AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Vivi looked up at the sound of his voice, and he felt himself soften as her eyes found his and, nearly instantly, processed who was standing nearby. She immediately returned her attention to the girl at her side—a tween who was gushing, voice rocky, about how Vivi helped her through a recent breakup with her boyfriend of three whole weeks. It was something Remy found himself wanting to mock, but Vivi didn’t. She looked solemnly at the girl, nodded knowingly, and then hugged her close.
“It isn’t easy, is it,” Vivi said to the girl, so quietly that Remy had to strain to hear, “when the person we think is our soul mate just turns out to be a life lesson.”
“Exactly. Exactly! I love you,” the girl said, and now she was crying, grinning, shivering all at once. Vivi angled the girl a bit and tilted her head down so they could grab a picture.
“There are some cookies over there I made just for you guys,” Vivi said, pointing the girl to a table that was layered with chocolate chip cookies. He made a mental note to ask her later if she actuallydidmake them. Vivi turned her attention to the next in line—Remy, Val, Celeste.
“Youmust be the infamous Val Young,” Vivi said, grinning, red, red lips on sparkling white teeth. Remy stood by, stomach twisting, as Vivi hugged Val then immediately turned to Celeste.
Celeste smiled at her. “I’m Celeste—Val’s partner.”
The use of the wordpartnerthrew Remy. Partner? She was his girlfriend.Partnerwas so much more…so much more everything.Remywas Val’s partner. Remy was Val’s only partner, and Val was his—
“Celeste,” Vivi said. “Of course. I know! Remy told me all about you. Though, actually, have we met before? You look a little familiar,” Vivi said, tilting her head at Celeste. They hadn’t—of course they hadn’t—but Remy saw what this was: another Vivi Swan move, another clever way to make Celeste feel special and important. Clever, clever as hell.
“No, I’d definitely remember that,” Celeste said with a bright smile.
“Well, maybe you’ve just got one of those faces, yeah? Anyway—I’m so glad you guys could come to the show tonight,” Vivi said. “And that you didn’t mind us stealing Remy to save our butts.”
“I wouldn’t say we didn’tmind—” Val began, but Celeste jumped in.
“Glad to be here. I love this album,” Celeste said, expertly stopping whatever too-honest thing Val was about to say.
“Thanks! Speaking of—we listened to Quiet Coyote’s album on the bus a few weeks ago. You are so crazy talented, Val. Seriously, the lyrics, just…wow. And Remy’s such a great producer. I wish you’d release another album.”
Celeste and Remy flinched in near unison—and even Vivi seemed to realize the carelessness of her words as soon as they left her mouth. Her eyes jumped to Remy’s apologetically.
“We’re not really recording these days,” Val answered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s really all about the live show, about music beingrealinstead of sounds in a file.”
Vivi didn’t falter despite Val’s Val-ness—in fact, she looked almost relieved, like he’d led her neatly out of the faux pas of suggesting a dropped band release a new album. She said, “I understand that. I like recording, and I like my music being available to people. But I like the live show. When I feel the song in my knees.”
“Your knees?” Remy said, smiling, fighting to keep his voice a level of disinterested that wouldn’t spike Val’s curiosity.
Vivi gave him a little embarrassed sort of shrug. “That’s where I feel the beat. Some songs, anyway—they start at my knees and pulse up. But some of them, like maybe…‘Forget Her’? Those I feel in my elbows first. Sometimes this bone in my jaw.” She put a perfectly manicured hand up against the edge of her cheek.
“That’s cool,” Val said,almostapprovingly. “I get that. Music’s bigger than just what you hear. It’s a body thing, not a listening thing.”
“Absolutely,” Vivi said and smiled.
Remy fought the urge to grin, to shake his head. Somehow, Val had managed to meet both Vivi the girlandVivi the product and seemed to like both. Well, to like them as well as could be expected, anyhow.
“Do you guys want to get a picture?” Vivi asked.
“I do!” Celeste said. Remy and Val glanced at each other and stifled laughs at the prospect. Celeste’s enthusiasm, however, meant they edged around Vivi—Remy on her immediate right, and Val beside Celeste on her left. Vivi put her arms around Remy and Celeste, pulling them in close, letting her weight sink toward Remy in a way he didn’t entirely comprehend until she pulled away and left a cool void by his side.
“See you out there, Remy,” Vivi said cheerily, and then Walter’s assistant and security were on to guiding other fans over to Vivi—twin teens in homemade VIVI FOR PRESIDENT shirts. Their little sister was wearing a matching one that said TUESDAY RIVERS FOR VICE PRESIDENT—Remy guessed they’d made them before Tuesday bailed.
Val gave the group a wary look then said, “Let’s go. I want to see the stage, and this room smells like candy or something. Cherries.”
“Vanilla. All her rooms have vanilla-scented things in them,” Remy said. Val gave him a weird look then started for the door. Celeste shrugged and went after him, leaving Remy little choice but to follow.
The stage was a strange place between the sound check and the show. The lights were set, props were in place, instruments were on stands, but it was more or less a ghost town occupied by a few haunting crew members in black left to guard it all while the others grabbed dinner. They nodded politely at Remy then went back to their own conversations.
“This is it?” Val said as they approached the drum set. Remy nodded then turned back and saw Val wasn’t looking at the drum set. He was walking in slow, almost dreamlike footsteps toward the middle of the stage, where Vivi would rise when the show began. His eyes were out at the thousands and thousands of empty seats in the arena, seats that were so far back, they were indistinguishable from the concrete steps and iron handrailings. Seats that still probably had a face value of a few hundred dollars.
Val was silhouetted in the light, a dark, almost genderless figure. It was a twisted version of a familiar view; when Remy couldn’t see the Sweethearts backdrops or pink sparkly microphone stands, the scene lookedalmostlike it always had in the hours before a Quiet Coyote performance—save the massive array of seats ahead of his brother. This was the way the hours before a Quiet Coyote performance might have looked if they’d found a second song, if they hadn’t been dropped, if they’d grown into the sort of band that did arena tours.
Remy allowed himself to imagine that was the case for a moment. It’s what they’d planned on, after all, and no matter how much Val talked about themusicand thefeelingand the need to let itlive, Remy knew being dropped from their label still ate at him. Val had been so focused on music getting themoutof Florida, he’d never really considered the possibility that it might do that but nothing more.
