More Than Anything
Read More Than Anything Online
Authors: R.E. Blake
Tags: #new adult na young adult ya sex love romance, #relationship recording musician, #runaway teen street busker music, #IDS@DPG, #dpgroup.org
Smashwords edition. Copyright © 2014 by R. E. Blake. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, contact:
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* D P G R O U P . O R G *
I’ve always loved coming-of-age novels as well as road books. Some of my favorites have been novels that combine both elements – a main character who’s on the road, in difficult circumstances, and through the journey discovers important lessons about herself and the world around her.
More Than Anything
, book II in the “Less Than Nothing” trilogy, continues the romance between Sage and Derek, but it’s also an adventure, the story of two people growing into their own skins as their relationship develops further. Love stories involving big changes, seismic shifts for the characters, sacrifices and compromises, and difficult choices, are the ones I find the most satisfying as a reader. More Than anything is that kind of book. I hope you enjoy it.
San Francisco International Airport’s quiet when we land at 2:15 a.m. I join Melody and my dad at the baggage carousel, and it hits me how much my life’s changed in just a few short weeks. Last time I was in the Bay Area I was sleeping in the park and playing on the streets for spare change.
“How cool is this? You’re returning home a hero,” Melody says.
“It still hasn’t sunk in. I’m just tired.”
I spent the entire flight alternating worrying about my mom in the hospital and thinking about Derek, imagining him with me, remembering the feel of his lips on mine, the surge of heat when he took me in his arms. Everything changed at that moment, and ever since I’ve been nonstop wishing he had come by my place sooner, explained everything, and done something besides leave me hanging as I ran for a plane.
That he signed a record deal is amazingly great – and makes sense. Millions of people saw him over the course of the show, many of whom would buy his music and pay to see him live. Of course a company wants to capitalize on that. I’m just stoked we’re going to be in New York together while we’re recording. The promise of that last kiss was unmistakable, and every minute apart now seems like wasted time.
We snag our bags and head for the taxi stand. After some discussion we’d agreed I would crash at Melody’s – my dad seems embarrassed by his apartment, and Melody’s mom has no problem with me staying with them now that I’m no longer homeless. Doesn’t exactly seem to hurt that I’m now a celebrity, too.
The whole thing’s surreal. It hasn’t really sunk in that I’m now rich and famous. Or at least, rich by my standards. The half-million prize is paid out over ten years, so every year I get fifty thousand bucks. Talk about a difference from twenty dollars a day!
And if my record company gets its way, that’ll be just the start. I’m supposed to talk to several management companies this week, all of which want to represent me. I have no idea what to expect, but from the sound of it, I’ll be able to rake it in for as long as the public remembers me.
All of which sounds great, but right now I want eight hours of solid sleep. I hug my dad at the taxi line, and he promises to call me tomorrow. He gets into the first car, and Melody and I take the second, tossing our stuff in the trunk.
The driver’s wearing a turban and listening to something on the radio that sounds like a cat fight. Melody leans forward and gives him her address, and then sits back and takes my hand.
“How does it feel to be America’s sweetheart?” she asks, her voice bubbly in spite of the hour.
“About the same as it did yesterday.”
She frowns. “Party pooper.”
“I…I didn’t want to tell you in front of my dad, but I saw Derek tonight. Outside Jeremy’s, when I was leaving for the airport,” I start.
Melody inches closer. “Yeah?”
“We…we sort of made up.”
“What does that mean, ‘sort of made up’?”
I tell her about the record deal and the kiss. When I’m done, she’s nodding.
“You need to make sure you put this one to bed. Close the deal. Lock him in. No more of your hot and cold thing. The fish is on the line – you already set the hook.”
“How many metaphors can you cram into one breath?”
“Don’t get all literate on me. It won’t work. You know what you need to do. Confucius say, let Melody be your guide in this.”
“That’s the worst fake Chinese accent ever.”
“Don’t be a hater. You’ve got the hottest guy in the world waiting in the rain to do the nasty with you. I won’t let you blow this.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Although that isn’t a bad place to start.”
“Melody–”
“Fortunately, you have the voice of reason to show you the way. Which I will. It’s the least I can do now that you’re the biggest thing in music.”
“Hardly.”
“You will be. No doubt about it. This is only the beginning.”
“A lot of the winners of these shows go on to do nothing.”
“And some become superstars. You’ll be one of those. Bet you ten bucks.”
“I hope you’re right. Right now I can’t think.”
“About anything but Derek, I’ll bet.”
Guilty.
I sigh. “It’s been a rough few weeks. I really thought…I thought we were through.”
“You can’t keep true love apart. Or at least true lust.”
I consider her words.
Love.
A serious word. I’m not sure I can even say it out loud right now. Melody seems to sense the opening and goes for the jugular.
“It
is
love, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know, Melody. Just a few hours before, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”
“Is he all you can think about?”
I nod. “Right now he is.”
“And before?”
I nod again. “But it seemed hopeless.”
“Never mind how it seemed. Does your heart race when he’s around? Do you get hot flashes?”
I look away. “Yes to all.”
“Well, that’s at least lust, which is promising. Start with that and let the rest sort itself out.”
“Your advice is always the same, you know that?”
She shrugs. “It works. Don’t argue with success.”
She has a point.
It takes us a half hour to get to her house, and when we arrive the windows are dark. Melody hoists our bags out of the trunk and fishes in her pocket for her key as I pay the driver.
She approaches me and whispers, “Mom likes her sleep. Keep it down once we’re inside or incur the wrath of the Kraken.”
“It’s really cool of your mom to let me stay.”
“I have a lot of pull. That, and there’s bragging rights to having America’s top singer using your pad as a flophouse.”
“You’re not going to sell photo ops to the paparazzi, are you?”
“Depends.”
“Because I totally want a cut.”
“Now you’re thinking, Miss Moneybags.”
We tiptoe into the flat and make our quiet way to Melody’s room. The irony of having a free place to stay once I don’t need it is huge, but I’m too beat to share my thoughts with Melody.
After brushing our teeth and changing, we climb into her bed, and I’m reminded of the slumber parties I used to go to before Ralph shut my childhood down. As I drift off to sleep, my stomach’s churning with dread at what awaits in Clear Lake – a place I risked everything to escape and that I’m now going back to, my mom in critical condition, with nobody sure how long she has to live.
Melody and I roll out of bed late. After a quick shower and Melody’s endless primping, we walk down the main drag in the Haight and have coffee at Peaches & Cream, in honor of my first cup with Derek. All night long I dreamed of him, his flashing emerald eyes, tanned face, chiseled features, incredible body – I’ll admit that most of what’s at the forefront of my thoughts today is our kiss and my one stolen glimpse of him in the shower.
We’re settling in, me in my knit cap and sunglasses – my incognito disguise, as I think of it – when my phone rings. I peer at the number and punch the line to life.