Chapter 23
THAT’S MY GIRL
JESSE
Disassociate by Jutes
The roar follows me into the corridor, muffled by concrete walls but still vibrating through the floor, through my bones.
The air changes the second I’m offstage. Sweat drips down my back and the paint on my chest itches under the residual heat of the stage lights. The corridor stretches ahead of me, dim and narrow, and I can hear Tommy’s muffled voice somewhere up ahead, already losing his mind about something.
I can still hear the crowd even though I’m backstage. I can still feel them, this living, breathing thing I built with nothing but my voice and six strings and three people stupid enough to believe in me.
My fingers drum against my thigh. I can’t stop smiling.
I shove through the green room door with shaking hands and yank the mask off, gulping air, cool and sharp against the sweat coating my face.
Luke bumps my shoulder and leans in. “See what we were missing out on?” He nods toward the couch, the lit vanity mirror, the partition for changing. A far cry from the storage closets and bathroom stalls we’ve used as green rooms. “We could have this every time. And you were dragging your feet.”
The words land somewhere uncomfortable. I open my mouth to respond but Tommy’s already zeroed in on Stella. “Sugar Tits, you were on fire tonight!” He points his drumsticks at her. “The way you hit that bass line during the bridge? I nearly came right there behind the kit.”
“That’s disgusting.” Stella makes a face. “At least someone appreciates real talent around here.”
“I appreciate all of you,” Tommy declares, arms spread wide. “But especially your tits. They’re very inspiring when you play.”
“Jesus Christ.” Luke shakes his head from the corner. “Can we celebrate without discussing my sister’s anatomy?”
I grab a towel and drag it over my face, down my chest, smearing the black paint into streaks.
I toss the towel aside and shove both hands through my wet hair. There’s a melody stuck in my head, something new, born somewhere between the second song and the encore. I should grab my phone and record it before it disappears.
Then I see her.
Joey’s standing by the door in a black dress that clings to her in ways that make my mouth go dry. It’s the neckline, the way the fabric traces lines I’ve memorized with my hands in the dark. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders.
And then my eyes drop to her feet. Cowboy boots.
That’s my girl.
God, I love her. The realization isn’t new, but it hits different tonight, sharper, like the show stripped away whatever was dulling it. I’m across the room in three strides.
“Joey.” I frame her face with my hands, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “You look way too good to be here with us degenerates.”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” Tommy calls out. “I’m an upstanding citizen.” He turns to Stella and opens his arms wide. “Now come here and give me my prize.”
“Touch me and I’ll shove those drumsticks somewhere upstanding,” Stella says, shoving him away with a laugh.
I tip Joey’s chin up and kiss her like no one else in the room exists, and the moment her lips meet mine the noise in my brain goes quiet.
Her fingers grip the front of my jeans and I slide my hands into her hair, and for a few seconds the only thing that matters is the taste of her and the warm weight of her body against mine.
She pulls away and her eyes are bright. “Jesse, that was incredible. The crowd, the energy. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She smells like jasmine instead of sunscreen, and I’m not sure which version of her drives me crazier. Both. Definitely both.
“Did you hear them singing along?” Stella’s voice pitches with disbelief. “To our songs. Songs we wrote in that shithole rehearsal space.”
“Fifteen hundred people,” Tommy says, shaking his head like he can’t process the number. “Fifteen hundred people who had every fucking word memorized.”
Luke sits quietly in the corner, but his grin stretches wider than I’ve ever seen it. “We brought the house down.”
“We absolutely demolished that place.” My arm tightens around Joey. That melody is still there, threading through the back of my mind, and I’m already thinking about what comes next. I’ve never felt this good. I don’t want it to stop.
“And now it’s time to celebrate.”