Love and Music (Small Town Secrets Book 3), page 6
Tyler wrinkled his forehead in the most adorable way. “What the hell did Billy say to you to get you all riled up?”
Maybe dealing with Billy was part of it—but there was more, including Tyler himself, and I wasn’t going to talk about that.
Instead, I was going to go for the jugular. Why not?
“What brought you here, Tyler? Don’t you have enough adoring fans all over the world?”
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “I didn’t come here for that, Meg—and if you remembered anything about me, you’d know that.” When he clenched his jaw for the first time during this whole damned affair, I felt like the horse’s ass I’d probably been acting all evening long.
As Tyler started to turn, I touched his arm. “Hey, Tyler. I’m sorry. I just—”
Looking back at me, he drilled straight into my heart with those dark eyes of his. “I’m still the same guy, Meg. If you don’t want to catch up, just say so and I’ll leave.”
“No. I do. This whole thing has just been a little…tough.”
“I’m not surprised. The spotlight’s never been your thing.”
“I wasn’t even going to come.”
“Lisa talk you into it?” I nodded, already amazed at how easy it felt to be with Tyler…just like the good old days. “For the record, I came back to Winchester hoping to see you. You and I lost touch—and you’re the one person I regret not staying connected with.”
Was he fucking with me now?
No way in hell would I tell him he had been the person I was afraid of running into. But maybe he’d already figured that out, too.
Yet the snark still stirred deep inside. “Well, I hope I don’t disappoint.”
Sometimes, though…when you’re an eternal smart ass, sometimes people don’t always get it. Even someone like Tyler who remembered how I was deep down underneath my shell.
Tyler gave a slight shake of his head. “I planned to track you down one way or another. The only thing I thought I knew for sure was that you still lived in Winchester. But you’re not on Facebook or anything like that.”
“Lisa is.”
“Yeah. But I don’t actually manage any of my social media accounts. We have people for that.”
Of course, you do.
“Then how did you know I’m not on Facebook?”
There was that damned infectious grin again. “I have my ways.” And I couldn’t get another word in edgewise. “So do you still listen to metal? Hard rock?”
“Does the sun still rise in the east?”
Grinning, he looked down at his hands. That was a shy thing Tyler had always done, especially when he was getting ready to ask something that was important to him—so I braced myself. It was hard, though, as I stared at all the lovely tattoos etched on his hands and fingers. Tyler really was even hotter nowadays, all but irresistible. “I have to ask the best metal critic I know if she’s listened to my band.”
“What do you think?”
“I’d sure like to hope so.”
His eyes felt like they could see in my soul—so there was no point in lying or teasing, even though the urge was strong. “Of course, I have, Tyler. There’s no avoiding it. But I’m guessing what you really want to know is what I think of your music.” When his eyes lit up, I knew I was on the right track. “Your sound is hard enough to appeal to folks who like the heavier stuff but you still have a catchiness that makes radio stations happy with you.”
“That’s probably because we only do clean vocals.”
“Yeah, no doubt. Guys like Lamb of God and Asking Alexandria don’t stand a chance.”
“For—?”
“For getting played on the local station.”
“You still listen to the local station? You don’t listen with Pandora or Sirius or—”
“So sue me, Tyler. It’s not like I’m raking in the cash with my mad skills at the local library.”
“Is that what you’ve been up to? What do you do there?”
Even though the snark was powerful in me—like, if I were Yoda and snark was the Force, I’d be a fucking Jedi master—I could sense his genuine interest and, somehow, I was able to let my guard down a little. “I’m the assistant librarian.”
Tyler cocked his head in the cutest way. Damn him for figuring out a path toward my ice-cold heart. “Wait. I thought you wanted to teach elementary school.”
How the fuck had he remembered that? “Yeah, well. Let’s just say that didn’t work out.”
“What happened?”
Lifting my glass to my lips, I realized the damn thing was empty. I almost licked the inside clean but resisted the urge. “One of the things you have to do in preparation for the degree is student teach. And let’s just say that instead of having you do it during your senior year, they should have you do it earlier.”
“Because…”
“Because when you discover you don’t like trying to manage unruly kids in a classroom—like, I’m talking you’re a bad fit—then four years have been wasted.”
“So what led you here?”
“Well, I finished out my degree. I mean, seriously, there was nothing else I could do at that point. Student teaching was the last thing on my agenda and, after a semester of it, I knew there was no fucking way I even wanted to test for a teaching license. But I had all this student debt racked up. Even with scholarships and other financial aid, I still had a heck of a bill.” Even now, as I stood there talking to Tyler, I still did, but I didn’t want to divulge that. “So it wasn’t like I could work a minimum wage job and coast through life. I had to figure something out. My school offered a variety of master’s programs, and a lot of my education kind of fit with library science. I was so damned devastated, but I tried not to panic as I looked over all their liberal arts master’s programs. When I thought more about library science, I wondered why that had never occurred to me before.”
“No kidding. You went to the library more than any other kid I knew.”
I smiled. “Now I go there every day. But enough about me. I thought we were talking about your band.”
Shrugging, he looked almost shy again, even through the cocky, confident rock star demeanor he must have been honing all these years. “As you already know, my life’s pretty much an open book.”
“No, not really.” I wasn’t about to confess that, much as I hadn’t wanted to, I’d followed his career. I was by no means a stalker but there were times where my browser history might have made me a suspect had Tyler ever turned up murdered or turned into a skin suit. “But I do know you have three awesome albums.”
“Thanks, Meg. That means a lot coming from you.”
“I’m sure I don’t compare to millions of fans.” Before he could counter, I continued. “What are you guys doing next?”
“We’re working on some new material. Speaking of fans, we gotta keep them fed.”
“I imagine.”
“I love my job—and that’s why I wanted to know about what you’re up to. Do you like working at the library?”
Goddammit. This was the kind of shit I’d been hoping to avoid. I didn’t want to talk about if I loved my life now that I’d been adulting for a while. Like most people I knew, there were things about my life that I loved and things I hated. I’d been struggling for so long to keep up with paying student loans that I was just kind of going through the motions.
And no one else ever made me talk about that shit. Even Lisa knew the topic was off limits.
“I like my job.” I could love my job, but that was another story entirely.
Tyler’s eyes narrowed as I knew he was getting ready to call my bluff—and I wasn’t about to go there.
“I love my job, okay? What’s not to love? I get access to new books all the time and I can read whenever I want. I can talk to people about stories all day long if I feel like it.”
He nodded. “It might be worth mentioning that you don’t fit the type.”
“Meaning?”
“Remember Mrs. Kowalski?” My face cracked in a smile, because there was no way I could have forgotten our old school librarian. “You know the type. Crusty, gray hair in a bun, chains hanging from their eyeglasses.”
“Well, you gotta give me a few years, pal.”
“Do you at least have the shtick down? You know?” He placed his index finger over his lips, puckering them before giving me a loud shhhh with a scowl.
“Yeah, but only because I’d get fired if I told someone to shut the fuck up.”
Tyler laughed. “My image aside, I honestly don’t know what you do all day, other than telling people to shut up. Oh, and checking out books to them, I suppose.”
“Well, yeah, and we also have to put those books away. But I also get to pick ebooks for our virtual shelves. My boss still likes to take care of the physical ones, but she hates ebooks, so that’s my job. I also train all our techs and teach them the basics, plus things like how to cover books to protect them from damage or what to do in the Reference section. But I’m getting ready to start on a project I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.” Something it had taken a while to talk my boss into. She was old school, much like the school librarian Tyler had talked about—but my project? I was so damned excited about it, not even the friction between me and the boss could get in the way of my passion.
“So what is it?”
“A book club. I finally nailed down all the details and my boss couldn’t say no anymore without seeming like an unreasonable bitch. I’m advertising it right now and three people have signed up so far. We’re going to meet on Thursday nights. Choosing the time was probably my biggest nightmare, because there’s so much going on in Winchester that interferes with other stuff. If I only wanted the retired crowd, I could have done it during the day. Anyway, I’ve also worked out details with the bookstore on Main Street. They’re going to order extra copies of whatever book we’re going to read and sell them to us at a discount, and the goal is to read at least one book a month but maybe even two or three, depending on the size of the book and the enthusiasm of my group. I’ve got the first five books already picked out, and it’s easy to find discussion questions online, even though I think I’ll add a couple of questions of my own.”
Holy shit. Had I just hijacked our conversation instead of delivering sassy one liners?
“Sounds like something you’d be good at. What are some of the books you’re going to read?”
“I think I need to at least start with popular fiction and then the literary stuff can come after if I feel like going there. But I have a list.”
“I bet you do.”
Jesus. How did he manage to suck me in?
“Yeah. I think we’ll start with something like Gone Girl. After that? Chuck Palahniuk, Stephen King, Stieg Larsson, Michael Crichton, Paula Hawkins. Then, once I’ve got ‘em, sneak in stuff by Alice Walker, Richard Ford, Philip K. Dick.”
“Hey, I’m proud of myself. I actually know a couple of those authors.”
“If you ever need a list of good stuff to read, let me know.” Shit. Why’d I say that? I probably sounded like a condescending snob.
“I’ll do that.” Tyler pointed a finger at my empty glass. “Why don’t we get some refills?”
That was the last thing I should do—which was probably why I agreed. “Sure.” As we walked the few steps back toward the bar, I said, “In all seriousness, some of the books I’m going to recommend are therapeutic. I mean…you have a bad day, right, but you pick up a book that pulls you so far in, you forget all about your own life. You get lost in the pages and, all of a sudden, it’s time for bed and you realize you didn’t even eat dinner. That’s when you know, after reading all about someone else’s harrowing life—fictional or not, that your life’s not so bad.”
“I’d say that’s a pretty damn good reason to pick up a book.”
I resisted the urge to take another jab at him, telling him I figured that meant he never cracked one open. How hard could his life be? But I firmly tamped down sarcasta-bitch. Another drink, though, and I’d probably become a cunt on wheels with zero filters. For now, I was managing to maintain.
And how the hell had I downed my drinks so quickly anyway?
“Another Sex on the Beach for the lady.”
Oh, yeah. This one tasted even better than the last.
Tyler took his beer and paid for both drinks—and, considering they were overcharging and I knew my ex was officially loaded, I let him and felt no guilt.
“I thought I saw some tables when I first got here. Want to find one that’s out of the way?”
My eyes scanned the room, determining there was no such thing as out of the way, but having a seat would probably be a good idea, especially since I’d been nudged and jostled ever since entering this space. I didn’t know how long my body would continue to cooperate by standing straight up without wavering.
Oh, and driving home would be out of the question now, so I hoped Lisa wasn’t drinking as much as I.
As Tyler and I began making our way through the crowd of people, I began to wonder if we’d ever make it to a table. Old classmates stopped us to say hi or to marvel at how amazing either he or I looked. I almost spilled my drink twice, so I took a quick chug to save it.
I hadn’t realized until we made that walk of shame that I’d forgotten more people from school than I’d remembered—and I was far too young to blame that on Alzheimer’s. I kept looking around for Lisa or Randy as we made our way across the room, but I couldn’t see either of them anywhere. That made Lisa lucky. Out of sight, out of mind, out of ogling classmates’ questions. She was going to get a hell of a glare from me when I saw her next.
We encountered a couple of other women who’d been cheerleaders back in the day. One of them asked Tyler for his autograph. While he was signing a small book she handed him, her friend said, “Hey, Tyler, we’re gonna be your groupies. We’re still athletic.” The woman winked and then looked at me before her face blanched. “Just kidding. Megan Walker, right?”
I nodded.
God, I was going to kill Lisa next time I saw her. No, kill was not too strong a word.
Tyler was far more patient and kind than I would have been, as he didn’t ignore any of our old classmates who wanted to chat. At the rate we were going, my drink would be gone by the time we made it to the tables. Finally, though, we got there and Tyler acted like he was going to hold out a chair for me. I started barking an order before he had that chance. “Tyler, you need to sit there, with your back to the crowd so less people get up in your grill.” I couldn’t tell by his eyes what he was thinking. “Unless, of course, you want that.”
But I was sure he wanted to be left alone for a bit, considering he’d picked the empty table that was as far away as possible from the hustle and bustle.
“Good idea.”
I sat down on the other side, my back to the wall, before he could even try to touch my chair.
Tyler finally took a drink of his beer, so I started a new conversation. “All right. Tell me the inspiration behind some of your songs.”
He let out a light chuckle, again reminding me of every last one of his charms. I’d always been drawn to his positive nature and bright outlook. The way he laughed and smiled were reflections of that inner lightness. I’d always been fifty-fifty, and the way my day went often ruled my overall mood. Not Tyler. He always found something to be excited about.
Like this damned reunion.
“You can’t tell?”
“Well, I have some suspicions, of course, but one can never be too sure.”
“Your suspicions are probably right on the money.” As he took another sip of his beer, I could practically see the gears turning in his brain by the way he looked at the bottle before returning his gaze to me. “Most of my songs are just about how I was feeling at the time. Like ‘Shut Up.’ That was about a stupid argument all of us in the band were having at the time. But some of my lyrics were inspired by something the music provoked inside me or reminded me of. And I guess a couple have to do with the whole lifestyle and adjusting to it.”
“That would be songs like ‘Limitless Man’ and ‘Loose Cannon,’ maybe?”
“Exactly.” Tyler’s smile nearly split his face open. “I gotta say, Meg, it makes me happier than I would have guessed to know that you’ve actually listened to my songs. What did you think of ‘Maybe One Day’?”
I really didn’t want to tell Tyler that was a song I usually skipped. It was the second-to-last track on his second album, and the words were too poignant, the message too heartbreaking. It was a song I’d wished would have been written for me, but that album came out three years ago, and I knew there was no way.
“It’s a little too mellow for my taste. Uh, music-wise. But lucky girl.” I took a long gulp of my drink—just in time for Penny to approach our table. It made sense that maybe she didn’t have to attend the front door all night long.
Tyler didn’t notice her at first and his eyes were scrutinizing mine. Had I missed something in that fucking song because I usually skipped it? Shit.
Penny grabbed a chair from the table behind us and scooted in close before sliding over a couple of papers toward Tyler. “I’m really sorry to interrupt, guys, but I’ve got the contract, Tyler. Will this work?”
I had no idea what the hell was going on, and maybe I didn’t want to know. All I assumed was that this had something to do with the fact that Tyler was famous. Maybe he had to sign a release for any pictures taken of him or anything like that. It wouldn’t surprise me. Rich famous people were able to dictate how life revolved around them—unlike the rest of us regular folk.
But I had to keep reminding myself this was Tyler—and fame hadn’t seemed to change him that much. Of course, we hadn’t spent hours together yet. Maybe I was about to find out how much he really had devolved over time.
While he looked over the paperwork, Penny turned her attention to me. “What do you think of the reunion so far?”
Oh, the inner snark was fighting to jump out as if she’d been invited to a cage match, and she wanted to say that the drinks were way overpriced, the venue too small, too crowded, too overheated. But Penny had never been anything but nice to me, including now, and I could tell she’d put her heart and soul into it. Giving her my full Ryan Reynolds impersonation would have been like watching a bug make the arduous journey up a bumpy wall to eye level—and then crushing it just when it got there. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
