Giving Chase (Incendiary Ink #1)

12. Speechless – Chase

Speechless

CHASE

The familiar scent of old amps and stale coffee greets me as I push open the door to our rehearsal space. It's been our sanctuary for years, but today it feels different. Charged. Important.

Will and Mark are already here, lounging on the battered leather couch that's seen better days. They both look up as I enter, matching grins on their faces.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence," Will quips, but there's no heat in it.

I'm about to retort when the door opens again, and my words die in my throat. Eliza walks in, looking every inch the powerful executive in her tailored suit. It must be a board meeting day. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I'm transported back to every stolen glance, every secret touch we've shared over the years.

But, she's not alone. Ryan Crawford from Indigo King follows, his easy smile and tousled dark hair a stark contrast to Eliza's polished appearance. Behind him is Jude Lockwood, Indigo King's bassist, his tall frame slouching as if trying to take up less space. And finally, Jake Townsend of Murderous Crows, his long blonde hair tied back, eyes darting around the room as if mapping escape routes. We all know each other, having toured together multiple times, so no introductions are needed, and fist bumps and handshakes make their rounds.

"Gentlemen," Eliza says, her voice steady and professional. "Thank you for meeting us here. We have some details to discuss about the induction ceremony."

As everyone settles in, I can't help but notice the slight tremor in Eliza's hands as she opens her folder. It's barely noticeable, but I've known her long enough to recognize when she's unsettled.

"So," Jude drawls, breaking the silence, "are we here to worship at the altar of Incendiary Ink, or what?"

Will snorts. "Please, like you're not honored to be in our presence."

"Boys," Eliza interjects, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Let's focus. We have a lot to cover."

She outlines the plan for the ceremony, and I find myself leaning forward, hanging on every word. The three songs we talked about, but not individually. A medley. Other bands playing along with us in tribute. It's exciting, but also overwhelming.

"The speeches will actually be longer than the performances," Eliza explains. "Chase, that means you'll need to prepare something substantial."

I nod, my mind already racing. What can I possibly say that will encompass everything this band has meant to me? Everything Eliza has meant to me?

"Jake," Eliza continues, turning to the quiet frontman of Murderous Crows, "we were hoping you'd take the lead on Whispered Truths during the medley."

"Wait, what?" I interrupt, surprised by the force in my own voice. Everyone turns to look at me. "I mean... shouldn't I be singing that one? It's kind of... personal."

Eliza's eyes meet mine, and for a moment, her professional facade cracks. I see a flicker of something – understanding? Longing? – before she composes herself. "We thought it might be nice to have a tribute element," she says, her voice slightly strained. "But if you feel strongly about it..."

"I do," I say firmly. "That song... it needs to come from me."

The room is silent for a moment, the tension palpable. Finally, Jake speaks up, his voice soft but clear. "I think Chase is right. It wouldn't feel right, singing that one." He pauses, then adds, "How about I take Burning Bridges instead? That song's always resonated with me."

I feel a rush of gratitude towards Jake. Burning Bridges is a powerful song, but it doesn't carry the same emotional weight for me as Whispered Truths.

Eliza nods, and I see her swallow hard before speaking. "That's a great suggestion, Jake. We'll adjust the arrangement accordingly."

As the meeting continues, we dive into the nitty-gritty of the performance. Ryan and Jude chime in with ideas for harmonies and instrumental breaks, their excitement palpable. It's surreal, hearing our music dissected and reimagined by these talented musicians.

Throughout it all, I find my attention continually drawn to Eliza. She's in her element, commanding the room with an ease that never fails to impress me. But there's something else too – a tension in her shoulders, a tightness around her eyes that only someone who knows her as well as I do would notice.

When there's a lull in the conversation, I seize my chance. "Eliza, can I talk to you for a second? About the song arrangements?"

She hesitates for just a moment before nodding. "Of course. Let's step outside."

In the hallway, the professional facade Eliza's been maintaining cracks slightly. "Chase," she says, her voice softer now, "what's this really about?"

I take a deep breath. "I just... I wanted to make sure you're okay with all of this. The song choices, the memories they're bringing up. I know it can't be easy."

Something flickers in her eyes before she tries to school her features. But this time, I see the cracks in her armor. Her voice wavers slightly as she speaks. "It's... it's fine, Chase. This is about the band, about your legacy. My feelings don't factor into it."

"But they do," I insist gently. "At least to me, they do."

Eliza sighs, running a hand through her hair in a rare display of vulnerability. "Chase, please. We can't... we've been over this."

I want to argue, to tell her that maybe it's time we stopped pretending, stopped hiding behind professionalism and caution. But before I can say anything, the door opens and Will pokes his head out.

"Everything okay out here?" he asks, his eyes darting between Eliza and me.

Eliza straightens, trying to slip her professional mask back into place, but I can see the cracks now. "Everything's fine. We were just discussing some final details about the performance."

As we head back into the rehearsal space, I can't shake the feeling that we're at a crossroads. The induction ceremony looms ahead, promising to dredge up years of history, of feelings we've both tried to bury.

And as I watch Eliza dive back into planning mode, expertly navigating the egos and ideas in the room, I realize something. No matter what happens on that stage, no matter what words I say in my speech, the real performance will be this – Eliza and me, pretending that what's between us is anything less than everything.

But as Jake starts to sing the opening lines of Burning Bridges, his haunting voice filling the room, I make a silent promise to myself. This time, I won't let our story end in ashes. This time, I'll find a way to bridge the gap between us, no matter what it takes.

February 8, 2015

The Staples Center thrums with an energy that's almost palpable. I adjust my tie for the thousandth time, the designer suit feeling both foreign and empowering. Will nudges me, a grin splitting his face.

"Dude, stop fidgeting. We look good."

I manage a smile, but my stomach is in knots. We're up for three awards tonight: Best Rock Performance, Best Rock Song, and the big one - Best Rock Album. It's surreal, being here among the glitterati of the music world.

My eyes scan the crowd, inevitably drawn to her. Eliza sits a few rows ahead, looking stunning in a deep blue gown that makes her blonde hair shine like spun white gold. She turns, as if sensing my gaze, and gives me a small smile and nod. My heart does a familiar flip, and I have to remind myself: she knows how you feel. She's made her choice. You need to move on.

The ceremony passes in a blur of performances and awards. When they announce "Best Rock Performance," and our name is called, everything seems to move in slow motion. We're on our feet, hugging each other, and suddenly I'm moving down the aisle.

Without thinking, driven by pure adrenaline and joy, I stop at Eliza's row. Her eyes widen in surprise as I lean down and plant a quick, excited kiss on her lips. It's over in a second, but the shock of it reverberates through me as I continue to the stage.

As I approach the mic, my bandmates clustered around me, I'm acutely aware of what I've just done. But the euphoria of the win overshadows everything else. The words tumble out, thanking our families, our team, our fans.

And then I see Eliza in the audience, her fingers touching her lips, a mix of emotions playing across her face. I can't help myself.

"And finally," I say, my voice thick with emotion, "I want to thank someone who's been with us from the very beginning. Eliza Kerr, our manager, our rock. Without you, we wouldn't be standing here today. You saw something in us when no one else did, and you never stopped believing. This is as much yours as it is ours."

The applause swells, and as we're ushered offstage, I catch a glimpse of Eliza's face. She's blinking rapidly, clearly fighting back tears.

The night continues, a whirlwind of interviews and congratulations. We win Best Rock Song, and then, in a moment that feels like a dream, Best Rock Album.

This time, when I take the mic, I'm more composed. I talk about the journey of making the album, the late nights and creative struggles. But once again, I find my gaze drawn to Eliza.

"You know, they say behind every great band is a great manager. But Eliza Kerr isn't behind us - she's beside us, in front of us, showing us the way forward. She's the unsung hero of Incendiary Ink, and I want the world to know it."

The afterparty is a riot of celebration. Champagne flows freely, and everywhere I turn, there's another hand to shake, another back to pat. But through it all, I'm aware of Eliza's presence, both drawn to her and trying to maintain a respectful distance.

I finally spot her near the bar, deep in conversation with some industry bigwig. She excuses herself when she sees me approach, and for a moment, we just stand there, an awkward tension between us.

"Congratulations, Chase," she says softly. "You deserve this. All of it."

"We deserve this," I correct her. "I meant what I said up there, Eliza. We wouldn't be here without you." I pause, then add, "About earlier... I'm sorry if I overstepped. I got caught up in the moment."

Something flickers in her eyes – longing, maybe? -- before she masks it with a professional smile. "It's okay. It was... unexpected, but I understand. It's an emotional night."

I want to say more, to reignite the conversation about us, about what we could be. But I've said it all before, and I know where we stand. Instead, I raise my champagne glass. "To Incendiary Ink, and the best manager in the business."

Eliza clinks her glass against mine, her eyes never leaving mine. "To Incendiary Ink, and the most talented frontman I've ever worked with."

The moment is broken by Will, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "Come on, man! They want pictures with the Grammy winners!"

As I'm pulled away, I look back at Eliza. She gives me a small wave, a mix of emotions playing across her face.

Later that night, as I fall into bed, still in my rumpled suit with three Grammy awards on the nightstand, my phone buzzes. It's a text from Eliza:

ELIZA: I'm proud of you, Chase. Always have been, always will be.

I stare at the message, a bittersweet ache filling me. Three Grammy awards, and yet the thing I want most still feels just out of reach. I know I need to try to move on, to accept that what Eliza and I have might never be more than what it is now. But nights like this make it so damn hard.

ME: Couldn't have done it without you. Thank you for everything, Eliza.

As I hit send, I make a silent promise to myself. I'll keep trying to move forward, to find happiness beyond this complicated relationship. But a part of me will always hope that someday, somehow, Eliza and I will find our way to each other.

For now, though, I'll savor this moment. It's not everything I want, but it's pretty damn amazing all the same.