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“Are you going to the show next weekend?”
All my hope faded away. “I can’t.”
“Really? I thought you were a pretty big fan. You know, carrying around his picture.” The man in black was close again, his smokey scent filling my heaving lungs.
“Oh, I love him. I’d totally go if I could!” I wrapped my coat—stained by my current circumstances—tighter around my body, and I turned back to the stand, thinking that this guy must have thought I looked like someone who could never afford concert tickets and was humoring me.
After weighing up the lack of differences between the batteries, I returned the more expensive ones to their place with a shove, and they fought back, not wanting to go back on their tiny hook.
The stranger came closer again.
I saw a distorted expression sitting on his face on the reflective surface of the stand, but I couldn’t make out what he was feeling.
This time, it wasn’t my nose brushing him but my ass as I tried to step back.
“My apologies.” He swallowed, looking almost as uncomfortable as me as I turned around, tucking a curl behind my ear.
His leather shoe creased at the toe as he stepped back. “It looked like you were having some trouble with the hook. I was just trying to help you.”
“Oh.” I glanced back for a split second. “It was a little fidgety.”
“No harm done. So, why are you not going to the hottest gig in town?”
“We had a fire at home a few weeks ago. My parents had gotten me tickets ready for Christmas, but they got burned. We don’t have the card details to try and get them replaced.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate.”
I rolled my eyes and found all the replies my brain wanted to spit in his face because unfortunate wasn’t the word I’d have used if someone told me their house had burned down. But I didn’t want this guy to know my life story. It was personal to me. And to Rhylie, who I was suddenly acting a lot more like, with my carefully guarded replies.
“I guess you lost more than tickets, huh?” His face softened.
“Both of my parents. My home.”
“That’s awful.”
I nodded, agreeing because it was awful.
“I can’t give you any grieving advice, and I can’t help with the house thing, either. But I have some after-party tickets if they are of interest. Remington loves to meet the fans.”
My wide-open mouth was ready to catch any insects flying around with the way it hung open. “Y-y-you know him?” I stuttered out the words.
“I’m his manager.”
“Oh.My.God.” I was the one stepping forward this time. “Oh.My.God.”
“I’m not really meant to bring in people from the street, and I wouldn’t offer if the circumstances were different. We usually only invite people in the public eye and usher in a few rich fans for good measure. But I feel like you’d appreciate this more than anyone else.”
Before I could even reply, this stranger was pulling out tickets from his very expensive-looking suit. It was designer, making him look all the things he said he was. Dad always encouraged me to focus on the details around me, trying to teach me to get a feel if something felt off because, as he put it, I was the kind of kid who’d take candy from a stranger if they’d told me it tasted good.
I paused, my fingers in the air, reaching for the tickets. Brightly-printed colors of pink pulled me closer, but I still didn’t reach for them.
“I tell you what. I’ll meet you at the event. You should see the show. He’s great live. Like, really great. I can get you in. You’ll still need these for the after-party. Bring a friend. I know that makes you youngsters feel safer.”
I nodded, my fingers skimming the edge of the tickets. This was too good to be true, but as I wrapped my hand around the shiny permits, they didn’t disappear into thin air.
“There you go,” the man said with a smile. “By the way, my name’s Daniel. Ask for me at the door.”
Daniel’s hands were back in his pockets. His body was now far from mine, relaxed against the shelves behind him, and it creased his suit. “Do you know where the gig is?”
