“What the fuck does that mean?” she says in a voice that seems to come from the depths of hell. The voice I imagine people use right before they kill someone.
“Uh…nothing,” I say, my voice barely a squeak. “Seriously…it’s just a joke—”
Suddenly, as quickly as she turned cold, Lexi cracks up into a loud, deep laugh, doubling over as she heaves out huge hoots and snorts.
“I’m sorry,” she says, in between deep gulps of air, “I’m just playing with you.”
“Fuck!” I say, laughing myself, though more from the release of nerves than humor. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were going to kill me or something!”
“Ha!” Lexi giggles, picking up her phone and heading out the door again. “No. If I wanted to do that then you wouldn’t even see me coming.”
Chapter 11
Brando
I decide to give Haley a little space the day after her ‘tour’ of NYC. I’ve never been a patient guy, but then again, Haley’s got me doing a lot of things I never thought I’d do for a girl before. Sometimes you just have to load the bases before you try and hit it out of the park, and right now, I’m closer than I’ve been for a long time. I’m not going to fuck it up at the last moment.
Just after midday, I hear the news, and wonder if I fucked it up at the last moment anyway.
I’m in Brooklyn, at one of the guitar stores I visited with Haley the day before, arranging a pick-up for an amp she liked, when I get the email on my phone. Haley’s pulled out of her slot, and another support artist will be announced soon. I check a few more news sites, almost every one of them confirming her cancellation, the comment sections a shit-show of angry, snarky fans. What the hell is going on?
I’m on the phone to anyone I can get before I even hail a cab, only interrupting the call to hand him a hundred dollar bill and tell him it’s for the speeding ticket.
“Who the fuck did this? How the hell did nobody talk to me about cancelling a fucking show...I haven’t spoken to her since last night! …Well if you didn’t, then who the fuck did?”
I try calling Haley’s phone but it’s turned off, so when I get to the hotel I make a beeline for her room, sliding my key frantically and then slamming the door open like a police raid.
“Haley!”
“What the fuck?!” she says, from the bed where she’s up to her neck in a thick duvet, her hand poking out of it clutching a steaming mug.
“What the hell’s going on?” I ask, marching to the end of the bed. “You’re cancelling the show?”
“I’m sick.”
“But you sound fine! Wait here, I’ll get a doctor,” I say, taking a few strides toward the door.
“I’ve already seen one,” Haley calls, stopping me in my tracks. I turn back.
“What did he say?”
“That if I keep singing without a rest I could fuck up my vocal cords. Permanently.”
I drop myself onto the plush couch at the other end of the suite and cast a hand over my eyes.
“Fuck,” I whisper angrily to the ceiling. “You should have come to me first.”
“Why? Do you know how to perform throat surgery?” Haley quips after a sip of her tea.
I sigh, not in the mood for jokes. “This is bad. Tonight was what this whole tour has been leading up to. The biggest gig of them all. The one we’ve been publicizing the most. Now that—”
“Stop, Brando,” Haley interrupts curtly. “Do you think I don’t feel bad enough already?” I look her in the eye and see the disappointment there, the shame, and I know without a doubt that what she’s saying is true. This isn’t just nerves, or spite. Shit.
“I’m sorry,” I say, getting up off the couch and walking over to her. I sit myself down on the edge of the bed beside her and stroke her hair. “Is there anything I can get you?”
Haley looks around the room. “Well this tea could do with a refill,” she says, offering it to me. I take it and start to stand up, but Haley grabs my arm. “And there is one other thing…”
“What?”
She pauses before answering.
“Go on,” I urge her. “Anything you want.”
“I’d still like to see the show.”
“Lexi’s show?”
She nods.
I take a deep breath and look away. “You’re sick. Are you sure that going to a show is a good idea? We could always just watch it streaming online, with my laptop, or—”
“Please,” she says, still clutching my arm. I look down at her and she smiles.
I’m going to have to learn to say no to her one of these days.
If she’s not going to be up on stage, it’s only right that Haley gets the best seat in the house. I pull the strings to make sure we get a VIP box for ourselves, her bandmates and crew in another. Seeing an ex-girlfriend’s show with the girl I want to make mine isn’t exactly the kind of thing I had in mind when I thought about winning Haley over, but I’ll take what I can get. This tour has turned into a daily round of surprises, and I’ve learnt pretty quickly to roll with the punches.