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Imari might have jokingly called Rhys a rock star, but Theo Decker actually was one. He and Rhys’s best friend, Caleb, had gotten together last year, when Theo was the lead singer of Riven. Riven was famous enough that even I knew of them and would have recognized Theo if I’d passed him on the street. Theo had quit the band in December and released his debut solo album about a month before Rhys had released his.
I’d never met Theo when he was still with Riven, but Rhys said Theo was like a different person now. Happy and calm, without the weight of a fame he’d hated around his neck.
Theo was easy to like, but Caleb . . . I still had a hard time with him sometimes.
Caleb was intense and moody, and would have intimidated me even if he’d never been Rhys’s lover. But he’d known Rhys when I was still a snot-nosed kid, and they had been partners in every sense of the word: friends, lovers, collaborators. Caleb was the story I’d sensed in Rhys the first night we met, and since then I’d heard all of it. They’d worked together, played together, written together until Caleb’s drug use had broken them up.
He was clean now and living with Theo, and there had been a time when I hadn’t been able to help but wonder if, since Caleb wasn’t using anymore, maybe Rhys would rather be with him than me.
One night soon after I’d moved in, I’d woken up to a knock at our door, and Rhys had shushed me back to sleep. But hours later, I went downstairs to find them in the living room. They’d moved around each other in a perfect choreography of intimacy, and I’d felt my brief grasp at happiness crumble around me. Caleb had looked up and noticed me, sketched a wave and a head nod, and then spoken to Rhys like I wasn’t even there.
“He’s embarrassed to have you see him like that,” Rhys explained when he left, and I nodded. But all I could think was: Somehow I got you when he was out of the picture, and now that he’s back it’s very clear who you should be with. It’s only a matter of time until you realize it too.
One night, drunk on whiskey and orgasm, I accidentally said as much to Rhys and he looked shocked. Then he looked furious.
“I’m not in love with Caleb,” he said, eyes blazing. “I haven’t been since before he went into rehab that first time, years ago. Do you seriously think I would have married you if I was in love with another man?”
I’d stared at him, unsure of what to say, because the truth was that I didn’t know. I didn’t know how it all worked, and I still wasn’t sure what stroke of luck had allowed me to find Rhys in the first place, or what magic had made him love me.
“All your songs are about him,” I’d said finally.
“Not the new ones.” He’d slipped his hand around the back of my neck and slid his fingers into my hair. His eyes were warm and soft. “Not a single song I’ve written since the day I met you.”
After that he’d gone out of his way to be clear about him and Caleb. That what he felt now was friendship, care, protectiveness, ambition—all of them strong and committed—but none of them love. I had believed him, but whatever spectral worries still lingered late at night were swept aside like cobwebs the first time I saw Caleb with Theo. They were stupid in love.
This evening, Caleb and Theo came over, and we grilled burgers and drank lemonade in the backyard, trying to catch a breeze as the sun went down.
I let my eyes drift half closed and listened to them chat about the latest goings-on in their corner of the world. They spoke another language when they were talking about music, full of unfamiliar people and band names and musical terminology, and I enjoyed letting it wash over me until a piece I could recognize and grab on to floated by.
“Oh, did you hear about Tara’s record deal?” Caleb said after a while, and I tuned back in. Tara Symons was one of Rhys’s oldest friends in the business. She was a studio musician, like him, and she played every instrument on the planet. She was one of the musicians that Rhys always talked about who was a zillion times more talented than most of the people who were famous or successful, but who just never got a break.
“What? No!”
“Yeah, I don’t know the details—she just signed yesterday. But, Jesus, it’s about time.”
Rhys toasted her with his lemonade. “Remember when she played on Nicky Z’s acoustic album and made him look like a total fool?”
