Page 34

Elle stares at me as I brush past her. She follows, but I quickly duck into the men’s room, knowing this isn’t even a safe space away from my sister. My hands rest on the edge of the porcelain sink, gripping as hard as I can. I wish like hell I could tear this thing away from the wall, but I don’t.
The door opens. I look through the mirror, expecting to see my sister. But it’s Ben. He leans against the half wall and stuffs his hands in his pockets. I know, without a doubt, Elle sent him in here.
“You know I don’t do the emo shit,” Ben says. “But your sister is worried.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him as I turn the water on and cup handfuls over my face.
“I get it, but we were there when Nola said she wouldn’t come on tour, so I’m suspecting the little outburst and heavy lyrics are because of her?”
I lean over the sink and let the water drip off my face. Ben is trustworthy and he’s my brother. There isn’t a reason I shouldn’t tell him.
Except I’d be asking him to keep something from his wife, and I don’t think that’s fair to him.
“Yeah . . .” I say, dragging the word out. “What musician doesn’t write about what’s going on in their lives?”
“I’m no professional, but I do know a handful of them.” Ben laughs. “And y’all can be pretty emo when you’re singing about the women in your life.”
Or out of it.
“As you said, it’s no secret Nola didn’t want to come on tour. I respect her decision, but I miss her. I thought we’d explore each location and make some memories, make the best of the tour.”
“So, she stayed back for school?”
No, she didn’t, and honestly, I have no idea what she’s doing in South Carolina. She didn’t tell me if she planned to transfer or what.
“Yeah, but she’s also visiting her parents. She misses them a lot.”
“I can understand that.”
I nod and appraise the man staring back at me in the mirror. Sad, disheveled, with bags under his eyes. How can anyone find this attractive?
It’s the fucking lighting.
“I’m fine,” I tell Ben again. “Or I will be. Hearing her name over the loudspeaker just threw me off a bit. Can you tell my sister I’ll be out in a second and we’ll finish?”
“You know you can talk to me, right?”
I right myself and walk toward my brother-in-law, placing my hand on his shoulder. “I would never ask you to keep a secret from my sister.”
Ben nods. “I hear ya, but she’d understand. She has her twin to talk to, she’ll have to respect the fact that you need someone to talk to as well.”
“Yeah.”
I end up walking out with Ben, surprised my sister isn’t standing outside the bathroom, waiting to pounce. No one seems to care that I’ve been gone, or they do care but don’t want to call attention to my desire to have this one song perfect, and when it isn’t, I’m storming off stage.
At least I came back.
We pick up where we left off and finish the rehearsal decently. By tonight, every little glitch will be ironed out, and the show will be perfect. People will rave. They’ll scream our names and line up to do it again tomorrow.
Until then, I’m going to sit my ass in the back booth at the dive bar across the street from the venue. It’s half-empty when I walk in, lit with neon beer signs and the occasional flicker from the corner jukebox that skips every third song.
This is exactly what I needed.
No cameras. No pressure. Just noise low enough to ignore and cold beer on tap that comes in a pitcher.
I’m shredding a napkin when Justine slides onto the empty bench across from me. Her lavender hair is pulled into a messy, twisted-looking knot, her eyeliner is smudged, and she’s wearing a leather jacket. She looks like someone who belongs in music—wild and grounded.
While I look homeless.