Who used “password,” anyway? No one. That’s who. No one who actually wanted privacy. This couldn’t even be considered hacking, really. That password wasn’t a password at all. It was a red carpet, rolled out. An invitation.
Blair directed a fleeting glance at the woman in the window seat. She’d leaned back and closed her eyes.
Good, Blair thought, bending forward over the phone. No time for idle chitchat. Not tonight. Not when there were Twitter feeds to check. Private messages to read.
And reread.
And reread.
And reread…
Time Stamp 12/29/16, 9:03 a.m.
Tessa H: I can’t believe this is happening.
Taylor: I know. I’m so psyched. I’m all packed and ready to go. Just tell me where and when.
Tessa H: I don’t know… I’m not even sure I’m going.
Taylor: Tessa, you have to! It’s Eric Thorn. You’ve never seen him live before. When are you going to get a better chance than this?
Tessa H: Just give me a sec. I need to do my deep breathing.
Taylor: What does your therapist say?
Tessa H: She thinks I should go. Make it like a New Year’s resolution.
Taylor: Exactly! Tessa, you can do this.
Tessa H: I just have this horrible feeling. Promise me nothing bad is going to happen.
Taylor: Nothing bad. Only good. Very, very good.
Tessa H: You promise?
Taylor: I promise. Now promise me you’ll come.
Tessa H: OK, OK. It’s a club in Midland, Texas. The Trail Dust Honky-Tonk Saloon. Meet me there on New Year’s Eve at exactly 6:00 p.m.
Those messages had passed back and forth two days ago, and already Blair had read the exchange a hundred times. It always felt the same. The same ripple of elation bubbling up—the high that came back stronger every time, with every glimpse inside.
The giddiness would only last for a moment. It would be replaced again soon by the feeling that came next. Irritation, to begin with, imagining the words on the screen spoken aloud. Something about that fantasy never failed to set Blair’s teeth on edge.
Blair used to think it was the sound of the voice itself. Too high. Jarring. Juvenile. There was something slightly off in the pitch or cadence, some indefinable flaw that had never quite done justice to the perfect bone structure of the face. Such a shame, really. Some people were better as a silent image, caught on film—seen and not heard. A physical specimen, perfectly preserved, without all those inconvenient words to mar the visual.
It wasn’t just the sound of the voice though. Blair understood that now. These DM conversations made it clear. It was something in the words themselves and the thoughts they represented. Ever since Blair began following their correspondence, the feelings went far beyond mere irritation. Something deeper, darker. An undying anger. A fury at them both.
But mostly at the interloper.
The obstacle.
The one who needed to be removed. Erased. Blotted out, like a bad dream.
The one who didn’t deserve to be in the picture in the first place.
Soon, Blair thought, with eyes slowly drifting closed. It would happen. Soon enough.
21
PRIVATE PARTY
Eric stood outside the Trail Dust Honky-Tonk Saloon beneath the emblazoned marquee:
Happy New Year’s!
Closed for Private Party
Of course, the sign didn’t say just how private the party would be. Eric couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the absurdity. Even before he got his record deal, he’d never played a live show for an audience quite this small. He’d be flying solo tonight without his usual crew. No backup singers. No hip-hop dancers. No elaborate concert pyrotechnics. Just a single pair of eyes staring back at him as he took the stage alone, with her therapist lurking somewhere in the shadows.
Eric rubbed his dampened palms against his jeans. It must be almost six by now. She should be pulling up any moment.
Maury had really outdone himself with the choice of venue tonight. Admittedly, it couldn’t have been easy to find an empty club on New Year’s Eve, but still… Was this really the best that Midland, Texas, had to offer? A dilapidated roadside club on an abandoned stretch of highway, miles from anything that could even pass for a downtown? Eric had seen a grand total of one big-rig truck pass by in the entire time he’d been standing out there. Otherwise, no sign of another living soul as far as the eye could see. Was that an actual tumbleweed rolling around in the parking lot?
He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he’d worn something warmer than a thin leather motorcycle jacket. He’d expected mild weather. The temperatures had hovered in the midsixties since he rolled into Texas this morning, but he could feel a change in the air tonight. Must have been some late-December cold front blowing in. He could see the dark storm clouds gathering overhead.
Maybe it was a good thing that Maury had chosen this dump. Eric should consider it a stroke of luck. He usually had to contend with gate-crashers when he gave a private show. Somehow, the location always leaked, and the local fans showed up in droves. But not out here in the middle of Nowhereville.
Everything was going according to plan, Eric reassured himself. It was just a matter of a few more moments before the car would pull into the parking lot. The door would pop open…and he would finally catch a glimpse of the face he’d been waiting to see for months.
So why did he feel this urge to run away and hide?
It must have been the silence out there, playing on his nerves. It was getting downright eerie now that night was falling. Tessa should have been there by now. Something must have happened to delay her. Eric stuffed his hands into his pockets, straining to see down the empty span of highway that stretched out in both directions. He heard the faint rumble of an engine in the distance. He held his breath as he listened to the sound approach.
The vehicle came into view, and Eric scuffed the bottom of his shoe against the pavement. Not Tessa. Just a rundown-looking Greyhound bus, speeding down the highway in a cloud of dust…
Eric reached for his phone. Had he misunderstood the plan somehow? He pulled up Twitter and ran his eyes once again over the DMs from this morning.
Time Stamp 12/31/2016, 9:23 a.m.
Taylor: We’re still on for tonight, right?
Tessa H: I’ll be there. I’m starting to get excited now.
Taylor: Awesome. Excited to meet Eric?
Tessa H: More scared to meet Eric. Excited to meet you. Or maybe the other way around? I honestly don’t even know. This whole thing is surreal.
Taylor: Don’t be scared. It’ll be OK.
Tessa H: You don’t think it’ll be crowded, do you?
Taylor: What are you talking about? It’s a private show. Just you and me, and some douchebag up onstage, serenading us for our first dance.
Tessa H: But what if other fans find out and try to crash? It could be a total mob scene.
Taylor: Tessa, stop. You’re catastrophizing.