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“I am,” she says. Scar picks at her nails, and when she notices my attention on them, she sticks them in the pockets of her oversized hoodie that is basically a dress on her.
“Playing these shows has been arguably the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. That first night felt like a puzzle piece falling into place after being lost on the floor for months. Don’t get me wrong, being on the road has its challenges.” She eyes the cup dangling by my fingertips and licks her lips in quick sweep. “But I would do this forever if I could.”
I smile, and when she returns it for once, my chest blooms in awe, and I wonder if she knows how devastating she looks with a smile on her face.
“Well, good to know we haven’t scared you away from your first bus tour and here’s to many more in your future.” I raise my cup in cheers and drain the last bit before tossing it in the small garbage can tucked in the corner on one end of the couch.
A loud thud sounds behind me and I pop open the door to see Nikolai sprawled across the floor on his ass laughing, with a grumpy-looking Reid now sitting in his spot in the booth wiping a smear of sour cream from the top of his head.
Idiots.
I love those idiots, but still. Idiots.
I turn my attention back to Scar, but the sliver of light that was there a moment ago has vanished. In its place is a solemn mask and a tiredness behind her eyes. Whatever set her off about these additional shows is not something she’s going to share with me. Not now anyways.
But for the first time tonight, I saw something in her that I’ve only witnessed when she’s been on stage performing. I’ve seen it in every single show so far from my secluded spot in the curtains backstage when I normally should be back in the green room with the guys getting ready for the show or warming up. Every night, I find my way to the wings and watch her.
Watch her move with grace and purpose, interact with the crowd as if she’s been doing it all her life, sing like it’s what she was born to do. There’s light behind her gloomy exterior, and whether she snuffs it out purposefully or on instinct because of how people may have treated her to do so in the past, I’m not sure.
But the world deserves to see it. Scarlett deserves to live it.
13
SCAR
“I thought you’d be trying to catch a few z’s before flying out like the rest of them.” Walker plops down in the seat next to me with about the same gracefulness as a newborn calf, gesturing to the row of people behind us. I crane my neck, seeing everyone from Walker’s band, Boone and Naomi, and a few of the crew all passed out. It’s almost 1:00 am and our flight is delayed another forty-five minutes.
The show tonight shows its wear on everyone.
Thankfully the airport is dead, so Boone and the guys have made it through without being noticed. The terminals are quiet, little shops gated shut, only the sounds of planes taking off and landing in the distance.
“Can’t really sleep in airports.” I shrug, turning my attention back to the journal on my lap. On stage tonight, I heard a new melody in my head and I want to make sure I get it down before forgetting. My mind feels clearer today, thoughts of the additional dates tacked on at the end of the tour pushed to the farthest recesses of my mind. It’s not like I have to tell anyone I’ll be close by. They wouldn’t want to see me anyways, so no reason to really tell anyone. And I highly doubt my parents are keeping tabs on my tour schedule.
When I moved out after graduation, I think both of them breathed a sigh of relief that I was now out of sight, out of mind. For my family and for the church.
So no use in spending energy worrying about something I’m not able to change because there’s no way anyone cares whether or not I want to perform in Charlotte. It’s just a done deal.
“That’s not helpful for an artist on the road.” He slides down in the chair and props his arms behind his head. “Gotta learn to sleep anywhere, Scarlett. Planes, cabs, buses, sharing beds…” His eyes twinkle with amusement as a smirk pulls up the corner of his mouth.
“I share beds just fine, thank you very much.” I wrap the leather band around my journal and tuck it into my bag, clearly not going to be getting any more work done.
Walker gives me a once-over, eyes glinting in approval at my rebuttal. I’ve grown accustomed to his playful manner, begrudgingly even starting to become a little fond of it.
Fuck it. It’s been a while since I’ve flirted with a man. You’d think with the bit of growing fame that’s starting to come my way, that would bring a little more male attention.
Not yet at least. So if Walker wants a playmate here at the airport while we wait on these shitheads to get it together and get us on this damn plane, and I’m in an airport and can’t go sit at the bar for a drink, I might as well indulge him a bit. Reward him for the olive branches he’s extended me.
“In fact,” I say, angling my body toward Walker and peer over our shoulders and say as dryly as possible, “maybe I’ll ask Vik to bunk me with Nikolai in the next city. You know, see if all those rumors are true.”
Nikolai is slouched and leaning into the seat to his right, his tall frame not quite suited for the tiny airport seats. He has his jean jacket lying over his face but it doesn’t mask the snoring that drifts through the gate area.
“Scar, sweetheart. You’d rip him to shreds before he’d even lay a hand on you. Spare my boy, please.” Walker pouts his bottom lip, still with that sparkle of humor in those eyes of his.
I turn around and face forward again, tucking my legs up onto the seat. When I can’t stifle a yawn from finally coming out, Walker offers his sweatshirt up with a silent eyebrow raise. I hesitate, but at the flash of disappointment that crosses his face at my reluctance, I take it gratefully and scrunch it up behind my head, leaning back and closing my eyes.
I can feel Walker watching me, the shaking of his leg bouncing the seats and the almost silent tapping of his fingers against his thigh.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I ask, not opening my eyes.
