I looked down at the screen and saw his name and cell phone number.
“That’s my cell. Not my office number. Call it when you want to take me up on dinner. I’m just going to put it out there, Vivian. I want to take you out. I want you to go on a date with me. So call me, please.” Theo was earnest and sincere and I wanted to say yes.
I really did.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
I gave him a small smile and nodded, not able to think of any adequate way to respond.
I was living the life. I had everything I wanted. I was the king of the fucking castle.
At least that’s what I was trying to tell myself each and every day.
Because sometimes it was hard to remember that this is what I always wanted.
In the weeks since Raleigh, everything had been kicked into overdrive. Our shows were selling out faster and faster. And we were starting to get almost as much press coverage as the band we were opening for.
Last week, Jose had told me that I had been asked to do an interview for Spin magazine. I was stoked, until I registered what he said. I had been asked. Not the band. When I had said so to Jose, he said it wasn’t going to be a huge piece. Just a few questions. And they had specifically asked for me.
Then we had gotten the cover art of our new album. We had been excited to see it. Jordan had ripped open the box and pulled out a CD. He flipped it over and then promptly threw it in my lap, stalking off to the back of the bus.
Garrett and Mitch had grabbed one to see what Jordan’s problem was.
The picture of the band on the back was his problem. Because I was standing in the front. My body had been enlarged due to the perspective of the shot. Jordan, Garrett, and Mitch were shadowed behind me. You could barely see their faces.
I thought the picture was pretty awesome. The guys did not agree.
“We didn’t agree on this picture. We chose another one,” Garrett pointed out to Jose.
“I can put in a call to the label, but they have final say over the design and layout. I think it’s great,” was our manager’s response.
“Yeah, that’s because it’s not your nose stuck up Cole’s asshole,” Mitch muttered, tossing the CD back in the box.
“Stop your bitching, boys. It’s a great cover. They used Garrett’s artwork, which we wanted. What does it matter if they didn’t use the picture we wanted? This is our first album. That’s what’s important,” I reasoned. I was pretty proud of myself. I hadn’t gotten pissed; I had been calm and understanding.
Paging Oprah!
Mitch and Garrett mumbled their agreement but I knew that Generation Reject’s armor had some major chinks.
I took the CD back to my bunk, where I was beginning to feel I spent most of time. I stared at the picture that had caused such a problem.
I looked good. I grinned. This is what we had been working toward for the last five years.
My smile started to slip. I really didn’t see what the big deal was. Yeah, so the other guys were more in the background. So maybe you couldn’t see their faces clearly.
It was still a great freaking picture.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and automatically started to dial Vivian’s number. When it started to ring, I realized what I was doing and hung up.
I had just done it out of habit. Not a big deal. So what if I hadn’t spoken with her since Raleigh. The fact that I still haven’t hooked up with anyone else had absolutely nothing to do with her and everything to do with the fact that I had been so damn busy.
I ran my hands through my hair and sighed. Despite my arguments to the contrary, I couldn’t deny that I wanted to tell her about the CD. I wanted to talk to her about all this stuff going on with the band.
I didn’t realize how much I liked having someone to listen to my shit until I didn’t have that certain someone anymore.
What would it hurt to call her? It’s not like I was asking her to fly out and fuck me.
Though if she wanted to, I’d fly her out in an instant.