“I’m guessing her boyfriend didn’t appreciate the profound effect your music had on her?”
“Not so much.” Jase’s eyes drift and I see the longing in his face. I recognize it because I feel it every time I see Robyn’s face. “He probably didn’t appreciate me marrying her six months later or getting her pregnant the following year, either. But to hell with him. I should’ve killed that fucker. I loved that damn guitar and it was destroyed.”
“So what happened?”
If Wade is still married, and he’s still screwing everything with legs, I might have to coldcock him again regardless.
“She filed for divorce not long after I got my first record deal. She was tired of waiting for me to make her a priority and she met someone else. Someone who could be there every night instead of out chasing a dream that can’t really be caught. She got remarried the day we celebrated the album going platinum in Nashville. That’s why Robyn was being so nice to me. Not because she wants me, but because she felt sorry for my sad-sack ass.”
“Damn.”
“Well, I mean, she might want me. Most women do.”
I roll my eyes. Then nod at the brunette stealing obvious glances our way. “I guess I can see that.”
“Naw, man. They don’t give a fuck about me. They don’t even know me. They see the fame and the publicity and a chance to rub up against me in hopes some of that will rub off onto them.”
He stands, jerks his chin in a clear signal to his new friend to leave the group she’s with and head our way. She does, as if he’s yanked an invisible string.
“Then why do you do it?”
He scoffs like it’s a dumb question. Maybe it is. But then he shrugs and something about his expression is hollow and makes me feel almost sorry for him. Strange, since the brunette is bringing a friend over and I know he already got laid once tonight.
“When you lose the only person who actually matters, you realize the rest of it is just physical gratification. Life is short. You have to find what happiness you can while you can. Otherwise you’re just existing instead of living. And who wants to sit around with old-man balls knowing he sat out his chance to live?” He dips his head toward my shot glass. “You’ve got your way of numbing the pain, I’ve got mine.”
He offers his arms to the two women and they take them with matching smiles. The black-haired one with blond shot through like streaks of lightning turns to me. “You coming too, handsome?”
Before I can answer, Jase shakes his head. “Nah. He’s nursing some serious heartbreak tonight and he’s six sheets in the wind. He probably wouldn’t be able to get it up anyway.”
I kick out a leg but catch his stool with my boot instead of him.
“Too bad,” she says as Jase leads them away.
I turn around on my stool and stare at my newly refilled shot glass, placing one of my hands over the other and resting my chin on them.
Touring with Jase Wade is like getting a glimpse into my future. Where all that awaits me is arenas full of screaming fans and nights filled with meaningless sex.
It used to sound pretty damn appealing, once upon at time. It might still if I hadn’t gone on another tour just before this.
Touring with Afton Tate on the unsigned artists tour, I saw him turn down women, record labels, managers, and even big-name producers that most guys would have given their left nut to work with. On one of the nights when I joined him for a beer at a dive we’d played at I asked him why he kept shutting everyone down.
“I shut the women down because they aren’t interested in me, not really. They’re interested in what I can do for them, what my reputation and my name will mean when they can attach it to the story of hooking up with me. It isn’t real, and I don’t have time or energy for shit that isn’t real.”