Prologue #3
Gray joins me on the other side of the table, smiles kindly at the hostess, and picks up his menu. “Thanks,” he tells her.
“Oh my God!” the young hostess shrieks, batting her lashes in disbelief. “You’re— ”
“Don’t do that.” My voice is stern, carrying a warning.
Her eyes flicker to me as her pretty face turns up in anger. “What? Do you know who he is?”
Taking a deep breath, I do my best to straddle the line between telling her to shut the fuck up and go away or being more gracious toward her.
“Yes, I know who he is - he’s a person. One who’d like to eat his dinner in peace for once without a hostess announcing to the entire restaurant that he’s in the house.
He’d also like not to have to forgo this meal in lieu of another establishment that can offer him the luxury of dining in private.
” I’m sassier than I mean to be, but she’s young.
She needs to learn to respect people’s right to privacy.
A ton of musicians live in this town, so this isn’t going to be her last time finding a celebrity out in the wild.
The hostess’s face twists tighter with anger, but before she can retort, a stocky man in a white shirt and red tie, wearing a name badge, intervenes. “Amber, you’re needed at the hostess station.” There’s no room for argument in his tone.
Amber blinks again, this time at the man next to her. It takes her a moment to process what’s happening before she turns on her heel, swings her long ponytail around, and marches off.
The stocky man in the white shirt turns his attention to us. “Please accept my sincerest apologies for that. No one else will bother y’all while you eat. You have my word. I’m a manager here at Ms. Nancy’s and will take care of you personally.”
“Thank you,” Gray says quietly, and it’s the first time he’s spoken since I took over the situation.
My gaze lands on him, sitting across the table from me and smirking at me like I just gave him the best news of his life.
“Can I get you lovely folks started off with drinks or appetizers?” the manager asks.
We order our respective drinks, both sticking to water with a slice of lemon.
Once the manager leaves to fetch our beverages, Gray’s gaze settles on me. Curiosity and amusement dance in his eyes. “Thank you for averting a crisis with the hostess.”
Suddenly, I’m somewhat embarrassed that I was so stern with the young girl. “It must be tough to be out in the wild.”
“Yes, at times, it is. I’m happy to give an autograph to most people, but when an entire restaurant converges on you at once, it can be overwhelming. It makes it difficult to be able to go out spontaneously.”
We fall into easy conversation after that, only interrupted by the manager returning with our drinks and taking our food order. Gray has a hard time deciding what he wants from their extensive menu, so he settles on a sampler that includes a little of everything.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says once we’re alone again.
It’s such a broad request that it sends me into a minor panic for a few seconds. I never know where to start or even know what I’m comfortable sharing with most people. “What would you like to know?”
Gray considers me for a moment. “Why don’t we play a little game?”
“What type of game?” The apprehension in my voice is obvious.
“You can ask me a question, anything that comes to your mind, and I have to answer honestly. But I get to ask a question next, and you have to also answer truthfully.” He doesn’t seem like the type of man who’d play mind games to get me into bed, but I just never know with most people.
I saw a lot at a young age with my mom being an addict, and I tend to err on the side of caution where people are concerned. I’ve seen the worst of the worst. “What’s it like to be famous?” I start off with something easy, a topic he can shed light on without digging too deep at first.
“It’s a mixed bag,” he answers, thoughtfully looking off into the distance.
“I dig the music side, like when fans sing along with our songs, or someone tells me a song saved their life. That shit is monumental and touching. But the flip side of the coin is that I have no privacy or the level of control over my own career that I’d like. ”
“My turn, yeah?” he asks, and I nod, hoping he’ll start with a gentle approach. “What’s your apprehension about going on tour?”
Gray goes straight for the jugular. I think about my small apartment, my predictable routine, and my safe but lonely life. I think about Gray's words, the exhaustion in his eyes, and the gentleness in his touch. My heart is still racing from him touching my lower back. “Rock and roll, I guess?”
He takes that in for a long moment before he replies, “Rock and roll, yeah. I get it. It’s a lot, all the fucking time.
” He chuckles. “I think it’ll always be a wild ride in this industry for everyone involved, but hopefully with age and a little grace, we can learn to navigate the perils a little more easily. ”
“The perils… those are my biggest concerns about going on tour” I admit, honestly hoping he’ll realize sooner rather than later that I’m the worst candidate for the job.
A rueful smile blossoms across his handsome face. “Which ones?”
“Mainly, the substances and the people.” I hate to be so general in my description, but those are my fears.
“Substances are everywhere in the world, and a lot of bands have strict 'no hard shit on tour’ rules. I’m even thinking of enacting an alcohol ban backstage. I don’t really want it in my face all the time,” he says, and there’s a sense of hope in his words.
Since it’s my turn to ask a question, I take my time thinking of one that’ll potentially shed a positive light on touring with a rock and roll band. “What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done on tour?”
The waiter approaches with our meals, giving him a brief reprieve from answering me. Once our plates are in front of us and it’s just the two of us again, Gray clears his throat. “Do you mean in a sexual or nonsexual sense? I don’t want to assume anything and make us both uncomfortable.”
“Both?” I’m more surprised than he is by my answer. Did I just come on to Gray Garrison? What the fuck is wrong with me? Maybe I’ve made it awkward enough for both of us that he’ll renege on the offer to be their tour assistant. Come to think of it, my mortifying answer isn’t the worst idea.
“Nonsexual… I suppose it would be the time I hung out with the crazy drummer from Broken Access. I spent two days off with them in their hometown. He got me to play a game of chicken with his pet alligator, who was named Artie the Alligator.”
I’m not sure which to address first. “The alligator had a name?”
Gray laughs, and it’s so deep and sexy it makes my blood heat. “I guess if it’s a pet, then it needs a name.”
Considering his philosophy for a moment, I nod. “Fair enough. I’m taking it you won the game of chicken since you’re still here.”
“Not exactly, but that’s a story for another day. You had a two-part question, but our food might get cold if we don’t dig in.” He reminds me about the eating part of dinner, so I get to it.
We eat in relative silence, but I grow anxious with every second that passes to hear how sordid Gray Garrison’s sex life is. I mean, it has to be, right? Look at him. By the time he answers the second part of my question, I want to tell him to forget I even asked. No harm, no foul.
“I had a threesome once with two actresses.” He doesn’t say anything else, just waits for me to react.
Managing to keep a passive expression, I simply respond, “Just one?”
He laughs louder than before, amusement dancing in his silvery-blue eyes. “Yes, and the only reason I was involved in it is because I couldn’t read women very well at the time. Like I was completely oblivious it was about to go down until clothes started flying across the room.”
Joining in his laughter, I smile. “I figured you’d have a bedpost full of notches.”
He cringes, and in turn, I cringe. “No notches, Rhea. I’m not that guy. I know it might be hard to believe, but I don’t seek out women very often. Not every rocker is a man-whore.” He doesn’t sound upset, but more like he wants to ensure I know that I’ve got it all wrong.
I can’t be happier about being wrong. If I’m honest, I don’t see Gray as being the type of guy who uses women. “I didn’t mean to sound so stereotypical.”
Waving off my apology, Gray changes the subject. “I suppose I only have two more questions. First, I’d like to know why you play it so safely in life.”
“I’ve been on my own since right after my seventeenth birthday. I’m the only person I have in this world. I guess, it scares me that I might come to depend on anyone or anything like a tour or job or…” I begin.
“Or people?” he asks, finishing my question.
I have the good sense to look ashamed before I reply. “Yeah, people are hard sometimes.”
“Indeed, they are,” he agrees in a way that only a person who’s experienced many hardships can. “There’s more to the story, though. A woman doesn’t become as guarded as you without good reason. I won’t press you today, but I would love to peel back the layers that make you up soon.”
“There’s not much more to the story. I became an orphan at seventeen. I miss my mom, but I put boundaries in place at a young age due to her and my childhood traumas.” I hope this doesn’t sound like a sob story.
“Shit. I’m sorry I pried.” Gray isn’t amused any longer, but genuinely looks like he might throw up.
I wave off his apology. “There’s no need to be sorry. It happened a long time ago. Next year will be ten years.”
“I lost my mom at a young age, too - a bit earlier than you, but I’ve always had my older brother, Andrew. I’m sorry you had to endure the loss of a parent as well.”
Silence falls between us, full of all the questions I want to ask him. Finally, I decide to move the game along. “You said you had two questions. What’s the second?”
He wags a finger. “Nuh-uh, not so fast, gorgeous. It’s your turn, then I’ll ask my second question.”
“Oh, I don’t have another question right off.” My mind moves as fast as it can to come up with one more turn. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Yikes, you went straight for the jugular.” He laughs.
“The answer is no. I’ve never been in love.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me,” he pauses and scoffs, “I mean, more than the obvious addiction issues. I just think love and all the things that can come with it are a big deal. It shouldn’t be entered lightly, so I don’t use those three words unless I mean them.
I’ve been on the receiving end of love declarations a few times in my life.
Those make me feel shitty and even more problematic and flawed as a human being than I already do, because I can’t say the words back. ”
“It shouldn’t make you feel shitty, problematic, or flawed. I think it's commendable that you didn’t say them to a person to save face. It’s not easy to face unrequited feelings without having some sense of responsibility.”
“Thank you for saying that.” He rubs his hands together, smirking across the table at me. “Ready for my last question?”
“Sure?” I chuckle, having a feeling that he’s saving the best for last.
“Will you go on tour with Case in Point?” he asks, and just sits there as I try to manufacture words.
I think about my safe little life, apartment, and job.
I focus on what I might gain - adventure, purpose, perhaps even a sense of belonging.
Gray’s patience is impressive as I debate the pros and cons of touring with him and the band.
Making a few mental lists, I decide I can’t keep track and give up on that task.
"Where do I sign?" I hear myself say, wondering what the hell I’ve just gotten myself into.