Chapter 38
Levi
Gabriella reaches across the back seat to lay a hand over my bouncing knee, the diamond on her finger somehow glimmering sans any actual light.
“You good?” she asks. It’s become almost like a code between us since news of our engagement broke.
The unspoken rule is if either of us answers no, the other has to find a way to get us out of the situation.
Take last week, for example. Jan sent us to some fancy grocery store on the west side of LA to get a couple things for the house.
Lo and behold, everyone and their mom was there, including about four paparazzi.
I don’t fault them for what they do, but I do have a problem not being able to walk on a public sidewalk.
Anyways, Gabriella talked to them while I went in for the stuff.
I’m starting to think maybe acting is her calling.
“Hmm. I was just hoping Tim would call me before we got to the studio.”
“Oh, this is about Tate,” she teases, scooting closer to me in the process. I see the driver’s eyes flick up once before dropping back to the road.
“I just wanted to watch her first show, that’s all.”
“Why don’t you just call him?” We both stare at the black screen of my locked phone.
“Is that weird?” I ask, turning to face her. “He said he would call me.”
“Well, weird or not, we’re almost to the set and you won’t be able to see any part of her performance at that point, not that I’m entirely sure why you would want to.
You left her high and dry in Nashville, remember?
” Gabriella’s makeup is over-the-top tonight.
Her eyelids have pressed-on glitter so thick you can’t see any skin.
“High and dry is a little much.” I turn towards the window.
“Call it what you want, and I’ll call it how I see it.”
I’m about to say something I’ll surely regret when my phone vibrates in my hand. It’s a FaceTime from Tim. I work to tamp down my excitement before pressing the answer button.
“Hey,” I say, but it’s a trickle of rain compared to the noise of the crowd and one very familiar voice belting out a cover of “How Can It Be.” The picture quality is blurred, but I can make out her small figure at the center of the stage.
She’s in her signature loud wardrobe, wearing a hot-pink striped vest and purple flowy pants.
On her head is a hat only she and the Mad Hatter can pull off.
“Stop smiling like that,” Gabriella mocks.
“Shh.”
The song ends and she starts to thank the crowd.
“This is everything a girl like me could ask for. Truly a dream come true. Thank you to everyone here and”—she looks straight at Tim—” and for those who aren’t here but have been with me along this journey.
I love you, good night!” She holds the microphone above her head and does a big wave before locking it back into the stand and walking off.
I can’t remember the last time I took a breath.
Tim’s face appears and he yells, “I think she meant you.”
Gabriella chokes on a laugh. “Your friends are as smart as you, eh?” Normally this would trigger me, but I’m defenseless. Unstable.
“I’ll call you later.”
“Yeah, okay.” And he’s gone. I stare at the seat in front of me, a mixture of feelings swelling in my chest.
“You need to snap out of it.” Gabriella grabs my face, directing my attention towards hers. “We have two more shows, Levi. Two! We need you to make it one more round and then you can ride off into the sunset with Tate. Unlike her, we don’t currently have a record deal. It’s time to cowboy up.”
I push her hands off me. “I’m fine. I’m focused. You worry about you.”
She’s makes a tsking sound with her mouth. “Now, what kind of wife would I be if I did that?”
“The fake kind.”
***
Surprise, surprise, we made it to the final round. Just me against Gabriella. I have a week to prepare and a week to care. Above the sound of my feet pounding the pavement, chasing each exhale that pours from my mouth in mighty whooshes, is unease.
I started running the property when I got back.
Loop after loop, I’ve tried to drown my thoughts, lose myself, but each time I come back, body bruised but no closer to peace.
I wipe the back of my hand across my brow as my feet come to a stop outside the studio.
The ghost of Tate and me bob and weave around each other, meeting in harmony at the chorus.
I shake the vision of us with a quick wag of the head and keep walking.
It’s just me and Gabriella in this big old house now and things have definitely changed.
“Engaged” but no longer an alliance. “In love” but she wants this just as much as I do.
Or as much as I did. I sometimes wonder if I would have made it this far without Jan and her strings.
I twist my hat back, rubbing my feet against the bristle doormat before letting myself in.
Holding the latch, I pull the door to a close behind me as quietly as a door the size and weight of a car garage can.
I can’t wait to get out of here. Get home.
Even though my home is now also Tate’s home, according to Tim, who apparently helped with the heavy lifting.
He made sure to tell me it had nothing to do with her wanting to be near me and a decision her label made and is paying for.
To which I responded, “Thanks, man. That feels really good.” Idiot.
I don’t mean that. In fact, I’m the idiot.
I’m the one who went numb with no explanation.
The one who pushed her away, instead of pulling her close with the truth.
We’re good...she doesn’t hate me or anything like that, but it’s not like it was.
To be fair, she’s been busy. Two shows under her belt and already a massive fan following.
I checked her page last night and she’s grown to over 500,000 followers seemingly overnight.
Gabriella’s voice carries through the hall.
Sounds like she’s cooking in the kitchen.
I toe off my running shoes and take each step with care until I make it into the safety of my room.
With my back against the closed door, I let out a sigh.
My phone vibrates again and it’s my mom.
She’s been calling and texting me constantly since I left Nashville.
I’m still not quite sure how I feel about all of it.
The logical, loving response is to be happy for her.
But I can’t shake the feeling of betrayal and hurt.
I stare at the shape of her name across my phone a second longer before answering.
“Yeah. Hello, Ma.”
“Levi.” My name comes out over sounds of horns, clatter, and people. That doesn’t sound like my house, yard, or anywhere but Broadway on a weekend night. It’s just breaking 9 a.m. here, so I know that can’t be where she is.
“Levi,” she says again. “I’m at the airport.”
“The airport?”
The noise starts to fade, like she’s walking back inside. “Hello?”
“I can hear you.”
“This isn’t much of a surprise, but I’m here! Surprise!”
“Here...where’s here?”
A laugh breaks through the receiver, “I’m here in Los Angeles! I came to surprise you and see your last show. I hope that’s okay...”
“Of course, it’s okay,” I quickly reassure her. “I’m happy you’re here. Are...you...alone?” I hate asking, but also, I know myself well enough now to know I don’t really like surprises.
“Yep! Alone! I’m staying at the... hold on.” There’s a rough sound of the phone being pulled from her ear and a couple pressed buttons. My mom mumbles something as she reads and it’s almost like a tap on the shoulder. She’s getting older. My heart sinks.
“Okay, are you there?”
“Yeah, Ma, I’m here.”
“Okay, I have a week’s stay at the Ramada downtown.”
“I’m really happy you’re here, Mom. Can I come pick you up? Get lunch or something?” By the sound of her voice, I can tell I caught her off guard.
“Yeah, that would be nice, Son. Only if you’re not busy, of course.”
“Not at all. Let me jump in the shower and I can be at your hotel in an hour or so? Do you know how to order a car from your phone?” I ask, pinching the phone between my cheek and shoulder and using the other hand to flip on the hot water.
“I don’t, but Tim said he would help me.”
“Tim?” I freeze between the shower and my hamper. “Like...my Tim?” Literally have never referred to him as “mine,” but there’s a first for everything, and his new popularity deems the possessiveness necessary.
“Oh, it’s here. Gotta run, honey. See you in an hour. Love you, bye.” Click.
I throw the phone on my bed before tossing my shorts and shirt to the hamper.
I am like a week overdue for laundry, and it shows, spilling out from every side.
I step into the water, mind still circling the name Tim.
It has to be him, but why would he be here?
He would tell me if he was coming for the last show, right? I need to get them tickets.
From the beginning, Jan has been very vocal on letting her know in advance if we need seats for friends or family.
I count the days before the next show in my mind.
Hopefully three days is enough notice because I’m not going to have my mom fly this far and not be able to get in.
But Tim...I wish he’d texted. On top of all this, we’re supposed to receive an email today with the final song selections.
After what has to be the quickest shower of my life, I twist off the water, pull my towel from the hook, and wrap it around my waist. I step one foot out of the shower when something catches my eye in the mirror.
“Dang it, Gabby! You scared the you-know-what out of me!” I yell.
“Sorry, not sorry.” She walks further into the steamy bathroom. “Where are you off to?” she asks innocently, pulling herself up to sit on the bathroom counter.
“What? What are you doing in here?” I snap, holding one hand on the knot of my towel.
She laughs, holding up her ring finger. The gesture sends my eyes into the back of my head.
“When are you supposed to return that thing anyways?” I ask, watching her smile collapse into a thin line.
“Look, I know your wires seem to cross whenever Tate’s around, so for the sake of the show, I think it’s best to wait to see her.”
“Tate’s here?”
“You didn’t know?”
I shake my head. “I’m going to meet my mom for lunch. She’s in town for the finale.” I move past her into the closet. I pluck a white T-shirt off of a hanger, sliding it over my head. Forgotten water droplets cling to the new outer layer showing up in tiny spots around my chest.
“Did you make a reservation? Should I come?”
I’m happy to be in the privacy of my closet because I can’t control the expression on my face. “You want to come eat with me and my mom?”
“No, I don’t, but I think that would really drive home the message that we are a thing.”
“You mean the thing that we’re not?”
She comes to hover in the doorway, her expression annoyed.
“Gabriella, I’m trying to get dressed...”
“Shh.” She walks almost catlike, slinky and slow.
When she gets within reach, the acrylic of her pointer finger makes contact with my chest before she drags it along my shirt around my shoulders.
“You know...” she says from somewhere behind me.
I close my eyes and try not to move, react.
I know only where she is by her touch. “I think you’re very attractive, and I know you think I’m attractive.
..” Her other hand joins the first, skating over my shoulder blades, down the side of my waist, before wrapping around my middle.
I put one hand over hers and one on the towel.
“Yes, you’re a very pretty girl, but need I remind you we’re not actually in a relationship? I’m pretty sure you hate me under whatever all this is.” I turn, breaking her bind, to face her. She looks up, undeterred.
“So? What does me liking you have to do with anything?” Both hands run up the front of my chest before attaching themselves around my neck. My heartbeat picks up to a gallop and the room starts to spin in a panic.
“Stop. Get off. You have to go.” My voice comes out loud and harsh, scaring the both of us. “I’m sorry, Gabby. I can’t do this.”
She slides from my waist without a word and leaves the room. I slump to the floor, waiting for my breathing to settle. What is wrong with me?