Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
I manage to salvage most of dinner by scraping off the burned parts of the pork tenderloin and dumping barbeque sauce on it. The butter-sage sauce was a complete loss, but neither of us care. We sit down at the counter, loose-limbed and smiling. The post-sex haze.
"I know I mentioned it in passing earlier, but my record label is throwing together a tour for me this fall. I'll leave in a few weeks."
I chew slowly. "That's awesome. What's a tour like?"
"It varies, but this time I'm just in the US. It’s eight weeks, and every two to three days I'm in a new city."
"That sounds like a lot. Are you excited about it?"
"Yes and no. I'm excited because there's nothing I love more than playing live for my fans. It's hands down the best part of the job. But also no, because I've been feeling this growing tension between me and the label over the past few years. The tour was their idea. They picked the dates, locations, called all the shots. They want me to release a new album early next year. Which is great. Fine. I’ve already been working on it. But the idea of going through another album with them and the marketing machine that comes along with it just feels … daunting. Which is not the way I want to feel about putting out new music. And I've never felt that way about it before. I am normally champing at the bit to put new music out. I just feel this friction, or maybe it's just exhaustion from being beholden to them for so long."
"What would you do differently?"
"I don't know. That's part of the problem. I feel like I'm at a crossroads in my life. In my career. I don't really know where to go from here. I've kicked around the idea of switching labels. Or venturing out on my own. Or just retiring altogether, kind of just fading into the background and focusing on other things I'm interested in, like putting together some type of foundation. Nothing has stuck or felt all the way right, so I'm not sure."
"A foundation sounds cool. What kind?"
"A few ideas, but mostly surrounding music. The obvious choice. Whether it’s funding research or helping keep music in schools, or putting music in schools that don't have it, or offering opportunities to kids to be exposed to music when they otherwise wouldn't. I don't know, something like that."
"I love that idea."
He swirls his wine in his glass, his dark eyes dazzling in the candlelight. "I want to keep seeing you. Even when I leave for the tour."
I put my fork down and take a big sip of wine. "How would that work?"
"We make it up as we go. I'm pretty good at figuring out how to still have a life, even when I'm on tour. I can plan to be back in New York City whenever I am nearby. But maybe you could come meet me on the road somewhere?"
"Hmm... Yeah, maybe," I try to process what he’s said.
He raises an eyebrow. "Are you feeling what I'm feeling, like this might be something?"
I hesitate. My answer is obvious, but I have an instinct to guard it.
"Yes," I murmur.
He looks like he’s fighting a smile, like he doesn’t want to give too much away either.
“Me too.”
“We usually take a midtour break. It'll be in November. I’ve already booked a villa in Mexico for five days for me and some of my friends, the band, and some production guys. We’ll spend some time unwinding and working on new things. It’ll be the most free time I have for a while, and I’d love for you to come.”
“Hmm...” I stall.
He watches me closely.
I can’t deny the hesitation I feel to make plans that seem so far away with this beautiful man who I am just getting to know, but who I don't yet actually know at all.
“No? Too soon?” He asks.
“It feels like a lot?” I say, a question more than a statement.
“I get it, but we just agreed that we feel like this might be something.”
“Yes, and I do. I guess I don't know what that something is just yet—besides sex so good it almost burns down the building.” I nod toward my charred skillet.
He laughs. “I think it’s two people who are really, really enjoying getting to know each other. Who want to make plans to continue doing so in the future.”
"Okay, that sounds accurate to me," I agree.
“Look, there’s no guidebook for this. My life is a little different than the average Joe, as you so cleverly have pointed out. I learned a long time ago that it doesn’t work for me to not be direct. What I do know is that I like you. A lot. I want to see where this goes. I don’t tend to put myself out there like this unless I think it's going to go the distance. That's all I know. I'm excited about this. About you."
The butterflies are back.
"I'm excited about this too, and I want to keep seeing you. That's for sure. But I think I'm going to need to get back to you about Mexico."
He nods and drops it, but I sense his disappointment—sense that he wanted more of an answer, more of me.
I wonder how much I'm willing to give.