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“You’re okay. It’s okay. No one knows that it’s you yet. We can keep things on the DL for the next few weeks. It’ll be fine. If anyone asks me, I’ll just say no comment.” Vince, to his credit, is surprisingly calm.
“I’m gonna get ready for the day, and then we can strategize,” his voice is level and soothing, “Okay? You … you have emails to check, right?”
I nod mutely. “I always have emails,” I mumble.
“The third constant in life, right? Death, taxes, and emails,” Vince jokes. He kisses my forehead and squeezes my shoulder before returning to his room.
I take a deep breath and re-open my inbox. It takes a few minutes, but soon I’m consumed by the steadying monotony of my job. I email a local coffee shop to see if they’re still good to cater for load-in, then I check back in with the vegan bakery that’s agreed to make a cake for tonight since it’s, according to the media, “a historic show.” It’s going to be okay.
Later, there was a knock on my door. I open it, surprised to see both Vince and Priya standing before me.
“I called in reinforcements,” Vince explains. Priya looks sympathetic, wearing a red wrap dress.
“Fuck the press,” she mumbles before pulling me into a hug. I melt against her. She’s surprisingly strong, and she smells like jasmine.
“Now, do you have any social media accounts?” she asks primly before setting up shop at the desk.
“Yeah, but they’re all private,” I say.
“Excellent. Now, is your phone number anywhere that would be considered public? Do you have it in your email signature?”
“Yeah, but that’s for work,” I start.
“Remove it. And, while you’re at it, get used to getting a new phone number every six months or so,” she explains.
“Okay,” I mumble. If anyone knows how to survive online vitriol, it’s Priya. At the moment, I can’t help but be grateful for her.
“Oh, and while you’re at it,” Priya starts; I look at her with bated breath, “Did you two little love birds have fun at the Spiral Jetty last night?” Priya coos.
Vince elbows her. I can’t help myself. I start to laugh. “Yeah, we had a good time.”
“And no one can take that away from you, okay? At the end of the day, the two of you are the only people in your relationship, got it? Not the press, not the fans, just you and Vince, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. My heart rate finally returns to normal. Priya’s right. Fuck the press! Everything’s going to be fine.
The rest of us troop down the block to meet at a diner for breakfast. Henry and Apollo shoot me sympathetic looks. I assume they’ve seen the photo, but I don’t care. I guess that’s what happens when you sign up to date a public figure; you learn to drown out the noise.
Wait, fuck!
Are we dating? And why do I feel like I don’t care if we are? Last night was a turning point for Vince and me. It was the best first date of my life, and nothing can ruin that.
We pile into a seafood green vinyl booth and order a pot of coffee. Vince reaches for my hand beneath the table. I grab it and squeeze it. I order blueberry pancakes. Vince orders eggs and toast. Apollo and Henry dig into omelets the size of their faces. Priya poses for a photo with the waitress when she brings Priya her oatmeal. Just like that, we’re back to normal. Vince and my relationship isn’t so much as a second thought.
After breakfast, we decided to get coffee down the street. My phone buzzes as we walk along, looking for a promising coffee shop. I fish it out, expecting it to be the venue, but it’s my mom. My stomach plummets. I almost consider not picking up, but that would be weirder. I always pick up the phone when my mom calls if I’m on the road. If I don’t pick up, she’ll expect that something is up.
“Hey, Mom,” I say.
“Is that your mum?” Priya asks.
I nod.
“Hey, Lynds! How’s it going?” she asks.
“Good! We’re at breakfast right now.”
“We, as in, you and the band?” I can hear the excitement creeping into her voice. It took a record-breaking ten seconds.
“Yeah, who else would I be getting breakfast with?”
