Chapter 22
22
Valerie
A week before the concert, Caleb and I are late to our first day of Glitter Bats press because we attempted to share a shower.
I’m powerless to resist him. Especially when water is dripping down his jawline, streaming down that muscled torso, soaking those strong thighs. I was the one on my knees this time, and it was totally fucking worth it. We had to race through getting ready after that, and I’m not even sure this is the right look—I chose a formfitting tank dress and a black denim jacket, and my eyeliner is a bit crooked—but I’d do it again.
These days before the concert feel like borrowed time. We haven’t spoken about the future much, after how he reacted to a potential album, and I’m afraid to bring it up again. What if he doesn’t even want to give us another real chance? So instead of being disappointed, I just pretend I get to keep him for as long as possible.
This morning, it’s hard to believe our time together has an expiration date. He kisses me as we wait for the elevator, and hardly lets go when the doors open and we join a few other guests on the way down.
I forgot how tactile this man is. He’s constantly touching me, fingers brushing my wrist, a hand on my back, a kiss on my temple when no one is looking. Every time our eyes catch, he smirks.
“Don’t be so cocky. All the fans will think you just got lucky,” I murmur as the elevator descends to the main floor, where the conference room is set up for a VIP coffee hour with the band.
“But I did just get lucky,” he whispers into my ear as the elevator stops at our destination. “And you’ve given me a morning that I now have the pleasure of thinking about all day.”
A wave of desire pulses through my core, and I discreetly press my thighs together before we step out of the elevator. If Caleb doesn’t rail me in this dress tonight, I swear to god…
But there’s a small group of fans waiting outside the conference hall, so I push the dirty thoughts to the back of my mind and plaster on a smile until it comes naturally, while Caleb flashes a huge grin and waves in their direction.
The Glitterbugs really are amazing. If it weren’t for the fans, I may not have a place in this business at all. Sometimes I forget that. So many fans followed me through my (failed) solo album and all the musical collaborations and minor guest roles I did prior to landing Epic Theme Song . In fact, there was a marketing meeting where one very brave intern reminded the room that I had an established fan base so I didn’t need so much “image management.” I hope they’re still working in the industry, because we need more kind souls.
Since those fans will be joining us for a meet and greet later, we don’t stop for selfies, but I make it a point to smile and make eye contact with as many as possible before we slip into the conference room. Keeley, Jane, and even Riker are already waiting, looking a little bored.
“We were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago,” Keeley says.
“Hell, even I’ve been here for fifteen. What gives?” Riker asks.
Jane’s jaw is set, and I can tell even she is holding back a reprimand.
“I needed Caleb’s help with something,” I say, and then I clear my throat. “Band related. I needed help with something band related.”
“Valerie, you are the worst liar in the world,” Keeley sneers.
“ But we don’t have time for this conversation because our fans are waiting!” Jane says, her voice at a higher pitch than usual. Clearly, we’ve stressed everyone out, and I don’t want to add to it.
“Whatever—let’s do this,” Keeley says.
“ Finally! They brought in dark chocolate orange peel scones and lavender muffins and oh my god the fresh donuts!” Riker says with heart eyes. He got really into baking one summer and briefly considered culinary school before the band took off, and his enthusiasm for pastries clearly hasn’t dimmed over the years.
The hotel’s catering manager confirms we’re ready to go, and security handles the door. We don’t worry about fans, per se, but we’ve been in this industry long enough to know that security is essential when we’re mixing with the public.
It felt strange when we hired them for the first time, but now I’m just used to intimidating people in all-black outfits with radios hanging out whenever we need them. It’s mostly just for crowd control, but there was a time where this one dude begged me for feet pics and wouldn’t leave a signing line without trying to grab my shoe.
I was really grateful I didn’t have to de-escalate that situation on my own. It’s uncomfortable, the way fame makes fans put you on a pedestal one minute, and act like you’re best friends the next. Fortunately, when we open the doors, the group is calm and follows the guidelines. It’s all the usual: no unsolicited touching, no revealing the location of the hotel, but photos are allowed (and, in fact, encouraged).
A videographer comes in and begins to shoot B-roll of the event for the promo video. I’m still unsure of the purpose of the promo video—tickets are sold out—but I do my best to pretend they’re not in the room. It’s hard when you’re used to playing to them on a TV set, but as we split up and mingle with the fans, the camera fades into the background.
There are only fifty fans at this event, so it’s easy to move around and talk to everyone. Even though I feel like I need to be chatting and taking photos the whole time, I make it a point to grab a coffee and a lemon bar so I can take small bites while the conversation flows.
When I run into a few familiar faces, I grin. It’s the college kids we saw at Magic Cupcake. They’ve all dressed up for the occasion, in concert black like proper music students.
“Glad to see Wade made you VIPs,” I say, smiling at the three of them.
They share a look, eyes wide. “You remember us?” Whit asks.
“Of course I do! You’re Whit, and this is Sophie and Aiden, right?”
Sophie bounces on her heels. “Yes!”
“Hey, friends, good to see you!” Caleb says, joining the four of us. I glance around, surprised he’s joined our little group, but Keeley and Riker are entertaining most of the room with a cajon and guitar they pulled out of nowhere. Jane’s still talking to another group, though, so I don’t feel the need to join in yet.
“Your manager got us incredible seats for the concert, and VIP access to all fan events this week. Seriously, thank you so much,” Sophie says. Just like before, she’s clearly the most extroverted of the group, but Caleb, in his natural warmth, manages to draw a starstruck Whit and sullen Aiden out of their shells too. We talk about music and the industry and queer representation in media, and for a minute I realize it’s been too long since I had conversations like this with fans. During all the meet and greets for Epic Theme Song , I’ve kept my chatter really surface level—I tell myself it’s to set boundaries, but it’s not like you have to bare your soul to connect with people.
Sometimes just a thoughtful question, or even an encouraging word, can make all the difference. It makes me want to do better in the future.
Caleb brings out the best in me. He’s always done that. I feel like I lost my way without him, and I’m finally remembering why I wanted to do this in the first place. Because knowing your art has been meaningful to someone? It’s everything.
We wander back to the rest of the group, and soon Keeley and Jane are leading the room in a lively acoustic version of “Still Dancing,” with Riker playing the guitar like we’re at a campfire sing-along. Fans are recording video with their phones.
Caleb and I stay in the background, clapping to the beat and singing harmonies.
“We’re not totally committed to a new arrangement for this one, right?” I ask quietly. Our set list has been final for weeks, but we’ve spent these late-stage rehearsals tinkering with sounds and perfecting every detail. Even with the clock ticking, we’ve all agreed to be open to changes as inspiration strikes.
I don’t think any of us wants the collaboration to stop.
Caleb grins at me, eyes sparkling at my meaning. “No, but I think we have now. They should do it.”
Despite Keeley’s accusations to the contrary, it was always really important to us that the band was about all five of the Glitter Bats, not just me and Caleb. The label always wanted the two of us to lead songs in recordings, but when we toured, we’d get away with putting Riker on lead guitar to shred on “Vampires” or giving Jane a chance to riff on a ballad. Keeley would get at least one drum solo per night.
Caleb slips his hand into mine as we watch them hit the bridge. Keeley’s brassy soprano and Jane’s rich alto blend gorgeously with Riker’s soft tenor melody, filling the room with warmth.
And…oh, I don’t want to lose this.
One last show just isn’t enough. I want everyone to get to showcase their wide range of talent, and that can’t all be crammed into one performance. Maybe it’s enough that they’re all showcasing their talent outside of the band, but it feels like the Glitter Bats have unfinished business. It’s always been at the pit of my stomach, a reminder of the band—my family—that fell apart too soon.
I don’t know if the concert will be enough to make that feeling go away.
After the song, we mingle a bit longer, grab pastries, and wrap up. Then we have a long day of interviews, both solo and as a group. We’re getting ready to record the big reunion exclusive for Buzzword in a few days, and do our official photo shoot, but today it’s other media outlets like Gossip Daily and Twenty-Two and even a few fan creators.
Some of the interviews will happen via video call, but we’re hosting a few of the creators in one of the other conference rooms. Just as we’re wrapping up, Keeley and Riker pull me aside. Jane and Caleb are on the other side of the room talking to the hotel event coordinator.
“What’s up?” I ask, staring between them.
Keeley raises her brows. “What are you doing?”
To buy time, I take a sip of my nearly gone coffee. “Oh?”
“Why did we have to find out from the internet that you and Caleb are involved again?” Riker says. I flinch.
“Who says we were ever together before?” I blurt, even though the band knows it was the least well-kept secret of our past.
“You were never subtle,” Keeley says. “Besides, we used to stay in some really shitty hotel rooms and, you know, mattresses squeak.”
I flush. It’s not like I ever thought the band was clueless, but I always thought we had this unwritten rule that we never spoke about it. I guess unwritten rules are void when you haven’t been a group for six years.
But I don’t need their permission.
“So?”
“Just tread lightly,” Riker says. “I don’t think he’s over you. Don’t use him.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Do you really think so little of me, after all our history, that you believe I would treat Caleb Sloane like a fuck buddy?”
They share a glance. “No, but…” Riker trails off, frowning, like he’s trying to figure out how best to call me out without pissing me off.
“We love you, but this is a terrible idea,” Keeley says. “Have you even talked about what happens after the concert?”
I open my mouth to say something, anything, in my defense, but I come up empty. Before I can even try, we’re being called over to go over the schedule for the rest of the day.
But the worst thing is, I’m worried Keeley is right. When all this is over, it’s entirely possible I’ll be alone and heartbroken. As we confirm plans for our first interview, I’m half listening.
I won’t let history repeat itself. I’ll fight for Caleb. This concert can’t be the end of it all, even if we’re not sure what any kind of future between us could look like yet.
I’m holding on to this happiness, and I won’t let go without a fight.