CHAPTER TWELVE
“Oh my God. Oh my God. I can’t believe we’re here.”
I have to do a double take. Is this my best friend? Miss Too Cool for School? Miss Can Have Any Man She Wants But, Damn It, She Wants Lots of Other Things Too?
And let’s not even get started with how flippant and dismissive she was of him during our brunch. It’s like she didn’t believe a word she said—or she forgot all about it once the prospect of meeting him became a reality.
“Are you for real freaking out, or are you only doing this to mess with my head?” I ask as we take our seats at the front of the room, up by the stage.
Okay, maybe the word stage is a bit generous. It’s a slightly raised platform with just enough room for a mic stand, a few amps, a stool, and a guitar stand. The entire space is less than what he had on Friday night, and I thought that was too small.
Hayley doesn’t seem to mind. Her eyes have practically turned into hearts, like a walking, talking emoji. “I’m for real freaking out. Why would I lie about this? This is, like, a dream come true.”
“For a version of you that existed ten years ago, right?”
“Whatever,” she snaps, a little huffy. “There’s no time limit on making dreams come true, Kitty. Christ.”
“I’m just trying to make sure you know how you sound right now. Are you sure you’re not running a fever?”
“Considering you’re the one he asked on an official date tonight, you sound pretty snarky about me being into this whole thing. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know … proud of your man?”
She tosses her hair over both shoulders and tries to look cool, but it’s a little too late for that.
I know her. I know she’s not as cool as she looks.
But if I were just walking into this club and seeing her for the first time, I’d chalk her up as a hopeless fangirl who needs a sense of perspective in her life.
“He’s not my man, remember? He asked me on a real date tonight, which will make this the second time we’ve ever hung out together.
That’s it. This is a casual, no-strings-attached deal.
And come on.” I look around a little. The place is very dark—no surprise there really—and a little cramped.
Sort of dingy. Our table is wobbly and scratched, and the chairs are dirty.
“Take a look at this place. I guess he fell further than we thought.”
“He’s trying to revive his career. Is it a little sadder than you described at brunch?
Yes. But I only give him credit for starting at the bottom and working his way up.
I mean”—she leans in, lowering her voice to a whisper—“it can’t be easy, being thought of as a has-been.
People think he’s a joke, which he isn’t. Poor guy.”
“You need to get a little perspective,” I whisper, patting her hand. “You really do. Listen, I think this is cool and all, but you’ve gotta admit, this isn’t the super-important gig he was making it sound like when he invited me—or us. I’m pretty sure that dude in the corner is throwing up.”
Even Hayley wrinkles her nose at this. “Oh. Okay, well, yeah. Not ideal. But he won’t be down like this for long. And he’ll have you to encourage him.”
I have to wave a hand in front of her face because this is so totally unlike her.
“Earth to Hayley. Did the pod people come and replace you? Is the real Hayley frozen somewhere or dead or something? I don’t know what the pod people did to the originals they replaced.
I don’t think they covered that in the movie. ”
“You’re the worst.” She orders two martinis from a passing employee, who looks at her like there’s no such thing as a martini and we’ve been imagining drinking them together for years.
“Two of whatever you have on tap,” I offer instead, and the girl rolls her heavily lined eyes and walks away.
Turning to Hayley, I mutter out of the corner of my mouth, “Something tells me this isn’t a martini sort of joint.
Beer or whiskey. I figured beer was safest.” Hopefully, the glasses are clean.
She’s still too busy freaking out to care much. “Don’t tell me you weren’t as excited as this when you went to see him on Friday.”
If she pats her hair or checks her makeup one more time, I might suggest sitting at separate tables.
“Yeah, but I’ve already told you so much about him, and you reminded me of the many, many people he’s probably slept with. I thought he would’ve lost a little bit of his shine by now.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “Don’t rob me of this experience.”
“You’re right. This is a big deal for you, and I should let you have it.”
And if she thinks I’m not going to take deep joy in rubbing this in her face for at least the next ten years …
The lights go down.
Actually, they go completely out.
“What the hell?” Hayley asks along with everybody else in the room.
A spotlight comes up, trained on the stage.
Dustin steps into it, smiling, and everybody applauds—quietly and sporadically though since the rest of the room is still pitch-dark, and there are servers walking around and probably taking their lives in their hands.
Let’s just say, the crowd’s not as into seeing him take a seat as they were on Friday.
“Uh, hi. Thank you for being here with me.” He looks around, shielding his eyes from the spotlight. “Can we bring the lights up a little, so people can see where they’re going in the dark?” As he says it, I’m pretty sure I hear somebody slip in what was probably puke in the corner.
I’m shriveling in my chair. This is a disaster, and he has yet to sing a note. Hayley squeezes my arm.
At least, I think it’s her. How would I know? It’s so stinking dark in here.
Whoever’s in charge of these things turns the lights on, earning them applause. Dustin applauds too.
“Thank you. Now, let’s get back to the reason we’re here, right?”
I’m proud of how well he’s handling this. Sure, we’ve spent a few hours together, and we have yet to go on an actual date, but I can’t help feeling a little protective of him. Like we have a bond, a special secret only shared by us.
“Play ‘Falling for You’!”
“Oh no.” I hold my head in my hands as yet another heckler insists on giving Dustin the same grief he got on Friday. It’s a woman this time, sitting not far from Hayley and me.
“I’m not allowed to play that.” Dustin gives a lopsided grin. “Sorry if that’s what you came for, but I’m not part of the group anymore. We broke up a long time ago. If you’re disappointed, I’m really sorry.” He’s sweet, apologetic, shrugging it off.
That’s clearly not good enough.
“I’m outta here.” And she means it, gathering her things, shooting dirty looks at the stage. The entire time she’s getting ready to leave, she mutters loudly about has-beens and people who think they’re still relevant after so many years. It’s pretty harsh.
And my heart breaks for him. He’s doing a good job of acting like it doesn’t bother him, but it has to. Doesn’t it? Nobody would ever know as he launches into his opening song, which sounds just as good as it did when I first heard it.
It’s okay for me to create something from scratch in the privacy of my apartment. Sure, it stings like a mother when Maggie comes back with edits on work I am proud of and feel is perfect the way it is. But I can get over it in private and work on it and give it back, and that’s it.
I don’t have to bare my soul over and over, performing the work of my heart so people can either applaud or boo.
So they can ask why I’m not repeating the same tired work I wrote years ago and then get up and leave when I tell them those days are past and I’m trying something new. Something of my own.
“He’s really brave,” I tell Hayley when the song’s over and we’re applauding.
Aside from that single heckler, it seems everybody else is glad to be here. What a relief.
“Brave?” She manages to tear her eyes away from him long enough to remember I’m sitting with her. “What do you mean?”
Maybe she wouldn’t understand, and it’s too much to explain before the next song starts up. I don’t want to be rude—besides, she wouldn’t hear a word of it. She’s completely wrapped up in Dustin and his music, practically hanging on every word.
Just like everybody else in the room.
I glance around, observing them—I have the luxury of being able to do that since this is the second time I’ve seen him perform and it’s not so new and shiny anymore. They’re all hooked, just like I was from the first moment he started to play. There’s something special about him, almost magical.
Or maybe it’s just my hormones doing the thinking for me.
If it is, I’m definitely not the only one.
And he specifically called to ask me to come to the show. Me! I want to stand on the table and proclaim it to everybody who’s so rapturously lost in the music. They can go home and fantasize about him all they want, but I’m the one he’ll be going out with after the show.
And to think, I even turned him down on Friday night. I feel like I deserve an award for that.
For once, Kitty Valentine made the right decision, and it looks like it’s going to pay off.