Chapter 23
23
Caleb
The rest of the week goes by in a blur.
Interviews, photo shoots, VIP events with more fans. Despite what everyone hopes, it does nothing to make us feel free of Label Records’ expectations.
But Valerie thrives. As we get ready for the last photo shoot—a cover for Punk! magazine—she’s buzzing with excitement.
“My publicists just checked in—the press is so good!” she says, beaming at her phone for what feels like the hundredth time this morning. We’re in hair and makeup, and she’s letting them bleach her hair platinum again, with plans to tease it into a glam-rock look. I’m tolerating the extra product on my hair, the thick photo-friendly makeup on my face, but when the makeup artist pulls out a stick of Perversion, I grin.
“You did your homework,” I say.
Rowan—who has been supervising all of our prep—pops into my mirror over the makeup artist’s shoulder. “Didn’t feel right to put you in anything else. The goal is fresh but nostalgic. We want fans to recognize you when they see these images but have a reason to keep looking—let’s intrigue them.”
“Sounds good.”
They place a hand on the back of my chair, gesturing to my face with the other. “You’re not twenty-two anymore, so I thought we’d go a little heavier on the makeup if you’re okay with it. You good with mascara, maybe a smoky eye?”
I shrug. I never really tried other makeup, with the exception of basic stuff for photo shoots and red carpets. It took me a lot of YouTube videos and more than a few mishaps to even get the eyeliner right. I’m curious, though. “I’ll defer to your expertise.”
Rowan’s eyes spark. “Oh, we’re going to have fun.”
They pull the makeup artist away into a huddle, and she starts taking notes as Rowan describes their vision. I take a chance to pull out my phone. It’s been buzzing off and on, and I grin when I see it’s not press inquiries, but the group chat with my sisters. I’ve been a little apprehensive all morning—I never loved being photographed—but seeing their flood of texts eases some of the tension in my shoulders.
Carrie: So Caleb, you’re like famous again??? I swear, every time I’m online, someone is talking about you.
Carrie: Also. You LIED to me when you said you and Valerie weren’t back together. There’s no way that kiss was just for clicks. I’m not totally clueless.
Carrie: I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go viral before. It’s weird.
Cameron: Oh gosh, I forgot you were like seven when “Midnight Road Trip” dropped. He was EVERYWHERE.
Cameron: I almost gagged the first time I saw him top a Gossip Daily list of “The Hottest New Musicians We’d Most Like to Kiss”
It wasn’t “kiss,” but I’m glad Cameron had the foresight to spare Carrie the gory details. Heck, I wish I hadn’t seen a paragraph of Paige Hart speculating how badly she wanted to find out if the “rumors about short kings are true.”
Valerie always got the brunt of the media, but it doesn’t mean the rest of us didn’t get our fair share.
Carrie: EEW! That’s so gross!
Cameron: It was!
Cameron: There was so much back then.
Carrie: Caleb is so boring now. I always forget he’s very Google-able.
I send a selfie from hair and makeup, Riker photobombing in the background from the chair next to mine with a peace sign, his hair in foils.
Me: HEY now, I’m not that boring.
Carrie: TELL RIKER HI
I roll my eyes. “My baby sister says hi.”
“God, I miss that kid. Tell her hi back, and that she should come down for the concert,” he says.
My stomach twists. Of course I want my sisters here, and I set aside tickets for them, but I’m not sure I can trust Mom to get Carrie to the airport. I don’t want her to do something rash like try to take a rideshare all on her own.
So I don’t remind her of it in case she gets let down.
Me: He says hi.
Carrie: Does he still live by that candy store he used to post about on IG? And will you be in that neighborhood?
Me: That’s very presumptuous.
Cameron: IDK, if she’s stuck at piano camp all summer, the least you could do is send her sour gummies.
Carrie: I’ll text Riker. I know HE will send me sours.
The thing is, she’s right. Out of all of us, I have the youngest sibling—Jane’s younger sister, Nora, is a year older than Carrie—and the rest of the band always spoiled Carrie rotten whenever they could.
Riker chuckles from next to me, and I know she’s already sent the text.
“Dude, ignore her. She’s being a brat,” I say, but there’s no real force behind the words.
“I actually have to run home tomorrow to grab a couple jackets, so it’s no trouble!”
“Oh, we’re definitely sending her candy,” Keeley calls from Riker’s other side, where a stylist is making the finishing touches on her silky blowout.
I laugh. “I don’t know how many seventeen-year-olds are getting care packages from rock stars.”
“Only the lucky ones,” Valerie says. I glance over her way, expecting to catch her grin, but she’s scrolling her phone obsessively. I wish I could say something to make her feel better about all of this, but I know she’s on edge with the concert coming so soon.
The makeup artist comes over again. “You ready, Caleb?”
“Sorry, one sec.”
Me: It’s my turn for makeup. Be good!
Carrie: No promises!
Cameron: UGH send us another selfie when you’re done. It’s unfair how good you look in eyeliner.
With that, I shove my phone away. Instead of fidgeting with my phone like Valerie or popping in earbuds like Riker, I like to watch in the mirror as I transform from regular Caleb to stage Caleb. The process has always fascinated me. It’s a kind of armor, the makeup, making me feel like I’m ready to take on the crowds, hidden away behind the smudge of the pencil. I close my eyes as the artist layers on eyeshadow, trying not to flinch as she layers the powder on my lids.
“Go ahead and open. What do you think?” she asks.
I blink, barely recognizing myself. The effect is more intense than ever, like the volume dial on my face is turned up all the way. Somehow my eyes look even greener.
“It looks awesome,” I say. “Thank you so much.”
“Knock ’em dead out there,” she says, moving her stool over to Riker. “Can’t wait for the show.”
Nerves flutter in my stomach. The concert is in forty-eight hours, and then my life will go back to normal. We haven’t talked about the future, and I still can’t bring myself to say anything about it. For now, Valerie and I are existing in this sweet, precious bubble, where there’s only us. Only this. No day but today and all that jazz.
It’s a goddamn Broadway tune over here.
Because I can’t give Valerie what she wants. It’s so clearly written on her face, the hope that all of this means Epic Theme Song will be renewed. I don’t work at The Network, all the money from this performance is going into my sister’s college fund, and I can’t come back to this life the way she would need me to for any of it to be worth it.
While I wait for Rowan to come by and give me their final approval, I glance over at Valerie. She’s still beaming down at her phone from under a hair dryer.
I can’t swoop in and save her, but I hope my presence was enough to spin the trends in her favor. This morning, as we were tangled in the sheets and procrastinating getting ready for the day, Valerie shared the latest update from Wade: The Network is impressed and they’re having talks. But once you’ve been in this business long enough, you know never to put your hope in “talks.”
You can only put your hope in sure things—deals, contracts, commitments—and even those don’t always stick. So you have to control the things you can: your behavior, your look, the projects and opportunities you choose to pursue. The rest is up to fate.
I hope that for Valerie’s sake the stars align.
Rowan comes over and gives me their final approval before sending me to the next room for wardrobe. Again, I’m told the goal is to look like me but also like someone new, so I’m thrown into whitewashed designer jeans and a Nirvana tee with the sleeves artfully cut off. After some digging on a rack, Rowan hands me a leather jacket, but since I won’t be wearing it in all the photos, I’m also given tattoo balm to rub on my arms.
Jane joins me then, her thick red hair in perfect curls, shimmering gold makeup on her eyes and cheeks, in a green minidress and combat boots. I can tell she’s staring at my tattoos as I work the balm into my skin, her eyes growing wide and watery.
“I never really looked at them before,” she says, fanning her face to stop the tears. “I didn’t realize…”
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing thickly. “I, uh, couldn’t stop.”
The ink tells the story of Glitter Bats in a way I can’t articulate. After I walked away from this life, I still felt this unshakable compulsion to write it on my skin. There are ghosts and vampires and bats, but also broken hearts and a lipstick print of a kiss and even a minimalist outline of the old VW van we took on our first tour.
Jane—ever wise, ever kind—doesn’t press me for more. She just smiles.
“It’s beautiful work.”
“A friend from college began apprenticing at this really fantastic shop. He practiced on me.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but we’re interrupted by Keeley’s drawl.
“Well don’t you look like a heartbreaker,” she says, assessing me. Her bob is sleek and fresh, styled so her blond hair swoops into her eyes. They’ve got her in minimal makeup, but she’s wearing the hell out of a tie-dye Wildfang boilersuit and Chucks.
“Hey, I just showed up,” I say. “It’s not my fault if hearts break when they see me.”
“Wow, Caleb, vain much? I was talking about Mercer—she’s literally glowing .” Jane flushes bright pink, and Keeley smirks before she clears her throat. “You look good too, Sloane. You miss any of this?”
It would be so easy to say no—I don’t miss being told what to wear, how to look, where to be. But I miss this , the easy rapport with my bandmates, the music. I’m excited to play the concert.
Excited to sing with Valerie one last time.
“Some of it,” I finally admit.
“This doesn’t have to be our last rodeo,” Keeley says, a little softer. “We could talk about doing more. I’d be open to recording again, if we were all on board. I just don’t want to force you into anything.”
“I’d be in,” Jane admits. “I was talking to Riker over drinks last night, and I think he’d do it too.”
Keeley flinches, almost visibly, and I frown at her. She glares at me, and I raise my brows. Jane squeals, oblivious to our interaction.
“I have to take this,” she gestures to her buzzing phone. “We’ve been waiting to hear an update from The Network on Dragon Realm , and this is my producer!”
“Go, go!” Keeley says, unable to stop smiling at Jane as she disappears around the corner.
“You want to talk about it?” I ask.
Keeley scowls. “Talk about what?”
“ Keeley. ”
She crosses her arms. “ Caleb. ”
“How long have you been pining after her?”
“I thought you were in therapy. We call that ‘ projecting ,’?” she says, but her jaw is tense and her eyes are wide, like she’s freaking out a little.
I raise my hands. “How is that projecting?”
“Oh, come on, you’ve clearly been pining after Valerie, or you wouldn’t be here—you certainly wouldn’t be fucking her. Dude, I love you, but watching this is so painful. You’re going to go back to your boring life with your noble day job in a couple of days, and it’s going to hurt you again.”
I swallow thickly, because I’ve been worried about the same thing. “I thought you wanted us to keep working together. If that happens, maybe Valerie and I can figure out…something.”
I shove my hands in my pockets, leaning against the cold concrete wall. I haven’t been able to get Valerie out of my head for years—I don’t think I can just walk away completely again.
“Is that what you really want?” Keeley asks.
I think about life back home—working with the kids, being close to Cam and Leah, taking Sebastian Bark on hikes every weekend. It’s not a bad life. I’m comfortable, and mostly happy.
But it’s nowhere near perfect, and it’s definitely not glamorous. I spend most of my free time doing lesson prep. Any savings I can manage get drained to nothing whenever Mom needs help. The nights alone in my town house are brutal. There’s no room for Valerie in that life.
And I don’t know if I can go back to a life without her.
Still, it’s hard to trust that Valerie would really want to take this path if the Glitter Bats reunite for good. Would she be content making music together until we become classic rock, or are her dreams bigger than that? She’ll be running back to TV the moment The Network calls. What then?
I’d be pushed to the sidelines of her perfect life. I want her to achieve her dreams, but I can’t give up everything for nothing. If I knew for sure she was all in, that might change things. But maybe it wouldn’t.
After finding our way back to each other this summer, losing her again would tear me apart.
“I honestly don’t know,” I say.
She lowers her voice dramatically, as if it’s a secret. “You only have like two days to figure it out.”
I sigh. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about what you want—are you going to ever tell Jane you’re in love with her?”
“Obviously not, because it’s not true,” Keeley says, staring petulantly at the floor.
“So you’re just going to suffer in silence,” I say, all too aware that it never works.
Her eyes snap to mine with a flash of something I’d almost call panic. “Hell yeah I’m going to suffer in silence, because what if she’s not into me? I don’t even know if she likes girls .”
“Well, maybe you should just talk to her about your feelings, because you’re very good at making her blush.”
“I’m not the only one,” she says, crossing her arms and glancing in Riker’s direction as he comes around the corner. “Did you know those two are the only ones who really stayed in touch before this summer? I mean, the three of us hung out a few times, but I…most of the time I wasn’t included. You can’t tell me there’s nothing…”
She trails off as Riker comes over. He’s let the stylist cut his hair into an actual shag, and they’ve managed to wrangle it into messy curls with some extensions. “Why do you look like that one dude from Stranger Things ?” Keeley asks, elbowing him.
Riker’s eyes light up. “I wish I could be as badass as Eddie Munson. Taking that as a compliment.”
“There is the whole bat connection,” I say. “You look good.” Like me, Riker is a styled-up version of himself. He’s in a tight black tank and black designer jeans, and he’s got a flannel half on his arms. There are black leather bracelets on his wrists, and he too has been subjected to extra eye makeup, although less intense than mine.
Riker flexes. “I know, I’m a dreamboat. Feel free to keep complimenting me.”
Keeley punches his arm, and the two start trading friendly jabs. I fall quiet, letting them bicker like old times, knowing there’s no real reason for me to intervene.
And then Valerie emerges from wardrobe, and she takes my breath away.
She’s exuding pure sin in black leather pants and a tight black crop top, practically a corset that gives her already-perfect cleavage a distracting lift. Even in platform Doc Martens, she walks with remarkable grace. She’s wearing a choker around her neck and bloodred lipstick, evoking both Taylor Swift’s Reputation era—arguably her hottest—and something entirely Val .
“Oh my god, those pants should be illegal,” Keeley says.
Valerie spins around slowly, and I have to swallow thickly because there’s no hiding a hard-on in these jeans. Her ass looks like it was carved out of marble.
“Damn, Quinn,” Keeley wolf whistles, lightly smacking Valerie’s ass.
Val preens, swinging her hips. “You like?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
Riker coughs, clearly uncomfortable at where the attention is going but unable to stop himself. “What is that, yoga?” he asks.
Val laughs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “That or the Pilates.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders, careful not to smudge anything. “Whatever it is, it’s working for me,” I whisper in her ear.
She flushes. “Noted.”
“Okay, if this is going to be a thing, we need a no-PDA rule, because I’m about to throw up,” Keeley says.
“Jealous you’re not getting any?” Val shoots back with a wink.
Keeley strikes a pose, tugging on her top. “I can get plenty , thank you.”
“I think Keeley’s got her sights set on someone in particular,” Riker says lightly.
Keeley blanches, but Jane joins our group in a whirlwind before it goes any further.
“The Network renewed Into the Dragon Realm for two more seasons!” Jane shrieks. “Our numbers were already that good!”
“Mercer, that’s amazing!” Keeley screams.
Jane turns and immediately throws her arms around Keeley’s neck for a hug, and Keeley swings Jane around in a circle. Maybe that whole situation is not as unrequited as Keeley thinks. Riker grabs Jane for the next hug, I join in, and soon almost everyone is jumping up and down and screaming.
Valerie just blinks, stunned. But when she realizes she’s the odd one out, she quickly recovers. “Wow, that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you,” she says, drawing Jane into a hug of her own.
But I can’t miss the sadness hanging in her shoulders. I know she’s trying to hold it together, be happy for Jane, but it can’t be easy watching a friend get the exact good news you’re hoping for.
“Come on in, Glitter Bats!” an assistant says, and we all file into the room for the first round of shots.
Valerie leads the way, but I can see that her spark has dimmed.
I wish I could shield her from this pain, the heartache of not knowing if she’ll be allowed to continue on. That’s the thing about this business—it’ll break your heart more times than it won’t. You’ll hear a hundred nos for every precious yes. You can fall in love with the industry, you can give it everything, but it will never love you back.
And it’s a reminder that I still don’t know if I can subject myself to it all again.