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“I’m not trying to be a monk,” I argued. “It’s hard for me to date. Women have a weird reaction when they meet me. It messes with my head.”
Some women wanted money, which I still had a lot of, especially in the years since I had cut my expenses. “Ice Cream Girlfriend” still paid me huge royalties, and it had been used in three movie and TV soundtracks to date. Also, thanks to Dad’s guidance, I was a careful investor.
Some women wanted to use me for clout or to access my contacts in the business. The women I met who didn’t know who I was knew nothing about music, which meant we had nothing in common. Music was the driving force of my life, even if I wasn’t recording anymore. I couldn’t date a woman who didn’t love music.
That left me in an impossible dating quandary. I had never had the chance to date normally as a teenager—or ever. Instead, I’d been introduced to women who were contracted to date me and told that we should kiss, hold hands, and sleep together for reasons that made everyone more money. To say that’s a screwed-up introduction to sex is an understatement.
“When was the last time you had a girlfriend who wasn’t a public relations project?” Alistair asked, because I had told him about the models a long time ago. “Be honest.”
“A while,” I admitted. “Dad was sick. And I don’t like hookups.”
“No hookups,” Alistair agreed as he took out a bottle of soda and opened it. “Take it from me, man. Find a nice woman and settle down. Have babies. Plenty of women would like to have your babies.”
I coughed.
“I know, I know. But you could find The One, Finn. You’re handsome as fuck. You just need a shave, a haircut, and a reason to get out of the house. Are you bringing anyone to the wedding?”
“You know I’m not,” I said. “Being a monk and all.”
Alistair shrugged, putting his bottle on the counter. “Then I’ll have to pair you with Jules, since she’s the maid of honor. But I warn you, she might not show.”
My brother knew me well, but he missed how my body tensed when he said that name, how my gaze fixed on him more avidly than usual, how I went still. “What do you mean, she might not show?”
“She doesn’t like that the wedding has turned into a big affair. She’s busy with her music. She’s got cold feet about the whole thing, and in a way I don’t blame her, because this isn’t what she signed up for, like you. But she’s unpredictable. Irresponsible.”
I kept my voice casual. Juliet, not at the wedding? I had been looking forward to seeing her for months. “You think she’ll back out?”
Alistair shook his head. “Who knows? She won’t commit to the whole fitting weekend—only one day. Josie is having daily anxiety attacks.” Josie was Vicki and Juliet’s mother. “Josie suggested to Vicki that she replace Juliet as maid of honor with someone else, and Vicki said no. They argued about it. Vicki really wants her sister there. She’s… Well, those two fought a long time ago, and I think Vicki believes that this wedding will turn a corner for them. She’s got her hopes tied up in it. If Jules cancels, Vicki will be crushed.”
She wouldn’t be the only one. I wanted to see Juliet Barstow again. I wanted to see the girl with the Gatorade hair, the girl who was funny and snarky, honest and raw. The girl who had said See you never, Finn when we parted ways.
So the words came out of my mouth before I thought them through. “I’ll talk to her.”
Alistair blinked, his eyebrows rising. “To Jules?”
My heart was stuttering in my chest, but I kept control of my expression. “Yes, to Juliet. Give me her contact info. I’ll talk to her about next weekend. I’ll make sure she shows.”
“You don’t even know her,” Alistair said.
“I don’t.” I had told him that Juliet and I met briefly that night of the party, but that was all. “If we’re going to be at the wedding together, I’ll have to introduce myself. I may as well start now.”
Alistair’s eyes went wide for a second. He looked fascinated, then amused, and finally skeptical. “You really mean to talk to her. You think it will work.”
“I know it will work.” I knew no such thing, but I would figure it out. It had to work.
“I don’t think you know what you’re getting into,” my brother warned. “Jules is a force of nature. She doesn’t like to be told what to do.”
“I won’t be telling her to do anything,” I replied calmly. “I’ll convince her, and she’ll agree.”
“I almost want to see that,” he said. “Almost. But I don’t enjoy violence, so I’ll stay away. Good luck to you, man. And Godspeed.”
FOUR
Juliet
“What the hell is that shirt?” Stone Zeeland asked.
I lifted Princess, my precious 5-string Sterling bass who had been with me for many a gig, from her case. “What are you talking about?” I asked.
