The next weekend, I didn’t see Thomas because Kiss Me Goodnight had their first mini-tour. They were playing Cincinnati, Columbus, Akron, Cleveland, and Ann Arbor: five venues in five days, and I had to go with them. It’s amazing how much crap a manager has to do. The band just has to show up, set up, and play. I have to deal with the management and contracts at each venue. They ran my ass ragged, and I earned every cent of what they were paying me, and then some.
Daisy, Gavin, and Levi treated me in the same friendly way they always had. Dylan remained distant, though he was cordial. I sometimes caught him glaring at me. He could pout all he wanted; I wasn’t going to change my mind.
Onstage, the band revealed two new songs, which because of my other duties I didn’t hear until we were in Akron on the third night. The first one, “Avalanche,” featured a haunting melody—who knew Levi also played the violin?—and an angry beat. Dylan’s vocals managed to reflect both feelings.
The things I do wrong
Pile up like dead snow.
Stale and listless, it covers me,
Overwhelms me,
Consumes me.
Sometimes it seems like I can’t catch a break.
I’m damned no matter what I do.
I want to bury myself in that icy grave.
Love doesn’t work; it’s not for me.
An avalanche seals my fate.
It has another depressing stanza, and it’s a beautiful song. You’re going to die when you hear it. I’m sure it’ll be one of their biggest hits. Of course, this one, aptly titled “Wrong Name,” will be even bigger.
The devil in my head
Invaded me in bed.
It made me shout it out—I didn’t want to shout—
The wrong name.
I didn’t mean it when I said
The wrong name.
Please forgive me when I said
The wrong name.
I wanted to kill Dylan. He’d made one of the most humiliating moments of my life into a catchy, punk-rock/ska-inspired song that had the audience singing the chorus before he was halfway through. By the end, he just held out the microphone and let them shout the refrain. I was by turns mortified and more pissed than I’d ever been in my entire life.
For the first time ever, I was too upset to even wash my hands. First I wanted to punch Dylan. Then I might calm down enough to freak out and head for the washroom. I paced in the lobby until they finished their set. The moment they completed their signature, self-titled song, I hightailed it back to the dressing room.
I made it there before they did, so I waited in the empty room. It smelled of sweat and body spray, makeup and chemicals. I could hear the four of them laughing and talking as they approached, on a natural high after their performance.
In my sane, rational mind, I knew it had been an incredible concert. They were accruing fans by the hundreds. Their social media following had exploded, and the single we had available for a dollar had over three thousand downloads the last time I checked.
But I’d left rational thought in the dust. I was firmly in downtown Going to Rip Your Face Off.
Dylan was the third person over the threshold. Daisy and Gavin took one look at me, and their heads swung to follow where my laser vision pointed. I marched across the small space—the five of us in there didn’t leave much room for moving around—and socked him in the nose. His head snapped back, probably from instinct and astonishment, but I like to think it was because I packed a wallop.
Gavin snagged me around the waist and pulled me away. I didn’t fight him because that one hit and the sight of a drop of blood trickling from Dylan’s nose sent me straight back to the terror of my childhood. I blacked out.
When I came to, Levi stood over me. They’d set me on one of the folding chairs in the room, and he was doing his best to keep me from falling to the floor.
He grinned when I opened my eyes. “It’s good to know you’re only capable of a small-scale assault. Tell me, if I ever piss you off that much, can I fake the blood? Will that have the same impact as seeing the real thing?”
I pushed him away and got to my feet.
“Slowly, now. I’ll catch you, but I’d still rather you don’t keel over again.”
Dylan sat on a chair as far away from me as the room would allow. He held an ice cube in a plastic bag to his nose. My pulse leapt. Guilt at what I’d done combined with latent self-loathing to make me feel like a worthless ass. I wanted to throw my arms around him and sob. At the same time, I wanted to punch him again.
One thing I knew for certain: I could not go on this way. This fiasco with Dylan had destroyed my ability to be near him. I snatched a flyer lying on a vanity, scrounged for a pen, and wrote my resignation on the paper. The contract I’d signed had an escape hatch, but it required a fourteen-day notice.
Daisy read over my shoulder. “Lacey, no. You can’t quit. We need you. Whatever Dylan did, he can apologize.”
“I didn’t do anything.” He set aside his ice pack and got to his feet. A harsh light darkened his eyes, which weren’t circled in black, so I hadn’t broken his nose. “I’m not apologizing, but I will accept one.”
I felt like punching him again, but I clenched my fists instead. “You didn’t do anything? You took the single most humiliating experience of my life and wrote it into a song with a catchy tune.”
He shrugged, but that casual gesture didn’t diminish the ferocity of his expression. “We already had the music. I just needed the words. Did you want me to dedicate it to you?”
I could take a lot of things, but his sarcasm at that moment wasn’t one of them. I was too upset to think of a snappy reply, though I’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night with several playing through my head.
Gavin and Levi exchanged looks, and Levi put his arm around me. “Lacey, how about we go back to the hotel and sort this out? There has to be a way we can resolve this without losing you.”
I shook my head and swallowed against the burning behind my eyes. I refused to cry in front of Dylan. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he’d hurt me. If my father had taught me nothing else, he’d driven home the point that weakness makes you prey.
“Oh, come on.” Dylan jerked my note from Daisy’s hand and crumpled it up. “I’ve been singing that song for three nights, and now you object?”
“This is the first night I wasn’t too busy to catch part of your show.” Finally calm enough for the motion to be soothing, I rubbed my hands together. “I just knew you guys were impressing the crowds, and that you had some new songs.”
Dylan curled his lip and regarded me with undisguised derision. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy sexting your newest piece of ass, you’d have heard them sooner.”
I didn’t want to respond. My relationship with Thomas was none of his business. “You have two weeks to find a new manager. I’ll prepare the records and contacts to turn over to whomever you get.”
With that, I extricated myself from Levi’s arm and exited the room. I had no reason to wait for them, and our hotel was only a block away. I walked to the room I shared with Daisy and washed my hands 102 times.
I had a whole list of calls to return about the band, and I seriously wondered whether I had a duty to do it or not. Some were callbacks from venues I’d been trying to reach to book dates. Others were likely new inquiries. Two were from music company executives who wanted to arrange a date and time to see the band perform. They were very close to landing a recording contract.
It had been a tense two days. Ice formed in a room whenever both Dylan and I were present. The band members were reluctant to get further involved or choose sides, and I didn’t blame them. They were a unit, a team, and they’d been friends since long before I entered their lives.
But I’d brought opportunities they wouldn’t have had without me, thanks to the contacts I got through Thomas’s friend—and my tenacity, of course. I’m sure things would have eventually worked out for them,
but I don’t deny that my presence expedited the process.
Sunday in Ann Arbor was the closing date for the mini-tour. Kiss Me Goodnight had left the stage, and the crowd thumped around the headliners. Now that it was safe, I headed to the bar to have a drink. Luma and Jane were somewhere in the throng, enjoying a band they liked. I’d touched base with them before the performance, though I hadn’t told them anything about that fucking song or my resignation as the band’s manager.
“Is this seat taken?”
I looked up from my brooding to find Thomas standing next to me. My troubles slid away, and I launched myself into his arms. He kissed me tenderly and held me close. After this weekend from hell, I needed him more than I ever had.
He guided me back to the stool I’d abandoned at the counter and took the seat next to me. The bar would be packed after the performance, but right now the concertgoers had abandoned it.
“I missed you too.”
“You didn’t tell me you were flying in. I would have met you at the airport.” This gig was close enough to home that I didn’t need to be here, which made me wonder why I’d stayed for the performance. Am I a glutton for punishment?
He signaled the bartender and gave his order before turning back to me. “I wanted to surprise you. And I kind of wanted to see this band you’re spending all this time managing.”
My jaw dropped. “You were here for the performance?”
The bartender delivered his drink. Thomas nodded and sipped. “They’re good. Damn good. I’m not a huge fan of alternative music, but I can see the crossover appeal. With the right management, they could get some mainstream play. That song—I think it’s called ‘Wrong Name’—is priceless. It’s ironic and irreverent, catchy without being annoying. They have some good slow songs too. Whoever writes the lyrics must’ve had his heart broken more than once.”
Shoot me in the head. Now, please. I can’t take much more of this. I officially hate that song. “Yeah, well, I wish them loads of luck with their next manager.”
Thomas frowned. With that goatee, the expression only made him look cuter. “Next manager? Are you quitting? You can’t quit. They’re good enough to be the next big thing. You’ve only been with them a short while, but you’re the one making that happen.”
I shook my head. “I couldn’t do any of this without those contacts and Patrick’s name. He’s your friend, and you’re the one who made this possible.”
He snorted. “Don’t sell yourself short. Patrick didn’t give you anything precious. The phone numbers of radio stations and concert venues aren’t hard to find. He saved you some legwork, sure, but that’s all.”
I was poised to disagree, but he barreled on.
“Can you honestly tell me dropping Patrick’s name has made a difference? People don’t know the names of those who work behind the scenes.”
Truthfully, I hadn’t used Patrick’s name. I’d been sending emails with the band’s signature song attached and following up with phone calls and visits. I was pedaling Kiss Me Goodnight like a pharmaceutical rep pedals drugs. And I was also selling liquor at record rates. My two jobs were truly complementary. As it stood, I was scoping out this bar as a possible new client.
Thomas took my silence for agreement. “I thought not. It’s you, Lacey. You’re an amazing woman. I keep telling you that, and one day you’ll finally realize how right I am.”
He grinned and smooched my cheek.
“I’m still quitting. I’m not getting along with the lead singer. I punched him a couple of nights ago. That’s not good.”
Thomas’s grin faded, and an ominous light came into his eyes, rendering them a deep, dark brown. “What happened? I thought you two were friends.”
“We were. We aren’t anymore.” I didn’t want to say anything else. How could I tell Thomas we’d fought about him, I’d come close to sleeping with Dylan, and then Dylan had written a nasty song about me because he was mad I turned him down? On the other hand, I didn’t want to lie to Thomas. I’d begun our relationship like that, but I was determined to be truthful with him.
So I told him everything. Almost everything. I did not tell him I’d intended to sleep with Dylan, though I did admit to the kissing parts. Mostly I focused on how Dylan thought I would wait for him while he spent who knew how many years sorting through his feelings for his deceased wife.
Thomas regarded me soberly. “Do you want to be with him?”
I shook my head. “It was a mistake. He and I are not compatible. I realized that before I ever texted you the photo of those test results. I’m with you because I want to be with you. He just thinks because there was once a bit of ‘maybe’ between us, he’s entitled to having me whenever he decides it’s time.”
“Wow. When you decide to tell the truth, you really lay it out there, don’t you?” He ran his thumb along his jaw as wheels seemed to churn in his head. Thomas is a smart man. He was no doubt reading between the lines and arriving at conclusions. Finally, he closed his hand over mine. “Lacey, you and I are just getting started. Neither of us has stopped dabbling in other options. We’ve purposely kept things casual because we didn’t want to rush. I think the time has come for us to have a serious talk about where we’re headed.”
“Probably, but I don’t want to have it in a bar.” I went to slide from my stool. We could go to my place to have this serious talk.
Thomas stopped me. “Wait. I just remembered something Patrick said about working with creative types. Most of them behave like spoiled brats. They’re the personality type that seeks the spotlight. They’re full of themselves, and they feed on the adoration of fans. But if they weren’t like that, they wouldn’t work so hard to achieve fame. Don’t quit. Give it time. Dylan will move on as soon as he meets another beautiful woman. With his career choice, that won’t be long.”
I didn’t agree with his assessment of Dylan, but I wasn’t going to argue the point. “I’ll think about it.” That’s all I would concede. “I have to find Luma and Jane. They want to meet you.”
Luma was difficult to peel away from the show until she realized what I wanted. Jane squealed loudly, but she pulled herself together before we made it back to the bar where I’d left Thomas.
He shook the hands of my friends with the enthusiasm of a man who’d spent almost a month hearing about them. I loved my friends more than anything, and Thomas respected their place in my life.
Jane leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. “We’ve heard some pretty spectacular things about you.”
He flashed a polite smile, the kind men get when they know they’ve been dissected by women but aren’t sure they want to hear the details. “I can say the same about you and Luma.”
I didn’t hear everything they said. The band was loud, and once Jane and Luma moved in, I wasn’t the closest person to Thomas. But I witnessed laughing and smiles. My friends were being nice, taking in the details of the man who’d flown me to three different cities for dates.
Before too long, Gavin appeared by my side. He’d been letting his hair grow for the first time in his life, and it hung down past his ears. I didn’t consider it long, but he did. I guess if you live with a buzz cut for so many years, you forget what it’s like to actually have hair. He had that gorgeous blond color with natural highlights for which women pay vast sums of money, and he truly did not appreciate his good fortune.
He hadn’t changed after the performance, but since he smelled more like perfume and body spray than manly sweat, I figured he’d been close to female fans. Perhaps Thomas had a point about Dylan; the band did seem to be accumulating groupies everywhere they went. Both Gavin and Levi were single now, so they’d begun to take advantage of their positions in the band.
Gavin slung his arm around my shoulders and pulled me so close his lips brushed against my ear. “Lacey, please don’t quit. We can’t do this without you.”
Politely as I could, I put some space between us. “You can too.”
“How about if
we kick Dylan out of the band?”
I laughed, but it was a bitter imitation of amusement. “He’s your front man and your lyricist. You need him a lot more than you need me. Without me, you’ll have to do more work, but without Dylan, you don’t have a band.”
Thomas must have been shooting a speculative look our way, because Gavin suddenly stuck out his hand. “Gavin Reid. I play bass for Kiss Me Goodnight.”
Now that he knew who was hugging on me, Thomas relaxed. He shook Gavin’s hand. “Thomas Pritchett. Lacey has mentioned you.”
Gavin’s handshake stuttered as he no doubt realized he was greeting the man Dylan and I had been fighting about. But he recovered quickly. “Thomas, yes. Lacey says you’re the reason she’s been able to book us so many shows.”
Before Thomas could issue his denial, Gavin continued. “Of course, we all know it has more to do with her persistence and drive than anything else.”
The grin on Thomas’s face grew tenfold. “I keep trying to tell her that, but as you know, she’s stubborn.”
That cracked the ice, and the situation thawed considerably. Levi joined us next, and when Daisy and Dylan came our way, they found the six of us raucously conversing at a table on the other side of the bar. That part was abandoned because the stage was obscured from those seats. Lucky us. I can’t say I particularly liked the headlining act.
Daisy inserted a chair between Luma and Gavin. Levi and Jane scooted so Dylan could sit as far away from me as possible. That put him in prime position to glare. To be fair, he did split the malice evenly between Thomas and me.
That is, until Levi leaned over and said something short and sharp in his ear. Then Dylan looked everywhere but at me. No matter, I was determined not to let him spoil this unexpectedly good turn on a bad night. My friends had finally met Thomas, and he was charming them all.
Chapter Fourteen
THOMAS STAYED AT MY APARTMENT for four days. Turns out he was in Michigan on business. He offered to get a hotel room, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I only had one bedroom and one bed, but I was more than willing to share it with him.
Kiss Me Goodnight Page 14