Page 62 of Hidden with a Rockstar
“That’s so 2010,” I say.
“What the hell?” Sandy mutters.
“Who, though?” Rebecca says, scanning the room. “A volunteer. Anyone.”
“Hard pass,” Ana says. “I’d murder her inside a week.”
The joke goes round the circle, and of course it lands on me. “What about Rhonda,” Sandy says. “Rhonda’s single, Rhonda’s stable, Rhonda would fake-date a lamppost if the band asked nicely?—”
“I’m already seeing someone,” I say.
The room erupts. What? Since when? Who?
“I’ll tell you all later,” I say, waving them off. “We’re not talking about me. Focus.” But it’s out now, and it’s real, and saying it in a warm room full of my people is the first brick I’ve pulled out of the wall. Jo, from the corner, raises her glass. “Good for you.”
“Or,” Jo says then, slow, her eyes drifting to Erica hunched over her laptop pretending not to listen, “you ask someone who’s already here.”
Erica’s fingers still on the keys. “Don’t,” she says. Which, in my experience, is exactly how these things start.
Ana and Jeremy start talking about production stuff. Sandy eventually gives up interrogating me and moves on to telling a story about a disastrous interview she did last month. Her voice gets louder with each retelling, more animated. By the third sentence, the whole band is laughing.
I watch them. I watch the ease of it. The way Jeremy leans back in his chair like he doesn't have to guard his body. The way Jo sits on the couch with her arm around Rebecca's waist.
I pull out my phone and text Lena:So I told the band I'm seeing someone.
The three dots appear immediately. She was waiting by her phone.
Me too. I already told my friends.
Jo sends me a video of a singer-songwriter whose audience laps over ours.
What do you think? It’s totally different but I think doing a duet with them will be valuable.
I stare at the text.
I think yes. I send back a venue shortlist and a rough route for a launch tour.
Perfect. I’ll reach out to the artist, you take care of the route.
Ana finds me on the porch an hour later. I'm sitting with my phone and my bass and the frost and the quiet. She's holding two mugs of tea. She hands me one without asking if I want it. The mug is nice and warm.
We drink tea in the frost.
“So,” Ana says, not looking at me. “This person you’re seeing. The one you won’t talk about.”
“I’m not talking about her.”
“I know. I’m just saying—whoever they are,” She sips her tea. “I can’t wait to meet them. Whenever you’re ready. No rush.”
“Soon,” I say, and I’m surprised to find I mean it. “I think—soon.”
She sits down next to me. We drink tea in the frost.
"I’m really excited to get off this mountain," I say.
"Yeah?"
Ana reaches over and squeezes my shoulder once.
