work at home.”

  He followed her through the house to her studio. It was a nice set-up, with a professional mixing board in one room and a studio on the other side of the glass. She’d made it comfortable, with a pillow-covered couch, and a plush rug on the hardwood floor. There was already a keyboard on a stand and a couple of guitars in the corner, but there was still plenty of room to set up additional instruments. She could record a full album in here if she wanted to.

  “Nice set-up. I like your house, by the way.”

  She smiled at his compliment. “No, I guess you haven’t been here before, have you? I’ve barely been here myself. I bought it while I was on the road. Emily and my mom had to furnish it.”

  “Hey, speaking of your parents, I need a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  Dillon grinned. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

  “The answer is still yes.”

  He loved her generosity and loyalty. Always there for him, no questions. “Your dad keeps an eye on the money stuff for you, right?”

  “Yes, and thank god he does. I can’t follow it to save my life. And the bigger things get, the harder it is to understand.”

  “Do you think he’d be willing to look over my statements for me? I gotta admit, I’m totally lost, too.”

  “Of course he would. I’ll give him your number and ask him to call you. I mean, he doesn’t specialize in entertainment, but he can give you the basic run-down.”

  “That’s all I need. Someone to tell me if I’m broke or not.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “You might be?”

  Dillon shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t know. The band went belly up. There are still royalties, but it’s a tangle to figure out and the label gets most of it. Honestly, the money I get from the songs I wrote for your album seems to be my biggest cash flow right now. At least as far as I can figure.”

  “Well, let’s get busy, then and earn you a whole lot more royalties.”

  First she played him the demos of songs the label had culled for her. He agreed with her almost to a one about which were garbage and which were gems. There was one she’d dismissed but he felt had promise. He showed her on the keyboard what he was thinking of changing and she caught on, singing a snippet of the chorus, but changing the tempo and belting the end.

  “See?” he said. “Told you. You could rock this song.”

  “How do you do that? Hear the promise in something?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I hear a hook, or a chord progression or a lyric I like, and I look to see if I can make the rest of the song as good.”

  “It’s why you’re such a good producer.”

  He snorted dismissively. “I did it once. On an album that bombed.”

  “It didn’t bomb because of the producer and you know it. You’re good at this, Dillon. It’s about time you face it.”

  “Jesus, you’re as bad as Keith, never letting me lie to myself.”

  “Lie about what?”

  Dillon looked at her over his shoulder with an unreadable expression on his face, and he paused before answering. “Anything. Even the tough stuff. Especially the tough stuff.”

  “I’m glad you found him.”

  “Me, too. Now, let’s focus on you. Your songs?”

  “Ugh,” she sighed. “I told you they need a lot of help. Help only Dillon the Genius can provide.”

  He laughed. “Quit kissing up and let me see.”

  An hour passed, and then two as they worked through the songs Justine had written on the road. Some weren’t worth saving, and he wasn’t shy about telling her so. Others had promise and Dillon’s unerring instincts picked up on exactly what to enhance and what to rework. Hours later, by the time it had grown dark out, they’d hammered out a solid half-dozen songs worth moving forward with and had targeted four more to look at another day.

  Dillon stretched his arms over his head as Justine sat back with a sigh.

  “I’d ask you to stay for dinner, but I have this thing I have to go to. Some party for something at the label.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I remember how it was. We’ll do it some other night.”

  “At least I can walk you out.”

  “So call me when you’ve got some time this week and we’ll do some more work on this,” he said over his shoulder as they walked back through the dark house. “There’s some good stuff there. You’ll sound fantastic on them if we work them up right.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Dillon. Seriously, I’d be lost without you.”

  They reached the front door and Dillon stopped, watching as Justine disabled her high-tech alarm system and unlocked the door. She seemed utterly unfazed by the way her life had changed. She’d taken everything in stride and stayed her same perfect self. Even now, in yoga pants, a t-shirt and bare feet, she looked nothing like the pop goddess currently ruling the charts. She was Justine with him, the same as she’d always been.

  “Anytime.”

  She reached to hug him and he pulled her in close, loving the feel of her, warm and soft, up against him.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. He could feel her breath whisper along his neck.

  “You already said that.”

  “No. Thank you for coming back to me. I asked you to try, for me. And you did.”

  “Anything for you,” he murmured.

  And he meant it. God, did he mean it. Anything she wanted, anything he could be, he’d do it, he’d find a way. She deserved that much and more.

  He kissed the side of her head and felt her e
xhale in his arms, her back rising and falling against his hands. She pulled her face back a fraction, and turned. She felt so warm, so right. His newfound realization made him feel alternately bold and terrified. But it didn’t stop him. Her lovely face was inches from his, her perfect lips were right there. It was nothing, just an exhale and a lean and he was kissing her, and for one long moment, the world held still.

  He breathed her in, her soft, clean scent, as his lips pressed on hers. Then a ghost of a movement, just a suggestion of a kiss.

  Justine inhaled sharply through her nose and pulled away, dropping her head.

  Dillon could feel it, her separation, her push-back. Her no. He made his hands let her go and she stepped back, keeping one hand tightly fisted on his chest, as if she was torn between shoving him away and pulling him closer.

  “Dillon—” she whispered, her voice wavering so much he thought she was crying.

  Maybe she was pushing him away because the only thing she knew about him was the fucked up asshole who could only manage a string of anonymous one-night stands. But she was different, and he was better and he was finally ready to do it right now. Tell her, he thought. The moment was fragile and tense, but he knew he should man up and tell her the truth, tell her he loved her.

  “I thought—”

  “Ian,” she said.

  Ice water sluiced through his veins. Ian? “What?”

  “I’m with Ian. We’re still together.”

  How could he not have known? He did know. She’d told him. But it was months ago, before everything, and she hadn’t mentioned him again. She’d said it was casual.

  “I- I didn’t know that. Is it… are you… you said it wasn’t serious.”

  “It wasn’t then,” she said, still not raising her eyes to look at him. “We’d just started seeing each other.”

  “But now it’s serious?”

  Justine said nothing but raised a hand to swipe at her cheeks.

  “Justine, is it serious?”

  Finally, she drew in a huge shuddering breath, like she was bracing herself. “Yes. I love him, Dillon. I’m sorry. I know I just let this happen and it was… it’s just… I had such crazy feelings about you for so long. It was all I wanted. I got over it. I am over it. But I was thrown. I’d wanted that for so long, and I just… I wasn’t thinking clearly.”