Chapter 8
8
Caleb
A part of me knew that coming back meant giving Valerie the power to hurt me again—I just didn’t realize how vulnerable I’d feel until last night.
How can she think it’s a good idea to pretend we’re together on top of everything? Valerie may be desperate for good press, but I don’t like this at all.
I played along just to get Ryan Tate off our backs, because I can’t stand that douchebag. But as soon as we got back from the bar, I hurried to my room without another word. Faking it or not, the motions felt a little too familiar for comfort, and it threw my thoughts into chaos. I could almost believe there was still something between us if my heart hadn’t been so shattered that night in Vegas all those years ago.
We need to set some boundaries.
I spent the night tossing and turning, and this morning, I skipped my jog in favor of scouring the internet. Nausea roils my stomach, and I know I need to put my phone away, but it’s hard to stop scrolling. Seeing my name everywhere triggers my instinct to run the hell away from all of this.
My chest tightens when I discover #CalErie isn’t just back—it’s trending. I loathe the portmanteau as much as I loathe how invasive it feels to have my private life speculated about all over the internet. It’s one thing when they’re talking about the reunion, or even the dynamics between the band, but I wish my relationship status was off-limits. It doesn’t help that Ryan took our statements and ran with them.
Or that there’s proof.
One camera caught me gazing across the stage at Valerie like I was completely in love with her. The caption says as much, and the old fan accounts are spinning wild theories in the comments about our supposed “rekindled romance.” The image is so startling that I stare at it for a solid minute before I come to my senses and delete the app, as if that could erase the evidence.
I was pretending , damn it.
We’re getting into the hotel a day early to increase security, so I busy myself by repacking my bag, gathering the shirts I scattered while trying to meet Keeley’s “minimum professional standards” last night.
The headlines flash through my mind as I fold each one. My reaction to all of this is ridiculous: I knew this was coming. We’re all over social media, just like Valerie wanted. We probably should have planned our first public appearance better, but the damage is done.
I just start to wonder if we should issue a statement when I hear a knock on the bedroom door.
“Come in,” I call.
“We’re trending !” Valerie squeals. This morning, she’s still got some of last night’s eye makeup on her face, and she’s wearing an old T-shirt and gym shorts, but she still looks like the girl I loved with that pink hair, and a visceral jolt runs through my veins. There are pieces of our old selves I’d rather not revisit.
I swallow thickly, settling on the bed. “I saw. I wish you hadn’t made up that stuff for Ryan. You knew he’d sensationalize it.”
She bites her lip. “I’m sorry. I just got the idea in the moment.” That’s her problem. She doesn’t think things through, and now the internet believes we’ve rekindled a relationship we’d never even confirmed in the first place.
“That’s fine, but we should probably issue a statement before fans get the wrong idea.”
“Actually…” she trails off, biting her lip.
Dread curls in my stomach. “What?”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s a terrible idea.”
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes at her. “You could argue this entire concert is a terrible idea. What do you want?”
It’s obvious when Valerie Quinn wants something. She breathes a little shallower, fidgets with her jewelry, purses her lips—and I check each action off one by one as I watch her from where she leans against the wall of the bedroom. Still, there’s something almost shy in the hunch of her shoulders that makes me want to know more.
“I think we should consider playing into it,” she says, not quite meeting my gaze. “Letting them think we’re together.”
Heat flushes the back of my neck. This is too far, even for her. “Are you serious right now? How’s that going to help your image?”
She clears her throat, looking anxiously over at me. “I know, it’s a huge ask, and maybe it’s a terrible idea. But I’ve been thinking about this all morning. I…” she trails off, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t think the reunion alone is going to be enough to fix my image—not in one summer. And, well…the press always liked me better when I was with you.”
“We never confirmed our relationship,” I blurt, because that was the whole problem, wasn’t it?
Valerie reddens. “Sorry, when they thought I was with you. I’m not saying we confirm anything now. That would be…” she trails off, chastened. “We can just drop some vague hints. If everyone starts to, I don’t know, assume that we’re together, it can only help my image even more. Plus it’ll sell more tickets, and we get that bonus if we sell out.”
I let out a breath. “Do you really think this is a good idea? Did you talk to Wade?”
She snaps her gaze to mine. “No, but I spoke to my publicist. She agrees that we could benefit from a showmance—but I’ll only do it if you’re comfortable.”
A lump forms in the back of my throat as emotion threatens to overwhelm me. After everything that happened between us, I really can’t believe she’s asking me to do this.
Then again, maybe I can. Valerie has never been afraid to ask for things. And besides, she knows this business better than I do these days. Last night I might have looked the part, but I don’t even know how to be rock star Caleb anymore. The last thing I want to do is complicate that further by pretending we’re some happy couple, but…damn it.
Her eyes are filled with so much hope it makes my heart twist. Despite everything, I just can’t say no to her. And hell, I’m already here. What’s one more thing outside of my comfort zone?
“Fine, we can play it up for the cameras. Now can I finish packing?”
“Thank you!” she says. She presses a quick kiss to my cheek before darting back through the door.
My skin burns from the touch of her lips.
When the door clicks shut, I don’t resume packing. I just stand there for a minute, stunned. Did I really just say yes to fake dating my ex, who flat-out refused to confirm we were dating back when we were actually together?
Oh god.
I guess if it helps Valerie renew her show, then fine. That’s what she wanted. I’m already here anyway, so I’ll do it, even if seeing my name all over social media makes me want to throw up. And yeah, I can see how generating more interest might help us make that bonus. The more money I can put in the bank for my little sister, Carrie, the better.
And maybe…I need to give Valerie this. I broke up the band because I was wounded enough to leave the industry without looking back at the friends I left behind. If we’d continued making music, Valerie might not be scrambling to save her career. Maybe she’d have that Grammy by now.
Her desperation is my fault.
Still, I don’t love this idea. I knew there’d be some press when I agreed to the reunion. I just wasn’t planning to add our complicated relationship to the mix any more than we had to. I laugh dryly to myself. At least the fans will be excited.
A few minutes later, I get a text from Carrie.
Carrie: OH MY GOD. Are you and Val back together?
God, seriously? Now I have to lie to my sister.
Me: None of your business.
Carrie: That’s not a NO.
Me: We haven’t seen each other in years, do you really think we’re back together?
Carrie: Fuck, I don’t know. I always shipped you.
Me: Don’t say fuck.
Carrie: What, like you didn’t say fuck when you were in high school? I know every word on Wanderlust, you know. But seriously, you haaaaave to tell me—are you and Val back together? That would rock. I always liked her better than Morgan.
The last thing I need to do is get her hopes up.
Me: You met Morgan ONCE before we broke up. That’s hardly a fair comparison.
Me: The media is going to speculate about Valerie and me, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. Just part of being back in the industry.
Being vague with my sister isn’t much better than lying, and I feel ashamed, but it’s too late now. Still, I want her to stop reading into all the headlines.
Carrie: Whatever you say.
Me: Why are you reading all that garbage, anyways? You know half of it is completely made-up. Have you even practiced your audition piece today?
Carrie: RUDE
Me: Go practice.
Carrie: …fine.
I worry I’m going to get a call from my mom next, but she doesn’t reach out. Fortunately. She didn’t really react much when I texted her to tell her about the reunion—but I guess she’s distracted by this new boyfriend of hers. Apparently he has a boat, so she’s out of cell service.
Same old story.
If I could wish for anything in the world, I’d wish my mom was more responsible. It’s a good thing my baby sister has such a good head on her shoulders, because she’s certainly not getting the structure she needs from Mom.
Maybe it’d be best if I looked for a job in Seattle for her senior year, but that wouldn’t be smart for my teaching career. Carrie has only one year left of high school, and then she’ll be headed to college—probably the East Coast, since she still has her heart set on a music conservatory.
I’d still be proud of her if she didn’t want to go to college, but it’s cool to see her taking such an interest in music. With all her classical prowess, she’s definitely more driven than I ever was. Not like her brother, who tried to run away when a few fans wanted to see him perform after years of nothing.
I really need to refill my medication. I pull up the portal for my health insurance and start researching pharmacies near our hotel, then click through to order. Repeating last night is not an option.
“No more karaoke,” I promise to myself. I just need to be better prepared for our next appearance. And apparently, Valerie and I have a reunion story to get straight.
By the time we get to the hotel Sunday afternoon, I’m exhausted. They’ve got us all on the same floor, which is to be expected, but what I don’t expect is that there’s an adjoining door between my room and Valerie’s.
Neither of us asked for it, and we don’t discuss the implications.
The silence of that closed door feels unnecessarily loud. There’s something intimate about being able to get to each other without heading into the hallway, but we don’t have to use the door. No, we can just act like it’s not there.
More pretending.
Full of restless energy, I wander around, checking out all of the accommodations. There’s definitely enough in the room to distract from that door. It’s a nice, trendy hotel, all Art Deco chic with vibrant colors and modern fixtures. There’s both a shower and a separate bathtub, and all of the soaps are small samples from Kiehl’s. They’ve left complimentary bottled water and chocolate truffles on the desk, and there’s an elaborate room service menu…the kind without prices. For a moment, I freeze, worrying about the bill. But then I remember Label Records is paying, and my shoulders relax.
Since I usually have a Holiday Inn Express budget, I forgot how nice it is to stay in a fancy hotel. Before I change to head down for rehearsal, I sink into the king-sized memory foam mattress, deliciously stretching out my limbs. Jane’s house was super nice, but I had to sleep on a twin bed, and even with my limited height, my legs cramped up in the middle of the night.
As I’m tugging on a fresh shirt, my phone rings. Maybe my mom is finally calling.
Without looking at the screen, I answer it.
“Hey, Caleb, it’s Gina Choi from Label Records. Is this a good time?”
My stomach tightens. I haven’t spoken to the VP in a long time, but she always made me nervous. “Gina, hello.”
“Look, I know it’s a Sunday, but we just wanted to reach out. We’re all so excited you’re returning to the Glitter Bats.”
“It’s just for one night,” I say.
“Right, right. Just one concert. Still, I wanted to float something by you. Technically, you all signed a contract for ten years. Since you’re obligated to give us any new music you produce until that expiration date, and we know how prolific you all are together, it might be a lot cleaner if you all just come in to record a few tracks now. A comeback EP. Valerie has already said she’s up for it.”
I groan. Would Valerie really hide this from me after the conversation we had with Wade on Friday, or is Gina just trying to trick me? The start of a panic spiral tugs at the back of my mind. I don’t know this version of Valerie well enough to know how far she’d go without checking with the rest of us, but I think it’s possible she’d make some moves. This is a shitty way to find out. Implying a romance is one thing—I’m not happy about it, but I’ll do it—but I did not sign up for more music.
I’m giving more than I bargained for already.
I want to snap at Gina, but I stop myself. There’s one easy way to stop this line of questioning. “You’ll need to run all professional inquiries through my manager.”
“Oh? I heard you no longer had representation.”
There’s no way she heard that, because Label has been working closely with Wade on this reunion. “Nope, I’m still represented by Ortega Management.”
“Well, this is just a friendly chat, no need to involve them yet.”
I grit my teeth. “Everything needs to go through Wade. Have a great afternoon, Gina.”
She immediately calls me again as soon as I hang up, but I put my phone on silent and sink into the oversized yellow chair by the razor-thin TV. This is what I was afraid of—that one concert wouldn’t be enough for anyone, and I’d be obligated to pick my old life back up again.
Everything swims in my vision, and I move from the chair to the floor, taking a minute to complete a grounding exercise.
I desperately need that prescription.
The exercise helps, but my shoulders are still tense as I head to rehearsal. Because the studio is just down the block from our hotel, it doesn’t take long to set up our instruments and get to work for the afternoon. The sound technician hired for the concert is working with us in rehearsals, and it’s a nice change from a basement practice session or a karaoke machine. Despite the lingering tension between Keeley and Valerie, we get right to work without any issues, and everyone sounds great.
Except me. I screw up the chords on “Ghosts,” forget my harmony on “All My Friends Are Vampires,” and overall just make the rehearsal unpleasant for everyone. I can’t focus. My mind is reeling as I wonder if all of this has been a setup from the start. I even forget to come in on “Midnight Road Trip,” and everyone stares at me as the rehearsal crashes to a halt.
“Okay, that’s it. What’s wrong?” Valerie says to me. “You’re in a completely different place today.”
“Yeah, well, I’m just not sure this is worth it,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
“Uh, what’s this about?” Riker asks, frowning at me across the space.
Warmth flushes the back of my neck, and I don’t look away from Valerie. “You know, I agreed to this because you needed it, but it’s not just the one show, is it? You’re all hoping to record again, aren’t you?” I ask, heart pounding.
“Pretty sure we’re all too busy for that,” Keeley says, but it lacks bite.
Jane frowns at me from behind the keyboard setup. “Caleb, where is this coming from? Let’s talk.”
“Are you really all okay just exposing yourselves to all of this nonsense again, for her ?” I say, pointing at Valerie. I know I’m not being fair, but my pulse won’t stop racing from the adrenaline as I prepare for yet another fight. “I got a call from Gina at Label Records, and she said Valerie agreed to another record.”
Valerie gapes. “That’s not true! I’d never do that without talking to you.”
I feel disoriented. I’m not sure what to believe, but I won’t fall for her wide-eyed denial so easily. “You set up this reunion without discussing it as a band first. Why should this be any different?”
Valerie unplugs her guitar. “You know what? Forget it. I’m not going to stand here and let you accuse me of something I didn’t do.” She storms out of the studio. The others just stare at me.
“Can you believe her, going behind our back like that?” I ask, pacing the distance between my amp and Valerie’s pedalboard. “She just expects us to go along with everything.”
No one agrees, but I know they want to. They have to. I can’t be the only one who feels like I got suckered back into the whole damn thing.
Finally, Keeley breaks the silence.
“Dude, you’re being a dick,” she says. “You know Label is super fucking sketchy. Of course they’re trying every tactic in the book to get us to agree to a third album—this is their last chance to get more money out of us.”
Jane nods, tucking her hair behind her ears. “She’s right. They reached out to my agent too, but we’re not going to respond.” Her words are slow, measured, like she’s trying not to spook a wild animal.
Do I really look that out of control? I stop pacing and close my eyes, trying to catch a breath.
Riker grunts. “I’m sure if Wade wasn’t literally at Galaxy’s Edge right now, he’d be calling us with the same news.” He gestures toward his phone, where Wade’s private account shows him with his daughter in matching mouse ears.
All the fight leaves me in a rush.
“You’re right. I can’t believe I fell for that so easily.” I jumped to conclusions, because even for all my talk about trying to make peace, I wanted to believe the worst in Valerie. It wasn’t fair.
And my anxiety brain lies to me. My therapist said that a hundred times, and it’s like I’ve forgotten all that work I’ve done in the span of a few days.
God, I messed up.
“You just forgot what it’s like in this industry,” Riker says generously.
“Shit,” I sigh, swallowing thickly. “I just…I don’t know how to navigate this anymore.” The fans, the label…I forgot how overwhelming this life could be. I’m not at my best. Throw in all my complicated feelings about Valerie, and of course I’m all over the place. But my anxiety is no excuse for attacking her. I didn’t even give her a chance.
“That’s why you’re in a band, dumbass,” Keeley says. “You don’t have to figure it all out alone.”