Chapter 44
44
REMI
Just like Foster said, he only offers a pile of breadcrumbs to indicate a trail.
The key is his wording. Hints he decided to separate himself from the toxicity of his family. Specific regions of the places he grew up. What his dad does for a living.
Once the documentary airs, whoever wants it will know there’s something to find. Enough to unbury the line between Adams North, the man the world has fallen in love with, and the abusive asshole who managed to make him feel like he wasn’t worthy of love.
Later, he calls from the bus to assure me I can use the footage in the doc. He tells me why he decided to set it in motion now, and for the first time I truly wish I’d stayed on tour. Simply for tonight.
But I know leaving was the right thing. I even pushed myself to start therapy. Holy hell, was that a first session.
In three days, I review his interview twice, playing with how to incorporate clips or soundbites. The candid asks and answers between the band members has shifted my vision slightly, and this alters it more. Not enough Foster will get out of the original solo interview questions, though.
“Sinner.”
I rip my headphones off as I jump. “ Jesus .”
Heath scowls in concern for nearly giving me a heart attack on his way into his office above their garage. He ran into the house for—“ None of your business. ” Which means he went to check on Jasmine and his newborn son. Who already glares like him at seven days old, might I add.
“Have you thoroughly threatened the nanny?” I ask.
Heath ignores me, so I return to my laptop and the new files from Xander.
Despite being back for nearly two weeks, I hadn’t seen my mentor until yesterday. Between Baby Erickson’s arrival and the holidays, Jasmine barred him from work until the New Year.
He called me on New Year’s Day, and I’m pretending it’s because he missed me.
My screen lights up with a text from Xander, and I cock my head at the audio file.
For the shot we both know will be the prelude and likely THE fucking teaser.
My mind immediately jumps to the band and projector. I won’t admit it yet, but he’s right. We both know. But then I reread the file name. INTV_ADAMS_S1_RAW001.wav
Me
Adams did his solo interview with you?
I’m even more confused he voluntarily sat down for it. I honestly thought I was going to have to video chat tonight or tomorrow with him and strip while asking the questions myself.
Xander
He asked me. And I swear his first answer is specifically for your shot.
After switching my headphones over, I put them on and play the audio. It starts with Xander introducing the interview with date, location, and subject. Then he says, “Rolling,” and asks the first question. The one I’ve wanted since before I flew to Prague. Before the dressing room and museum, when it was specifically for Adams North, guitarist and lead singer.
“ Tell me, Adams, why Of Men and Wolves? ”
“ Because we’re of the same cloth .”
There’s a pause that sounds deliberate, and I hit stop, my gut screaming for me to pull up the video file of the band and their past selves. Then I play them together with the video at half speed like I imagined.
Foster’s voice returns, low and gritty, the cadence hypnotizing. “ Man sees their counterpart in the wolf. In the wild, a wolf moves to remain alive, chasing prey, fighting for their place in the pack. For us, the movement comes from fear of being left behind. Our chase is for purpose. Our fight to find somewhere we belong. Like the wolf, we stay restless to survive, knowing nothing is ever promised. We stay hungry, which is how we’re most alike. And it’s that endless hunger that shapes the lives both of men and wolves. ”
The audio ends after the band has taken the stage, so only the projection of Foster, Dev, and Felix in the music store remains. I take off my headphones to listen to the audio already overlayed with the clip. The roar of the crowd, and then Adams North says, “ Tell me how y’all are doin’ tonight .” More screams. “ No better place to be, right ?”
After three beats from Felix on the drum and Foster’s first note, I pause the clip, leaving it zoomed in on Projector Foster and his guitar.
I audibly sigh and crash back into my chair, a squeeze in my chest. He’s so ideal I ache.
“For fuck’s sake. Wipe the drool, Sinner.” Heath’s behind my chair, hovering above me, and I tip my face up to see him. “He’s at least subtle with his obsessing.”
As he walks away, I swivel in my chair. “What does that even mean?”
He grunts and wiggles his fingers at me to follow him to his setup of monitors. I roll my chair over and plop beside him in his, and he immediately grabs my armrest to push me farther away.
“You’re too sweet to me,” I say dryly.
“I’ll correct that starting now.” He opens a folder of video files and selects the one of the writing session in Seattle when Foster wore the glasses. “I was bored out of my mind last week, so I started reviewing older footage to see if anything has a new look. Jasmine pointed this out, and unfortunately for me, I couldn’t unsee it.”
After Heath skips about five minutes in, Foster’s view shifts as he grabs the neck of his acoustic. Once he settles back, his head turns so we can see into the viewing area through the glass. Colton’s slumped in a chair, talking to Christian in another, and I’m in a third, scrolling on my phone.
My questioning eyes shift to the director, and before I say anything, he makes an irritated sound and switches to a different video. Another of Foster from late October when Christian demanded he wear the glasses on stage in Wyoming. Heath speeds through it until the shot moves from the crowd to the side.
To me and my camera.
The dressing room. He looks up when I walk in and follows me through the room as I set down my bag. The shot settles on Felix and his sticks, but the angle keeps me and my skirt in frame the entire time.
Heath opens a fourth file.
“How are you remembering all of these? Did you make a list of file names?”
He huffs. “Like I care that much.” His eyes dart to me like I’m not getting it. “It’s a safe bet if he’s wearing the glasses or using a cam, you make an appearance. I’ve also caught him watching you from the other two’s perspectives. All angsty and pining.”
My smile slowly grows, but with Foster it feels like it could stay forever. Always.
“And now you’re doing the dopey thing too.” Heath leans back in his chair, finger pressed to his temple. “It makes sense he’d go after you. When we met last year, one of the first things he did was praise your work.”
The comment takes a second to register, and then it lands hard . “Last year?”
He glances over. “He was at the party you skipped in LA last spring.”
I immediately know the one he means because it’s the only one I missed. “I didn’t skip it. I was sick.”
“Whatever,” he says dismissively. “He mentioned the scene in the Scars&Stars music video where the camera circled the drummer with the rain falling, and the water bounced with every hit of the sticks?—”
“My scene?”
“Everything that happens on my set is mine, Sinner.” He hesitates and forces out, “But I was drunk and might have accidentally given you credit.” An annoyed grunt. “And maybe said Remi Sinner is the only name to watch.” Pause. “And you’d take my spot one day.”
“You…” I shake my head a little to clear it and try again. “You told Adams about me nearly ten months ago?”
He nods, reaching for his phone, likely to avoid the other stuff he told me. And we are definitely circling back to it once I get past this part. Foster knew I worked with Heath before the documentary—then I remember the label told Heath when they first floated the idea to the band, they pushed his name as someone they’d want. For his style.
“Can you do whatever you’re doing anywhere other than my desk, Sinner?” He nudges my chair with his foot and sits forward, grabbing his mouse. “I’m not drunk right now, so I don’t particularly like you.”
I stand to roll my chair away. “Careful, or I’ll stop holding back and overtake you tomorrow. What was it you said? I’m the only name to watch?”
His lips perk. “Ha. Fuck off.”
Concerned end-times are upon us, I abruptly stop. “Did you just … chuckle?”
The look he lands could devour a lesser prepared person’s soul. “Never. Go order coffee or something useful.”
* * *
When Foster calls ahead of the concert that night, he’s backstage with people milling around him.
I haven’t talked to him since the Heath revelation because they had a meet and greet earlier. “I thought you were calling me when you were back on the bus.”
“I’ll call then, too,” he says. “But I have a couple people who want to say hi before they play.”
And then neon colors, feathers, and squeals fill the screen. The Forest Nymphs take over his phone.
“Oh my God,” I say as he steps back out of the chaos that is the band I worked with at Sound Clash.
Bianca screeches a, “ Remiiiiii ,” then the phone jerks from the bassist to Jaelyn. They both have blunt bangs to their bobs now, Jae’s hair’s purple and Bianca’s teal.
“Where the hell are you, woman?” Jaelyn throws a look over her shoulder to Foster and drops her voice quiet and unnaturally deep for her. “We’re opening for Of Men and Wolves. Can you believe it?”
I can because they’re amazing, but I’m handed off again before I respond.
Cys appears, not nearly as enthusiastic but a needed balance to her sisters. The drummer has buzzed off her long hair, and damn, she pulls it off. “Adams told us you’re directing a documentary about them.” She smiles. “Baby director all grown up, huh?”
“Baby band seems to be doing rather well themselves,” I tell her.
Her sisters barge their way in for a flurry of goodbyes and blown kisses. Once they vacate, she smiles. “We’re up. Keep killing’ it, film nerd.”
I laugh as she’s dragged backward by Bianca, the video tilting sideways to a random speaker until Foster rights it.
Just as fast as they arrived, they’re gone.
“They are an experience,” he says, slipping in his earbuds as he goes to a quieter space.
I’m shaking my head at him. “How is the band from my doc opening for you?”
He spins and leans on a wall. “I saw them play at Sound Clash two years ago.”
“You were there?” I ask, my heart falling out of my chest.
“All three of us went. ‘Echo’ started charting number one a couple months prior, so we had to lay low all weekend to avoid attention.”
“We were in the same place.” I smile as he nods.
“I had no idea until I saw your video.” His head tilts then, his look the reverent one. “Even then I would have torn that place apart to find you.”
After I got back from Heath’s, I reviewed Felix and Dev’s perspectives from earlier in the tour.
Heath was right about the glimpses of Foster watching me.
Regardless of how invisible the crew and I tried to be, we showed up in frame from time to time when the band wore the glasses. Several times when it was me popping up, Foster looked like he might be spacing out, but his body was angled toward me, his gaze in my direction.
Heath missed something, though.
I watched Foster too.
While in the background, with or without a camera in my hands, my eyes would flit to Foster.
Then there are moments the lens captured us looking at each other. One of us first, and then the other. Our gazes often held, and the tension is palpable between us every single time. Whether harsh, hot, or longing, it threads us together, pulling and pulling.
“You said you haven’t looked at anyone else since you heard my name again.” It comes out softer than I intend, and I look down. “That wasn’t in Prague.”
His lips have turned up when my gaze returns. “I never said it was. I just couldn’t let myself believe it was really you until I looked offstage that night. Even then, I couldn’t.”
I hate the screen between us. Between me and his cutting blue stare. His touch. His everything.
“Foster?”
The words crawl from my soul, where they’ve lived, to my heart, where they started. But before they finally reach the place they were always destined to be, his gaze flicks up. He groans a second later and gives a sharp nod.
“Sorry. Christian thinks he needs me for something. Tell me what you were going to say first.”
I flash a smile. “Just that I miss you.”
“You have no fucking clue, my beautiful thing. I’ll talk to you after we pack up for the night.” His eyebrow lifts, his smirk devastating. “You can reward me for being a good boy and completing my interview.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m on the floor in my tiny apartment.
Every part of me desperately aching for the wandering boy I’ve always loved.