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“Hi.”
“Ready for the show?” That’s the best I can come up with, apparently. I can’t remember being this nervous around a guy—ever.
Teddy doesn’t make fun of my awkwardness, which he absolutely would do under any other circumstances. Something pulls tight in my chest and refuses to relax.
“Yep.”
“I, uh, changed a couple of songs around.”
“Jaxon mentioned it.”
“He’s efficient then. We only just discussed it.”
“He mentioned that too.”
“Mentioned what?”
“Mentioned that you twotalked. In yourdressing room.”
What he’s suggesting finally clicks.
“That’s seriously what you think? I’m working through guys to fuck in my dressing room?”
Teddy exhales, long and heavy. I think he’s possibly going to apologize for the insinuation. Confirm he knows that he’s the exception, not the norm. Before him, I never fooled around with a guy on tour. But he doesn’t backtrack.
“Are we done here,boss?”
I brush past him without answering and continue down the hall.
“Ready to hear my Scottish accent?” Maude asks me.
“No.”
She shares it anyway.
I down the rest of my whiskey.
We’re in the corner of a dark pub on Buchanan Street. Following the end of my show, I changed and let Maude talk me into experiencing authentic Scottish culture. In her mind, that was copious amounts of whiskey and a large array of questionable food. I’m positive the server said something contained animal blood. I avoided anything brown, but the cock-a-leekie soup—yes, Maude and I both laughed when the server suggested it—was actually pretty good. It had chicken in it—or at least something that tasted like chicken.
I’m not sure if the queasiness I’m experiencing is because I ate too much or drank too much. It could also be attributed to the fact that Teddy hadn’t so much as glanced at me since our encounter in the hallway earlier.
His commitment to this tour—to me—ended an hour ago. I don’t know when he’s leaving. He could be on a plane right now for all I know.
Would he do that? Leave without telling me?
A few days ago, I would have said there was no chance. Now, I’m not so sure. And the fear that he might is overwhelming. In a matter of days, I won’t have any family in Brookfield. No reason to return. It’s entirely possible I’ll never see Teddy Owens again. That panic mixes with all the other emotions I’m experiencing where he’s concerned. I try to drown it with a few more gulps of whiskey.
“Want to talk about it?” Maude asks me.
“No.”
She studies me for a minute, then nods. “Okay. How about we switch this place out for somewhere a little more upbeat?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I force some cheer into my tone.
Maude has come to a show on every tour I’ve gone on. The nights we’ve gone out afterward are some of my favorite memories on tour. Maude is much better at letting loose than I am.
We close and pay the tab. The street is crowded with other twenty-somethings enjoying themselves. I look down at the pavement as Maude pulls me in the direction of rap music.
