Page 76 of Six Ways to Write a Love Letter

“Not the point,” Val said, and Remy could picture him waving his hand to shut him up. “This is different. I can hear it. So what’s the plan? You go with her? She comes to LA?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she knows. Why do we have to know?” Remy said, wondering when, exactly, Val had become the type who wanted to know the plan while Remy was justifying spontaneity.

“You don’t, man. You don’t have to know anything. But look at her life—she’s here, she’s there, she’s on the cover of a magazine schlepping lotion—”

“I know that. I know who she is. It doesn’t bother—”

“Fuck, shut up and listen. I’m giving sage advice, and I don’t think it’s ever happened before,” Val said, banging his hand on what sounded like the patio table. “I know you know who she is—that’s what I’m saying. Make sure she knows you’re on board. Make sure she knows you’re all in. You’re always on eggshells, brother, and this is the time not to be. She left her boyfriend for you, and even though it sounds like it was a stupid-ass relationship anyway, I know that means shit in famous people world.”

Remy squinted at the Tokyo skyline. “Your sage advice is I should tell her that I’ll go wherever she goes. Okay. I mean, I did just go to Europe with her, so—”

“That was a job. This one is personal.”

“Well, yeah, but if I—”

“Me, fuckwad, I’m talking about me. I’m your boyfriend, in this scenario, which is a gold mine for a therapist somewhere, I’m sure. Listen: she left Neil or Noel or Nule for you. Does she know you’ll leave me for her? Because, as it is, she had to fly to California and make out with you in a club office to get your attention.”

Remy froze. Tokyo sparkled.

“She’s not asking me to do that,” Remy said slowly.

“She’s not gonna,” Val said, voice smooth. He took another drag off his cigarette; Remy could somehow smell the smoke through the phone. “But tell her you will.”

“I…” Remy didn’t know what he could say, what he should say. It was one thing to think about balancing Vivi and Val after the tour; it was another for Val himself to say he didn’t need balancing.

“I’m okay, brother,” Val said, voice lower. “So, if this is what you want, you’ve got to make it work.”

“You act like I’m signing up for a space mission,” Remy said, trying to brush off whatever this new sound was in Val’s throat.

“Hell, it’s Vivi Swan. For all you know, she’ll do her next album on the moon as a marketing gimmick for NASA,” Val said, and Remy laughed. Val coughed, took another drag. “Girl’s made a career off breakup songs, brother. I’m just saying that if you’re in, make sure she knows you’ve got no plans to be the next one.”