Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Layla
I ’d moved away from the stage and the speakers. I’d been enjoying the music, especially the singer, but the noise was giving me a headache. Emily had stayed glued to her spot, but seeing her face as she cut through the crowd told me she’d had enough, too. Nash Ledger might have been handsome and a pleasure to watch and listen to on stage, but even Emily’s crush had its limits. The bar was extremely crowded, and it was still warm outside. The air conditioning system just couldn’t keep up. It was hot and stuffy, and even a cold glass of wine or beer wasn’t going to help.
Emily was pale as she reached me. “I need to get out of here before I have a panic attack.” Emily was very prone to panic attacks, but fortunately, I’d known her long enough that it never surprised me. I’d learned how to calm her right out of them.
“Take my arm,” I said. She gripped me like a little kid might grip their mom in a crowded supermarket. I led her through the crush of bodies to the exit. The rush of fresh air that swept in made both of us sigh with relief.
“I’ll drive. Let’s do your breathing exercises as we walk to the car,” I said and started the count pattern of taking in air, holding it and releasing it. She leapt right into it, and I counted for her all the way back to the car. By the time we sat down inside the car, Emily was breathing normally and color had returned to her face.
She rested back against the passenger seat. “I don’t know what happened.”
I started the car. “Really? We were packed like sardines in a hot room where beer flowed more freely than oxygen, and while their music was great, I think they could have lowered the volume on the speakers. My head is still throbbing.”
“Mine too.” We both reached instinctively to turn down the radio.
I laughed. “A sure sign that we’re getting old is both of us reaching to turn down the volume. How about a plate of pancakes at the diner?”
“Hmm, sounds good.”
I turned the car in the direction of the all-night diner. Emily looked much better. Crisis averted. She spun slightly toward me. “I’m so disappointed I didn’t get to talk to Nash. He never came out from the back room. Snob.” She turned forward again with a slight pout, then sighed. “He’s even dreamier in person.” She gasped. “I can’t believe Bosco was trying to get your phone number. He looked kind of surly as he walked away. I doubt many girls turn down that request.”
“Well then, he can’t be too disappointed because he will no doubt walk out with a phone full of new numbers tonight.”
“Do you think he’ll call me?” Emily asked with wide eyes.
“Bosco?”
She huffed. “No, silly. Nash. I sent the number with Bosco. Nash winked at me when he started the first set, so I’m holding out hope.”
I nodded about the wink, though I wasn’t convinced it was intentional or even directed our way. It seemed like Emily’s plan had a lot of holes. First, she had to rely on a surly Bosco handing his buddy a girl’s phone number. And something told me Nash got plenty of numbers slipped his way during their shows.
I pulled into the diner. The lot was mostly empty. It was well past the dinner hour and a few hours too early for the after-midnight customers. It was nice and cool inside the restaurant. We easily found a table and both ordered the blueberry pancakes with whipped cream.
Emily’s cheeks were pink again.
“You look way better than when you walked up to me in the bar,” I said. “I thought you were going to pass out.”
“I thought I was, too. I stubbornly wanted to hold on to that spot near the stage. Like you, my head was throbbing from being so close to the speakers and from staring so intensely up at the lit stage. The wine started giving me a stomachache, and I had this horrible vision of throwing up, right there in front of Nash Ledger. Of course, I also envisioned swooning and having him jump down from the stage to catch me in his strong arms.”
I’d considered telling Emily about my personal encounter with Nash for about five seconds. I wasn’t sure how she’d take it. This dream, this massive crush, was all hers. I wasn’t going to tiptoe into it and spoil it for her. And she was right. Maybe he would call her. I knew nothing about the man except he had a mesmerizing voice and he’d helped me out of a bind in the parking lot.
“Emily, I want to support you on this quest of yours, but promise me that you’ll keep your head about it. Nash Ledger probably leaves each show with dozens of phone numbers.”
Emily sighed dejectedly. “I know. I was hoping to make it to the end of the night. I thought if I stuck it out while the bar was emptying, I might have a chance to meet him personally, to put a face and personality to the number on the napkin.”
“And I have no doubt he would be instantly smitten, Em. Maybe you can reach out to him on social media, and introduce yourself and let him know he has your number on a napkin.” I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to be encouraging her, but I also knew my friend. She didn’t give up on dreams easily. It was both a good and bad quality. When we were in seventh grade, she was determined to become student council secretary, even though she was the definite underdog. She was running against Isabel Brooks, a cheerleader, who also happened to be the vice principal’s daughter. But Emily handed out flyers and free pencils with her name on them, and she made sure to talk to everyone. Isabel was far choosier and only talked to the people in her popular social circle. Emily won by fifty votes. In that instance, her persistence paid off. There’d been plenty of times when it didn’t, like when she was determined to land a leading role in the school play. She practiced the lines and dancing and singing for months, but in the end, she didn’t even get a small role. She was devastated.
“I’ve reached out to Nash many times on social media. To be honest, he doesn’t spend much time on there. The band has group social media accounts, but they’re mostly to announce upcoming shows and update fans on songs. I’ve got a better plan. Moonstone is playing at the bar again on Wednesday night. I’m going to show up there, and this time I’m sticking it out even if I pass out cold on the floor in front of the stage.”
“Not sure if that’s the most brilliant plan you’ve ever had.”
The pancakes arrived, and I was glad for the diversion. I had this feeling that Emily’s newest obsession was going to end badly, namely with her being heartbroken and me spending the next few weeks sitting with her in front of the television while she cried about not ending up with Nash Ledger. If only the band hadn’t come to town. It was always much better to have big dreams that you knew never had a chance of coming to fruition. The letdown was easier when you knew in the back of your mind the big dream was never going to happen.
For a few minutes we lost ourselves in our stacks of fluffy blueberry pancakes. “I was so caught up with the band on stage, I didn’t let you finish your story,” Emily said. “You said a cute guy helped you outside when Dustin followed you out of the bar.” She lowered her fork and furrowed her forehead. “Do you think Dustin is going to stalk you?”
I was relieved she quickly moved on from the first question, even though the second one was slightly alarming. I finished my bite. “No, he’ll be fine. I’m sure seeing him at the bar was a coincidence. I thought I gave him the slip, but he must have spotted me. He probably wanted to plead his case again. He seemed to think we just needed to talk it out and everything would be fine, but it’s over, it’s very over. He’ll come to that conclusion, too. I’m sure of it.”
We each took a few more bites, then Emily put down her fork. “Oh my gosh, too much whipped cream and maple syrup. Wait, you never finished your story. So, who was this knight in shining armor? Was he inside the bar? Did you get to talk to him again?”
I shook my head. “It was hardly a knight’s performance. It was nothing, and no, I didn’t talk to him again. So, what are you doing on your day off tomorrow? I was thinking I might go down to the beach, read a book, take a swim. I love working at the bakery with Isla, but it’s so exhausting, I find that I want to spend my time off just relaxing.”
“I’ll bet. And you have to get to work so early. The dress boutique is stressful, too, during the summer months, and working for the dragon lady doesn’t help. I promised my mom we’d go to lunch tomorrow. Will you come with me Wednesday night to see the band again?”
“I can’t, Em. If I’m not in bed by ten, I can’t focus at work. You’re on your own. I’ll have to hear all the details afterward.”
“Darn. Well, I guess that makes sense.” She picked up her fork. “Guess I don’t want these pancakes to go to waste, even though they’ll be going to my waist.” We both laughed at her little quip and dug our forks in.