“I wasn’t calling for my job back, jerkoff, I was just calling to get some intel on you guys.”

“Right. You’re just spying on us, to see how we’re doing?”

“Exactly. I’m curious about my competition.” Even as I said it, I knew this was where my path had been directing me all along. I was born to be on the stage, surrounded by thumping music and glaring lights. Movies and TV weren’t my destiny. Being a rock star was. I’d always known that, I’d just forgotten it for a moment or two.

Matt’s voice was dubious when he responded. “Competition? You’re going to put out an album?” He started laughing, and there was humor in it this time. A lot of humor. It only vindicated my decision. Yes, this would fix everything.

“What do you know about putting together an album, Griffin? In fact, what do you know about music at all? You never paid attention to anything we did. Ever! Your entire career with us was based on us doing all the work so you could goof off.”

His words were soaked in truth, but they incensed me anyway. “Someone had to lighten the mood. What with all the brooding and melancholy and seriousness…I’m the reason people liked us and liked coming to our shows. Because I’m the only one who knew how to have some fucking fun! And I know plenty about music. You just watch, cuz. Because I’m about to impress the shit out of you.”

I hung up the phone before he could give me some lame-ass response. Smiling for the first time in what felt like days, I headed to my office to get started on lyrics. Fuck them. Fuck them all. I would do just what Harold said—dust myself off and keep going. And if I couldn’t join those fuckers, then I would beat them.

Chapter 17

Awesome Strikes Back

Having a little purpose while I was “working” during the day made some of my hope and good humor return. While I killed time in bars or diners, I started writing down lyrics. I figured it wouldn’t take me too long to have a handful of awesome songs. I mean, Kellan came up with them all the time. A huge part of me wanted to tell Anna my news, wanted to stop the charade of filming Acing It every day and start bouncing ideas off her, but I couldn’t yet. I couldn’t tell her I’d been deceiving her in such a big-ass way that the fib I’d told her about the pilot now seemed like an innocent little white lie. I couldn’t tell her anything until I had a contract with a record label under my belt. A killer contract that would ease all of her worries. She’d still be mad at me for breaking her trust again, but maybe then she wouldn’t kill me.

Songwriting was more time-consuming than I thought it would be, and I found myself doing it all the time, even on the rare occasions when I was home with Anna and the girls. Like one Saturday afternoon, when I was in my office trying to come up with lines that were intriguing and thought-provoking. What I was writing down though was closer to fifth-grade poetry. Dirty fifth-grade poetry. “Roses are red, violets are blue, let’s strip off these clothes so I can do you.” Direct and to the point. Sounded good to me. I circled it in red—a keeper.

By the time the afternoon melted into evening, I had enough keepers for an entire song. Ha! Kellan acted like coming up with lyrics was challenging, but this shit wasn’t so hard. It flowed out of my mind as easily as beer down my gullet…whatever the fuck a gullet was. Wanting a drink now, I yelled over my shoulder, “Alfred! Beer me!”

“Yes, sir,” came his response. I knew he’d been close.

Alfred returned while I was scribbling down more masterpieces. He set the bottle on my desk, and I instantly wrapped my fingers around the cold glass. I couldn’t pull it toward me though, because he was still holding on to it. “Dude, if you’re expecting a thanks, think again. I don’t thank people I pay.” I glanced up, but it was Anna standing in front of me, holding my drink hostage.

“I know,” she replied. “And I still think you should. Even though you do pay them an obscene amount of money, it’s the decent thing to do.”

Sitting up in my chair, I told her, “I’ve never been decent. You know that.”

She crooked a small smile, then glanced at my desk. “What have you been doing up here all day?”

I’d been transferring all of my good lyrics onto one page. Wondering what she would think about them, I held the page up to her. “I’ve been writing a song.”

Her face instantly transformed from curious to almost euphoric. “Oh, Griffin, that’s great news. Is it for the band? Did you call Kellan or Matt? Did you guys patch things up?”

I froze with the piece of paper still in the air. Shit. I hadn’t expected her to leap to that conclusion. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about having to give her a reason for writing a song. Wrapped up in my project, I’d forgotten that Anna was in the dark…about a lot of things. So, what should I tell her? The truth? That I was working on getting a record contract of my own? No, she wouldn’t understand why, since she thought the show was still going. And without a contract, I couldn’t come clean, but…the show was about a rock star. Knowing fate had laid the perfect lie in my hands, I told her, “No…it’s for the show. They’re letting me write Ace’s stuff. Pretty awesome, huh?” Fuck.

She pursed her lips, but then smiled. Coming around my desk, she plopped herself onto my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. She leaned in, squeezing her breasts into my face. “Oh, I was hoping you and the band were getting back together. But this is good too. It’s just, it’s been so stressful with everyone broken up…like my parents have gotten divorced or something. You don’t even come home anymore when Kiera and the girls visit.”