Vincent looks embarrassed and pissed. “No, but I’m sure you’re not going to shut the fuck up until you tell me and the entire world.”
“The kid,” she says, excited and harshly gloating. “This is Neil Stanton’s girlfriend, Vinny. The kid is fucking”—she can hardly get the words out—“Manny’s toss-overs and you’ve been chirruping all night that you think he’s gay.”
She curls on the couch and surrenders to her laughter. My entire body is covered with a burn and I feel like I’m going to vomit. I don’t know which is worse: hearing myself called Manny’s toss-overs or having them spread such a ridiculous, vicious rumor about Neil our first day on tour with them.
She says, “Manny’s toss-overs. Most definitely not gay, Vinny.”
Vincent grabs Nicole’s arm and jerks her from the couch. “Shut the fuck up. You’ve said enough. You’re embarrassing us both.”
“Go to hell,” she screeches, struggling in his hold.
Vincent glances down at me. He looks sincerely apologetic. “I’m sorry, love. She’s drunk. She’s a mean drunk. Don’t take her seriously. My apologies.”
He starts dragging her out of the room and Nicole fights him the entire way, hitting his arm over and over again in a flurry of wayward fists.
I stare at the room, wishing I could drop through the floor since it’s obvious by the stares that more than a few people heard them. I want to die. That’s all there is to it.
I search the room trying to find a safe place or a friendly face. Why in the hell did I ever think joining Neil here would be a good thing? I’d forgotten how awful the music world can be, though I shouldn’t have. And I can’t believe that I did.
Oh no, I should have remembered before I came here with Neil.
A flashing memory rises in my head of being trapped in Alan’s bedroom, being forced to hear Kenny Jones say he fucked her and dumped her thirty minutes ago. The icky feeling runs across the surface of my flesh, just as it did that night in New York, bringing with it other things I’d forgotten as well.
When Alan and I weren’t alone, it was awful. He was a different guy, the circle around him was dreadful, and shocking and hurtful moments jumped out at me from everywhere.
It is going to be the same here. Neil will be a different guy when we are not alone. Life on the tour will not exist without regular doses of heart-crushing and awful. I shouldn’t have done this. I should have moved back to Santa Barbara. I should never have brought myself here.
I lift my chin, somehow managing composure, and work my way through the people to the tiny circle of Josh and the rest of the band. I internally contain a shudder, since they don’t look very welcoming and they’re not making the slightest effort to hide that they’d heard that ghastly scene.
I look at Josh. “Do you know where Neil is?”
He tosses down a sip of his drink. “He’s where he is before every performance, Chrissie. Somewhere quiet where he can think.”
“Can you tell me where?”
Josh glares at me. “Leave him the fuck alone. Don’t run to him and dump your shit all over him. For one day can you not fuck with his head?”
My cheeks color like a burn. We stare at each other, but it’s Josh who breaks off first, lowering his gaze to his drink.
“Go out the door and go left,” Les says, surprising me. “Just keep walking. You’ll see him eventually. He’s sitting alone in one of the exit tunnels. That’s where he usually goes to psych himself up for a performance.”
“Thank you, Les,” I say quietly, then head toward the door.
The hallway is less crowded and I can see that road crew has started clearing a path for the guys to get onstage. I peek into exit tunnels, and then ahead of me I see one of the security team standing in an archway and I know that is where Neil is.
I hold up my pass, but the sentry doesn’t let me through. He says, “He doesn’t want to be bothered.”
I peek around his hulking form and beyond him I see Neil. He’s sitting almost on the floor, crouched, back against the wall with hair tumbling forward. He’s still, perfectly still, and he looks intensely quiet, a touch sad—though I don’t know why he would be sad, tonight is a big night for him—and definitely nervous.
Maybe I shouldn’t bother him. There is something about how he’s sitting that screams he wants to be alone.
“Five minutes,” blares a voice from the walkie-talkie.
The security guy looks in at Neil. “Five minutes, man.”
Neil looks up and sees me. “It’s OK. Let her through, Clive. That’s my girlfriend, Chrissie.”
Clive steps out of the way. I make my way down the concrete decline until I reach Neil. He doesn’t move. He just sits there. I don’t know what I’m seeing, what this is. But it makes my distress, that hideous scene with Nicky which made me want to run to the safety of Neil, seem instantly insignificant.
Josh’s voice fills my head. Don’t run to him and dump your shit all over him. I crouch down until we’re at eye level and silently I reply, I’m not going to, Josh. I love him. Why don’t you get that and leave us alone?
“Hi.” Neil’s voice is faint, nearly all breath. “I was wondering where you were.”
“I was wondering where you were. What’s going on?”
He shakes his head. “Just thinking.”
He takes my body in his hands, turns me and then sets me with my back against him. He instantly surrounds me with his legs and arms, and I’m suddenly reminded of the night in his van when I confronted him and he told me his history with Andy Despensa. He feels just like he did then, as if he’s filled with troubling stuff he doesn’t want to share and is embarrassed over.
He lets out a long, shuddering breath and buries his lips in my hair. “I’m scared, Chrissie. I’ve never performed in front of such a large crowd. I don’t want to fall on my ass. I don’t want to do this.”
His words don’t surprise me, though I’m not exactly sure how to deal with this. This is new for me. Neil unsure, doubting himself.
“Then don’t. We can fly home.” I close my hands around his wrists, stretching out our arms and making a silly flapping motion. “Then you can surf. And I can do nothing. If you don’t want to do this then don’t.”
A reluctant laugh fights its way out of his chest. Good. I’ve amused him.
“You can do nothing, rich-girl. I have to work.”
“Then go out there. Work.”
His laughter comes a touch less strained. He melts into me, his hands gently caressing my arms. “You are a pretty cool girl. Have I ever told you that? You’re not blown away by any of this. You don’t get impressed. Nothing will ever pull you into the hype. Wherever you are, you are always just Chrissie.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing being just Chrissie,” I say in a silly, exaggerated way, and Neil relaxes into the wall, laughing.
He kisses my head. “A very good thing. You are the only thing real in my world right now. Don’t change. Not ever.”
“I won’t.” I turn in his arms until I can face him. I kiss him. “It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be great. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that.”
“I love you, Chrissie.”
I spring to my feet and pull him up by his hands.
“We’re going to be OK, Neil.”
He loops his arm around my shoulders and we walk toward the main corridor.
“You ready to do it?” Clive asks.
Neil nods and starts to leave, but we’re held back by a tree-trunk-size arm.
“I’ve got to clear the hallway. Give me a minute, Neil.”
Neil starts to laugh as Clive raises his walkie-talkie to his lips. He turns me to face him, holding me in a sloppy drape of his arms.
I frown. “What are you laughing at?”
He shakes his head and puts his nose against mine. “This. It’s fucking nuts. I walked down the hall alone to get here. No one gave a shit about me.”