“Nah, man,” Aaron says. “I care about her a lot. I just wanted to make sure you do too.” With that, he turns and walks back to where Sam and Maddie sit on another couch. I watch him lean over and kiss Sam before picking Maddie up and tickling her. She squeals and giggles, her legs kicking helplessly.
What’s that like? That kind of happiness? That feeling of belonging to a family?
Sure, yeah, Marcus calls Cataclysm a family, and I definitely know I belong here with these guys, but it’s different now that they all have people of their own. Aaron and Danny both have kids. Danny’s actually married. It’s only a matter of time for Aaron and Sam I’m sure. Marcus and Kendra might as well be married, though I think they’re both content with their situation. There’d be quite a few legal considerations in a prenup on both sides that it’s probably easier to just be together and not worry about making it legally binding.
And while spending time with Viola is amazing, it’s new. And uncertain. We’re not at that place of love and contentment the others have obviously achieved.
Is that even a possibility? Would she want something like that with someone like me?
Or did I ruin my chance of whatever’s between us being able to turn into something more when she first started?
Can I overcome giving her the worst first impression in the world?
Getting on stage washes all the worries from my mind. Even though I can play these shows on autopilot, I still lose myself in the beat, in the music, in the screaming, singing crowd and the flashing lights.
When I take off my shirt in the second half, I catch sight of Viola in the wings, her eyes tracing over the ink scrolling over my arms and shoulders. I keep glancing at her, even as I count us in on the next song, keeping the driving beat going throughout, hoping to catch her eye.
Right when Marcus hits the high point of the song, the lyrics all about how bad he wants his girl, her eyes finally meet mine. Even from the stage, I can see her cheeks flush and her lips part as I hold her gaze, singing along on the chorus, making it clear that right now, I’m singing those words to her.
Because whatever else I might want or hope for in the future, I learned a long time ago that expectations are a fast track to disaster. My parents had expectations that I couldn’t live up to. Wouldn’t live up to, according to them, like I chose to be a disappointment on purpose. Not that I felt stifled and suffocated trying to be the good preacher’s kid they wanted me to be. That I was tired of being told that wanting to play the drums was somehow a sin. That my very self was actually sinful and worthless. What kind of fucked up message is that to tell a kid anyway? And when the logic stopped holding up for me, and the weight of expectations that I could never meet finally broke me down, I quit. I went my own way and quit trying to make anyone else happy or expecting anyone to make me happy.
The one exception to that rule was near the end of my relationship with Blaire. I let everyone else’s expectations that she and I would naturally end up together influence me, and I laid that on her as well. That wasn’t fair to either of us, so regardless of what Aaron thinks or wants or hopes, I’m not doing that to Viola.
We’ll define our own path, and we’ll do it together.
When the show’s over, I’m tempted to duck out of my fan duties early just because I’m jonesing for another taste of Viola. Now. The memories of last night and this afternoon have been running around and around in my head all evening, and I’m getting impatient.
But even if I manage to get away, Viola won’t be able to. She’s not just my assistant. She works for all of us. And Marcus is our ringleader, so it’s up to him to determine the end time. There’s usually no way to convince Marcus to knock off early unless someone’s sick.
Except …
I make a show of coughing loudly. Viola looks my way, a frown marring her pretty features. Standing, I gesture to the door. “I need some water,” I mouth to her.
She starts for the door, but I wave her back to what she was doing. “I got it.”
Still frowning, she watches me leave.
As soon as I’m out of the room designated for post-show meet and greets, I head for Marcus’s dressing room. If I want Marcus to end this dog and pony show early, I need Kendra’s help.
She looks up from a tablet in her lap as I simultaneously knock and push open the cracked door. Her eyebrows wing up in surprise. “Mason. Is everything okay?” She glances at the wall clock. “Where’s Marcus? Are you guys done early?”
I shake my head. “No. But I’m hoping you can help me with that.”
A suspicious look slides over her face, and she sets her tablet on the couch next to her. “Oh? What do you need help with? And why?”
Trying to act nonchalant, I give a careless shrug. “I need to blow off some steam. And I’d like to do it sooner than later. Think you can convince Marcus to wrap things up early?”
Her eyes track down my body and back up, then she leans forward to look past me. “No groupie waiting behind you?”
I grit my teeth, though I
