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Chapter Twenty-Eight
Plans were made with Aspen, the publicist, on when to announce Vivi and Noel’s breakup. Remy didn’t know the details but watched Vivi pace her expansive Tokyo hotel room like she was planning an invasion rather than a press release. It involved stages—first, the news that she and Noel were broken up. Before his new album came out but not so close to the release that it looked like sabotage. Next, a few months later—if things are going well, Aspen kept saying before Vivi took her off speaker—the fact that she was seeing someone new coupled with a few fluff pieces. Aspen didn’t firm up any plans after that, no grand reveal that Remy was the someone new, but he didn’t fault her for that. She was a professional, like he used to be.
Given the option, Remy would have preferred to spend all his time in Tokyo with Vivi, but the rest of the band made it clear that if he didn’t join them for karaoke, he’d never work in music again. They went to the closest karaoke bar and ordered too many drinks, then Ro and Laurel served as judges while the rest of the band tried and failed to sing pop songs from the nineties. Joshua, the guy who’d replaced Parish, put the rest of them to shame. Remy was a serviceable singer but was better at harmonies than solos. The night dissolved after Ro and Laurel did a few power ballads; everyone bowed down then shambled back to their hotel rooms.
He could have texted Vivi, he suspected—he’d learned she was a light sleeper when it came to the sound of her phone chime. He owed Val a call, though, so he pushed the curtains open and collapsed onto the bed then tapped his brother’s name. It rang once, twice, then—
“Hello? Hello? Dude, the connection is shit. Where are you?”
“Tokyo,” Remy said, turning to look out the window. His hotel room still had a decent enough view of the Tokyo skyline, and though it was nothing compared to Vivi’s penthouse, it felt somehow cheerful and sleek. Being alone in a hotel room was a heady sort of feeling, though. It’d been a few countries since he actually spent time in his own room rather than hers.
“Tokyo’s connection is shit,” Val said. Remy adjusted the phone—it likely wasn’t Tokyo’s fault, but rather the fact he was lying on his hotel room bed, the phone propped up on his chest. It was a position way too pathetic to explain to Val.
“What time is it there?” Remy asked.
“Nine o’clock in the morning.”
“You’re awake at nine o’clock?”
“Celeste made me,” Val griped, though he didn’t sound as exasperated about it as Remy might have expected. “What time is it in Tokyo?”
“Two in the morning. But I’m a day ahead of you. Or behind? I can’t remember. But it’s two o’clock,” Remy said.
“Time traveler,” Val said, and it sounded poetic despite the fact Remy was certain Val hadn’t meant it to. “You’re going to have jet lag for months when you get back.”
“No kidding,” Remy said, closing his eyes. They burned. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep—he’d crossed over tired and gone into that sort of mania that made him feel like he’d left a stove on or forgotten a gig, even though he’d done neither.
“So what’s up?” Val asked through a yawn.
“Nothing much. Just checking in,” Remy said. “How are things there?”
Val sighed, which on him sounded more like a groan. “Nothing to report.”
“The song?”
Now Val went quiet, which on him sounded more like a sigh. “I’m done. Almost done. You know what I mean—I’m at that spot with it that I can see the song underneath the dust but can’t get through it.”
Remy nodded. He wanted to hear it but knew he shouldn’t ask.
“What about there? How’s the song? And the illicit affair with your boss?” Val asked with a snort.
Remy laughed, but even he could hear the way it sounded softer when Vivi was the topic of conversation. “It’s good. It’s very good. She broke up with Noel.”
“With who?”
“She was still technically with this guy named Noel, but it was more of a fame thing. But they’re done. She left him.”
“Should I be pissed that she was technically cheating on you with him or him with you or whatever that is?” Val asked hesitantly.
“No. I knew. It was complicated. But they’re done, now and…it’s good.” His voice was still doing that soft thing, but he couldn’t stop it.
Val made a humming sound in his throat. He started a sentence twice, which was categorically unlike him and made Remy tense, until Val said, “Let me ask you something, though—and it’s a real question. Not just hypothetical. What happens when the tour endsnow?”
“Same thing as before, I guess. We’ll figure it out—”
“Nah, man. That was the answer before, when it was new and you guys were like a summer camp couple—”
“You’ve never even been to summer camp—”
