Chapter 37
Tate
“This! This is...great. I’m so...so happy for them,” I say through a clenched smile.
My sister looks up at me, a slanted smirk on her face.
I look at the magazine again. America’s Sweethearts Levi Johnson and Gabriella Martinez are engaged!
Below the headline is a picture of them.
They’re on the stairs at the American Icon house.
Gabriella is a step down between Levi’s legs, looking up at him with her megawatt smile.
Levi’s smiling down at her. And right in the center of it all is the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen.
I throw the tabloid down on the small kitchen countertop, trying to make my motions look normal, controlled, when inside everything is screaming, WHAT HAPPENED! But I know what happened. Things got real. Too real for Levi.
I feel the bus rolling to a stop under my feet. Tonight’s my first time opening for Lasting Crowns, and I can’t wait to get off this bus and get out there.
“It’s fake, remember?” Callie says, drawing a tidal wave rolling up Tim’s shoulder blade. As predicted, they’ve been inseparable since our first night in Nashville. The marker runs under his arm, and he laughs, moving under her hand.
“Uh-uh,” she tsks. “Hold still.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he responds dutifully.
One thing Levi was right about was Tim. As much as I didn’t want this to happen, he’s pretty great.
He treats my sister like a queen. When she first suggested he come on tour with us, I was wary.
I mean, the bus isn’t that big, and the way it’s set up is essentially four bunks parallel to each other down a narrow hallway.
A little close for comfort, but honestly, it’s been great.
Callie finishes, leaning back and flipping her head from side to side. “Perfect.”
“I know it’s fake...” I say, taking a seat on the bench across from them, hugging a throw pillow to me. “It just doesn’t feel great.”
Tim stands, tugging his shirt back over his chest. “If it makes you feel better, Tate, every time I talk to him, he somehow works you into conversation.”
I give him a look of disbelief. “What do you mean? And when’s the last time you talked to him? Does...” I break for a breath. “Does he know you’re on tour with me?”
He laughs in his easy way I’ve come to love. “He’s my boss. I talk to him at least once a day.”
Duh, right. Sometimes I forget the origin of Tim. How he was Levi’s first. Not that it matters. And somehow, I know that given the choice, Tim would choose Callie over anyone. Not that he would ever have to choose.
“And to answer your other question, he does know I’m here. I had to schedule other guys to take my houses while we’re gone. Didn’t want him to find out from someone else.”
I’m nodding while ignoring the urge to ask for more. More info. How’s he doing? Did he say why he left? But it turns out I don’t need to ask because Tim picks up what I’m not saying.
Tim flips his ball cap backwards. “He asks things like how you are, if you ask about him, and if I think you hate him. Hey, what happened with you guys anyways? When he was with you, it was the happiest I’d seen him in a long time.” Callie slaps Tim’s arm, shaking her head so he’ll stop.
“It’s fine, Cal. Um, you know, we were good until it got deep. The same thing that happened when we were at the house in a different costume. He asked what I thought about God and didn’t like my answer.”
His mouth hangs open in a silent oh.
“What? What’s that look?”
Tim looks down at the floor. Callie looks between us before shaking him. “Out with it!” she finally says.
“Look, it’s not my place to share and it’s not something Levi talks about...” He pauses, and it feels like four lifetimes.
“Tim!” Callie and I shout in unison.
“Fine. His dad was a pastor at our church, and in high school he up and left Levi and his mom for another woman. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he’s pretty closed off to the conversation. I wish he could separate his dad’s actions from the church, but yeah...he can’t, and that’s why.”
Callie looks at me, eyes softening.
“Not what I expected...”
“Yeah, I know. Levi comes off hard. People would be surprised to know he first sang in the church choir. He even got offered a record deal when he was a kid. His mom ended up saying no because she wanted him to have a normal childhood. He probably still hasn’t forgiven her and now she’s engaged to another guy. ”
“What?”
“Levi didn’t tell you?”
“No. Apparently he doesn’t tell me much at all,” I clap back, and I instantly regret it. “Sorry, you didn’t deserve that. Just a lot to process.”
He nods. “Levi was ambushed with their relationship the second he walked into the house.”
“Wait, like he had no idea?” Callie asks.
“Nope. His ma said she didn’t want to upset him or something.”
“I feel like it’s more upsetting the way she did it,” I mumble.
Tim lifts a shoulder. “Levi’s hard to talk to, as you know. She’s a really nice lady though. You would like her.”
I smile. Mostly because I don’t know how to respond.
If I were with Levi, his mom and I liking each other would be a good thing, but we’re not.
In fact, he’s engaged to Gabriella now. I toss the pillow aside and carefully get up.
I open the little fridge. Cheese, protein bars, apples, and water fill its contents.
“Tate, we’re going to rest a bit before the next stop,” Callie calls as she and Tim walk single file down the narrow walkway toward the back.
I close the fridge again. Maybe some tea? I open an overhead cupboard where I’d seen a couple boxes, pulling down what I can reach. I decide on the green mint tea.
The remaining part of the process is almost automatic.
I don’t think about finding a mug, I think about a young Levi refusing to go back to church.
I don’t walk myself through pulling down the red-hot handle of water, I think about Levi creating a business by himself that allowed him to hire his best friend.
And I definitely don’t remember taking careful steps, tea in hand, towards my purse.
I think about Levi’s panic attacks and how it all makes sense now.
The whole process is a blur, especially the part where I send him a text and wait for a reply.
I stare at the screen. His name over our last text, the date that pops up when it’s been a while, and my simple “hey.” Doubt plagues me.
Should I not have sent anything? I roll my lips into one another.
I wish he would have told me what happened to him.
His actions wouldn’t have felt so cold. But now. ..now it might be too late.
“We’re exiting the highway, Tate,” Adam announces from the front of the bus some time later.
This is our first show working together, but he’s great.
He’s always happy and makes sure I’m where I need to be.
I close my phone as he comes to take a seat next to me.
I smile. He’s wearing a black sweater with a small zip at the neck and khaki pants, his unofficial uniform.
“You nervous?”
“About what?”
This causes a big laugh from him. “You’re about to open your first show, silly.”
“Oh, right. Um, no...not really,” I say honestly. “The one good thing American Icon did for me was break me in a bit, but that’s not to say I’m not excited.” I stretch my smile.
“True. Okay, so when we get there, you go straight to rehearsals. They could only promise twenty minutes. Then straight to hair and wardrobe. You’ll go on from six to six forty-five and then you’re done for the day!”
The wheels squeal to a stop, followed by the sound of high-pressured air.
“We’re here, people.” Adam claps once before going to shake the driver’s hand and press open the door.
Light streams in, and it’s only been four hours, but it might as well have been a lifetime.
Callie, Tim, and the band rush from the back.
Everyone is as happy as I am to touch ground again.
When I step out, I’m surprised by the size of the TQL Stadium.
I’ve seen it in pictures and on TV but this. ..this is pretty cool.
“There’s the smile I’ve been waiting for!” Adam’s arm curls over the top of my shoulders, quickly walking me towards the entrance.
“I don’t want to add any pressure to you, you know that, right?” He drops his head in front of me, giving me the sincerest puppy-dog face.
“Right.”
“But since you’re so easy-breezy, let me just say, you have to kill it tonight.
” He turns, facing me, just steps from the stadium, holding the balls of my shoulder.
“No one will tell you this, but I believe the truth will set you free. If this show goes south...you might as well start packing your bags for Alabama.”
“Louisiana.”
“What?” He drops my arms with a face that says, did you not just hear what I said?
“I’m from Louisiana.” I laugh. “Remember, you wanted me to take you to Mardi Gras and I said no...”
“Beads, yes! We’re doing that.” He’s nodding to himself. “Okay, you ready?”
“After that pep talk, who wouldn’t be?” I wink at him.
“Right? Alright, let’s do this!” He leads the way through the cement tunnel, and it feels like I’m walking through a portal into a dream.
***
After what felt like twenty-five minutes of adjusting microphones, I’m ushered into another room for hair and makeup. I stop and take in my name on the door. I should take a picture.
“Hey, Callie, can you take a picture of me next to my name on the door? Or is that too cringe?” I wince.
“Absolutely not!” She laughs. “Here, give me your phone.” I pull my phone from my back pocket, and it lights up.
Levi’s name is sprawled across the banner at the top of my phone.
Somehow, I had forgotten I texted him. Callie’s hand is out, waiting for the phone, while everything in me wants to read the text.
“Tate?” She gives me a concerned look. I swipe his name over with my thumb before opening the camera. She takes a couple pictures.
“Thanks,” I say, looking down at them. “I’ll probably ask you to do that again at some point tonight. This whole day is—”
She cuts in. “Deserved? About time? Finally?”
“I love you. Thank you for being here.”
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world. “Right, Tim?” She tosses her knuckles back, lightly smacking Tim’s chest.
“Yes, right!” He seems distracted by his phone, which is unusual for him, but also none of my business. I open the door to a small room. There is a beaten-up couch on one side and a vanity setup on the other. Two people in all black smile when they see us.
“Which one of you is Tate?”
I raise my hand.
“Alright, Miss Tate, let’s get your glam going.”
Callie and Tim head to the sofa and I got to the chair. The gal doing my hair—Rhonda, I come to learn—drapes a large cape over my shirt.
“How do you want your hair?”
I look at myself in the mirror. “Can we do loose waves?”
Just then, a knock at the door has everyone looking left, and in walks a man carrying a bush of roses. I literally cannot even see his head. He peers around it. “Is Tate McGregor in this room?”