“Yeah,” he replies. “Your mom was already remarried, so I had to make do.”
“Congratulations.” Suddenly, I’m struck with the memory of the speech I just gave. What was it I said about marriage?
I rub the back of my head. “Uh. I know what I said earlier, but I’m sure marriage will be great in your case. Briar’s really nice.”
He claps me in the back, powerfully enough to almost propel me into the wall. “I want you to stand up with me, man.”
I know he means well, and I’m grateful for his friendship, but I’m standing outside the bathroom because I have to puke my guts out before getting onstage. The last thing I want to think about is making another speech that’s going to attract weird looks.
But I remember what Nora said about the importance of acting politely. It’s not a direct comparison, since I’m not looking to get laid in this situation, but the precept holds. He’s a good guy, and he’s become a great friend. He deserves politeness from me.
I nod. “Of course. I’d be honored.”
“Uh-huh, likely story, you salty bastard.” He grins. “But you’ll do it all the same, and I’m going to hold you to it. We’re getting hitched in the fall. October. Now, get in there so you’re ready for the stage.”
I want to be the kind of person who laughs and shakes it off. Who saysI’ve gotten the better of my nerves now, thank you very much. No puking is needed.But my stomach is still twisting atthe thought of everyone watching us—and if I go out there feeling like this, I won’t be able to lose myself to the music.
So I accept the person I am and nod to Liam before ducking into the bathroom.
When I emergefrom the bathroom, I find a little old lady waiting for me.Thelittle old lady. Her hair is dyed a soft purple, short and styled in waves around her face. Her eyes are periwinkle, which is arguably the best color name in the English language, surrounded by soft wrinkles. She’s elderly, but she doesn’t look like life has been a trial for her, more like an endless buffet of food more appetizing than the chicken casserole.
“Hello, my dear boy,” she says with a broad smile.
“Uh…hello again,” I say, instantly feeling awkward, both because I can’t seem to stop thinking of her as a little old lady and because I’m unsure of why she’s lingering next to the door to the men’s room.
“I think it’s time you and I had a little get-to-know-you talk,” she says. “I saw you at my tea table just now, but there wasn’t any time for pleasantries.”
Oh, shit. If there’s anything I could do without, it’s needless pleasantries. I can practically feel the seconds ticking by, the guys waiting on the stage…
Rob and Travis are pretty chill, but Mick, the rhythm guitarist, has a hell of a temper. I know this because he’s the owner of Ring Your Bell Boxing Gym, otherwise known as Bell’s, where both Liam and I work out.
I don’t go there in the daytime. Liam understands that it’s hard for me to be surrounded by other people grunting andpunching and potentially watching me do stupid things. Even harder when the overhead lights are turned on. They’re a flickering, snapping set of fluorescents that seem designed for torment. So we go a couple of nights a week after closing, and I bring in a lamp from home. We have Mick’s blessing, since we always clean up before we leave—and also because I offered to completely recode his website, which was terrible.
But Mick hates tardiness unless he himself is tardy.
“Oh, okay,” I say, feeling my skin crawl with impatience. I restrain myself from tapping my foot, barely. “I’m Cormac, Eugene’s son.”
“Of course, I know.” The woman beams at me. “We were introduced a few weeks ago.”
I honestly don’t remember where or how this happened, but I nod and smile, as one does.
“I have to say, dear, you seemed quite interested in what I was doing at the tea table earlier.”
I’m not sure how to respond, so I make a sound that’s somewhere between a grunt and an umph.
“I’m Dottie Hendrickson.” She glances up and down the hallway, and when no one stumbles our way, she says, “I know you need to get back to your band, but it’s of dire importance for us to speak.”
“Uh…no offense intended, but why?”
“I know your secret, my dear boy, and I’m going to help you.”
I shift my weight, trying not to look uncomfortable. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She laughs as if this is hilarious and then pats my arm. Usually I don’t like it when people I don’t know touch me, but maybe because of her aforementioned littleness and age, it doesn’t bother me.
“I’m speaking about Nora, of course.” She smilesbeatifically. “And I couldn’t be happier for you young people. You make a beautiful couple. I always thought you would. Ever since I saw you arguing at that Christmas party last year. There was something truly electric about your connection.”
Oh shit.
