Chapter 5
5
Valerie
The next day, I take advantage of the quiet house and sneak in an early-morning shower.
After, I slip back to my room with plans to stash my toiletries and head down to find coffee, but when I hear Riker’s always-bouncing footsteps in the hall, my first reaction is to hide. I acted so weird last night.
Cringing, I sink onto the bed. There’s no good reason for the way I left rehearsal, but after that first run-through of “Midnight Road Trip,” I thought I was about to cry from how perfect it felt, playing with the Glitter Bats again. Before anyone could see me lose control, I had to get out of that room.
It might feel like the old days, but this band isn’t my family anymore. They can’t see me as anything other than poised and ready to bring my all.
And any vulnerability? I have to smother it.
So instead of facing the rest of the Glitter Bats, I wrap up in the fluffy white duvet and google myself, trying to figure out the response to the reunion news. Some sources even say nice things about me. Others complain that reunions are “money grabs” or “desperate attempts to cling to relevance,” but a lot of fans are excited to see us again. Every member in the band has fans, but people are excited to see me and Caleb sing together, specifically.
No pressure.
It’s exactly the feedback I was hoping for to help my image, but after last night, my stomach twists with shame. Was Keeley right? Am I just using them to try to save my show?
I toss my phone down on the sheets with a huff. It’s not like I’m forcing anyone to be here. If they didn’t want to do this, they should have said no…then we all could have moved on with our lives, former friends growing forever apart.
My motives might have been selfish at first, but I’m glad we’re here. All these years, I kept telling myself I didn’t need the Glitter Bats, but last night proved just how much I missed this. I just don’t think anyone else feels the same.
Running my hands through my hair, I fall face down on the bed, groaning. I have to believe the band is here because they want to be, otherwise I won’t be able to shake the guilt churning in my gut.
My phone buzzes softly from where it lies on the bed next to me, and I grasp for it, propping myself up on my elbows to check the notification. We promised not to bug Wade, but he’s texted me anyway. I hope he’ll have good news…because fuck, I wasn’t ready for all of the feelings a Glitter Bats reunion would bring up.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much of an update about Epic Theme Song .
Wade: Before we headed to the park this morning, I heard from my contact at The Network. The press is moving in the right direction. They wouldn’t say what it’s going to take to get the green light, but they said it’s not a No yet.
It hasn’t been a no for the past year, but it hasn’t been a yes either.
Me: Okay, so what should I do?
Wade: Fans will love the reunion—I know you’ve seen it, but there’s already been positive buzz, and we’re expecting to see more as things get closer. Tickets don’t go on sale for another week, but our contact at TicketChampion said they have thousands of people signed up for the presale already. The word is getting out. Keep doing what you’re doing!
Me: That’s it?
Wade: Hang in there, kiddo. We know these things don’t happen overnight.
Keep doing what I’m doing? So far I’ve managed to alienate my band and make everything weird and awkward, but hopefully today’s rehearsal will go more smoothly. I know I made a mess of things, but I forgot what it feels like to sing with Caleb.
He sounded so good it hurt.
My mind replays last night as I force myself off the bed. Caleb was always a great bass player, but his real power was in his golden voice, and it’s just gotten better in the years since we sang together. Something about this man singing always hits me like lightning—and that’s how I fell in love with him the first time.
I blink hard, forcing the thought away. I refuse to fall in love with Caleb Sloane again. There’s too much history between us that needs to stay in the past, so many reasons it didn’t work that contributed to our breakup. He hurt me too.
I can resist the siren song of his perfect voice for one summer.
Digging through my duffle, I wonder if I should make an effort to look presentable. I could hide out longer, do my hair, and put on the blue romper that makes my eyes pop. Instead, I pull out leggings and an oversized tee, opting for comfort over polish. I have no one to impress.
Like Wade said, I need to keep doing what I’m doing to save my career. No distractions. Just enough nostalgia to get to the fans, but not enough to get to me. I will fix my reputation. It’s this determination that fuels me enough to face the others downstairs.
All of my anxiety was for nothing, because it’s just Jane and Riker eating bagels, and they seem to be the least mad at me. Without a word, Jane hands me a cup of coffee from her Chemex—one fancy coffee apparatus out of four visible on the counter—and it tastes so good I pause on my way to the island to savor it. She obviously buys the good beans.
“Where are the others?”
Riker chuckles. “Keeley and Caleb got up early to go on a ‘beach run.’ That sounds like pure hell to me, so I abstained.”
“Says the gym rat,” Jane says with an eye roll. “Don’t you have one of the best fitness coaches in town?”
“Yeah, I never thought I’d like weights, but I can’t argue with the result,” Riker says with a grin, putting down his bagel to flex one of his biceps. “But for cardio, he puts me on the treadmill or elliptical. I’m not going to go run on sand—that’s just masochistic.”
“Exercise gives you endorphins—happy people don’t kill their bandmates,” Keeley says as she walks into the kitchen, dropping into the conversation without missing a beat.
Caleb is right behind her, his brow damp with sweat that makes his curls stick to his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and glowing, and he looks the way he always did after a long set.
Sweaty. Exhausted. Grinning.
It still makes my knees weak.
Fuck.
I take a sip from my mug to keep myself from doing something entirely too stupid, like launching at him and getting sweaty myself…as if he’d even be receptive to that. I stare down at the coffee, hoping my hair hides my flushing cheeks.
“Well, I just hope you’re both planning to shower before we rehearse all day,” Riker says.
“No, I’m going to stay really stinky and sit next to you,” Keeley says, reaching over him for a bagel. “Of course I’m going to fucking shower.”
“You can go first. I’ll caffeinate,” Caleb says. He steps over to the sink and pulls a mug out of the cabinet.
“You don’t want to join me?” Keeley says with a wink.
Caleb rolls his eyes. “I know I’m irresistible, but keep your pants on, Cunningham,” he says, and she disappears upstairs with a cackle.
I make an effort to laugh, but it sounds hollow.
Keeley has always been a flirt, and this is obviously a joke, but something about it bothers me now. Logically, I know nothing is going on between Keeley and Caleb. They were instantly like siblings at camp, teasing each other and starting the prank war that nearly got us all kicked out. But even if their relationship has changed, it’s not like I have any claim to Caleb. Our love is long gone.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. After all this time, it still feels wrong to think about him with anyone else. Desperate to do something with my hands, I reach for a bagel and begin slathering it with the open cream cheese on the counter. God, I need to sort out these old feelings before I ruin this for everyone. If I dragged Caleb out here just to revive all of our old drama, I will never forgive myself.
I will be nothing but a goddamn professional, because nothing can ruin this. If I want to save my show (and by extension, my career), I need good press, not bad memories.
I shove a bite into my mouth.
“Would you like some coffee?” Jane asks Caleb, who is still hovering by the counter, empty mug in hand.
“No, thank you—actually, do you have tea?” Caleb says.
“Of course! In the basket next to the fridge.”
Caleb rummages around, and Riker snorts around his bagel. “Things really have changed if the king of energy drinks and quadruple espresso switched to tea.”
Caleb grins, but there’s self-deprecation there. “Yeah, I found out caffeine was bad for my anxiety, so my therapist suggested I cut back.”
“Dude, you’re in therapy too? I love therapy!” Riker says, and there’s not a shred of sarcasm in his voice. He genuinely loves things without reservation, like a six-foot-four puppy.
I set down my own mug. “We all got famous as teenagers. Pretty sure we’re all in therapy,” I say. Everyone turns to where I’ve perched at the counter, and instantly, I regret opening my mouth. Do they think I’m making light of mental health?
The four bandmates in this house used to be the only people in the world I could be myself with. Now, I don’t know what’s safe to joke about and what I need to keep to myself. My cheeks warm.
Caleb breaks the tension, chuckling as he puts the kettle on the stove. “You’re absolutely right. Label Records should be paying for it too.”
I snort. Their questionable business practices and mind games certainly caused enough damage to all of us.
We finish our breakfast in relative silence, Caleb preparing his tea and leaning against the pantry to savor it, Jane passing out bananas and orange juice, and Riker shooing Jane away so he can start the dishes. Keeley joins us after her shower twenty minutes later, and then Caleb disappears up the stairs.
When we’re ready to practice, we head to the basement studio, plug ourselves in, and spend some time tuning and warming up. We start the day with “Ghosts,” jumping right in to something complicated and challenging. Today, it’s less tight, we’re out of sync, and Keeley stops drumming after I miss an entrance. Everyone else crashes to a stop.
“What’s going on with the timing?” she demands, gesturing at me with an accusing drumstick. “You’re supposed to come in on the one .”
“I know that,” I snap, ears ringing. “I was distracted by Riker messing up the lick—I always use that as my cue.” I turn on him. “Dude, you helped us write this song! What gives?”
Riker raises his hands placatingly, his Gibson swaying on his favorite studded strap. “I played one wrong note. It’s similar to one of the Lime Velvet songs, and I missed it. It’ll be right next time.”
With our tight rehearsal schedule, next time isn’t going to cut it. “It better,” I hiss, straightening out my cord with a flip of my mic hand. “We have to get this right.”
Caleb sighs beside me, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Hey, you aren’t perfect either! You were a little flat on the verse, babe,” Keeley drawls.
“As if you played it perfectly,” I say. Arguing with Keeley like this puts a bad taste in my mouth, but I can’t stop myself. We’re a disaster, and we don’t have the luxury of starting from scratch on every song.
Keeley drops her sticks, pointing at herself. “Me? Tell me one thing I did wrong. I’m all ears, Valerie.” She laughs dryly as I stare at her, trying to come up with something, but she’s right. Not that I’m going to admit it. “Nothing? That’s because I did my fucking job and practiced before we all got together. Unlike you, clearly.”
I did practice. Today is just a mess, and Keeley isn’t helping. I roll my eyes. “You could check your attitude, for starters,” I mutter.
She gapes at me, rising from the throne. “Say that to my face, I dare you.”
“Stop it!” Jane says, rising from her bench, eyes widening. “Arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
Keeley raises a hand to her neck, chagrined. “Sorry, Jane.”
“I’m the one you need to apologize to!” I spit, setting my jaw. “You’ve been a total bitch since I got here.” My throat tightens the moment the words slip out, and I know it was too far.
“ Dude ,” Riker says, narrowing his eyes at me.
Keeley reddens, slamming her hands on her thighs and glaring in my direction. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
The room falls silent as we stare each other down. This isn’t the Keeley I know. She’s snarky, but she was always a great collaborator. Any criticism was constructive.
“Well, this clearly isn’t working,” Caleb finally says before leaning down to chug from his water bottle. His throat bobs, and I look away.
“We’ll figure it out. Maybe we need to try another song,” Jane suggests, flipping through her notebook.
Keeley swivels in her throne to look at Jane. “Will another song magically fix Valerie’s raging personality issues?” she says. I wince at the sheer hostility in her voice, knowing full well I put it there. Keeley stands. “I didn’t sign up for a summer of bullshit. If this is how it’s going to be, I’m fucking out.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Riker says, eyes wide. He never did like it when tensions rose. “Let’s not be hasty. Jane’s right, we should try another song.”
I clear my throat, neck warming. “No. We need to play ‘Ghosts’ until we get it right.”
Keeley rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say, boss .” I set my shoulders at the jab. She counts us off without warning, and I hit my entrance for the second verse alright—I hit it so hard it feels like I’m punching the lyrics. Caleb flinches beside me.
But I’ll be damned if I miss another note. There’s no point in this reunion if we suck. It’s a herculean effort to get through the song, and the next one isn’t much better.
Our late lunch is a much-needed break, but eating doesn’t cool the tension. We come back to our instruments grumpy and sniping, and I’m faced with the overwhelming fear that we can’t pull this off. Maybe there’s too much rust—or maybe there’s too much history between us.
Maybe they can’t forgive me enough to get through an entire set.
After another hour of discord, we stop again. “This isn’t productive. Let’s take a break and come back to it tomorrow,” Caleb says.
“We haven’t gotten anything done!” I say.
He slips his bass strap off his shoulder, already beginning to stow the instrument away. “Do you really think we’re going to get anywhere? We all need to clear our heads.”
I open my mouth to argue but stop myself. This practice is miserable, and I’m not at my best. Turns out you can’t muscle through music and expect it to feel good. “You’re right,” I say.
“ Some of us could benefit from more practice,” Keeley says pointedly.
“It’s been a while since we played these songs. We’re all a little rusty,” Jane says kindly, even though she’s been note-perfect all rehearsal, throwing in new riffs and filling in harmonies like that last Vegas show was yesterday. “Let’s call it for today.”
“I’m going to…yeah,” I say, neck pricking with shame at the way I talked to everyone. I put down my guitar and hurry back up the stairs to go hide in my room…again. The walls are thin enough that when everyone has made it back upstairs, I can hear the conversation in the hall, and I worry for a minute that it’s about me.
But I quietly put my ear against the door, and…it’s not. They’re talking about evening plans, maybe going out. No one knocks on my door to invite me along. I guess I burned any lingering goodwill between us all.
Fine. I’m perfectly fine staying here alone and wallowing. Did I really beg the band to reunite for this disaster?
The front door opens and closes, and for a few minutes, I think I’m alone, but I hear someone shuffling outside. A soft knock follows. The last thing I want to do is face any of my former bandmates right now.
“Valerie?” Jane calls. “I know you’re in there.”
I sag a little, knowing this at least won’t be a fight. “Come in,” I say. She slips into the room with a reusable grocery sack on her arm.
“Today was rough. You doing okay?” she asks.
“I…may be a little on edge with all the pressure of this show,” I say, sighing.
She nods, leaning against the doorframe. “I can tell.”
I bite my lip as the shame washes over me. “I thought things would feel the same as soon as we picked up our instruments. Instead, everything is such a disaster.”
“It just might take a few days to get back into the swing of things,” she says, too kindly. Jane was always the best of us. Honestly, in the few years we were making music, I felt more cared for by her than I ever was by my mom. Jane kept us hydrated, mediated arguments between me and, well…everyone else, and always just assumed the best in me.
Even when my best was lacking. Like today.
I grimace. “Thank you, but I know I fucked everything up.”
She does me the courtesy of holding back a response. “Well, I have something that might make you feel better.” She digs into the sack. “I went to grab snacks last night before you got out here, and I couldn’t resist picking up a bottle.”
In her hand is a container of Pink Crush, the shade I used to dye my hair back in the day. Even when we could afford a stylist, I still used the cheap stuff because I liked being able to touch it up constantly. I can’t help it—I grin at her through watery eyes, and it’s the first real smile I’ve had all day.
God bless Jane Mercer for just existing in this world like the angel she is.
My blond hair is already platinum, so it won’t take much prep. This could be the first normal thing that’s happened all weekend. Whatever stylist we end up hiring will bemoan my choice of drugstore dye, but at least it’s vegan. Can’t do too much damage.
“Thank you—seriously,” I say, hugging the bottle to my chest.
“When I bought it, I wasn’t sure if I was going to give it to you or not. But after this afternoon…well, I thought it might help if you feel more like the old Valerie,” she says. “You’re welcome to use my shower. It scrubs clean easily.”
Jane has given me an out for the solitary evening I thought I wanted, and I’m grateful—but then I recognize an opportunity to mend another fence. Caleb and I were thick as thieves and used to tell each other everything, but I had special relationships with each of the others too. In Jane’s case, I used to go to her for the advice I could never get from my family, and she used to vent to me in private when her parents were being too much.
And Jane may not be outwardly upset with me like the others, but we’ve grown apart and it makes my heart ache. I want to be her friend again.
“Want to help me?” I ask, gesturing with the bottle. “Like old times?” Jane was always the one who was patient enough to help me keep my head pink, and we spent long afternoons with hair dye and nail polish in hotel bathrooms. “You know I suck at getting the back.”
Jane grins. “Yeah, I’d love to help. I’ll go make us some lattes first?”
“Perfect.”