URGENT (Book 2 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 66: Nice Guys Don't Know Their Wives

Okay, time to see what the suits think the solutions to Soundcrush's tour complications are...and also check in with Adam and see how Mac's decisions are settling with him. I think the song above--Blurry--is a pretty good song to capture Adam's feelings in this chapter.

Adam

The next few minutes are a confused blur for me.

Not because of the introductions being made, even though this entourage is way bigger than expected. Not because Randall Burns—famous country music star from about three decades ago—is here with a kid who is apparently his niece, Arabella. Not because Moran makes no immediate effort to explain Randall and Arabella's presence, either. Not even because Moran—who basically looks like an ageless, blond pony-tailed vampire in a slim cut suit—is smiling at Mac, viewing her ring with an approving wink to me, and offering congratulations on her pregnancy.

Not even because Moran waves away Trace's offer to hit the green room and sit down, insisting instead that he wants to be the first to preview the unsigned Strut, and hear some new material from us. Maybe I should be surprised by that—that he's more interested in the music than getting down to business-- but I'm already too mixed up from Mac's recent revelations to worry about his agenda.

Truth is, I'm reeling. Mac is my blur. I feel like...I don't even know her right now. I've never felt that way before. From the first night I met her, and she gave her body and her trust to me, and let me see her—the softness, the vulnerability, the sweetness—I've always felt like I've known her. I've seen her scared and angry and fucking up, making mistakes, putting on a tough act, and even though I have spent at least half my time these last couple of years digging deep and wondering if I could really be the guy that could love her like she deserves in the midst of all her fear-based mistakes, I still felt like I knew her.

Right this minute? I'm not sure.

I have no idea what I say to Moran as he shakes my hand and offers congratulation on our marriage and kid on the way. I feel drunk, like things are happening all around me.

Really, the person that things are happening all around is Mac. She's...fuck...she's surrounded. Dawes—the bastard giving me smirking side-eye—and two or three other people that look LA —stylists, video stylists, choreographers, maybe, I don't fucking know—they've literally engulfed her, chattering away around her, their conversation with her nearly indecipherable as Moran overpowers it with hearty, boisterous talk about Matt del Marco and Strut and Soundcrush's next album and vague new "opportunities."

Before I know it, we are back at side-stage and Moran is nodding along to Strut's vibe with Trace and Leed. Riley is single-handedly keeping the rest of the suit entourage occupied, and Bodie is entertaining Arabella, and her uncle Randall Burns is chatting me up.

I'm doing my best to play the industry game, Nashville-style with the old-school country star, as I watch Mac. She's shooting me desperate looks and again, I feel like I can't read her. Does she need something from me? Is she feeling crowded by these people, who apparently are her new "team?" Is she having an anxiety issue? Does she want me to come over there and rescue her from the style jackals? Or is she just trying to gauge where I am with her revelation that she's planning to step-out on the band, break away and do her own thing? Are her glances pleas for me to help her, or simply to understand and forgive her lies of omission?

I don't know what the fuck Mac needs from me right now. My instinct screams at me to err on the side of caution—to cut Randall Burns off, to wade into the middle of the people crowding her and make a space with my body. Not-so-subtly give them all the signal to back the fuck up off her—especially Dawes.