CHAPTER 23 DANNY
She leaves for tour Sunday morning, and my family heads back to California Sunday evening after my game.
I had a great time wrestling my nephews and going over the basics of batting and catching in my backyard, but now I’m sitting at home alone.
I didn’t much feel like going out after I dropped my mom, sister, and nephews at the airport, so I just came back here.
It’s quiet. Too quiet.
What would this house be like with kids in it…all the time?
Whoa.
Where did that thought come from?
Obviously I mean my sister and her kids if they came to stay with me.
Right?
A sneaking thought pops into my head that it isn’t what I mean at all.
I’m drinking bourbon—the thing I drink when I’m feeling particularly down as it seems to soothe the ache faster than beer—and staring at the blank television screen.
I haven’t spoken to Alexis since yesterday morning, but I did send her a text this morning to wish her luck on her tour, and she wrote back to wish me luck at my game.
As emotional as that conversation got yesterday, it still felt like she was holding something back.
I think I was, too, though. I mean…of course I was. I can’t exactly tell her I’m falling for her when I barely fucking know her, but I think that might be exactly what this is.
It’s ups and downs. Highs and lows. And right now, I’m in that low valley as the next six months stretch interminably out before me.
I won’t get to see her until fucking November.
That feels unacceptable. How can we cut this short when we’ve just started getting to know each other?
And it’s like I told her…sure, her beauty drew me in. But when she slid onto my lap and we kissed on that chair in my hotel room, something changed. Maybe even before that, but that’s the moment I can pinpoint when I was absolutely certain I didn’t want to let this woman go.
I had a feeling about it when she was at my place, and even before that when I saw her at the Vail show.
But that was the final nail, the single event that changed me as a man and changed the way I look at the future.
For the first time, I see myself in a suite at a concert venue watching her show. I see myself backstage, kissing her and wishing her luck before she walks out to entertain a crowd of tens of thousands. I see myself holding her hand at events as we’re photographed together.
I take another sip of the bourbon to ease the ache that we’re not at that part yet.
It’s good she has her own thing. I’m in season anyway, so it’s not like I can do anything about pursuing her right now.
I only get around fifteen days off of games during the season.
It’s not like other sports that play once a week, but I knew that going in, and my love of the game came first over anything else.
It still does. I’m not letting this girl distract me from doing what I love. For now, anyway. I’ve got a season to play, and I’m immersed in every part of this game.
But when I’m not on that field, you better believe my mind drifts to her. Constantly. Nonstop.
And that is truly something that has never happened to me before.
It isn’t long before Rush calls me out on it. In fact, we go out on the Friday night after Alexis leaves, the night of her first show on this tour, and I find myself sitting in the booth staring at my beer while my buddies around me are laughing and having a good time.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks.
I shrug and take another sip of beer.
“Find someone to hook up with. That’ll fix you right up.”
I offer a courtesy laugh, but it doesn’t really feel very funny.
I wait until he finds someone to hook up with so he doesn’t see me duck out alone, and I text Alexis the second I’m back home.
Who is this guy? This isn’t Danny Brewer anymore.
Except…it is. Some new, improved version, though Rush might argue it’s not much of an improvement.
She doesn’t hit me back for a few hours, but I don’t expect her to. She’s on stage.
My message to her was simple. Thinking about you.
Her message back is equally simple.
Carrie: I haven’t stopped thinking about you.
Me: I haven’t, either. How was the first gig?
Carrie: Incredible. Amazing. Everything I wanted it to be. Except…
Me: Except?
Carrie: Something was missing.
My chest tightens because that’s the exact way I’ve been feeling for the last five days. But maybe she means something else. She was missing her favorite sweater or maybe a guitar or the lighting package was wrong or…something else related to whatever it is musicians do on the road.
Apparently I have a lot to learn.
Me: What?
Carrie: I think it was you.
Me: I feel it too.
Carrie: How can I miss someone I hardly even know?
Me: It defies logic, but I’m right there with you. Can you talk?
My phone starts to ring.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey.” Her voice is quiet. Subdued.
“Where are you?”
“On the bus.”
“What’s that like?” I ask.
“You’ve been on a bus before,” she says, and I laugh.
“Not on a tour bus,” I admit.
“Mine has a lot of custom modifications. For example, my bed flips up onto the wall, and on the bottom of it I have mirrors and a ballet barre so I can practice routines while we’re on the road.
I have the master bathroom back here, and there’s a mini-office just on the other side of my door to separate my bedroom from the bunks, where Brooks and Gregory sleep.
There’s a desk and some recording equipment in case I get the urge to record while I’m on the road in the mini office.
There’s a bathroom on the other side of the bunks and a couch and table with a mini kitchen up front. ”
“So it’s like a house on wheels.”
“Exactly,” she confirms. “It’s home for the next few months, and then we head to Europe, where I’ll mostly sleep in hotels.”
“Which do you prefer?” I ask.
“Honestly? The bus. Hotel showers are better than bus showers, but the bus has my own pillow, my own blankets. I never sleep all that well in a hotel.”
“I’m the same way. I never get good sleep on the road, which is rough since we need rest if we want to perform at our best,” I say.
“I really like that we have so much in common—that you understand things about life on the road.”
“I like that, too,” I admit, though I’ve never really thought about it before.
I’ve never asked a woman what her opinion is about life on the road.
I’ve never really asked most women I’ve been with much of anything.
Favorite color, favorite donut—these are things I know about Alexis already that I never bothered to know about anybody else. “What’s it like getting on stage?”
“I’d imagine it’s a lot like taking the field,” she muses.
“But I play with a team. All eyes are on you when you take the stage.”
“Trust me, Danny. Most eyes are on you out there.”
I laugh with some modesty. “Doubtful, but thanks.”
“There’s plenty to look at when I’m on stage. The screens, the lights, the dancers, the band, the pyrotechnics, the show element. We’re there to give a performance, so it’s a lot more than just me standing there singing, you know?”
“I saw you for the first time a few years ago,” I admit. “Back in Denver. You were something else.”
“You did?” She sounds surprised. “You should’ve gotten in touch. We would’ve gotten you a suite. Maybe backstage for a meet and greet, and then we’d be miles ahead of where we are now.”
I wonder for a beat how things might’ve turned out if that would’ve happened.
Who knows where we’d be now? All I know is that I was totally smitten with her the moment I first saw her, and while much of that had to do with the way she looks, it was the raw, unbelievable talent that I couldn’t manage to get over.
“Who knows, but I think everything happens when it’s supposed to. Don’t you?”
“I guess I have to believe that,” she says, and I sense a little regret in her tone.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“You know. Losing my mom at ten. Signing away my life at sixteen. Feeling trapped at twenty-eight.”
“You feel trapped?” I ask, surprised by her admission.
“If I wasn’t, this thing we’re starting would be so, so much easier.”
I want to ask what, exactly, we’re starting, but I lose my nerve. It’s not a fair question when we’re miles and months apart.
Instead, I’ll just keep drinking beer by myself and letting my friends find someone to leave with first.