Chapter 26
26
Caleb
During our final sound check at the stadium, I can’t stop staring at Valerie.
The purple hair looks amazing, but she looks good in any color. That’s not it. There’s something strange about her today. She’s too enthusiastic, too cheery, too…different. It’s like she’s a louder, brighter, more intense version of herself, and it makes me feel like she’s a thousand miles away instead of standing at the microphone next to mine. After waking up tangled in the same sheets, the distance puts me on edge.
She’s always been fidgety, but today it’s different. As we go through vocal warm-ups, she’s jumping up and down on the balls of her feet. While Riker goes over his setup with the guitar techs, Valerie keeps adjusting and readjusting her mic stand. At one point, she just walks over to the edge of the stage and stares out at the thousands of empty seats, like she’s looking for something.
It’s got to be nerves. I know we’re all feeling them. The afternoon sun above the dome is hot, and the pressure is on. But still, I’ve never seen her like this before. Maybe it’s just my own anxiety overanalyzing the situation, but I think that’s an easy excuse to ignore my gut.
On the last run-through of “Ghosts,” Val goes sharp bordering on shrill on the chorus, and it’s obvious to everyone by now that something is off.
“Jeez, Valerie, save some for the performance,” Riker says, reaching for his next guitar.
“I don’t know, we have a long-ass day ahead of us—if you took something, I want it,” Keeley says dryly, but she shoots me a nervous glance. I’m not the only one who noticed this is weird.
Valerie blinks, tossing her hair out of her face. “What? Y’all know I’d never take anything, especially before the most important performance of our lives! I’m fine!”
The most important performance of our lives.
My stomach twists. When did it become that? I fiddle with my bass strap, readjusting my instrument.
I thought we were giving fans one last glimpse of the Glitter Bats. We have nothing more to prove. The concert is sold out, and Valerie is all over social media. Fans are arguing about whether they want to kiss her or be her. They’re praising her talent and poise, defending her against the haters, making content about her best moments.
Valerie Quinn is no longer notorious—she’s beloved.
Everyone says nice things about the rest of us too. It doesn’t matter to me, but I know Jane and Riker and Keeley have gotten positive feedback from their teams. This reunion is going to help all of them.
And if I can’t stay, it’s the best parting gift I could give my friends.
“Well, your vocal coach would remind you to dial it back,” Jane says gently.
Valerie laughs, almost maniacally. “Right. Of course. You’re so right, I just got excited. I’ll totally dial it back.” Every word comes out slightly too fast, like she’s a podcast set at 1.5 speed. She puts her hands on her hips, then in her pockets, then grasps her microphone like it’s a lifeline.
Jane frowns but tosses her hair over her shoulder and blinks, adjusting her setup for the next check.
At least we’re not running through everything, just checking levels, and we get through “Daydreams Like This” in a much calmer fashion. Still, it’s almost as if I can feel Valerie vibrating, like she’s pounded a dozen shots of espresso. She paces between her mic stand and the front of the stage, fiddling with her earbud, like she’s not happy with the in-ear monitor. But we dialed that in hours ago, so it shouldn’t be an issue. It’s like she can’t stop moving.
Usually our eye contact on the bridge feels warm and a little seductive, but today it’s odd. Like she’s trying to send me a message, but I can’t sense what it is. There’s a disconnect, and I want to find it before we get onstage.
We all have to head to hair and makeup after rehearsal, so I try to pull her aside quickly, but she just tells me she has to “take care of something” before she disappears.
After we’re styled, we all show our nerves in different ways:Riker is obsessively checking over his iPad, ensuring he knows the changes; Keeley is fiddling with the drumstick she cracked earlier today; and Jane is playing a word game on her phone between bites of her rice bowl. Even Wade starts pacing when he comes to check in on us, and he asks about Valerie. That’s when I really start to worry—she always checks in with him, if no one else.
She reappears just in time to eat half of her chicken wrap before the last VIP event—a meet-and-greet cocktail hour just before showtime. Half of this event is fans, and the other half is industry people, so we’re all extra aware of our behavior.
“You good, kid?” Wade murmurs as we’re ushered to the dining room the hotel reserved for this event.
“I’m handling it,” Valerie says, with a nod so sharp and determined it’s almost robotic.
Wade quirks a brow before he moves off to chat with one of the label executives, and I hang back to catch her.
“What was that about?” I ask.
She blinks up at me, eyes wide. “What? Oh, it’s nothing! Nothing at all. I’m fine!”
“You sure?” I raise a brow. I know when Valerie is hiding something, but I also know I can’t force her to talk before she’s ready. Maybe it’s just hitting her the way it’s hitting me, that this is the last night we’ll be together unless we figure something out.
I could trust that more if she would just tell me what’s going on. This woman is it for me, and I just wish she didn’t feel so far away in this moment.
She puts a hand to her chest. “I promise I’m fine! Everything is going to be fine. Better than fine. It’s going to be perfect.”
Everything does not feel perfect, but I get it. I feel a little uneasy too. Still, I don’t know how to pull her out of this sugar rush she’s been spinning through all afternoon. So I just do my best to stay by her side until showtime, even as she bounces around the room like an overenthusiastic Ping-Pong ball, moving from guest to guest with alarming speed and cheer. Every time I try to pull her away to actually check on her, she finds another diversion.
After we leave the event, change into our clothes for the show, and head to the venue, it starts to hit me that we’re really doing this. Lime Velvet begins their opening set, and even in my anxiety to talk to Valerie, it hits me—we opened for them on our first tour. How wild that now they’re opening for us. We chatted with them a bit during their sound check, and they’re all still so professional and kind.
I remember, when we were first starting out, really taking that example to heart. How you treat people matters. No one is less important just because they are newer to the scene, or have fewer social media followers, or went indie instead of signing with a label. Things in the industry can really change so quickly. It’s a far better experience if you treat people like colleagues instead of the competition, reaching out a hand to help others up when you can. And you never know—the people coming up behind you might suddenly be the ones in the spotlight.
Even if that spotlight is fleeting.
I finally catch Valerie backstage while Lime Velvet begins their last song. She’s a knockout in a tight black minidress, her lucky bejeweled leather jacket, and platform Docs, and she takes my breath away. Now, at least, the manic look is gone from her heavily shadowed ocean eyes.
As I approach, Valerie grabs my wrist and tugs me toward her. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she draws me into a searing kiss. This isn’t distant.
It’s warm, and hot, and full of feeling.
I don’t even care if she’s wearing lip gloss; it just feels so good to be close to her again after such a strange day. I deepen the kiss, and she tastes like her pre-performance ritual of honey cough drops and herbal tea. So many of our kisses have included these subtle flavors, and I can’t get enough of the intoxicating familiarity. With just the two of us like this, everything feels okay again, and I want to believe there’s no reason to worry.
Valerie has my heart—and my back. If she’s keeping something to herself, I’m sure it’s for good reason. I know she’ll tell me when the time is right.
I pull back, leaning my forehead on hers. “God, I don’t know how I’m supposed to let you go after this,” I whisper, admitting the fear that’s been hanging in the back of my mind.
“Then don’t,” she says. “Trust me. We’ll figure this out together.”
My throat tightens. I want to believe her, but worry still lingers. Instead of hiding it the way I might have when we were younger, I decide to tell her. If we’re going to move forward, we need to be better at communicating. I can do better.
I clear my throat. “Do you really mean that? Because today…it’s like you’re living in a different universe. I’ve been so worried that something’s wrong and you were afraid to tell me. You know you can open up to me, right? I want to help.”
She pulls back, biting her lip. “No! That’s not it. Look, I’m sorry for earlier. I don’t mean to be so distracted. I just…I want everything to be perfect.”
“Me too,” I say. “It’s going to be great.”
“I know,” she says, biting her lip. “It’s you and me, Sloane.”
“Like it was always supposed to be,” I say, pressing another brief kiss to her lips.
“We can talk more after, I promise.” She glances up at me, a cheeky look dancing in her eyes. “One more for luck?”
And then I pull Valerie into my arms and kiss her again.