Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Olive
It takes me a second to realize what I’m looking at.
Empty seats.
So much space, and not a single other soul in sight.
"This is where we’re playing tonight?" My eyes take a second to adjust to the brightness. After sitting in the dark for twenty minutes, I got used to it, but my thoughts trailed off, and I thought about Orlando.
He mentioned that he lost his vision temporarily, and I almost felt suffocated by the blindfold, taking away something from me I’d always taken for granted before.
In my deep dive of symptoms, possible scenarios and outcomes, I hadn’t considered losing my vision to be something I should worry about.
Now that I personally know somebody who went through it…God. I shake the thought away.
Orlando and I are on two different paths. Just because it happened to him doesn’t mean it’ll happen to me, too.
Doesn't make it any less daunting, though.
Once the car had parked, I forced myself to stop thinking about it, and now here we are.
The roof of the arena is open, the sun hot on my skin, and I do my best to ignore it.
"It is," Akira says with a smile, my hand still in hers. I loosen my grip, remembering our conversation from earlier, and she lets me drop it by my side.
I don’t usually see the venues we play in this way—bright, and empty with scuff marks on the ground, and no sign of life. When we do sound check, it’s usually just me and Iggy, but there are countless other people shouting things left and right, making sure shit gets done.
This…this is something else entirely. The calmness of it all makes me think that maybe I can do this for as long as my body will allow.
However long that may be.
I look over my shoulder, expecting to see a totally empty stage, but I don’t.
"What’s that?" I say, nodding my head to the picnic-sized blanket that sits in the center, and a woven basket beside it.
"Confession time." She blushes, walking slowly ahead of me toward the area that looks almost too inviting.
"I had all this planned before the news broke about you and Avery.
Before I realized you were actually developing feelings.
" She shrugs and lowers herself to the floor like it’s no big deal. "But I didn’t want it to go to waste."
I step forward, words half-formed in my mouth, ready to correct her. To tell her she’s wrong. To convince her, and maybe even myself.
But before I can say anything, she keeps going.
"I know things between you and Avery started as PR," she says gently. "And I know you think there’s nothing real there—" I try to cut in, but she lifts her hand to stop me. "But something about it feels…different. And I’m not trying to come between you two. No matter how it’s supposed to end."
She pats the ground beside her.
I sit, letting the silence fall for a moment. Leaning back on my hands, I close my eyes and let the sun melt into my skin.
"I owe it to myself, and to him, to really give this a shot, you know? We both have our reasons for doing this. I just hope it works out and we haven’t done it for nothing.
" I smile, wriggling and a little uncomfortable.
"My career is too important to me to let it slip through my fingers because I was too afraid to take a chance. "
"What if taking that chance makes you fall in love with somebody you least expected to?" She watches me carefully, eyebrow slightly raised.
I scrunch my nose up at the thought. "I won’t. I’ve never been in love before, who’s to say I’m even capable of it?" It’s a harsh reality, one I learned to accept a long time ago. Twenty-eight years and nothing has ever come close to what I’m told love should feel like.
"If this whole…fake marriage thing wasn’t happening right now, could you see something happening between you and me?" Her dark green eyes hone in on mine, searching for something. I can tell she doesn’t find it when her expression softens.
I shake my head. "I don’t think so, no. And I totally understand if you want to cut all ties to focus on the tour," I tell her quickly, while mentally reminding myself that I’ll be okay without one less friend in my life to add to my already non-existent stack of them.
"You’re one of the only people on this tour who understands what this life feels like. You really think I would jeopardize that because my feelings got a little hurt?" She shakes her head. "I’m a big girl, Olive. Besides, you know everything I went through on my road to this level of success."
She’s right, I do. Not that our journeys are even remotely similar.
She got signed at a too-young age, and her label made her sign a five-album deal.
Then they went bankrupt, and she couldn’t release anything aside from free songs online.
When she was finally set free, her new label made sure to dip her toes in the water first. To see if her fan base was as strong as they’d hoped.
Now, here we are.
"How do you do it?" I rub the back of my neck, feeling the heat of the sun burning my skin, realizing just how heightened my symptoms are now that we’re outside and my nerves are exposed.
I wiggle my toes to make sure they have feeling, and so far, there’s movement. I do wish I had brought a hat with me, though, because if we stay outside for much longer, who knows how and if my body will be able to function.
"Do what?" She fiddles with the latch on the woven basket, pulling out a tub of fresh fruit.
"All of it. The tours, the fans, the constant need to be in the studio recording while simultaneously putting music out so people don’t get bored with you and forget who you are.
How do you have the time to write, be present, take photos with people who cross you in the street, and not long for the life you once had before?
" I stab a chunk of watermelon with my fork and nibble at it.
"You mean the life where I was basically chained to an attic, unable to live out my dream?" she teases.
I feel immediate guilt. "That’s not what I meant."
"Touring is fun. I like being in a new place every single night.
The label hires writers for me, and once they have a song they like, they send it to me.
I learn it, come in, lay down my vocal track and leave.
I think, because of the way my career started, people will never forget about me," she admits.
"Do I wish I could live a life of peace?
Every day. But I wish I could sing songs I love more.
I want to be proud of the music I put my name on. "
I let her words simmer for a heartbeat as I take in my view around me. The beige, empty seats make it feel like we’re not alone in this life that we chose.
I understand what she means, I really do. Though I think the difference between us as artists is that she wants to be the voice, first and foremost. If you were to ask me to quit performing and focus on writing songs for the world’s best singers, I would do it without a second thought.
My voice suits the music I write, and that is because I know how to write to cater to myself.
But would it suit much else? I really don’t know.
And truthfully, I’m kind of nervous to try.
Which is why when the label told me I either needed to change my sound or make myself seem more exciting, I chose the latter.
Because nothing would feel worse to me than knowing I took a step away from something I know I’m good at, and failed miserably in front of the whole world.
I nod in understanding. "The label has told me that my songs are too boring. They gave me an ultimatum. Make my music more enjoyable and put a beat behind it, or spice up my personal life. They’re adamant I won’t get to keep the fans I have unless I make myself seem more relatable.
They like to remind me that they are the reason I’m on this tour, and it could be taken away from me if I don’t become their version of perfect.
" I roll my eyes with a huff, taking my frustration out on another chunk of watermelon that meets the jagged end of my fork.
"But I like to think I’ve done enough to prove myself.
If I were to leave this tour before it ended, I believe people would still want to see me. "
"Firstly, that’s not true. You being my opener was a condition of the tour." She flashes me a smile, and my chest squeezes at her admission.
I owe it all to her, but I think I kind of always knew that.
If I’d figured it out on my own, I could’ve told the label—and Josie—to shove their fake marriage where the sun doesn’t shine.
But then, I would’ve never met Avery, and I like that I’ve met him.
"And secondly, I have a feeling if you keep going the way you’re going, I’ll be opening for you someday."
I choke on my saliva. I don’t believe for one second that I’ll ever have a name as big as Akira Rain.
And yet, I can’t find it in myself to tell her that I doubt it.
Once this tour is over, I plan on hibernating for a long time to focus on my health, while writing a song or two here and there if my brain even allows me to remember how.
Her words keep circling in my head, refusing to let go.
I take a breath and ask softly because I need to understand. "What do you mean you wish you could sing songs you enjoy? Do you not like the music you make?"
She snorts at my question, and it catches me off guard.
Akira Rain, the world’s biggest pop star the world has seen in decades, hates the music she puts out.
I never would’ve guessed it.
"Have you ever listened to the lyrics in any of my songs? Like, really listened? I wish I had the songwriting capabilities that you have. Maybe then I’d be on stage and mean the shit I say. Sure, my voice is solid, but that’s where my talent ends, I’m afraid."
"Maybe I could write a song or two for you one day," I say, ignoring the sun scalding the top of my head. "Or we could work on one together while on the road."