Chapter 43
They didn’t speak in the elevator, or as they passed through the guarded door, but Annie was aware of Keith’s body with every step they took.
He had taken off his tuxedo jacket, exposing a ruffled yellow shirt with big damp patches.
Annie could smell his sweat, a fact she wasn’t proud of noticing.
She caught his eye once and then again, and each time it felt like getting a tiny electric shock.
No one spoke until they were in a room lined with Georgia O’Keeffe reproductions, with a small wading pool at the center.
The young woman with the walkie-talkie was holding a cell phone in each hand, and her shoulder kept emitting a static noise, a walkie-talkie’s clearest cry for help.
“There’s an extra stateroom here in the Sanctuary. I will be back to check on you after I do some damage control. I’m Sarah.” She stuck out her hand, and Annie shook it. “Annie, right?”
Annie nodded. The world-building rules of the last few days had vanished. She was too close to Keith to think about anything else. It felt like she had crossed through an invisible fourth wall, the barrier that had kept everything in place up until now.
Sarah turned to Keith, her voice low. “And you’re sure? This is okay? You can always just go back to your room. You don’t have to babysit. I should make you go back up there, but I just am not going to, because fuck them—excuse my French.”
He collapsed onto a couch, his body falling hard onto the squeaky faux leather cushions. “I agree.”
“Okay. Annie, Keith. Keith, Annie. Keith, keep it cool, okay, Rocky?”
He placed a hand on his heart, which was all Sarah seemed to need. The door shut behind her with a heavy clunk, and then they were alone. The couch was long, and Annie perched on the opposite end of it, staying as still and upright as possible.
“Hi,” Annie said.
“Hey,” Keith said.
“So then, not really okay at all, huh?” Annie asked.
Keith laughed, a shallow sound. “I guess not.”
She could feel her heart beating. He had shaved; the stubble was gone. It was bad, whatever she had just witnessed, and Annie wished that she could put away the part of herself that noticed his face.
Katherine had been right to love this face so much for so long.
Corey was the easiest face to appreciate, maybe, with its angles and planes, but Keith’s face—well, Annie just really liked Keith’s face.
Annie almost laughed at herself for having not properly appreciated him before.
She closed her eyes for a minute to try to pay attention without getting sucked backward through time.
She didn’t want to think about the sing-along songs, the posters on the wall.
That was someone else. This was just a man, a man she liked.
At least, she thought so. He was still in his costume.
Maybe it was better to think about it that way—he was in costume but offstage.
He wasn’t going to burst into song, not until the next act.
“Corey. And your brother,” Annie said. Keith’s face fell at the word brother. Maybe that was enough.
“It’s a lot,” Keith said. “That was a lot of years of power dynamics. That doesn’t usually happen. I mean, it hasn’t, not since we were kids. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry anyone had to see that.”
“It does seem heavy. Not just him, I mean, but all of this—” Annie opened her eyes again and gestured around them.
The small pool made lapping sounds, but otherwise it was silent.
She laughed a tiny laugh. The contrast was so extreme.
“It’s so quiet in here, you can almost forget what it’s like out there. ”
“Oh, it’s a shit show,” Keith said. He pushed himself so that his back was against one side of the couch, and Annie rearranged herself, covering her knees with her dress so that she was facing him directly.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Annie said, and smiled.
“That’s very polite of you,” Keith said. “I love the fans, we all do, and I love performing, but this—”
All weekend, Annie had heard women describe their thirty-second interactions with the guys, as if each one were giving away state secrets and not just making polite small talk, small talk without the possibility of even a full sentence exchanged.
What Shawn said over and over again was “I love you,” and he would point into the crowd, and all the women would scream.
This was just a man sitting next to her, bags under his eyes, his professional smile having slipped off, and Annie felt responsible.
She had done this to him. It was Stockholm syndrome, but they were taking turns being the jailer—who was holding whom hostage?
There was a part of herself that she thought she’d lost that had shown up the second Boy Talk had stepped onto the stage.
Annie could see it so clearly, that these men had given their lives to make that happen.
It was a curse and a gift, both at once.
“This is much nicer than my room. My roommate has a giant cutout of your brother’s face that she stole from the casino floor.
It’s probably four feet wide, and people have been walking on it all weekend.
I don’t know what she’s going to do with it.
” Annie stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles.
“She’s trouble, that one. Some of them are.
” He didn’t say you. Annie felt flooded with relief that Keith could see that she was different than the rest of the Talkers, and then she instantly felt guilty.
She wasn’t any better just because she hadn’t bedazzled any clothing.
“I’m used to people walking on my face,” Keith said.
He paused, as if remembering how conversations worked. “What do you do when you’re not here?”
Annie smiled. “That’s a great question, and the answer is I don’t really know.
I work in marketing for an opera magazine.
” Annie paused, the thought still forming.
“Actually, I’m quitting. The job, not opera.
I still like opera.” Blood flooded her body.
She was quitting. Just like that, she had the start of a plan.
Kayla would have to convince someone else to teach her how to do the job she was already supposed to know how to do.
“I guess I’m looking for the next thing. ”
Keith looked surprised. Impressed, maybe, his eyes wide-open. “Starting over,” Keith said. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
Annie took a deep breath. “I got divorced this year too.” She was front-loading all of her humiliations.
Annie wasn’t sure if it was the Sexy Sunrises or the sudden quiet or Keith’s open face that made her keep talking.
“I’m not happy I got divorced, but I’m glad I got divorced, if you know what I mean.
It’s not what I wanted, but it’s better.
Or it will be. New year, new me, I guess. ”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Keith said. “And I guess I’m glad you got divorced too. How was that?”
“My divorce? Uhhh,” Annie said. “I think what I always really liked about being married was how settled it made me feel, you know? Like, checked this box, never have to worry about that again. I guess it’s true, though—whatever happens next, it won’t be that again.
I’m still getting used to it.” She paused, checking to see whether Keith was still listening.
She hadn’t done this, talked about being divorced with handsome men.
“It also feels sort of like a failure.” It also felt like a risk, saying all of this to him.
He was looking right at her, eyes narrowed in concentration.
“You don’t seem like a failure. You don’t look like a failure.” It was so earnest that Annie thought she might burst into tears.
“What do I look like?” Annie asked. She really had no idea.
It was impossible to ever know, really, but especially now.
She knew how she’d looked to Chris, how she looked to Claudia.
But she had no idea what she looked like to Keith, or if he could even tell her honestly.
He sat up, pushing himself to the edge of the couch, and sat sideways so he could look at her more closely.
Their knees touched, and Annie could feel it in her entire body.
It wasn’t fair, was it? She was bringing so much more to this than he was.
It was a cheat, having a history that he was a part of.
Annie wondered how long it would take for that to go away, for the history to be replaced with the now.
“You look like you smile a lot,” Keith said. “You look kind. I already know you’re kind. You look great.” He stopped. It was too easy a word; it had come out too fast. “You look curious.”
“Wow,” Annie said. She felt tears poking at the corners of her eyes. “That was unexpected.”
“What about me?” Keith asked. “What do I look like, other than a failed middle-aged boxer?” He set his hands on his knee so now the tips of his fingers were touching her knee too.
Annie wished she’d shaved her legs, or waxed them, or whatever people did now, she had no idea.
There were probably facials you could get for your whole body where they injected you with lab-grown cells that would make your knees look like a teenager’s.
She pulled her hem toward his hand, which meant that her fingertips brushed against his.
“Okay,” Annie said. “You look like you could use a nice, long break. You look like things aren’t exactly the way you want them.
” She wanted to say more, about his lips and how she had noticed that if she just tipped her body forward and he tipped his body forward, their mouths would touch.
Annie tried to say that part as clearly as she could without actually saying the words.
Keith closed his eyes. “Isn’t it rich?” he sang.
Annie was startled to hear his voice. His singing voice, unadorned.
Even if he wasn’t hers, even if she wasn’t a Keith Girl, capital K, capital G.
It felt almost cruel that as a human you couldn’t choose what those things were, your Rosebuds, your madeleines.
Annie wished that her sister were sitting next to her—Katherine would have died on the spot.
But no, she didn’t wish Katherine were there, not now. This was what she wanted. Just him.
“Are we a pair?” she said back. Timing was everything in life; that was the truth.
Annie didn’t believe in fate, but she did believe that life would give you unexpected gifts when you were ready to receive them.
It didn’t matter how many moments Annie had missed, how many loves, how many heartbreaks, how many opportunities—the ones that weren’t for her had sailed by.
The same was true for Keith. It was true for everyone.
Annie closed her eyes, too, and listened to Keith hum.