My So Called Life Continues

Jordan in L.A. - Part 1

So the song is the Kill (Bury Me) by 30 seconds to Mars sung by Jared Leto and is the song I'm talking about in this chapter. The video is made by blurryfaced (2015).

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Jordan sighed and rubbed his brow. He'd been stuck in meetings and promo interviews non-stop practically since he'd touched down in L.A.

He scowled as Shane elbowed him in the ribs. His friend shot him a look and flicked his chin towards one of the execs who'd been droning on about their upcoming tour for almost an hour now. Jordan rolled his eyes and huffed a breath out. He'd started zoning out about 10 minutes into the meeting. They already had a copy of the itinerary, so he really had no fucking clue why they had to go through it practically word for word.

His stomach churned as his thoughts drifted to Angela. He'd be back in New York in two days and so far they'd only communicated through text. She'd been the one to reach out most of the time, and he'd had only initiated contact to ask about Jay.

God, he fucken missed them.

He'd almost broken down and called her a few times. But James' words were seared into his mind, playing like a broken record stuck on repeat. All he could see was Angela and him. Her pretty eyes all soft, body all wrapped up in his as she moaned out his name.

Fuck.

Pain and anger burned through him. He'd been completely replaced by James. For all the women Jordan had slept with, he'd never gotten his emotions involved, never said their names while he was inside them. He couldn't. Because it wasn't them he'd been thinking about. And while he'd been stuck in limbo she'd moved on, found someone else, and seamlessly fit him into her life—their son's life. Jordan scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head.

"Did you get all that, Jordan?" The exec eyed him, eyebrows raised, a look of mild annoyance flickering over his features .

"Yeah. I got it. We about done here?" Irritation flared through him as he looked the guy square in the eyes. He wasn't about to be reprimanded by some entitled 25-year old little shit that had something to prove because daddy owned the label.

"Uh." The other man's eyes widened, and his cheeks reddened before he quickly averted his gaze, "yes, I think that about does it."
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After the meeting, Jordan and the rest of Residue headed back to his place. They ended up in his studio going over the lyrics of some of their new songs, playing around with the sounds, trying to make it fit, come alive.

He'd written most of the songs right after his break up with Angela. Out of all of them, The Kill (Bury Me) exposed the bloodiest of his wounds. Wounds that Jordan thought had scabbed over and healed. But as he sang the lyrics, those wounds ripped wide open. He swore and exhaled in frustration. He kept messing up the words as he sang, his vocals not aligning with the beat of the set.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He knew this song inside out. His friends darted him concerned glances, looking like they wanted to say something.

They didn't.

Good.

He wasn't ready to talk about it. But he couldn't focus. His mind was all over the place.

"Alright." Shane cleared his throat. "Let's call it a day with this shit, yeah? I could use a drink." He fixed his gaze on Jordan.

Jordan chewed his thumb and nodded.

Shane collapsed onto the lounge chair next to Jordan. They were in the backyard, under the covered patio. Tommy and Joey alternated between dunking each other into the pool and drinking their beer, their loud laughter and splashing the only sounds punctuating the silence. Jordan stared into the distance, his eyes hidden by shades as he sipped his scotch.

Shane took a long pull of his beer and made a satisfied noise. "I really needed that. Been a long day huh??"

Jordan barely grunted in response.

"Yo...what's up with you?"

Jordan sighed and took another sip of his drink. "Nuthin'." He closed his eyes and leant back against the lounge chair.

Their eyes darted to Jordan's phone as it buzzed on the table between them. Jordan reached for it just as Shane scooped it up, handing it to him. He scowled at the screen and tossed it back down. Shane stared at him, eyebrows raised in question, his look making it clear he'd seen who the text was from.

"Did something happen with Angela?"

Jordan scoffed and shook his head.

Shane rolled his eyes.

"Connelly, you got something to say, then say it."

Shane took a swig of his beer. "Alright." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You've been all moody and shit since you left New York, and now you're ignoring her."

"I'm not ignoring her. I just...I don't have to like, jump every time she texts or calls me alright?!!"

"Whoa." Shane threw up his hands up. "Relax, man. Clearly, something's up, but fine.....I give up," he said, clearly exasperated.

Several minutes of silence passed. Jordan finished his drink and set it down on the counter.  He raked a hand through his hair and huffed a breath out. "James came to see me at the hotel."

"Oh shit!" Shane's eyes widened. He took another swig of his beer. "So, what happened?"

Jordan filled him in on what James had said, only leaving out his comments about Angela in bed.

"Damn, Catalano." Shane let out a low whistle. "Dude's got some balls. You tell Angela?"

"No." Jordan sighed heavily. "What good would it do?"

"There's only one way to find out how she really feels about him." Shane raised his brows. "You gotta talk to her. And stop doing that thing you always do."

"What thing?" Jordan's brows furrowed.

"Shutting down. Pushing her away."

"I'm pushing her away?!! She's not even sure if she wants to be with me! And she could be with him right now for all I know doing—whatever." Jordan felt the bile rise in his throat. James could be fucking her right now and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. The thought of it made him feel sick to his stomach, and the jealousy that ripped through him made him feel almost murderous.

"Look." Shane gave him a pointed look, "you know I'm not really on board with this whole thing, but if you wanna make it work, you gotta tell her how you feel."

"Whatever," Jordan said coldly. "Maybe it's just not gonna work." His chest tightened at the truth of those words. A big part of him wanted to fix it. The thought of not being with her or Jay felt like a knife twisting in his side. her. But maybe he'd been fooling himself. Maybe Angela and Jay were better off if he just let her go.