“You’re thinking of it backwards. Playing in front someone you know? That’s the tricky part. Strangers are easy. They don’t judge. They’re having a laugh.”
I wanted to believe him. And while I was tempted to lean against the wall and enjoy the music, I wanted to keep talking even more, our faces close, my lips right next to his ear. “What should we do about Shoshanna?” I motioned to her tipsy grinning at the bartender.
“She’s just on the lash,” he said. “Needs to blow off some steam. Maybe we all do.”
“I can’t decide if she inspires or intimidates me,” I said, while he said, “I kissed her.”
“What?”
“It was an acting exercise,” he added in a rush. “We had to get close to film that scene, and Shoshanna said it’d be the fastest way to break the ice.” His neck blushed, and I swear I knew what he was thinking.
“And then she teased you for being a virgin?”
His response was to bury his face in his pint. Apparently there was a line with Eamon’s great-under-pressure demeanor. And I’d tripped over it.
Brian started singing “American Pie” and the crowd responded with overwhelming glee.
“She’s been on my case too,” I yelled over the music. “It’s okay if you’re shy.”
“Hey! I’m Irish.” Our faces were so close it felt daring. “The Irish don’t come shy.”
“You’re a shy Irishman!” I teased.
He slammed back his pint, a gleeful spark in his eyes, and pushed his way through the crowd until he was next to the guitarist. Brian moved over, and Eamon started singing into the microphone. At first I laughed, but then I listened, and he was… Dare I say it? A talented singer. He hit the advanced notes and brought the singing audience with him through the chorus. He didn’t know the right words, but no one cared.
Shoshanna screamed his name from the bar, making me smile.
Afterward, Brian gave Eamon a side hug, and he came back to me. “Who’s shy now?”
“You’ve proved me wrong,” I said, kissing his cheek and making him blush.
Shoshanna swaggered over. “You! Hiding those pipes!” She rocked into Eamon bodily, but I wasn’t jealous; I was grateful because she ended up pressing him against my side, his arm slipping around my waist. “All right, kiddos. What do we do? I’m not going back to that set if things are going to continue to be a god-awful mess.”
“I’ve been thinking,” I said. “We need Julian to do more on his social media. It’s too bad he’s not here right now.”
“Are you kidding? If he were here, we’d be mobbed. And everyone would see your pretty, redacted face.” Shoshanna pinched my nose.
“Hey! I’m not a five-year-old,” I said, squeezing her nose right back.
A brown-haired girl came over, her eyes glued to Eamon. “Can I have your autograph?” She held out a pen and bar coaster. Eamon turned a brand-new shade of fire, but he took the pen, signed, and handed it back. She thanked him and left. Shoshanna and I looked at each other.
“First time?” Shoshanna asked.
“Yeah,” he squeaked.
“You’re all grown up now, son. Next time I see you, you’ll be in a bar in LA with three girls on each arm.” She patted his shoulder and returned to the bar.
Eamon leaned toward my ear. “I’m not that kind of guy.”
I almost said, I know. That’s why I like you. But I chickened out. “I can’t believe you sang in front of all these people!”
He pressed his cheek against mine, and I felt slight stubble. “You say you’re not brave, but you’re always helping, which is amazing considering how much you’re not into fantasy.”
But I had been into it. I still hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him. And I might have been helping out when Cate asked, but I’d still wanted the film to be canceled.
Coward.
It wasn’t my dad’s or Cate’s voice this time. It was mine.
I pulled away from Eamon and pushed through the crowd. My heart slammed at my ribs, but I made it to the front. Brian was playing “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” on the electric guitar—the acoustic one he’d been wailing on earlier sitting in its stand.
I reached for it. He smiled and moved over like he had for Eamon. I looped the strap over my head. Felt my chest about to burst. His chords pulled away as the song ended, and I leaned into his ear. “Coldplay? ‘Yellow’?” My voice was terrified. My fingers were terrified. But I knew this song; it was pretty and easy. If I couldn’t play this, I couldn’t play anything.
Brian grinned like a maniac and held out his hand for me to start. I stepped toward the mic, but then immediately stepped back. I couldn’t look in Shoshanna and Eamon’s direction, so I stared at the crowd. They were ready, waiting. Hooting with anticipation. It made me smile to think of them as owls, and I fell into the opening chords.
Just like that.
It took me a full progression to adjust to the dislocation of the amp and a new guitar, but then Brian came in with the electric guitar part, and I felt like I was a better guitarist simply by standing with him. I realized—with a minor coronary—that one of us needed to start singing soon. Brian looked to me, one eyebrow lifted high, and I closed my eyes. Leaned into the mic.
And I sang.
The words came out in that way I adored. Like I was speaking unfathomable truths or casting a spell or pulling poetry up from some deep well. This was why I loved music, why lyrics lit me up. At one point, I opened my eyes, and the crowd was singing with me so loudly it didn’t matter if I was a good. I sang louder. I played more strongly. Brian kept the whole melody alive with the electric accent, and when I got to
