Cross Me Off Your List

by Nikki Godwin

  “Nolan is what holds this band together,” Benji informs me. “The fans love him. Other bands love him. Everyone just loves this guy. He’s goofy, a lot like Tate, and he makes all of their videos hilarious.”

  “So he’s the one guy they can’t afford to lose,” I state. “He makes the band?”

  Benji quickly shakes his head. “Anyone is replaceable in the world of music,” he says. “But it does kill the dynamic and things are never the same. Trust me, though. We’re all expendable as far as the industry goes. We’re reminded frequently.”

  Seriously? Management tells them that they’re replaceable? Sure, there are tons of other people out there who would work equally as hard as these guys, and yeah, there are people with huge dreams who’d love to be as famous as Benji, but it sucks to actually be told that someone else could be you.

  “And last but not least, unless you’re Milo Grayson, is Isaac Torrey – guitar mastermind, secret producer, and musical genius,” Benji says.

  Secret producer? I wonder if a particular Branson sister maybe slipped that secret to Benji.

  “So do you plan on recording with him or something?” I ask. “Is there a solo record in your future?”

  Benji scrunches his nose but shakes his head, although I’m not sure I believe him. “Just nice to know people in the business who are there for the love of music and not the industry and all its red tape,” he says. “C’mon. I’m going to introduce you and make good impressions and all that stuff I have to do.”

  We walk across to where the band is mingling with fans, signing CD covers, and taking pictures. Chloe is lost in conversation with Nolan when we approach.

  “Dude, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Nolan says, leaning across the table to give Benji one of those secret guy handshakes that just looks stupid in reality.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Benji says. “She’s here with Noah.”

  “Ahhh. No wonder you brought her over,” Nolan says, slowly nodding the entire time like I’m not in on the secret.

  “Marisol,” I say, reaching over to shake his hand.

  “Nolan,” he says. “Your boyfriend Noah doesn’t like me. He thinks I’m trying to steal his bestie from him.”

  He immediately wraps Chloe up in a bear hug and squeezes her. I wasn’t aware that she and Noah were that close. He said they became friends during lockdown, but besties may be a bit of a stretch.

  Isaac glances over and cracks a smile, but then he tells Nolan to chill out because anything he does will be blown out of proportion. It makes me wonder if that’s why Isaac is standing a few feet away from Chloe, so the photographers can’t snap something and twist it.

  Benji quickly introduces me to Isaac before moving along to tell Derrick that the lyrics on track number eight are absolutely brilliant.

  I stand around awkwardly while Benji finally meets the bassist, but it’s over pretty quickly and we sit at a table with Jules and Sebastian’s Shadow’s drummer Pip.

  “Enjoying your night?” Benji asks, but his question is aimed at Jules rather than anyone else.

  To my surprise, Jules nods and says that’s it has been great to hang out with another band. Part of me thinks he’s saying it because he’s chilling with their drummer, but this sparkle in his eyes tells me otherwise.

  “Aralie’s getting to hang out with Tate, which is rare for her because of how clingy Darby is,” Jules says. “Milo has someone to sulk with, and I get to hang with Chloe and her favorite band, so I’m not going to complain about the date swap.”

  Benji hangs around a little long, but I make my way back over to the table where Noah waits with the model. Even after I sit next to him, I find my eyes wandering back to Sebastian’s Shadow and how the smile on Chloe’s face seems much more genuine tonight than it was when we were at Lights Out trying to score Benji a spot in the VIP section.

  Noah gives me a half-smile when I look back at him. “How’s the rock band?” he asks.

  I shrug. “They seem excited about their new album,” I reply. “Benji thinks the lyrics of track number eight are genius, and the blue-haired guitarist said you hate him, but other than that, it was pretty calm and boring.”

  Noah smirks. “I hate him, eh? Yeah, whatever,” he says.

  I laugh at his reaction. “That’s about what I figured,” I say. “I should’ve known he was just making up things when he said Chloe was your best friend.”

  “Well, she is one of them,” Noah says, taking me by surprise.

  He realizes it too by the jaw that I just dropped on the floor.

  “I spent most of lockdown hanging out with her,” he says. “I was the only one who knew about her and Milo. Tate knew about Aralie and Jules. Benji was the only one who wasn’t in on a secret.”

  No wonder he’s probably planning a secret solo career with Isaac as his wingman. His own band keeps him out of the loop.

  “Why would Jules tell Tate and not Benji? And why the hell is Tate Milo’s bromance and you’re not?” I ask, realizing how little I know about Spaceships Around Saturn.

  Noah holds up his hand. “Whoa. Slow down,” he says. “You’ve only been around for a week. You still have a lot to learn, in time. It’s okay.”

  I lean back in my chair, exhale a sigh, and fold my arms. Why does this feel like the first night all over again? I still know nothing about this band.

  “Let’s walk outside,” Noah says, standing and pushing his chair under the table. He holds out a hand, so I’d look like a bitch if I didn’t accept.

  He tells Tank that we’re stepping outside for some fresh air and asks him to keep Big Tony occupied so we can have a private conversation.

  We step down the hallway and walk out onto a balcony with small tables and metal chairs like a coffee shop patio. Noah motions for me to sit, and I do it, somewhat reluctantly.

  He sits across from me. “You want a Saturn lesson, then here you go,” he says. “We didn’t choose our bromances. The fans did. They chose them based off of our first set of promotional photos. Milo is my best friend in the group. If anyone is left out, it’s Tate, but he’s like everyone’s kid brother, so it works just fine.”

  I feel the need to withdraw from this conversation. I’m not some clingy, psychotic girl who has to know every detail of a guy’s life. Yes, I feel completely out of alignment with this Saturn ordeal, but it’s his life, and it’s not my place to ask for all the details of every moment.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I tell him. “Really. I just felt sort of on the outside, and it freaks me out when I’m in public and don’t know what to say. I’d be so embarrassed if the media found out that I didn’t even know who you were until a week ago.”

  “It’s okay,” Noah says, reaching across the table for my hand. “That’s why we’re crash coursing. I want you to know the basics that any Saturnite would know.”

  So he takes me back to the beginning, back to when he auditioned on a Canadian show equivalent to X-Factor or American Idol. He met Tate while standing in line. Noah advanced to the next round; Tate didn’t. Once Noah was eliminated, he checked in with his new friend, and they decided to audition again – together, as a group.

  “It worked for One Direction, so why not? Maybe it was crazy, but we manufactured a group ourselves,” he says.

  He explains that Tate knew Benji as a local coffee shop musician who was waiting tables and doing open mic nights, hoping to catch a break. Through Benji, they met Milo, a barista at the coffee shop where Benji performed on weekends.

  “Benji and Milo had actually talked music a lot, written a few things together, so they were a good fit,” Noah says. “Milo knew Jules. They met at a tattoo parlor.”

  Milo was in for his first tat, a string of music notes that are now wrapped from his forearm to his bicep. Jules was adding to the barbed wire fence tatted around his bicep. Jules told Milo there was nothing to the inking process, and they talked about music while Milo lost his tattoo-virginity.

  “So
when we needed a final guy to balance us out, Milo mentioned Jules, even though he doesn’t have the strongest voice,” Noah says, shrugging. “That’s where we screwed up, I guess. We should’ve been a four-piece.”

  “That’s harsh,” I say. I actually feel for Jules. He just wanted to make music and chase a dream like the rest of them.

  Noah sighs and looks out across the city lights and the dark sky. “I know. It’s pretty bad to say,” he admits. “It’s just how I feel. I wish I didn’t. I wish we had that perfect harmony and all got along, but it’s not always perfect.”

  “How did you guys come up with the band’s name?” I ask, hoping to redirect the conversation.

  Noah laughs. “That was all me, honestly,” he says. “When we auditioned as a group, we didn’t have a name, and they advised us to get one before the next meeting. I was so happy we got through, I was being stupid and said this was more exciting than flying spaceships around Saturn. Then we decided that’s what we’d be – Spaceships Around Saturn.”

  That’s when he admits that SAS had the same fate as practically every other group to ever compete in a music competition. They came in third. Luckily, a girl who knew people at a record label watched their journey and suggested them when the label needed new acts. I personally think this girl deserves a cut of the royalties. Noah can’t remember her name, though. He swears it’s Nadine or Nadia or something like that.

  “I have better stories,” he says. “But I’ll save those for later. I figure Big Tony will be out here in a few minutes, so we better get back. Tank can only keep him busy for so long.”

  I stand and push my metal chair under the table. Noah wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close to him as we head back inside.

  “There is one thing you know that the Saturnites don’t,” he says. I don’t have to ask. He reads my face. “You know what the rest of my mermaid tattoo looks like.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Having someone bang on your hotel room door when you were out way too late the night before is not the way to begin your Friday morning of your spring break week. The door is bolted, and the ‘do not disturb’ sign is out, so whatever crawled into that maid’s panties needs to let it be. She can beat the door down for all I care. I’m sleeping in.

  I turn over and bury my face into my pillow. Please, shut the hell up and stop banging on my freaking door. I came back to room 322 last night so I could sleep as long as I wanted. I adore Noah, but I needed some Marisol time after that release party. I don’t know why the Crescent Inn staff wants to crash my solo party.

  “Marisol!” Noah shouts. The banging on my door continues.

  I groan as I push myself out of bed. What could he possibly want at this hour? How is he even awake? I thought he’d sleep much later than I would today. Everyone was so exhausted last night.

  Noah pushes my door open as soon as I click it open. He doesn’t even ask to come in. He barges through the doorway and pushes the door shut behind him.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he demands. He doesn’t even flinch.

  “Well, good morning to you too,” I say, fighting back a yawn.

  “This isn’t funny,” he says. His face twists into this concoction of anger and offense. “One fucking interview and you couldn’t even get it right? Do you know what you’ve done? Do you have any idea at all what this has done?”

  Whoever said coffee was the number one way to wake up in the morning clearly never had a confrontation with Noah Winters.

  “Wait. What?” I ask. “I didn’t tell her anything. I kept it as minimal as possible, just like you said. I didn’t say we were dating or anything.”

  He scoffs, and now I’m offended. Does he think I ruined his status with the Saturnites by going with him? Are they mourning the loss of his singlehood? I know what I said last night, and it had nothing to do with dating Noah.

  “I cannot believe this,” Noah says, shaking his head. He paces the hotel room floor. “I don’t care what you think of her. You don’t know Chloe or what she’s been through with our fans. You had no right to say those things, especially when you knew anything you said would be blasted across every social media outlet in existence.”

  Chloe? Oh God. What did I say about Chloe? I defended her. I said she and Milo were strong and that rumors were just rumors. I said that Isaac was just someone she collaborated with for album art. What in the hell does he think I said?

  “Whoa. I didn’t say anything that could hurt Chloe,” I tell him. I’m mad that he even thinks I would do that. “I completely defended her. Whoever this source is wasn’t me.”

  Then he laughs. Condescendingly, at that. How can he take the word of some journalist with an anonymous source over mine? Has this week meant nothing? Has the mermaid tattoo meant absolutely nothing? There had to be a level of trust for that.

  “You know, I wish I could believe that,” he says. “But I saw the video, Marisol. I watched you say those words. I heard them come from your mouth. Stay away from me, my band, my brother, the Bransons, and anyone else connected to us, got it? Spring break is over.”

  He stomps out of my room before I can even process what he’s just said. A cold feeling rushes over my skin, that same nervous feeling I get before someone models a design I created. I want to throw up.

  I sit on the bed, wait until my breathing steadies itself, and then open my laptop. I type in ‘Spaceships Around Saturn’ in the search bar.

  News articles instantly appear at the top of the list. Chloe Branson Attends Sebastian’s Shadow Album Release – Sans Boyfriend. What the hell? Milo was here. I know the cameras got pictures of him. I keep scrolling. Trouble in Saturn Paradise? Sources Say Yes! I click the link.

  Say it isn’t so! Just as Saturnites were beginning to believe that the rumors of a Branson-Grayson split were indeed just rumors, it was proven that we got our hopes up way too soon! The boys of Spaceships Around Saturn were in attendance at last night’s album release party for rock band Sebastian’s Shadow. All eyes were on Chloe Branson and Milo Grayson, the Saturn power-couple said to be on the rocks due to cheating rumors that state Branson has been seeing Sebastian’s Shadow guitarist Isaac Torrey behind Grayson’s back, following Torrey’s divorce in prior months.

  I take a deep breath as I scroll through the pictures taken last night. I can’t say Aralie’s date swap plan was the smartest idea. Seeing Chloe posing with Jules makes me feel incredibly sick, and I haven’t even finished reading this stupid rumor mill.

  In a bizarre date swap, Chloe arrived with Jules Rossi, who has been dating Branson’s sister Aralie since last summer’s SAS lockdown. Aralie arrived with Rossi’s band mate, Tate Kingsley, and Grayson appeared on the red carpet with Kingsley’s girlfriend, Saturnite queen and famed YouTuber Darby McMillon of Darby’s Daily Dose of Drama.

  When asked about the odd switch up, Aralie Branson laughed and stated, “The media is always trying to make up some crazy story, so we thought we’d just give them something to talk about instead of starting more rumors.”

  Also arriving with unfamiliar dates were Benji Baccarini and Noah Winters. Brazilian model Alessandra Muniz was photographed throughout the night with Baccarini while Winters attended the party with a young brunette who spoke with our reporter prior to the release party.

  Oh my God. I can’t even click on the video link. But damn it, that’s me in my sparkly silver dress that I wore so I could ‘dress like a star’ for my stupid list. I take a deep breath and hit play.

  “Watch out, Saturnites! Milo Grayson may be back on the market soon,” a girl says as a picture of Milo pops up on the screen. “You’re all familiar with the cheating rumors that have been circling around the power couple of Saturn, but our own Chelsea Price caught up with Noah Winters’s date last night for an exclusive report on what’s going on in Saturn paradise. Check it out.”

  The clip rolls back to the footage from last night of all of us stepping out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk and into th
e mass of camera flashes. There’s a shot of me with Noah, all too close. I guess that’s to prove my credibility. The video immediately jumps to me, frozen on the screen.

  “What’s the status with Chloe and Milo? Is there trouble in Saturn paradise?” the reporter asks into the mic, just as she did last night.

  “All couples go through things,” I say into the camera. There’s a slight glitch. “They know the truth about their relationship.”

  Holy freaking hell. They edited my words! I did not say that. Okay, I did actually say that, but that’s taken totally out of context. They’re using my words to insinuate something I didn’t even imply. Freaking hell.

  “So you’re telling me there’s nothing going on with Chloe Branson and Isaac Torrey?” the reporter prods.

  God, I don’t even want to hear my answer. What the fuck did I say last night? My face appears once again.

  “I haven’t known Chloe that long, and I can’t vouch for everything that happens in her life,” I say. Then the footage of me ends. It freaking ends! What about the part where I know I said Chloe wouldn’t do something to hurt someone? Or how I said the only thing Chloe was doing with Isaac was working on artwork? I said other things. Where are the other things?!

  “Ouch!” the hostess says back into the camera. “You heard the girl. It’s a bit cryptic, but I’m sure the Saturnites are already on the mission to figure out the truth. All I know is if Milo Grayson is back on the market, I want in!”

  The clip fades to black immediately. I would hyperventilate if I could, but my body hasn’t found its way out of my state of shock. How can this be happening to me? I literally met Noah a week ago in the hotel elevator because he was cute and made me feel more secure about my ice bucket because he had strawberry milk. I never asked for this fifteen minutes of fame bullshit. And if I had asked for fifteen minutes of fame, I would’ve worn one of my own designs – not someone else’s.