Chapter Two #2
John wasn’t there, which must mean he wasn’t coming.
Her heart had been beating fast—not panic attack fast, but close—and suddenly she felt it slow down, almost abruptly, the way a roller-coaster ride flipped you upside down one minute and the next an apathetic employee was lifting the safety bar and ushering you out.
“Feel free to take a seat anywhere,” the receptionist said now, smiling at Micah as she led her into the room. “And help yourself to a water, something from the fruit and cheese plate…just let us know if we can get you anything else.”
Micah thought about grabbing a bottled water, but it felt somehow close to showing weakness.
She realized how stupid that was the minute she sat down and immediately wished she had a drink.
Ryder must’ve clocked that she took a seat next to Frankie instead of the open one next to him, and he was smirking at her from across the table. God, he had a punchable face.
It was an attractive face. She could admit that.
There was a reason she’d felt pulled to him back when they were teenagers, had let herself get caught up in their relationship even though she knew it wasn’t good—not for the band, and especially not for her.
He had floppy dark blond hair that fell over his forehead, piercing blue eyes, and the perfect aristocratic nose of the kind of guy who played tennis in the summer and skied in the winter.
When you looked like that and you played lead guitar in a band, you could get any girl you wanted.
And somehow, Micah had been flattered that he’d wanted her.
“Where’s John?” Micah asked, and immediately wished the question back. Another sign of weakness.
“He told me he was coming,” Frankie said, and why did that send a kick to Micah’s stomach, a flutter of…what? Jealousy? Hurt? That he and Frankie were obviously close enough to still talk, to check in with each other?
“He’ll be here any minute,” the woman Micah didn’t recognize said.
She couldn’t tell if that was an assumption, or something that the woman knew for sure.
Either way, she was already starting to pass around a sheaf of papers to each person, leaving an extra one at the empty place next to Ryder.
“In the meantime, let’s go ahead and get started. I know everyone has a busy schedule.”
Micah’s schedule consisted of taking this meeting, catching an early-morning flight from Orlando back to L.A.
tomorrow, and then sitting cross-legged on her bed, listening to a podcast while making friendship bracelets she kept in an empty guitar case in her closet.
The friendship bracelet trend had passed and still she couldn’t stop making them—there was something soothing about it, to her, stringing little beads along a piece of nylon, making the same words and color combinations over and over.
“I’m Roberta Dresser, but you can call me Bobbi,” the woman said, giving a little wink, like she was somehow letting them into a very exclusive club instead of just…
introducing herself by the name she wanted to be called.
“I’m the publicity coordinator for this Nightshifter cruise, and I’ll be your main point of contact both off and on the ship.
We know we’ve already been discussing some of these logistics via email, but we figured the best way to make sure everyone was on the same page was to have at least one meeting face-to-face before we set sail.
We appreciate Tasteless Art for hosting us here, and all of you for coming out. ”
In other words, they were concerned about inviting the band on a cruise ship without verifying that they could all be in the same room together first. Which, fair.
“If you turn to the second page in your packet, you’ll see the itinerary for the cruise laid out. Now, there could be minor adjustments made up to the last minute, but this should give you some idea—”
Micah tuned her out as she scanned down the schedule.
The parts that ElectricOh! were responsible for were helpfully highlighted on the printout—hosting a bingo game and playing a mini set on the second day, playing in a midnight shuffleboard tournament, and then, of course, prom on the last night of the cruise.
It depressed her, how fun it all sounded.
How much of a blast it probably would’ve been, had it been under different circumstances.
If the band had lasted all this time, if they were the kids who’d started it in the first place, if they were grown-ass adults who’d moved on with their lives but were excited for the chance to live out a nostalgic fantasy.
Of course, maybe some other members of the band were better adjusted than she was.
“Shuffleboard!” Steve crowed, blatantly interrupting Bobbi but seeming not to notice. “Oh shit. That’s kinda like bowling, right, because I kill at bowling. I scored two hundred just last week with my league.”
“Did you have the bumpers up?” Frankie asked with raised eyebrows but no particular malice. Steve laughed good-naturedly, and it gave Micah whiplash, just how quickly they could seem to slide back into their old dynamics.
Bobbi showed her first crack, though, looking briefly uncomfortable while she glanced from Steve to Frankie and then back to the paper.
“Well, not all band members are needed for all activities. We need three of you for bingo, but only two of you will compete in shuffleboard, and for the performances…”
Micah squinted down at the schedule again.
The only song they were performing on prom night was “If Only,” and if they were going to perform it like they had on the TV show, that would mean it would be just Ryder and John with her out there, playing their acoustic guitars.
Which meant that the entire band had been invited on this cruise… to play a few songs on an off night.
“You can absolutely take my spot in shuffleboard,” she said to Steve, trying to give him a smile she hoped looked genuine.
“Ah,” Bobbi said, “the contract does specify which members are necessary for certain activities. Remember that the—”
“ This certainly feels familiar,” Ryder drawled from across the table. “Just like old times, right?”
Her gaze shot to his, and he pursed his lips in challenge.
It had been one of their biggest arguments as a band—probably the one that had been their death knell from the very beginning.
As the lead singer, and a girl, Micah had always been singled out for attention from the media, fans, music critics, you name it.
She hadn’t asked for it, she hadn’t wanted it, she hadn’t even liked it, but there had only been so much she could do about it.
“You immediately finding a way to shit on everything?” Micah said before she could stop herself. “Totally, it’s a real blast from the past.”
Ryder raised his eyebrows. She’d played right into his hands with that one, and she knew it. He was spoiling for a fight. “Oh, I shit on everything? That’s funny. The last time we were in this building I seem to remember—”
“Enough,” Frankie said, then spoke louder when Ryder kept talking. “ Enough. Cut it out. Let Bobbi get through it all and then we can figure out who’s responsible for what.”
“Frankie’s right,” Ryder said, as though he hadn’t been one of the people being addressed in the first place. “I mean, I know it’s some female solidarity thing, the way she’s always stood up for you—”
“They,” Frankie said.
Ryder blinked. “What?”
“I’m not she , I’m they .”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”
Frankie gave him a placid look that seemed to convey simultaneously a supreme peace and also a do not fuck with me vibe. Micah wished she knew how to look like that. “I didn’t say you were supposed to know it. I simply corrected you so that you would know it now. Anyway, Bobbi, you were saying?”
“Uh.” Bobbi licked the tips of her fingers, ruffling through the pages in front of her more like she didn’t know what else to do than like she was looking for something specific.
We’ve broken her , Micah thought. Five minutes in the room with us and we’ve already broken her.
She felt the sudden inappropriate urge to laugh.
“I just think if this is going to be the Micah Presley Show we should all know that going in,” Ryder said. “I need to know where to stand so they can cut me out of photos later.”
“Oh my god,” Micah burst out. “That was one magazine cover, fifteen years ago , could you please—”
“I’ll stand wherever you need me,” Steve put in helpfully. “Or sit. Since I’m the drummer. I’m usually sitting.”
“Technically, this show is none of ours,” Frankie said.
“It’s a Nightshifters cruise, in case you all haven’t clocked the logo at the top of these sheets.
We played one song on a TV show and now they’re asking us to play it again over international waters while people are, I don’t know, dressed in shapeshifter cosplay or something.
We’re not even the main band! I think we could all stand to get over ourselves. ”
“Easy,” Ryder said. “Already done.”
Frankie leveled him with a look. “Is it? Can you honestly swear to me that you’re over yourself?”
He held up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute. Or else he was doing the thing from The Hunger Games . Either way, Micah didn’t trust it for a second.
But then Frankie turned to her, and although their face wasn’t unkind, it was also very serious. “And you? Are you over yourself yet?”
Oooof. That yet . If Micah had wondered if Frankie held any of it against her, everything that had gone down, she supposed that was an answer. They had to, at least a little.
“Yes,” Micah said.
“I’m over myself,” Steve put in. “I sell laptops at Best Buy and my kid’s only three and covers his ears and yells ‘No punk music!’ if I put on anything in the car that’s not a cartoon movie soundtrack.”