“I saw that!” he yelled.
I giggled and grabbed a T-shirt from my collection before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I got to the kitchen, I hopped up on the counter. Will came over and stood between my legs, resting his hands on my thighs. He was shirtless, with his jeans hanging low on his lean, narrow hips. I followed the dark happy trail down to the silver-studded belt; there was no sign of boxers.
“Good morning, baby,” I said with brazen smirk. He grinned and then closed his eyes and kissed my lips delicately… for a long time.
He pulled away just an inch and whispered, “Morning,” before kissing me again. “Time to eat.”
“I can’t wait!”
We sat at the table and ate the best French toast ever made. Andrew Bird was plucking away and serenading us with weird words over the iPod speaker.
“I think this song is about one of those tumors that has teeth and hair,” Will said.
“That’s disgusting. I think it’s about love and kittens.”
“Nope, it’s about a teratoma,” he said, smiling.
“Well whatever, let’s not think about that. Are you done in California?”
His mood dropped through floor like an anchor. “Let’s not think about that.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened, but I have to go back and finish what I started in the studio.” He turned toward me and grabbed my hand in his. “Come with me.”
It took me a millisecond to decide. “Okay.”
*
He seemed calmer than usual before our flight to LA, except that he insisted on being one row behind the exit aisle. After we got off the ground he was back to his usual shenanigans. Leaning over me, he said, “I need to make sure the landing gear is retracting,” but he didn’t look out the window. He took a deep breath through his nose and then kissed me deeply. We kissed for minutes or maybe hours before resting our heads on each other and falling asleep.
AT LAX we were whisked away in a town car while Will updated me on the current status of his career.
“Honestly, I don’t understand why they’re paying for the studio time. I haven’t even signed a deal; it makes no sense. Frank finagled some sign your life away contract with them, I know it.”
“They really want you, I think that’s why.”
“No, it’s something else, it has to be. I hate feeling indebted to these people and I’m tired of their fucking input. They want a hit, that’s all. They keep asking me to change lyrics and simplify whole parts of the song; who does that? If they think I’m so great, then why do they want to change everything?”
“Don’t screw it up, just do what they say,” I said, opening my eyes wide to urge him further.
He narrowed his eyes and jerked his head back. “Why? What’s going to happen if I don’t?”
“Go ahead, throw your life away because the label wants you to take out a couple of swear words?”
“I don’t even know if this is what I want.”
“What?” The Twilight Zone theme song was on repeat in my head. “People would die to be in your position. Isn’t this what you’ve been working toward your entire life?”
“NO! I have not been making music to get famous and have shitty things written about me, or to be stuck on a bus for months, or to be told what to do by some schmuck in suit who listens to fucking modern jazz all day. I’ve been making music because that’s what I love doing. What’s going to happen, Mia, if I turn my back on this shit now?”
“Career suicide, you’ll probably have to work at the Montosh for the rest of your life.”
“No! I mean what’s going to happen with us?”
“I don’t even know what us is yet.”
With his mouth open in awe, he shook his head frantically.
Here comes neurotic Will.
“Singing a different tune now, are we? I seemed to recall you saying you loved me, but maybe that’s only when you’re on your back.”
“How dare you,” I said, trying to prevent the tears from welling in my eyes. “I just lost my dog… and my father. I’m not capable of making any decisions right now.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said immediately with a purely penitent look on his face. His eyes darted back and forth, searching mine. I let him squirm for few minutes while I thought about what could have happened to the real Will. I considered asking the imposter what he had done; if perhaps my sweet Will was in danger somewhere or maybe the imposter was actually wearing Will’s body like a suit. I burrowed my laser gaze into his corneas and waited a good thirty seconds before speaking. He must have anticipated some catastrophic melt down on my part because he took a deep breath and held it. But instead of anger, I just felt disappointment.
“I think you’re the one who’s singing a different tune. You got me in bed, so now you can be a jerk, right?”