“Yeah, sounds good,” Stokes says, but the room remains somber, even with Jamie’s energy.
“Lynda” —Jamie turns to me— “how would you feel about staying on for one more month? No pressure.”
“Umm, I’d have to think about it.” My phone trills with a notification in my hand and Taylor’s name comes on the screen. I look back up at Jamie, looking up from my phone at the same time.
“We’ll talk,” he says, and turns to the group. I walk to the door and peer into the glowing empty hall and tap on the message as Jamie continues. “Also, drinks on the house for you guys tonight, on me.”
“Seriously?” Cline asks.
Taylor wrote: Do you want to see me tonight?
“Yeah, these three look like they’re done with alcohol, so you two go wild,” Jamie says to Cline and Royal before heading in my direction.
My phone trills again and the next message pops up from Taylor.
I want to see you.
I start to type back, I thought you couldn’t.
“Hey.” Jamie steps around the corner, turning to me. “I didn’t mean to look” —he lowers his voice— “but I saw your phone. I also saw you leave with that guy, Taylor, the other night.”
“Okay…” Is he going to warn me like Lucie did?
“Is something going on with you guys?”
“I don’t think that’s your business—”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not, but I thought you should know, Pascha was seeing him before she left.”
I frown and take a step back. “What?”
“I think he’s the type of guy who likes attention, likes a conquest. Taking home the prettiest girl in the room. The one with all eyes on her.”
“But Pascha and Cline…”
“You think that matters?” he asks. “They fought all the time. I saw her with that Taylor guy outside after a show one night. When I saw you go, too, I just thought I should say something.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “You’re sure they were together?”
“Don’t tell Cline and be a shit-stirrer, okay?”
I glance over my shoulder, back into the room at the group talking amongst themselves. “Who else knows?”
“I don’t know. Probably everyone but him. I just don’t want you to get pulled in over your head. You’re a nice girl. Don’t let anybody use you.” He turns and walks back down the hallway and out the door, into the music hall.
I tap my screen again and Taylor replied: I’m outside.
What? I type. You’re here? At Noblemen?
I feel guilty even considering leaving to see Taylor, and Jamie’s accusation weighs heavy on my decision. Taylor and Pascha? My phone trills again.
Yeah, he replies. At least let me give you a ride home. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to see you perform. Had to work. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
Have you stopped thinking about Pascha?
How could everyone in the band know about Pascha and Taylor hooking up but Cline? And no one told him? Maybe they have. Or maybe Jamie’s wrong.
I knew Taylor before. He doesn’t want to see me just because I’m the lead singer of a band. He even missed my show. And he says he can’t stop thinking about me…
I catch a glimpse of Stokes, watching me as my phone trills again. An email from my mom. I walk back into the room, opening it.
Did you get the notebook? Did you get my pictures?
I forgot to write and thank her.
“Hey, you staying?” Stokes asks, meeting me by my chair.
“Actually, my ride just showed up.” I grab my bag and drape it over my shoulder.
“Too bad you can’t stay,” Royal says.
“We’re going to practice tomorrow afternoon,” Stokes says. “We want to do one of your songs, so pick one and we’ll work on it tomorrow, okay?”
I nod with a smile. “We could do it at my place if you want?”
“Well, my guest house is soundproof,” Lucie says. “And Mika makes delicious cookies.”
“My neighbours are cool with a free concert.” I shrug.
“Lyn’s place is fine this time, right?” Royal asks her. “And you could bring Mika’s cookies with you?”
She laughs. “Fine, sure.”
“Sounds good.” Stokes leans into me. “Hey,” he says in a hushed tone. “If you’re feeling weird again, tonight or whenever, call me.”
His eyes search mine, and I squeeze his arm and nod. I can’t even tell him what that means to me.
“Thanks.” I turn to the group as I walk backward toward the door. “Night guys.”
“Night!” Lucie calls, and the other two wave as Stokes follows me out of the room.
“Hey, one more thing,” he says. “I don’t want to overstep here, but when you told me you felt like you were being followed, I wondered if you… maybe felt some type of way about it because of your dad and what happened?”
I sigh, clutching the strap of my bag, both grateful for the parallels he’s drawn, and scared he’s come to the conclusion, too. “It’s not something that ever goes away, and just the connection is weird, because, is it real? Am I paranoid?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, don’t think like that. Just call me, okay?”
I give him a small smile, nod, and turn for the back door where we came in, typing to Taylor: Be out back. Where are you parked?
I push through the door and step out into the cold autumn night air. My hair blows and the smell of beer wafts toward me from my dress. I walk past the rows of cars in the lot, my feet pinched, aching in the wedges I wore to my wedding, and I slow down as the realization hits.
I’m wearing my wedding dress to meet up with the guy I’m hooking up with. This feels wrong…
I continue toward the street and brighter lights, waiting for his text.
Footsteps
