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It made me mad.
Because Finn was a rich asshole, and even though he wasn’t famous anymore, he still had some kind of pull.
“That was Finn Wiley?” Amara shouted at me the next day. Apparently, something in her pop culture memory had clicked during the night. “I thought he was a guy I’d seen at the gym or something. I couldn’t place him. I listened to ‘Ice Cream Girlfriend’ on repeat for two months straight, and Finn Wiley was in my apartment? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I gave her a disbelieving look. “I did tell you. I introduced him to you, remember?”
“You told me his name. His first name. You didn’t tell me who he was. I wouldn’t let him into the apartment when he buzzed up! I treated him like a creep!”
“And what if I had told you who he was? What would you have done?”
She waved her hands in the air. “Oh, I don’t know. Asked for his autograph? Gotten a selfie for my Instagram? Something a normal person would do. How do you know him again? He’s marrying your sister?”
“No.” Amara had never paid attention to anything I said, and it was hard for her to start doing it now. “His brother is marrying my sister. That makes him my… Actually, I don’t know.”
“I think it’s a type of brother in law.” She dropped her hands in defeat. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him. Is he coming back?”
Seriously, who was Finn Wiley? Why was he getting a reaction from my roommate, who had barely bothered to learn my name until now?
I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize. It’s Finn. I’ll pick you up next Friday afternoon for the fitting weekend. See you at three o’clock. We need to be there for dinner.
I was sitting in the RKS rehearsal room when I saw that, Princess on my lap. I was doing more rounds of practice for the gig in a few days. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I said aloud to my phone.
“What?” Denver asked from across the room.
I shook my head and typed a reply.
Juliet: I never said I was going. How did you get my number?
Finn: Is that a serious question? Pack a coat because Seattle will be cold this weekend. Do you want an advance on your fee?
Juliet: Sure, I’ll take an advance. You can make a check out to Shove It Up Your Ass, Finn Wiley. Also, I’ll drive myself, thanks.
Finn: I’ve seen your car. It won’t make it across town, let alone to Seattle. Consider it a chauffeur service.
Juliet: Don’t you already have a chauffeur on staff?
Finn: Funny, I’m between chauffeurs at the moment. He quit.
Juliet: Probably because you’re a douchebag.
He didn’t reply to that.
At least I was safe with the Road Kings. They didn’t buy into any celebrity bullshit, and they were impossible to impress. I had certainly never managed it. They were the real deal, these guys. The salt of the rock n’ roll earth.
Or so I thought.
“Hey, Juliet,” Denver said when we were backstage at the downtown bar where we were going to play our first gig. “Why didn’t you tell us you know Finn Wiley? You never mentioned it.”
“Finn Wiley?” Axel looked up from his phone. “The ‘Ice Cream Girlfriend’ guy? Man, I had that song stuck in my head for weeks. I wasn’t even mad about it.”
“I know that one,” Stone said. He hummed a few notes of the tune.
Denver joined in, crooning the lyrics. “’She’s my ice cream, my sweetest dream, vanilla with a scoop of cream.’” He paused. “I mean, it’s bold to rhyme ‘cream’ with ‘cream,’ but no one listens to that song for its lyrical genius.”
“I disagree,” Stone said. “That song always seemed sad to me.”
Axel nodded. “Like he’s singing about a fantasy woman, not a real one. A woman who doesn’t exist, so he’ll never have her.”
