“There will be no doing of any kind,” I say tightly. “And no, it was the little old women who did this to me. Ann said I looked like a cheapskate running around with broken glasses.”
“She was right,” Mick says, an amused glimmer in his eyes. “Or like a guy who got his bell rung one too many times.”
He’s referring to how my glasses came to be misshapen at the boxing gym. While I wish I could say some guy punched them in a match that I ultimately won, fist raised in victory, it didn’t go down like that. On my first visit to Bell’s, I hit the heavy bag, and it rebounded and smacked me directly in the face. Hence the dented glasses.
Liam had promised not to tell anyone other than Mick, who “deserved to know” since it was his gym.
“Very funny,” I say. “Let’s talk about the show.”
Rob is all about strategizing, so I know this will distract him—and he, in turn, will distract Mick.
We’ll be performingin front of a big crowd tonight. Bigger than any we’ve performed for before, and then we’re doing it again tomorrow night, same venue.
Sold out, our manager said.Sold out.
If I let myself think about it too hard, my anxiety will spin out. I’ll start thinking about how I could fuck up, and the whole band will stumble without the road beneath them.
I check my phone later that night, before we go onstage, and there’s a text from Nora?—
A selfie of her sitting beside Cookie, who’s giving her a distrusting glare.
Sorry, but now we’re BFFs. She’s going to miss me when you come home.
Remember to imagine everyone in the crowd as NPCs. Like, truly obnoxious ones.
You’re welcome.
I quickly reply:
Okay, robot overlord.
I’m grinning as I tuck the phone away. And what do you know? I don’t feel the slightest bit nauseous.
I play flawlessly all night, each note vibrating through me like a second heartbeat. And every time I look out at the crowd, Iimagine everyone in the crowd as a bunch of NPCs—as if we were playing some cosmic version of The Sims, and they were ordered to attend our concert.
Every time I think about it, I think about Nora.
I’ve never smiled so much during a concert.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NORA
Text conversation with Cormac
How’s it going over there?
Great. Dogs love me.
If the brewery thing doesn’t work out, I’ll become the spiritual successor to the Dog Whisperer.
How was the first show?
I didn’t puke.
Congrats?
I usually have to puke before every show.
