Switching POV's OHH SNAPP. Get pumped :)
John's POV-
"Kennedy wake the fuck up!" I shook his pillow but he didn't budge. Instead he groaned and I watched as his eyes fluttered open and closed.
"Dude we have to get something done today!" Garrett exclaimed towards Kennedy's bed. "Like seriously, take some Tylenol and let's go."
"Go without me!" Kennedy blurted into his pillow.
"Let's just go," Jared advised us, "we might not need him today anyway."
"Whatever," I rolled my eyes and stomped away from Kennedy's bed. I got the point that he was sick, but we were wasting precious studio time.
He all hurdled out of the hotel room and down to the van. I hopped in the drivers seat and cranked up the AC. I loved coming to LA but it was hott as tits in the summertime. Even worse than Arizona. At least there were beaches here. We'd most likely be hitting them later after the studio, but who knew if we'd even need to go today, without Kennedy we couldn't finalize anything.
"What's up with him?" Pat asked referring to Kennedy.
"Seriously, he's having like a week long fucking hangover or something," Garrett replied, "it's ridiculous."
"He kept me up all night last night throwing up," Jared explained, "I don't think I've slept since we got here."
"Maybe he should just go home," Pat suggested, "I mean, he might as well suffer at home where someone can take care of him."
"And waste all this studio time!" I exclaimed, "no way. He'll be better tomorrow, even if we have to drug him up."
"Agreed," Garret nodded in the passenger seat and turned up the radio. "So, how was talking to Lacey last night."
'It was alright," I replied, a smile creeping on my face, "she sounded pretty out of it. She loved the song though."
"You told her it was about her?" Jared asked.
"I'm sure she figured it out," I replied, "once I sang her the chorus. I mean, those were her words."
"Tell me that you love me and it'll be alright. Are you thinking of me, just come with me tonight." Pat recited the lyrics that I had written the night Lacey and I had our falling out. She was still a little shaky after the accident and didn't remember anything from the day it happened. Which worked out and sucked majorly at the same time. She forgot everything about Gwen being Carolyn and Madison being mine, but she also didn't remember me telling her I loved her.
"What ever happened to you guys anyway?" Garrett asked, "you were together for so long and then it was just over."
"After the accident nothing was the same," I began to explain, "she was a different girl and I was a different guy. We still loved each other but everyday we fell further and further apart. The day before I left for ASU she made me promise I'd come back for her, and I made the promise to her, but for some reason I couldn't make it to myself. When I came home, she was with John and we were done."
"I'm sorry man," Jared empathized, "that sucks, but maybe it was for the best. You'll find someone else."
"Yeah," I replied, but I didn't believe it for a second. Lacey was the only girl for me, I knew that. But if she ever found out what happened with me and Carolyn…again, she'd never speak to me ever again. I knew that now, and I had to keep the secret of having a daughter for the rest of my life. Madison had to grow up not knowing who her father was and it was no one else's fault but mine. I thought about telling Lacey plenty of times, but I never wanted to hurt her. I figured the day of the accident was the best day to tell her because if she had broken up with me I was leaving anyway. But that plan backfired.
We pulled into the studio parking lot and I slipped on my sunglasses. Jared and Pat hopped out of the back seat and I reached for the door handle.
"It'll get better with time," I heard Garrett advise to the dead silent van.
"I can only hope," I replied.
"It will," he assured me, "Lacey isn't the only Lacey isn't the world. I know that sounds weird, but there are other girls out there. Some may be just like Lacey. I mean, come on, you can find hott red heads with a cute little gap between her two front teeth anywhere right?"
"Right," I shook my head and slid out of the van. I knew Garrett was just trying to help and what he said made sense but it meant nothing to me. I didn't want to find the other Lacey's of the world. I just wanted my Lacey. Lacey Elizabeth Catherine Monroe. The girl I'd loved since I was 10 years old.
By the time Garrett and I reached the door Pat and Jared were already inside. Garrett pulled the glass door open and I stepped into the heavily air conditioned building. A Foo Fighters song played over head as Garrett read a sign out loud directing us to take the stairs to get up to the studio. We hauled up them and took a sharp right, a receptionist sat before us with a headset over her ears and a steaming cup of Starbucks coffee on her desk.
"Welcome to Fearless records how can I help you?" She asked with a smile.
"John!" our producer came bounding in the door holding an identical Starbucks cup and waved me in, "they're the band," he informed the secretary.
We walked past her desk and into the brightly lit studio where Pat and Jared were waiting for us in the lounge chairs, munching on some muffins and pouring themselves coffee in small paper cups.
"We're missing one?" The producer, James, announced after a quick recount.
"Kennedy's sick," I explained, "hopefully he'll be here tomorrow."
"Ahhh," he shook his head and took a glug of whatever was in his cup, "I see. So looks like we're talking business today then."
"I guess so if we can't record," Garret agreed.
"Actually we could record the drum tracks," Pat suggested, "we don't need Kennedy for that."
"Kids got a point," James pointed out, "so drums day."
"Sounds good to me," I shrugged and took a set next to Jared.
"John!" I heard a voice call behind me. I wiped around and met eyes with Marge; my favorite producer at the company. Her Dolce and Gabanna glasses hung on a string around her neck and her red lip stick painted lips were curled into a tight smile.
"Marge!" I exclaimed, flying out if the chair and pulling her into a hug, "I haven't seen you since we put out The Way We Talk!"
"I know!" She gushed, "how has your cute little butt been?"
"I've been alright," I shrugged.
"Alright is not okay for my John," Marge replied, sounding concerned, "step into my office."
Marge was in her mid 40's and was like my second mom. She helped us through producing the first record and also helped us get on the road with hooking us up with an awesome tour manager. I confided in her with almost everything and she knew when I wasn't telling the truth about how I've been. I was looking forward to one of her pep talks, and now I guess I was going to get one.
I sat down on the red couch in her office and she plopped down in her computer chair. She smoothed out her skirt and took her phone off the hook.
"Okay Johnny, you have my full attention. What the hells been bothering you?"
"Well you remember that Lacey girl I was telling you about a long time ago?" I asked her. She raised her eyes to the ceiling in thought and bit her bottom lip.
"I think I do," she replied, "you were very smitten with her, I swear you were going to propose."
"Yeah, I thought so too."
"Well what happened? Did she break up with you?" Marge asked, crossing her left leg over her right.
"She didn't break up with me per say, but she kinda decided for the both of us that it was okay to date other people…"
Marge gasped, "She's with someone else?"
"They've been dating for about a year now, I came home from ASU and they had been together for almost six months."
"Oh John, I'm so sorry."
"It's alright, I'm alright. It's just…it's hard because…"
"You're still in love with her," Marge nodded, "I understand."
"And she still loves me too, she told me. But she's still with John."
"Hold up, the guy she's dating is named John?"
"Yeah, John Gomez."
"Well looks like our Lacey has a thing for John's" Marge laughed, and I tried to crack a smile.
"Well you know what John?" Marge began, "any girl who could break my Johnny's heart like that isn't worth it. And as a matter of fact I have a whole handful of girls you can chose from."
"Thanks Marge, I mean it, but I'm not really looking to date anyone right now."
Marge cackled and spun her chair towards her Mac PC, "Oh Johnny, I was kidding. But I do need your help. We're hiring some interns to start this summer and I have to chose who gets the job. I'd love your help."
"Sounds like a tough job," I winked and hopped off the couch, "alright let's see what we've got."
Lacey's POV-
I woke up the next morning feeling like I had been hit over the head repeatedly until I blacked out. As a matter of fact I didn't know if I actually did since I didn't remember falling asleep. My memory was slipping again, great! I couldn't tell Gwen because she'd just ship me off the hospital and they'd probably try and probe my brain or whatever they would do that could possibly kill me.
I couldn't believe I had broken up with John last night. It just happened. The words spilled out like word vomit. My brain turned off and my heart turned on. And at the moment my heart was stuck on John Ohh.
I slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone off the floor from where I had thrown it last night. I checked the screen to read that I had no missed anything. No texts, calls, voicemail. Nothing.
Tossing my phone on my bed, I shuffled over to my closet and began shifting through my clothes. A red shirt was folded up on the shelf and I figured it was clean so I reached up and grabbed it. Pulling it down I watched a tiny blue envelope floated down and landed on the ground next to my left foot. Tucking the shirt under my arm, I bent down and grabbed the peculiar envelope. It was already opened so I pulled up the flap and pried inside. My fingers grazed a stiff piece of paper and I pulled it out. The side facing me was blank so I turned it over and read the words. In John's blocky handwriting read "I love you."
All the air drained out of my body as I read the words over and over again. "I love you." John really had said it, but why could I not remember it? I was sure I'd remember him telling he loved me, because that was one of the reasons we broke up; he never did. Then I thought back to the accident. The accident that had wiped my short term memory clean. My knees buckled and I fell to the ground, still clutching the tiny envelope and loving note. I read it a few more times before I finally crawled to my bed. Carefully placing the note on my night stand, I threw off my tank top and slipped on the red The Maine shirt. Irony much? Pushing off of my bed, I paced towards the stairs and descended all the way down to the living room where Gwen sat feeding Madison a banana.
"Gwen, can I borrow some money?"
"What for?" she asked, looking up at me with a confused expression.
"I need to but a plane ticket," I replied.
"Where the hell are you going?"
"Los Angeles; I have to tell someone something very important."
John's POV-
"Okay last girl," I said to the computer screen as Marge clicked on the last application.
"Let's see," she said slipping on her glasses. "We'll start with the bio."
"Her names Britta," I read, "she's from Connecticut and is turning 18 July 3rd."
"Look here John," Marge pointed towards the screen, "My favorite bands are The Maine, The Summer Set, and Paramore."
"She's a fan!" I exclaimed, "I like her already."
"Me too," Marge chuckled and kept scrolling, "she's a singer and attends Seton Hall studying Music Industry."
"She's very qualified," I concluded.
"And pretty cute," Marge joked.
"She's not that bad on the eyes," I agreed.
"Well I think she's perfect, what do you think?"
"I like her," I replied, "she should definitely get the job."
"We've got our girl," Marge threw up her hand for a highfive, "I'll call her tomorrow and she'll start next month."
"Why next month?" I asked, smacking her hand.
"She's not 18 until July, you gotta be 18 to work here," Marge explained, "but that's fine we'll wait for her."
"She's going to be so pumped," I replied, "I'd love to work here."
"How about this," Marge began, "how about you call her tomorrow and give her the good news?"
"That'd be awesome!" I exclaimed.
"Actually wait," Marge returned her gaze to the screen, "it says here that her heroes are JFK, Hayley Williams, and Kennedy Brock. Sorry John, looks like Kennedy's giving her the good news."
"If he's even alive tomorrow," I joked, "he's sick as a dog."
"Poor baby," Marge stuck out her bottom lip, "tell him I said feel better soon."
"I'll pass the word along," I replied, getting up from the chair, "I'll see ya soon Marge."
"You better!"
I stepped out of her office and met up with the guys in the sitting room. Pat was missing, obviously recording his drum tracks and Garrett was on the phone while Jared flipped through People magazine.
"How's Marge?" Jared asked as I sat down.
"She's still just Marge," I replied with a smile, "I missed her."
Jared nodded and returned to his magazine. His foot shook as he read and I shifted my attention to Garrett.
"Who are you talking to?" I mouthed.
"Brian," he mouthed back pointing at the phone.
"Dales?"
Garrett shook his head and finally said his goodbyes. He stuck the phone in his pocket and let out a deep sigh.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Not good," Garrett shook his head.
"What's not good?" Jared asked, slapping the magazine back on the table.
"They're not going to be able to record today and probably not for a few days," Garrett explained.
"Why not?" I asked, "problem with the studio?"
Garrett shook his head, "problem with John. Lacey broke up with him last night and he's been a wreak. He won't eat, sleep, talk. Brian says there's no way they're getting him into the studio."
"Poor guy," Jared sighed.
"Lacey broke up with him?" I questioned, "did she say why?"
"Did she have to?" Garrett shot me a look and I swallowed hard. Of course it was because of me. A part of my sympathized for John but another part of me wanted to do back flips until I threw up. There was still hope. Lacey still loved me and I was going to get her back.
Excusing myself, I hopped out of the chair and took off out of the studio. I ran to the van and took off back towards the hotel. Parking in the loading zone I threw open the back door and ran inside. Passing the elevator I slammed the door open to the stairs and marched up to the third floor. I punched the key in the slot and barged in the door. Kennedy lay on his back on the bed next to the window and didn't move when I entered the room. I grabbed my suitcase and began stuffing my clothes and lyric book inside.
"What are you doing?" Kennedy moaned.
"I'm going home," I replied, "I'm going home to the girl I love."