He nods and pulls me against his chest. We stand there until Logan knocks on the door, announcing the start of their rehearsal time. “We learned a new song while you were gone,” Cam whispers into my hair. “It’s a surprise. I can’t wait for you to hear it.” He kisses my head. “But for now, can you let us practice it? Maybe hang out in the bus for a while?” His voice is sweet and pleading.
I nod, and head for the exit. I have things to do, anyway. There’s already a checklist forming in my mind. I need to talk to a few friends I’ve made on the crew. And I need to convince Tad to help me if I’m going to pull this off. I only have two days to make this happen.
* * *
I’ve convinced Jenn to let me set up an encore concert in the park across from the venue. The guys are thrilled with the idea, and thanks to a fame-hungry mayor, I managed to get the last-minute permit and security needed to put on a free public concert after we tape the show tonight. Your Future X will be playing his daughter’s high school graduation party next spring, but it’s worth it. Most of the next two days is spent on my computer and my phone, and when I have free time I sneak away to practice. Only Tad ever bothers me.
“You’re really going to make this happen?” Tad pokes his head—for once camera-free—into the small room I’ve found on the second floor of the theater where we’ll be performing tomorrow.
I nod. Letting them lay Cam’s past out for the country like a buffet of pain isn’t an option. “You’ll take care of Jenn?”
“I’ll do my best,” he says. Tad is an integral part of my plan. I need someone behind the scenes to manage things while I’m out onstage with Cam, performing a new song. Cam and I have decided to keep the new tune—which I wrote—a secret. Reluctantly, Jenn agreed. After the success of “This Girl” I guess she figures a duet between the two of us can’t go wrong. Boy, is she going to be surprised.
Step Five: Expose Dakota Gray
At 6:30, just as the guys are taking the stage for their set, I fire off the message I promised.
CANONSBURG PARK @ 9:00. BRING FRIENDS! SEE YOU THERE.
The band’s new song is called “Dakota,” and it’s a rock ballad about falling in love with a girl before you even know her. It’s loud, a little punky, and the audience loves it. I couldn’t have planned the song choice better myself. The crowd is loud and rowdy as the guys rearrange for our final song of the night. Cam is already perched on his stool, making adjustments on his acoustic. Usually I just walk out on the stage and Cam introduces me, but tonight, thanks to Tad’s friend (and lighting tech) Becca, we’re changing it up. And because we’re on TV, and dead air is a major no-no, we’ve got to make this quick. The curtains close across the stage and I walk behind them, almost running as I bring my own stool alongside Cam’s. Behind me, a gaffer has a can light, and angles it behind my stool. I give her a smile and a nod.
Cam whispers in my ear. “What’s with the wig tonight?”
“All part of the master plan.” I lean over, whispering my instructions in his ear.
He’s surprised; I knew he would be. “Really?” I smile and nod, urging him on.
“When it’s time.”
Less than a minute has passed, and already Jenn is pacing stage left. The curtains are still closed and she’s taking a step onto the stage when the lights go out, covering us all in darkness.
And it begins.
I take a deep breath as I hear the curtains peel back with a creak. I’ve gone over this at least ten times with the crew. When the curtains are parted enough to reveal us, I start picking the first few notes of the song to cue Cam. He’s close enough that I can see him, even in the darkness, and I nod, letting him know it’s time.
“We have a new song for you tonight. Please welcome back Vee Miller.” The backstage lights come on, sending a soft glow over the purple backdrop that hangs behind us. I take one final breath and turn to face Cam as the spotlight comes on behind me. It’s bright, and hot on the side of my face, and I know exactly what the audience sees now. My silhouette.
The microphone is pressed against my lips. “Dakota Gray,” I say, and behind Cam, Jenn takes a step toward the stage.
Tad grabs her by the wrist, and she jerks as he holds on.
Shit.
She pulls her arm from his grip and I can see her mouthing, “Who the hell is Dakota Gray?” The audience has erupted and she’s just standing there, stunned. Her head is down as her fingers fly across her phone and when she sees it—when she knows—I can’t help but smile at her. I give her a wink, because that’s what Dakota Gray would do.
Dakota Gray is a sassy bitch. Dakota Gray is fearless. Dakota Gray is an internet sensation. There’s nothing people love more than a mystery. And in the year since her videos started posting online, no one has known her real name. They’ve never seen her face. She’s never played in public. She’s never been found, because she didn’t want to be.
Until now.
I continue to play the intro, and when I start to sing the first verse Cam joins me, just like we practiced. I’m lucky Cam is not one of Dakota Gray’s 1.5 million fans, because we’re singing one of my first songs. My best-known song. I had to modify it to make it a duet—and a little less angry. It’s an homage to love and heartbreak. The lights come up slowly and the darkened crowd explodes with bursts of light as cameras go off.
I’m exposed.
* * *
My hand is in Cam’s as we exit the stage and he pulls me to a stop when we reach the darkness of stage left. “I can’t believe you just did that,” he says. It’s hard to hear him over the roar of applause.
I laugh. “Jenn’s pissed.” I throw my arms around Cam and squeeze him like I’m trying to crush him. It feels like I’m going to explode with adrenaline right now, like I could put on an entire concert by myself. And then I remember that’s exactly what I have to do. This was just part one of my master plan.
“That’s not what I mean. I can’t believe you just did that,” Cam points to the stage.
I don’t know why he’s surprised, because Dakota Gray fears nothing. Not even getting her heart broken. She crushes her lips into Cam’s, keeping them there as he lifts her up off the ground.
We’re startled out of our embrace by Jenn’s angry voice. “What the hell was that? I didn’t approve any of that.” She holds up her clipboard, and points to the show logo. “This isn’t the Virginia Miller hour!”
“Dakota Gray,” I correct. “And we have an encore concert to put on now.” The band is all around us and I pull Cam’s hand, leading us all toward the exit. Jenn is following behind us, still yelling as we make our way out to the parking lot.
“I don’t give a shit about your little concert,” she says, as we walk along the side of the building. “You had two days. Don’t get your hopes up,” she says snottily.
Dakota Gray tosses her hair over her shoulder and pins Jenn with a smirk that says, We’ll see about that. Dakota Gray is confident. She’s been listening to the constant buzz of notifications all day, until she finally had to turn the phone off. She had to send her final location message to her fans using Tad’s phone. But I, Virginia Miller, am less confident. I think about crossing the road and seeing an empty park. I think about failing Cam, because an auditorium full of people isn’t enough to create the kind of buzz we need. There’s no time for my insecurities right now, because up ahead, Tad is coming around the corner with two more camera guys. They walk ahead, filming us from every angle like usual. But when we finally reach the edge of the building, and turn toward the park, we all stop. Things are anything but usual.
“Holy fu—lipping—” Anders mutters behind me.
“Oh, my—” I look at the scene around me. Am I officially kicked off of this tour?
I’m not sure how many people are in the park. There were five thousand in the auditorium tonight, and this looks like four times as many. Every available surface is covered in bodies. Trash cans, picnic tables, and bike racks are being used as chairs.
There are a few people sitting in a tree on a little hill to one side. People are still winding down the sidewalks, seeping into every crack of space on the grass.
Jenn has stopped behind me and her phone is pressed to her ear. “Get the rest of the crew out here. Now.”
A pair of warm arms wraps around my waist, and Cam’s lips are at my ear. “You’re amazing.”
“Well?” Jenn rushes ahead of us and waves toward the stage. “Don’t just stand there.”
Cam kisses my temple, his lips lingering against my skin. “Thank you.”
At this moment, I don’t regret it at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY
NOW
CAM
The official body count for our encore concert in the park was 19,274. That’s what the police report says. Jenn taped it to the bathroom door of our bus and circled the number and the fine (a much bigger number), but she hasn’t said anything else about it. I have a feeling the press we’re getting will more than make up for the cost. We’ve barely sat down since we stepped off the stage last night.
We’re on a plane to New York the next morning, and by afternoon we’re on our third talk show interview. Most of the shows ask Vee to sing by herself, but she’s refused. And for once, I don’t think it’s her nerves. She tells them it’s not just about her, it’s about the band. On the first show she and I play “This Girl” and at the second the band plays “Dakota” with Vee joining us on vocals. It’s fucking unbelievable that she did this for me. I’m not at all surprised that people around the world love her. That’s easy to believe. But after everything I put her through, I can’t believe she put herself out there for me. Especially when I haven’t answered the one question I’ve been waiting for her to ask: Why didn’t you come back?
I thought she’d need to know the answer to forgive me, but she still hasn’t asked, and I wonder if maybe she doesn’t want to know. The answer is easy. At first it was too hard. How could I ever make it up to her? How could I explain myself? And the more time that went by, the more impossible it seemed. The more I panicked. Could she ever forgive me? Why would she wait for me? I never went back because deep down, I always knew she deserved better.
We’re sitting on a production stage, around a big white table with three very loud women. They’re asking us entirely different questions. Clips of Vee’s videos play on a screen behind us. One of the hosts—a fifty-something retired Olympic something-or-other—is reciting a laundry list of facts.
“You made your first video less than two years ago.”
Vee nods.
“You’ve performed over fifty original songs. Plus covers.”
Vee smiles. “Yep.” She’s holding my hand under the table. I’m losing blood flow.
“You posted this video just last night.” An image of me and Vee sitting on the tour bus appears on the screen behind us. It’s the duet we played at the last show. We weren’t allowed to use the official tour footage, so we re-recorded it on the bus. The video is shaky and grainy. At one point you can see Reese’s finger drift into the shot.
“Do you know how many views it has so far?” the host asks.
Vee shakes her head. We’ve basically been in a bus, plane, or cab for the last sixteen hours. Behind us a string of numbers appears.
“Two point four million,” the host says, shaking her head. Vee smiles, but doesn’t say anything. She’s breathing hard and slow, and I can tell she’s overwhelmed.
The second host, a petite blonde, turns to face us at the table and smiles. “My teenage daughter is a huge fan, Dakota. Or do you prefer Virginia?”
“Either is fine.”
“She says you’re the Queen of the Breakup Anthem.” Vee tenses, and crosses her hands on the table in front of her. “Most of your songs, especially the early ones, are obviously about heartbreak.” She taps her talking cards on the table and gives Vee a conspiratorial look. “Can you tell us who inspired those?”
Shit. I can tell you who inspired them. I’d raise my hand if I thought the joke would cheer Vee up.
The other host chimes in. “Maybe you want to put a warning out there?”
Vee fidgets nervously in her seat. “Oh. Hm. That seems kind of rude.” The hosts all laugh. They think she’s joking.
The Olympian turns to Vee again. “Someone obviously broke your heart.” She lists off some of Dakota’s most popular songs, which include titles like “Catastrophic Love,” “Bleeding Hearts,” “Love’s a Mistake,” and “Over You Under Him.” Vee fidgets in her chair when they read the last one and I snake my hand along the edge of the table and put my hand on hers.
“Obviously,” Vee mutters, when the laundry list of songs has finally ended.
“No comment?” the blonde says, giggling. “You’re a better woman than me. If some guy treated me that way, I’d be screaming his name from the rooftops.”
“I think you’ve actually done that,” the Olympian offers and they all laugh. The women launch into a discussion about Sidney Montrose, an A-list pop star who does put all of her exes on blast. The women seem to think Sidney could teach Vee a thing or two about well-played vengeance. Vee laughs along, but she’s fidgety. Uncomfortable.
The host announces we’ll be performing and says, “Well, we wish you all luck.” Then her eyes fix on Vee’s hand in mine, and she looks at Vee again. “It looks like it all worked out for the best, anyway.”
Vee pulls her hand away from me slowly and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. She doesn’t smile. We make our way to the small stage, where we play “This Girl” again, but for the first time, she doesn’t look at me while she sings it.
VIRGINIA
Before I had even started the Dakota Gray frenzy, I think I knew that I needed to leave eventually. I can’t stay on tour indefinitely and leave my life on pause. And it’s no longer an option to continue acting like what has been going on between me and Cam is normal. We’ve fallen asleep together every night since he found me in his bed. Every morning, I wake up and wonder if he’s still there, or if he’s disappeared. My being on the tour is convenient, and he could be out of my life at any moment.
Plus, a million opportunities have opened up for me since coming forward as Dakota Gray. I need to take advantage of them while I’m still relevant. Because let’s face it, I’m only internet famous. Without a camera pointed at me, I’m a nobody. I need to make an actual name for myself. I need to learn to play on a stage by myself, without a disguise or a fake name.
Am I seriously doing this?
I’m going to pursue my music. And I’m not going to be a publicist or manager, or even a songwriter. I’m going to perform. I decide what I deserve, and I deserve to chase my dreams. I deserve not to wake up in a panic every morning. Once I decide I’m leaving, a mental countdown begins in my head, and each minute and hour seems to rush by. At first, I decide I’ll stay until the next show in Chicago. I’ll have a free ride home. Four days. I tell myself that’s how much time I have to spend with Cam, and Logan and Anders, and even Reese—before their lives change. Because there is no doubt that they’ll win this thing. In another six weeks, they’ll officially achieve the rock-god status they’ve been dreaming of. They’ll go back to LA to record their album, and then they’ll go on tour. And that tour will be all about them. The groupies will all be there for them. The fame and the fans, all theirs. It’s only a matter of time—six weeks—before they trade in their normal lives for something that is so much more. The more I think about how much I’ll miss them, the more I think that in four days I’ll lose my resolve.
I need to leave tomorrow.
One more rehearsal, one more night with Cam, one more day of this imaginary life.
CAM
We spend our last night in Cincinnati at a rowdy dance club. Vee and I are back in my bunk, lying pressed up against each other, still in our sweaty clothes. I run my finger along her arm, mesmerized by the bumps that rise up on her skin in its wake. I might be slightly buzzed.
Vee’s
voice pulls me out of my trance. “I have to go back.”
“Did you leave something? Give Logan a call.” We left the club early, but Logan stayed. He’s been embracing his official bachelor status. “He can bring it back in the morning.”
“No.” Her voice is tiny and she turns onto her side, so she can look at me. “I need to go back … to Chicago.”
I don’t know what to say. Don’t go.
Is it school? Or her way of ending things? Does she just need space? Maybe we’re moving too fast. We’re practically living together, when you think about it. We’re moving too fast.
“I can’t stay here.” Her words are barely decipherable as she whispers through tears. Her breaths are coming out in tiny gasps.
“Come here.” I shift my arm under her and she tucks herself into me. I kiss her head and run my hand down her arm.
“I can’t just leave my life,” she says. “And I can’t go backward. This thing with us…” She takes a few slow breaths like she’s trying to compose herself. “I forgive you for leaving, Cam. I can even understand why you left. But I can’t keep acting like it never happened, because you never came back.” She takes a deep, ragged breath. “You never came back, and then I popped up in your life again. And if I hadn’t … if I hadn’t ended up on this tour? You’d still be on one side of the country and I’d be on the other. I didn’t know how to find you, but you knew how to find me.” She takes a deep breath and I can feel the warmth of it against my chest. “You could have found me whenever you wanted, and you didn’t. We can’t live in this little bubble and act like it’s moving forward.”
“Vee, please.” I kiss her head again, unable to find the words to tell her exactly how I feel. “I lo—”
“Please don’t.” Her face tilts up toward me, her eyes pleading. “It’s already hard. And I know you do, but it’s not enough.” She smiles at me, in a way that has me expecting her to say, “It’s been fun.” In the last year and a half she’s obviously become more like Dakota than even she realizes. I can’t help but respect her, even though it’s my turn to be left behind now.
Love Songs & Other Lies Page 23