He grabbed for her hand again. She didn’t pull away from his touch. “Since you walked into this room, the only person I saw was you.” He dropped her hand, but she could still feel his skin lingering on hers.
He ran his hand through his hair. It had gotten longer since she’d seen him last. Musician hair, she thought. Rock star hair. “Hell, I think since the moment I met you, you’ve been the only person I’ve been able to see. At the very least, you’re certainly the only person I’ve wanted to see.” He let out a loud exhale. It was the sound of someone who had been holding his breath for a very long time. “I wrote this whole album for you.” Then he added, “I’m doing all of this for you.”
She surprised herself when she said, “I know.”
His smile was back and it’d crept into his eyes. “Of course you do.”
She heard the click of Marcy’s heels. She and Mikey were heading back toward them.
“We don’t have much time before they start letting everyone in,” Julian said.
“Everyone?” Lena wiggled her eyebrows in a way that she hoped was flirtatious. She’d never been talented at flirting. She’d come to learn that America was a very flirtatious culture, a land of innuendo and winks. Before, she’d never had to flirt with Julian. There had been no reason to. She’d had his attention and his love. She could be true with him, no pretense. No acting.
Mikey and Marcy stood off to the side. Marcy was swaying back and forth slightly, triumphantly clutching what appeared to be a gin and tonic. She took a refined sip. “Can we join you guys, or do you need more time to hash out this history I had no idea you had?”
Lena tried to swallow her annoyance at Marcy. She wished she would get a clue and just give her and Julian some space.
Marcy turned her shoulders to face Julian. “Can you believe what a hold-out Lena is? She only told me that she knew you.”
Julian didn’t take his eyes off Lena. She felt like a brat, but satisfaction bubbled in her stomach. “She does know me.”
“Yeah. But.” Marcy took another sip of her gin and tonic. “You know what I mean.”
“Julian,” Mikey interjected. “The show’s starting.”
Julian still didn’t take his eyes off Lena. Lena kept looking from him to Marcy to Mikey to the vacant stage and then back to him, and she always found his eyes locked on her. She held her breath.
“It’ll be different this time,” he said.
Her nerve was slipping a bit because of the presence of Marcy and Mikey, but she straightened her spine and demurred, “How do you know there will even be a this time?”
“Because I’m patient. And persistent.” He walked toward her, brushed her hair away from her face, and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Enjoy the show. I’ll see you after, okay?”
Once he and Mikey were gone, Lena found herself alone with Marcy, staring at the vacant stage.
“What the fuck, Len?” Marcy said. “You used to date Julian Oliver? You didn’t think to mention that?”
Lena looked down at her shoes, which had seemed so ratty moments ago. They didn’t seem so bad anymore. “I told you that I knew him.”
Marcy nudged her shoulder against Lena. “I always knew you were a badass chick, but damn.”
Lena wanted to smile, but she felt unworthy of the compliment. That’s another thing she’d decided about Americans. The only thing they loved more than being praised themselves was praising others. Oftentimes when it was inappropriate to do so. Nothing was cheaper in America than compliments. “He wasn’t a rock star then.”
She turned her head at the sound of the doors swinging open. Suddenly and without warning, the room began to fill with eager bodies. All of them buzzing with anticipation, all of them desperate to catch a glimpse of Julian Oliver.
The show started, and Lena tuned out for most of the opening act. It wasn’t that they weren’t good, but her mind wasn’t in a place where it was able to focus. The only thing she managed to note about the band was that they had a female bassist, and she was very pretty, and Lena pettily wondered if Julian had a) noticed how pretty the bassist was and b) if they’d ever had a thing. She found herself comparing her own looks to the bassist’s.
She looked back down at her shoes. They seemed scratched and worn again.
By the time Julian came on, she was knotted with worry and jealousy. Her head was foggy with confusion. But this show was so different from the one in Oak Falls. The music was on pace. The band composed. And when Julian started to play his songs, she felt the music drape over her like a blanket. Those songs were like lullabies.
So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone, especially herself, that three hours later she found herself in a chic candlelit restaurant, sitting across from Julian, nervously sipping her second glass of champagne.
“So how’d this all happen?” she asked.
“What?”
“You know what I mean. You went from zero to sixty.”
“You leaving was the kick in the ass I needed,” Julian said.
And this declaration made Lena both unbearably happy and unbearably sad. She took another gulp of champagne.
Julian explained to her that once she’d left, he, Marty St. Clair, and Chris had kicked the band into overdrive. They’d fired their previous drummer and found a new, much more talented guy. Every moment that Julian wasn’t working in his father’s store, he was writing new songs and practicing with the band. About a year after Lena left, they all drove out to a band showcase in Chicago.
Marty was pushy and charismatic enough to get them some face time with a record label rep. The rep clearly wasn’t expecting much and gave them the chance to play one song. Julian convinced the group to go with “Finally, Always,” and the rep ended up flipping for it. He signed them to the label with a small advance.
No one predicted the record would take off in the way that it did. But then two amazing things happened: 1) a much bigger, more established band had issues in the recording studio, which freed up some marketing money and b) a music critic at Rolling Stone fell head over heels for S.I.T.A.’s album when he was sent an advance copy to listen to. Before Julian knew it, the band was playing sold-out shows, and each venue seemed bigger than the last.
“What do your parents think?” Lena asked. “They must be so excited.”
Julian stared down at the table. “You know how they are. Mom is thrilled. Dad is …”
Lena reached across the table for his hand. “I’m sure he’s proud of you.”
Julian sighed and looked up. “I think he just thought I’d finally grown up, you know? I was working at the store. I was doing well. And then one day, I just didn’t show up.” He shook his head. “I took the cowardly way out. I told them over the phone.”
“I’m sure they understand.”
“Dad’s store is in trouble. It isn’t turning a profit anymore. I sent them a check in the mail, but Dad refused to accept it.” He continued to shake his head. “It’s like he blames me for the store closing. But it’s not my fault, is it?”