by Mae, Amelia
“I don’t think so,” I answer, shrugging, “I think he’s just… looking out for himself. Just in case.”
Julia looks like I just saddled her with the weight of the world.
“Maybe don’t tell anyone?” I whisper.
She just looks at me. Yeah right.
***
All week I feel heavy. I’ve definitely fucked up by telling Julia about Dylan’s show. I feel like I’ll be betraying my new friends if I go to the show, and I’ll be betraying Dylan if I don’t.
He’s texted throughout the week, asking me to forgive him, telling me he’s sorry. But I haven’t responded.
Finally, Saturday night rolls around and my stomach is in knots.
“Please, Jane,” Kelvin says, “just come with Dean and me to the show.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Jane, I’m invoking the broken leg pact. You’re going with me to the show.”
I roll my eyes. Fuck. I can’t not honor the broken leg pact.
“But…”
“Jane, I’ve never been on a VIP list in my life, and you’re not fucking blowing it for me,” Kelvin says.
“It gets old pretty quickly,” Dean says.
“Shut up.”
I put on a tank top, jeans and boots.
Kelvin and Dean approve of my outfit, and before I know it, I’m at the Anonymous Bar giving my name to the bouncer and the three of us are escorted inside to the VIP lounge.
“Where’s Dylan?” I ask someone who looks like they work here.
“Can’t tell you that. He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Okay, then.”
I pull out my phone to text him instead and find a few messages from him.
Dylan: Please tell me you’re coming tonight.
Dylan: Please tell me you’re here and that I’m not making a terrible mistake.
Dylan: Please. I’m so sorry, Jane. I’ll tell you I’m sorry every day for the rest of my life if you just give me another chance.
I sigh. He really does sound sorry. I text back.
Jane: I’m here.
Dylan: Please come see me. I’m in the dressing room.
Jane: I tried to find you. They said you didn’t want to be disturbed.
Dylan: First door on your right. If anyone stops you, let me know.
Without drawing too much attention to myself, I find the dressing room door and knock. Dylan answers it. He’s wearing jeans, boots, and a black fitted tee shirt. And while he looks incredible, he also looks incredibly stressed.
“I think I made a big mistake,” he says.
Part of me wants to tell him that I agree, but I can’t let myself hurt him worse. So I just wrap my arms around him and press my lips to his cheek.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper.
Dylan gets the five minute call and I have to go so that he can finish getting ready.
“I’ll be in the audience.”
“You’re actually going to sit in the audience section this time?” he asks with a smile.
“With Dean and Kelvin,” I tell him, “but, yeah. This once.”
I find Dean and Kelvin and we head into the main part of the venue where the crowd is waiting for the show to begin. As we find our way around, I can’t help but feel a little bit of pride at how much easier this is now. Navigating crowds. Talking to people. Socializing.
“Jane, over here.”
I snap my head around to see Nikki waving me over. And behind her is a crowd of familiar faces. All of the remaining members of Say Yes, their significant others, and Julia are there.
I look at Julia for an explanation but get nothing.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask.
“We’re here for the show,” Jack says, as though it’s the most obvious thing. “Dylan Cotter is playing tonight. I hear he’s pretty fucking famous.”
Okay, he’s messing with me.
But I hear no animosity in his voice.
“I thought you’d be mad,” I tell the guys.
The three of them look at each other. Ian speaks first.
“Dylan’s family,” he says. “Sometimes you don’t agree with what family does, but it doesn’t mean you don’t support them.”
“So you don’t think the band is breaking up?”
“I think we’re tougher than that,” Shawn chimes in, “but we have no idea where we’ll all be next year.” He puts his arm around Aya.
The lights go down and the crowd starts screaming and stomping like they want to blow the roof off this place.
The guys in the band applaud. Nikki and Aya join in with the screaming. Jack wolf-whistles.
I just smile. If they can forgive him so easily, maybe so can I.
26
Dylan
I pace around the dressing room. I change my shirt three times. I look over my set list, tune my guitar, and do anything I can think of to feel more prepared. I’m more nervous than I was at the first live show I ever played.
It was a high school talent contest and I was singing a punk rock song with a karaoke track backing me. It was terrible, but I won anyway.
At least Jane is here.
That though sends a warm wave of comfort through me.
At least Jane is here. At least, when this is all over, I can hold Jane in my arms, and it’ll all be okay.
“Ready, Dylan?” the stage manager asks.
I nod, grab my Gibson and head to the stage.
I step out in the semi-darkness and the audience can see me, so they start screaming and calling my name. I love it.
I feel better. Like I belong here.
The crowd wants to see me. They’re here for me.
The stage lights go up, so I can see the audience and they can really see me.
“Hello Anonymous Bar,” I shout.
And the Anonymous Bar shouts back.
The background track kicks in for my first song, Make it Hurt, and I kind of freeze. The drums are canned, not Ian. The bass is synthesized, not Shawn.
And I come in with the guitar part. Not Jack.
It’s fine. I always enjoy playing to the crowd. But it’s not the same.
In fact, it’s kind of lonely.
I play my way through the Say Yes songs that I wrote, one by one, until I reach my personal favorite.
“I have one last song I want to play for you tonight,” I tell the crowd.
The aw and jeer, knowing that this is about to be the end of the show.
“This song was written about someone really special, who I know is somewhere in here right now.”
As the telltale intro to Her Name in Stars floods the room, I scan the crowd for red hair and tattooed arms, and I find her.
Alongside my band.
I can’t see the guys’ faces well enough to tell how they feel about all this, but I can see her and the smile on her face is a mile wide.
“This is for Jane.”
I’m shaking as I walk off the stage and put my guitar away, wondering what the band thought. What Jane thought. And if any of them ever speak to me again.
“Dylan.”
I turn around and see Jane. And Kelvin and Dean. Then Julia and Nikki. Cora and Aya. Then Ian, Jack and Shawn.
Do they hate me now? Are we going to talk about breaking up?
“Good show, man,” Ian says, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Yeah, not bad,” Shawn adds.
Jack says nothing, but he doesn’t look upset.
“You know I’m not trying to walk away from Say Yes,” I tell them. “If anything, tonight kind of proved to me that I would rather stay a band than go out there on my own. It’s just…”
“We get it,” Jack says.
“Don’t get sentimental, Dylan,” Shawn teases. “We’re good.”
“It was bad, wasn’t it?” I ask them.
No one says anything. We all know the answer.
Usually I walk off stage feeling like a conquering hero. But tonight, I just
feel lifeless. Spent. But not in a good way. More like… used up.
“When’s the next one?” Jack asks, wrapping his arms around Nikki. “Are we bracing ourselves for a Dylan Cotter solo tour?”
“I don’t think so,” I tell them.
I think that was my last solo show. Despite everything I thought about myself, it turns out that I am a band guy.
And kind of an asshole sometimes. Jane was right.
“Let’s go get a beer or something,” Shawn says.
“Yeah. Sounds good,” I say, feigning enthusiasm. It’s my post show after-party and I want nothing to do with it. Mostly because I feel like I don’t deserve it.
“I think a lot of the crowd is going to the Wood, so if you want to get mobbed, let’s go there,” he continues, “but there’s another place a few miles away that should be less crazy.”
“Cool. Wherever you want to go is good.”
“Well, do you want fans there or…”
“I don’t care,” I tell him flatly. “Go on ahead and text me where you end up. I’ll catch up in a minute.”
He nods and the whole lot of them clear out.
Except for Jane.
“Where does that leave us?” I ask her.
Jane crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn’t look like she’s angry, but she’s not exactly smiling either.
“I’m not sure.”
“I was… such an asshole to you, Jane,” I tell her.
She says nothing.
“And I don’t even know where to start apologizing.”
I catch the corner of her mouth twist up, despite her efforts to keep a straight face. I’m ready to do some hardcore, on my knees style apologizing.
Actually, that’s not a bad place to start.
I drop to my knees.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hisses, her eyes darting around the room to see if anybody’s watching.
It’s me. Of course they’re watching. I put my hands on her hips to keep her still.
“Jane, I’m so sorry for everything I said to you,” I say, sincerely. “For everything I implied about you. For everything that I did that drove you away from me.”
“That was a lot of things.”
“I know. And I’ll grovel on my knees for the rest of my life if I have to.”
“Don’t,” she says. “It’d be pretty hard to play shows from down there.”
I start to get up, but she pushes me back down. It’s getting harder for her to hide her smirk.
“You’re not done yet,” she whispers.
I lean in and press my lips to wherever they’ll reach on her body. Right at around her belly button. She’s smiling, but she’s fighting it.
“You’re not weighing me down, Jane. None of the people in my life are,” I tell her. “Tell me what I can do to get you back with me.”
“You’re getting closer.”
Jane reaches down and helps me up from the floor.
“I’m going to miss the hell out of you when you’re away,” I whisper.
“Dylan, I’m not gone yet.”
She’s right. So I lean in and kiss her.
“And you’ll be there when I get back, right?” she answers.
I nod. And kiss her again.
27
Jane
Four Months Later
“Promise me you’ll be safe,” Kelvin orders me as we drive to the international terminal at LAX.
“I promise.”
I clutch my carry-on-sized suitcase to my chest.
“Do you have your phone charger?” he asks. “How about a converter for the outlets?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Where is your passport?”
“In my fucking hand, Kelvin,” I tell him. “I promise you, I’m totally ready for this.”
“And you,” he says, turning his head to the passenger seat. “You promise to watch out of her and not let her get abducted or join the cast of Moulin Rouge or love living overseas so much she never comes back to me?”
Dylan laughs. “Of course.”
I smile.
Dylan and I have been dating since that show back in late August, his one and only solo show. Since then, the band has been hard at work on their fifth album and have played several shows, mostly local, but they’ve officially put touring on hold for a year.
Dylan, of course, got restless. Especially when he was helping me book my flights and hostels for my trip.
So restless that he invited himself on my trip, and we started booking two plane tickets, two train tickets and two beds in the hostels.
Okay, Dylan wasn’t too keen on staying in backpacker hostels, and I will admit that I kind of romanticized them. We booked hotels instead. And even though Dylan promised to find me the Chateau Marmonts of the world, I made him choose budget hotels. We had to pretend to rough it a little.
Kelvin pulls up in front of the drop off point for international departures, and he turns to look at me in the back seat. He’s got a big smile on his face, and his eyes are a little wet. I’m worried he’s going to say something like it’s time to spread your wings, Jane or the world is yours for the taking, Jane or something equally cheesy that’s going to make me both roll my eyes and cry like a baby.
“Have fun,” he whispers. “Be safe.”
“I will.”
“Come back.”
I laugh. “I’ll be back in four months.”
Kelvin sighs. “I’m so happy for you, Jane.”
“Me too. I’ll miss you terribly, though.”
“Of course you will.”
Kelvin hops out of the driver’s seat to help Dylan and me with our luggage. There isn’t much. We’re not checking bags, just carry-ons. Dylan gives him a hug, and Kelvin claps him on the back.
“Thanks, Kelvin,” he says.
Then it’s my turn. Kelvin scoops me up and spins me around. Cars are honking and people are looking at us like we’ve gone completely bonkers, but I can’t care about that right now.
“See you soon,” I whisper to him.
He just winks at me and gets back in the car. Dylan and I stand on the curb and watch him drive away. Dylan has one hand on his rolling suitcase and offers me the other.
We walk into the airport together and head towards security.
Dylan’s phone dings with a text.
“Who is it?” I ask him.
“My sister Viv,” he answers, typing.
“What does she want?”
“She wants to know if she can come out and visit this summer.”
“Are you telling her ‘yes?’”
I hope he is. Dylan’s been making baby steps towards reconnecting with his family. Text messages with his sister here and there. A phone call with his mom. He hasn’t spoken to his father or other siblings, but, as I said, baby steps.
He’s being the bigger person here, and I’m so proud of him.
“I told her that it’s probably fine. We’ll discuss it when I get back.”
“Good.”
We start taking off our shoes and putting our laptops and travel-size toiletries in the bins.
“I was just thinking about something,” he says.
“What?”
“Your graphic novel,” he answers. “You never told me how it ended. Does Margot realize she’s living in a fantasy world?”
“Something like that.”
“Oh?”
“Margot’s drawn her ideal world, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And she starts to believe it’s real. So much so that she can’t tell fantasy from reality,” I tell him. “Her fantasy world makes her so happy that no one has the heart to tell her that it only exists in a book.”
“So they just let her live in her delusion?”
“I prefer to think of it as they just set her free to revel in the world she’s created for herself.”
“It’s kind of a sad ending, don’t you think?”
“Would it be happier if someo
ne popped her bubble and told her everything she loved wasn’t real?” I ask.
“I guess not.”
“I mean, I couldn’t have dreamed that I’d meet you again. That you’d be my boyfriend. That I’d have new friends and my inheritance would arrive and…” I trail off.“I’m just saying that if I woke up tomorrow and someone told me it wasn’t real, I’d be devastated.”
Dylan takes my hand.
“I’m very real, Jane,” he assures me. “Margot may get a weird happy ending, but you’re getting a real one.”
We get through security and wait at our gate to board. When they finally call our group, Dylan and I get on the plane, load our luggage overhead and take our seats next to each other.
In first class. Dylan talked me into it.
“Ready?” he asks.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Epilogue
Dylan
One Year Later
“What’s up, LA?” I screech into the mic. “We’re back.”
And just like that, I’m hit by a fucking wall of noise.
It’s awesome. I live for this. I look behind me, and Ian’s twirling a drumstick in his fingers. Shawn’s waving at the audience. And Jack is giving fuck me eyes to someone in the crowd. Hopefully his girlfriend.
It’s the first night of the national tour, and we’ve got gigs lined up in fifty cities through the US before we leave to kick off the international part of the tour. I’ve been a grinning lunatic for weeks.
Holding back the tour for a year wasn’t as hard as I thought. I mean, a brand new relationship sure takes up a certain amount of your time if you’re doing it right, of course. Jane has kept my plenty busy as of late.
But in the past year, the band took to writing and recording and our fifth album, Shades of Jane, and it’s outselling our fourth. We’ve played some amazing venues and one-night-only gigs around the US. And then now we’re on the tour we’d been hoping to go on this time last year.
The show flies by, and all too soon, I’ve sung Her Name in Stars as our third encore of the night and we’re off the stage, dripping with sweat and high as fuck on adrenaline.