“So Maysie and the other girls are coming up this weekend. That’ll be…fun,” Sophie hedged, looking at the menu.
Sophie really was pretty with curly brown hair that fell to her shoulders and nice brown eyes. She had a sweet innocence that was appealing. She was quiet and on the shy side and made me feel as though she needed protecting.
It seemed I had a thing for the girls I felt the need to take care of.
I had to stop thinking about Gracie.
It would only lead to all sorts of trouble.
Crap.
Now I was thinking about Gracie.
Her smile.
Her laugh.
The way she rolled her eyes at my lame attempts at jokes.
The cute little birthmark shaped like a heart on the inside of her thigh…
Stop it, fuck face! Look at your nice girlfriend!
Sophie looked nothing like Gracie.
Gracie.
Messed-up-but-I-couldn’t-get-enough-of-her Gracie.
Cue the minor heart attack and need to upchuck all over the table.
Sophie cleared her throat and pushed hair out of her eyes. I remember how much I liked her in high school. She had been the first girl I had ever gone on a date with. I had been a total dork back in the day. Talking to girls left me stuttering and unable to formulate sentences. And Soph had been the new girl who had taken pity on the socially inept dweeb who wore tube socks way past when it was acceptable to do so.
It hadn’t been a relationship by any means, only a few dates. She let me kiss her and touch her boob once and then it had fizzled out. No messy break-up or tears. We just sort of stopped hanging out.
The truth was that before she came back into my life, I hadn’t thought of Sophie Lanier in years. Not until the night we ran into each other at Barton’s.
“Sure,” I said, staring so hard at the menu I’d have the damn thing memorized.
“Is something wrong, Mitch? You’re really tense?”
I forced my shoulders to relax and I looked over at Sophie and gave her, what I hoped, was a sincere smile.
“Like I said, I’m just hungry. You know I can be a real diva until I up my calorie intake,” I teased.
Sophie’s face darkened. “Is this about Gracie?” she asked quietly. Too quietly.
I feigned surprise. “Gracie? What are you talking about?” God, I sounded like I had sucked down helium.
Sophie sighed and turned her attention back to the menu. “I’ll be glad when this tour is over. I think everyone is a little frayed around the edges,” she murmured. I was glad the topic of Gracie had been sidelined for the time being.
Crisis averted.
“Yeah, this tour has been pretty draining. It feels like no matter how much our shows rock, it just isn’t good enough anymore. At one time our music was the only thing that mattered. Now it’s all about ticket sales and single downloads.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t honestly think being a rock star was a long-term career goal, did you?” Sophie laughed and I looked at her in surprise, shocked and a little hurt by her dismissal.
“No, we didn’t think that, but it’s something we’ve always loved doing. And how many people can say they make money doing something they’re passionate about?” I threw back, feeling myself get defensive.
Sophie shrugged, looking back at the menu. “Well you’re not exactly making a whole lot of money anymore, are you?”
“Ouch. Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you,” I snapped.
What the fuck was this?
Sophie laughed again and shook her head. “Don’t get so bent, Mitch. It’s just an observation. You’ve got to be sick of being on the road all the time. Maybe you should think of something else to do with your life since pretending to be The Rolling Stones isn’t really working out.”
“If being on the road sucks so much, you could always go home. I’m not keeping you here,” I told her.
Were we having a fight?
We never fought.