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Chapter Thirteen
“I bet Vivi is pissed,” Michael said from the dressing room sink, where he was shaving disturbingly close to a fruit tray. “I think they’re actually friends and all, not just show friends, but still.”
It was hours before the Salt Lake show, and Tuesday Rivers, Vivi’s longtime friend and fellow tabloid constant, had suddenly canceled her guest spot in the show. The band had learned the mash-up of Tuesday’s new single and one of Vivi’s staples, lighting had been adjusted, coordinating costumes had arrived, and Tuesday’s dressing room was already set up—which, incidentally, was why the band had been offered a variety of spiked seltzers, seeing as how they’d otherwise go to waste.
“Wonder what the reason will be,” Parish said, sipping one of the seltzers and making a face. “Laurel texted that there was some drama with Nick Maddon getting a DUI with Tuesday in the car. Hey, actually, maybeVivithrew Tuesday out of the show over that. DUIs don’t fit with her image.”
“Possible,” David said from the couch, where he was stretched out with a plate of chips balanced on his stomach. “Areyourpeople still coming tonight, Remy?”
“They are—about ten minutes out,” Remy said, keeping his voice level. He didn’t feel level, though, even before the change of plans with Tuesday’s cancellation. Two very different parts of his life were converging, tonight—Val and Vivi, old and new, bright and dark. He hadn’t quite realized that the tour had laid claim to part of his life until Celeste confirmed that she and Val were going to be able to make it to the show. But now they were coming, which meant Celeste and Val and Remy’s old life would be face-to-face with the arena and the lights and his new one.
He hardly expected those two lives to explode like volatile chemicals when they met, but he didn’t expect them to stir together neatly either.
Celeste texted again, reporting that she and Val were just outside the loading docks. Remy hurried to retrieve them; Val wouldn’t do so well if security hassled him, and there hadn’t been time to mail them their backstage passes beforehand. Remy made his way through the concrete maze under the arena, running his hands through his hair, trying to remember how his expressions felt before he met Vivi so he could fake them. And then—
“Brother!”
Val’s voice shot down the hall, echoing as it went. He was standing behind a very large but not particularly menacing arena security guy. The security guy looked back at Remy and scowled; Val gave him an obnoxious thumbs-up in return.
“You’ve literally been here one minute and already annoyed security?” Remy said, but he was grinning as Val hugged him tightly, wondering why he’d been worried. This was Val, this was him and Val, this was who he was deep down in his bones.
Val hadn’t changed. Not that Remy expected him to be different—it’d only been four weeks—but Val was a wild card, someone who could very easily have changed in that period of time if he’d opted to. Celeste was wearing flawless LA makeup and smelled like honey and salt. She hugged Remy just as tightly as Val had, though her arms felt like the conclusion of a promise.See, I told you he’d be fine. See, we’ve done it. See, it’s okay.
“This is legit, man,” Val said as they passed racks of costumes, roadies with cables slung over their arms, harried dressers wearing rows of safety pins like medals on their shirts.
“Wait till you see the pyro,” Remy said, experiencing a swell of pride and relief at Val’s approval.
Remy took them back to meet the rest of the band, whom Val instantly charmed, talking music and equipment and obscure songs no one else on the planet would know about. Remy felt a rush of affection for his bandmates, who all mentioned not just Quiet Coyote but specific complex licks or clever song lyrics from their repertoire. Not just the fame but the heart.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us to Vivi?” Celeste said, looking disappointed when Remy suggested they go across the street for dinner before his call time.
“She’s doing a fan meet and greet—”
“We’re fans,” Celeste said, pouting.
“Aren’t you hungry, though?” Remy said.
Val said, “You’ve literally got an entire room of food you could eat for free. And I want to know who you ditched me for.”
“Youdoknow. Her name’s Vivi Swan. Didn’t you see her name on the signs?” Remy said.
Val gave him a look, one that was a little too intense, a little too scrutinizing for Remy’s comfort. The truth was he felt a desperate need for Val and Vivi to meet—and an equally powerful need for them to never, ever cross paths. If he kept making up excuses, though, Val would realize something was up. Might realize Remy wasn’t just playing in Vivi’s band but was actually…writing songs with her? Talking to her? Liking her?
Remy forced a laugh. “Okay. Yeah,” he said. “Come on.”
He led them back through the underbelly of the arena, following signs to the meet and greet—it wasn’t like he knew the venue any better than Celeste or Val did. He could hear Vivi’s laughter from the conference room and saw a scattering of teenage girls in varying states of mental breakdown waiting just outside the door for their turn to behold her. One of them was hyperventilating to the point that Walter’s assistant was watching her carefully from the doorway, clearly trying to decide where this was on the scale of emergencies.
“Hey, Wal—” Remy stopped, realizing he still didn’t know the guy’s name. He waved and started again. “Hey, man—I didn’t put us on the schedule, but this is my brother, Val, and his girlfriend, Celeste. Can we jump in really quickly?”
Walter’s assistant smiled in a way that made Remy certain the expression was for the benefit of those watching, not a result of anything actually smile-worthy. “Foryou, Remy. But only because it’s you,” he said in a way that was part sincere, part the words of a man with a fifty-seven-page-long to-do list on a clipboard.
Remy smiled and patted him on the shoulder; he heard Celeste say, “Thanks, doll!” behind him and could feel Val’s indifference to fussy men with clipboards as they followed. Vivi was on the far side of the room in front of a large Sweethearts tour backdrop.
“They’re always so much thinner in person,” Celeste said under her breath.
“So that’s your boss?” Val said at nearly the same time.
“That’s her,” Remy said.
