Chapter 15 #2
Liam catches my wrist, and I spin. He holds out his phone, where he’s typed a note.
It’s going to be a late night for me. You can take my rental car back to the hotel. I’ll uber when I’m finished here.
I grab his phone and quickly type back, I’ll wait for you.
He types something else: We have to drive to Seattle tonight. You should get a few hours’ rest before the road trip.
Everything about that plan feels wrong. If Liam is going to stay here for load-out, then drive to Seattle in the middle of the night, just to do this all again tomorrow, I need to know what that’s like for him. I need to understand what he’s putting his body through all summer.
I’m staying, I type back. I can help if you need.
He gives me an exasperated look, but I catch the hint of a smile beneath it. Liam nods at the stage, and I turn back just as the final verse of the last song plays out.
Penelope’s hair is a mess. She’s drenched in her own sweat.
She looks euphoric.
Sex with a brand-new partner, I think, and yes, Misha, I get it now.
“Thank you all so much!” Penelope shouts. “Get home safe and have a good night!”
The stage blacks out, the music halting, the audience roaring, and Liam tugs on my hand, pulling me back into the private concourse.
Everything that follows is a blur. The band comes offstage with fame-drunk grins and all hug each other, then the openers, then Liam, then even me.
“That was so many people,” Penelope says, laughing.
“We upgraded,” Siah says.
“Tomorrow will be bigger,” Liam warns them.
They hug some more, announce a round of shots, vanish into their dressing room.
Liam asks if I want to join, but I shake my head and stick by his side.
He distributes orders to a few of the crew, who get to work like a well-oiled machine.
Curtains are drawn, amps are unplugged, speakers are loaded onto dollies.
“If you really want to help,” Liam says, “you can roll up the carpets onstage. They’ll go in the equipment truck.”
I do as he says, making friends with Vladimir while I’m at it, who finally explains to me how he’s able to predict rain (“the radar”) and what his job on tour is (“stopping idiots”). We load the carpets into the truck, then I fold up a few card tables and load those too.
All in all, the whole thing takes about an hour, and that’s including getting the band and openers onto their tour buses, some of them freshly showered, some drunk or high, some with kiss-bruised lips and flushed cheeks. Then the crew climbs onto their bus, and everybody drives off in a convoy.
“That,” I say to Liam, who is chugging a bottle of water beside me in the dark parking lot, “was a whole separate performance.”
He grins. “How’d I do?”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the real star of this show.”
He clears his throat. “Sounds like it’s time.”
“For what?”
He bites on a smile. “To ask how in love with me you are today.”
“Oh, after that? It was very hot watching you take charge of everything. You easily doubled your previous score.”
“So I’m at thirty percent?” He nods. “I’ll take that.”
“You know this scoring system is arbitrary, right?”
“I know,” he says. “But I enjoy forcing you to come up with a number.”
My smile peters out. Liam steps closer. “What is it?”
Absurd, that he can sense my change in mood that fast.
I breathe deep, gathering my thoughts into words. “I was so proud of you tonight. You seemed confident, at ease doing all this, and I just—” My voice breaks as memories slip over me like unwelcome, cold ghosts.
That fucking hospital room. Liam’s arm taped over with an IV, his wet eyes pointed at the ceiling, the words I’m so sad falling off his tongue.
No three words have ever gut punched me harder.
“It’s like you’re a different kind of captain now,” I say.
Liam nods, looking off at the night. “After that summer. My injury. The way I spiraled. I wasn’t sure I’d ever have a good feeling about my future again.
But you gave me this, Bristol, remember?
It was your idea. I did this because you told me to, and you were right.
I’m honored to have the responsibility of this tour.
If it goes well, I’ll probably get a raise, maybe even a promotion.
There’s a future for me in this industry that’s actually within reach. ”
Which is why I follow up with “Maybe I should go home.”
His face transforms. His voice is terrifyingly soft. “Paige Lancaster. What did you just say?”
I shake my head, a tear catching in the corner of my eye.
“You said—you just said—you’ve been trusted with a huge responsibility for this tour.
I shouldn’t be here, Liam. Not even a fraction of your brain power needs to be focused on my problems. And after tonight, seeing how much you have to manage—”
He comes to me, his hands under my jaw, lips hovering inches from mine.
“You need to get it through your head that I’m not doing you any favors, Paige.
Maybe that’s how it seemed in the beginning, but I need this just as much as you do.
Possibly more. Being near you convinces me I can be a captain again, a leader, because you remember when I was one.
Not just that I was one, but I was good at it, and the team trusted me, and you witnessed it.
Being close to you is just as selfish for me as it is for you. No one is taking advantage.”
Still, I try for a compromise: “We could see each other after the tour, or I could meet you in a handful of cities.”
“No,” he growls low. “That’s not going to work as well for your writing, and besides, we made a deal.
Three possible outcomes, none of which we’ve reached yet.
” He sounds frantic, anxious, terrified.
“Please don’t leave me again,” Liam whispers, his eyes heartbroken.
“I can do both. I can be what they need, and I can be what you need.”
“But what about what you need?” I ask.
His eyes flash, and before I know what’s happening, I’ve been thrown over his shoulder fireman-style.
“Liam!” I shriek.
“What I need,” he grumbles, walking toward the rental car, “is for you to come with me to the hotel, pack up your things, and drive with me to Seattle. Then I need you to fall asleep in my bed. And wake up in my bed. And write songs about me and try to fall in love with me. Are my needs clear?” He sets me down by the car and opens the passenger door, waiting.
Shakily, I climb in. Strap in.
Liam leans over, his eyes still flinty with low-burning embers. “We’re not doing this start-stop thing anymore, Bristol. It’s all or nothing from this point forward, okay? We’re learning to swim or we’re drowning. No more in between.”
After a moment I nod, feeling like a firecracker is seconds away from going off in my chest. Like the fuse was once miles long, but it’s been burning for years, and now the spark is almost down to the jet-black, highly explosive powder inside.