Too Many Reasons

by Kristen Strassel

  “Hey, that’s the single!” Joe really was up on the band. I couldn’t wait to tell Devon about this. “Too many reasons I believe, too many reasons I can’t see, too many things I want to say…”

  Joe sang half the song. My heart was too big for my chest. I’d seen fans approach the guys before, but this was the first time something like this had happened to me. It was the most surreal experience to have someone I barely knew be passionate about something I helped create. “You’re awesome.”

  “So does that reality show guy have a massive ego? Is that why you’re out? His people took over?”

  “Something like that.” I smiled sadly, just like that reminded that Sinister Riot was going on without me. With those questions, Joe unknowingly trampled all those amazing feelings he’d just created. “And it’s time to try something new.” It was time to be Abby. Being here made it official.

  “I hope it all works out for them, with the new guy and all.” Joe got the hint. “But if you can handle rock n’ roll, the movie industry will be a breeze.”

  Once I detached myself from the concept of time, a sixteen hour day wasn’t that bad. The shock didn’t set in until I got home.

  “Hey.” Devon was already in bed when I crawled over him to get in. “How was it?”

  “Exhausting.” As soon as I allowed myself to relax, I was almost too tired to form words. “But fun.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.” He kissed the top of my head as I snuggled against him. His words already sounded like he was underwater. I wasn’t going to last long at all. “I missed you.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t have any reception.” Crap, I needed to plug in my phone. I dragged myself away from Devon’s warm arms to take care of it. I had a voicemail? Odd. No one ever called me. “Did you call me today?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, so the guy I worked with, I knew him from school, he’s really into you guys.”

  Devon’s mouth dropped. “That’s awesome.”

  I held my hand up to shush him as I listened to the message. It was the lawyer. “Fuck!” I yelled. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck.”

  “What’s the matter?” Devon looked back and forth from me to the phone, I’d thrown it down on the bed like it was on fire.

  “Listen for yourself.” I put it on speaker and hit repeat.

  “Hi Abby, this is Marvin Boudreau. I had a chance to go through Sinister Riot’s contract with American Original this weekend. Unfortunately, it looks like they have the right to change the line-up at their discretion. The clause about personnel is written in such vague language that it allows for changes. I’m sorry I don’t have better news for you. Don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions.”

  Devon fell back on the bed. “Fuck.”

  “But you said the show went well.” I was wide awake now. “I don’t understand what the hell they’re doing.”

  “I didn’t tell you everything about the show.” Devon shook his head. “The label was there. They didn’t let me play.”

  “What?” I shrieked, then covered my mouth. The only thing that could make this worse was an appearance from sleep-deprived Mallory. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I knew you’d be bullshit, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.” Devon took my hands. “I didn’t want to upset you before you started your job, and I wanted to see what the lawyer said.”

  “What happened when you got there?” I was too angry to even imagine the scene. My heart broke for him.

  “The guys had to hold me back from punching Eli.” Devon smirked unhappily. “Then security escorted me off the premises.”

  “Fuck.” It was probably a damn good thing I didn’t go to Chicago. I’d be in jail for murder. I covered my face with my hands. “So you’re out.”

  “I’m out.” Devon sighed. He’d never sat up from when he fell back. His forearm rested over his eyes. “I can’t believe this is fucking happening.”

  I lay on my side beside him, tracing the line of his jaw, and watching the rise and fall of his chest. “We have a plan. We just start putting it in motion.”

  Devon turned his head. “You have a plan. I want my band back.”

  “Then what’s your plan to make that happen?”

  He exhaled and stared at the ceiling. “I’ve been looking on the internet for any reviews or news about the single. People like the vocals. My vocals. Even though the festivals have been huge, there’s really just a small segment of the potential fan base that goes to those shows.”

  “Interesting.” Maybe I underestimated Devon. I hadn’t expected him to have an answer for me. Maybe this movie job, this separation of our professional lives would be good. If I couldn’t take care of everything, he’d have to do his own thing.

  “I started a blog. I can mention the band without saying I’m in it, so those lawyers can go fuck themselves. I’ve been linking to all the reviews, and all the good press I can find. I want to record some videos, just me, singing.”

  “We can do that.” And now I’d have some friends in the movie industry to help us out.

  “There’s no way they can re-record that album with Eli singing before it comes out. The label was already rushing to get it done by September.” This smile looked a little more genuine. “So if the label’s argument is that the listeners don’t yet identify Devon Sinclair with Sinister Riot, I have two months to make that argument irrelevant.”

  “I love this idea.” I kissed him, and we got a little sidetracked. “I’ll write up press releases, we’ll find the music bloggers. But Devon, you have to prepare for the chance it might not work.”

  Devon nodded, his face so close to mine. “I know that. I spent the weekend trapped with Eli, so I had plenty of incentive to come up with a plan. I came up with a couple of potential set lists, and I’m going to start learning songs. I already talked to a couple of guys about bartending a couple nights a week. I’m not fucking around.”

  “I guess not.” My smile grazed his lips. “It’s sexy as hell, you know that?”

  He caught my lip. “You like that?”

  “I do.”

  Devon ran his hand down my side, stopping on my ass, and I squealed when he squeezed it. He caught my cry with his kiss, thankfully, because we were dangerously close to waking up my sister. Crap. I needed to get to sleep, but this was just as important. This having a day job thing had its drawbacks.

  “Tell me how the rest of the weekend went,” I asked, my words labored as Devon kissed my neck.

  Even in the dark, I could see the sparkle in his eyes. “It was a complete fuckshow. Whoever the hell is actually our manager now, I think we got bounced around to whatever intern’s on duty, doesn’t give a crap about the band. We didn’t have enough hotel rooms, we didn’t get our per diems until the last day, nobody knew what the hell was going on, and Eli had to make a bunch of phone calls when we got there to make sure we had credentials. Everyone was muttering about how this would never happen if Abby had handled it.”

  Oh, hey, karma. Pleased to meet you. “What a shame.”

  “Andrew, that slippery fucker, was at the show. ‘Devon, I think we made ourselves clear about the direction American Original intends to take Sinister Riot in,’” Devon mocked Andrew. “They’re going to ruin that band, Abby. It kills me.”

  “They didn’t ruin you.” I kissed the top of his head. “Maybe you got out at the right time.”

  Everyone on set made fun of my granny boots, and after an eighty hour workweek, I was beginning to understand why. They might go with everything, but my feet were killing me. And with all the mud and muck on set, I came dangerously close to ruining them. The sun had been up for hours by the time I got home on Saturday morning, and Devon was already up for the day when I crawled into bed.

  “You’re going to have to buy some sneakers,” Devon teased me, and I glared at him.

  “Have we met?” Just because I was actually having a good time working this movie didn’t mean I was going to giv
e up all my principles. Devon sat at the end of the bed. After pulling down the shade he started rubbing my feet. “How did you know?”

  “You can barely walk.” Devon concentrated on the kneading his knuckles against balls of my feet, working between each toe, turning me to jelly. “Get some rest. I have a surprise for you.”

  My eyes shot open. Not only did he lightly run his finger down the length of my arch, where I was completely ticklish, but a surprise? “Like I’m really going to sleep now unless you tell me.”

  “Okay.” He moved to rubbing my calves. Heaven. I’d died and gone to Heaven. “The Oak Tree had a cancellation and they asked me if I could play tonight.”

  “That’s amazing!” I sat up and kissed him. Devon had just started bartending at The Oak Tree that week. Sinister Riot had played there a couple times when they were starting out. It was cozy, and perfect for Devon’s first show. “Do you have enough for a set?”

  “A short one. I told them I didn’t have much. They’re cool with it.”

  “Hand me my phone.” I propped myself up on my elbows. “But don’t stop whatever it is that you’re doing.”

  Devon grabbed my phone, but instead of giving it to me, he rubbed my Achilles tendon. I moaned. “I can do it.”

  “No.” I sat up and swiped it from him. “I still operate the Sinister Riot social media accounts. So I can blast out that you’re doing a special acoustic set tonight.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Should you do that?”

  “Why not? It’s technically my account. By the time the band can do anything about it, the word will already be out.” If American Original didn’t like it, they could go fuck themselves. Seriously. I’d wait while they did it.

  This was a big fucking deal. How was I actually supposed to sleep? Once Devon left, I blew up social media. He scolded me for being awake when I texted him for the set list, but I told him the sooner he gave it to me, the quicker I could get out the press release. Once I was satisfied everyone in the city knew about the show, then I let myself take a nap.

  “Well, hello Ms. Gauthier.” Devon whistled low when I met him at his place. After a week in the little schoolhouse of horrors, and standing outside in a damp field that hadn’t been mowed in my lifetime, getting pretty tonight was a treat. To cover the maze of mosquito bites that had bloomed on my thighs, I picked my striped tights and put fishnets over them. I wore a denim skirt, and a cut-up Sinister Riot tee to make sure that everyone associated Devon with the band.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you with all your clothes on in a week.” Even in my granny boots, I had to go up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “It feels really good to have a show to go to.”

  “Doesn’t it? And we match.” Devon wore a tight, black and white striped long sleeved shirt, dark jeans, and combat boots. We both had signature footwear. I almost told him to kick it up a notch, but he’d picked perfectly for a stripped down show. He sat on the air mattress, and I kneeled beside him so I could put on his eyeliner. I know he was capable of doing it himself, but I liked doing it. “We were so busy with recording and these festivals, it got in the way of playing local shows. This is what it’s all about.”

  The rock n’ roll bed and breakfast was within walking distance of The Oak Tree. Caleb and his girlfriend Nikki came with us. Devon slung the guitar Caleb let him borrow for the show over his shoulder, and swung my hand as we walked. “No matter what,” Devon said before we walked in, biting his lip. I knew he didn’t expect anyone but us to come to the show. “Let’s just have fun tonight.”

  “Holy shit.” Caleb had to shout to be heard when he opened the door. “I don’t remember it being this packed in here.”

  “It never is.” Devon’s eyes were huge, scanning the room. “They must not know the other show was cancelled.”

  As I took both of Devon’s hands in mine, I thought my heart was going to swell right out of my ribcage. “They’re here for you.”

  He threw a sideways glance to the crowd, and then shook his head. “They can’t be.”

  “If you’d let me say anything today without telling me to go back to sleep,” a smile spread over my face, “I would have told you about all the replies I got to my posts. People miss seeing you guys play.”

  Since Devon had no merch, I didn’t have anything to do. I fidgeted in my seat at the table with Caleb and Nikki. “You’re due really soon, aren’t you?” So much had happened lately, it seemed like she’d been pregnant forever.

  Nikki scooted her chair over, so we could actually hear each other. “Next month.”

  “And you still don’t know what you’re having?”

  Nikki shook her head and took a sip of her water. “I kind of regret not finding out, but now I’m just being stubborn.” She laughed. “Tell me about this movie you’re working on! Devon said you were working with Trevor George.”

  “Well, he’s there, all I’m doing is wrangling the background actors.” Everyone wanted the gossip, but didn’t have much to share. When I was there, it was a job. And the production didn’t want us spilling all the details before the movie came out. “It’s fun though.”

  “How do you get into doing background work? Once the baby comes, I might try it.”

  “I think you go through a casting agency. I’ll ask for you.” A lot of people thought it was perfectly acceptable to give me their opinion about my relationship with Devon, but Nikki never judged. And for that, I’d do pretty much anything she asked. She was one of the only girls I was friendly with. “You should rent out your house to a crew. The place we’re filming at now, I keep expecting to see monsters climb out of the walls.”

  “Ugh. That place.” Nikki rolled her eyes. She held up her hand and pointed at Caleb behind it. “He thinks he can do it all himself, but at this rate, this kid will be in college by the time it’s done!”

  The crowd around us just kept getting bigger. “Maybe I should try to get people to sign up for Devon’s mailing list?” I’d brought sign-up sheets.

  “You’re such a helicopter momma!” Nikki laughed. “Just relax and enjoy the show for once.”

  “Leave it up on the stage. He’ll know to shout it out,” Caleb added.

  Even though I knew they were right, in my brain, shows meant work. To sit back and just let it happen seemed so lazy. Everything was set up on the stage, guitar on its stand, ready for Devon to play. Nikki might think that just watching was more fun, but for me, to be a part of it, to talk to people, see why they came and what they liked, that was the rush.

  “Oh God.” Nikki sneered. “Do you see who’s here?”

  My head whipped around, looking for people from American Original. “Who?”

  She made a face like she’d just seen a dead body. “Lexi,” then jerked her head behind me.

  My mouth dropped, and I didn’t want to turn and look. But I had to. Of course, she knew exactly where I was. She waved her fingers at me, and I really didn’t want to narrow my eyes at her before I turned around but it was instinct. Lexi got up, and I turned back to Nikki, hoping that she was going anywhere but our table.

  No such luck.

  “Hey, sugar.” Lexi’s smile was just as saccharine as the name she had the balls to call me. She didn’t mean it as a compliment. “Don’t you look cute in your Sinister Riot shirt.”

  “Wish I could say the same for you.” Was anybody ever going to tell this girl you had to get your extensions redone from time to time? She’d never believe it coming from me.

  Lexi gasped, not used to me standing up to her. “I’m just here because Devon let me know about the show tonight.”

  I swallowed my rage. She was trying to get a rise out of me. She had to be. “I doubt that.”

  “Let’s see who he goes home with.” She tilted her head and smiled before going back to her table.

  “What did that bitch say to you?” Nikki asked. Still shaking with rage, I tossed back the rest of my drink.

  “Nothing worth repeating.” I couldn’t give her words
any power.

  “She’s such a fucking joke, don’t pay her any mind.” Nikki put her hand over mine. “I’m so glad you and Devon are finally together. It was just stupid when you weren’t.”

  Before I had a chance to answer her, the lights went down and the crowd erupted in cheers, clapping the beginning of She’s Like a Gun. I prayed I hadn’t made a mistake, using the band’s accounts, but I had been really clear that this show was Devon only. Lexi had me rattled, and I just wanted everything to go perfect tonight. The Oak Tree was too small for an actual backstage area, so when Devon came out, he walked in front of the rows of tables, waving. I wasn’t even sure he saw Lexi when he passed by her. Everyone was on their feet. If we’d thought there was any chance these people had come to see someone else, it was gone now. Devon stopped in front of our table and hugged me. Nikki and Caleb hooted, and the crowd followed.

  “I already can’t wait to get you home,” Devon said close to my ear. “Every time I look down at you, know I’ll be thinking about what I’m going to do to you later.”

  My skin tingled, and I adjusted my shirt when I sat down to make sure he could see my tattoos. I didn’t even care enough to look over and see Lexi’s reaction. I knew exactly where he was going after the show, and that’s all that mattered.

  Devon sat down in front of his microphone and adjusted it, the scarves fluttering as he dropped the stand. He scanned the crowd with his mouth open. “I’m Devon Sinclair. You might know me from Sinister Riot.” The crowd confirmed that suspicion. “If you came out tonight to see Elephant Walk, you are shit out of luck, my friends. Tonight I’m going to be playing some of the songs that inspired me to want to do this.” He strummed the guitar as a warm up. “No better place to start than with a little Ziggy Stardust.”

  Once Devon started playing, I could finally breathe again. He never liked this idea, and I knew playing other people’s music wasn’t easy for him to do. He poured himself into every song like he’d written it himself. This is where Devon belonged, on stage, in front of people. Music was his language, and he made us feel it with all five senses. The set list he picked, Bowie, Aerosmith, Alice Cooper, suited his voice and style perfectly. No one would ever guess this was his first time playing guitar for an audience. Every time he looked down at me, my cheeks, and other parts of me, burned.