Opening Act (23 page)

Pernita just grinned at him over the rim of her champagne flute. After she'd taken a sip, she said, “You can say good-bye to them over the phone. And when you tell them why you're leaving early, what do you think they're going to say? You think their feelings will be hurt? Honey, they'll be over the
moon
. Their little boy is on his way to becoming a superstar.”

He shook his head. “They don't care about that kind of thing. They just want me to be happy.”

She laughed. “First of all, they
do
care about that kind of thing.
Everybody
cares about that kind of thing. And second, how will this
not
make you happy? Do you know who else is in this spread? Just three other singers.”

Shay examined his fingernails, trying to feign a lack of interest but sensing he wasn't doing a very good job.

“Don't worry, you don't
have
to ask,” she continued, “because I'm going to tell you. Piers Brandy of Mission Misters. Kyle Abromovitz of the Happiness Vector. And Mitch Prentiss of the Mitchell Prentiss Band.”

Despite himself, Shay felt his mouth open a little. Those were some pretty significant names. At least one of them was always peering out from the glossy celeb mags Shay passed on the corner newsstand every week. He was seriously, dangerously impressed. And yet, he resisted. He toyed with the stem of his flute, unwilling to look her in the eye. “I can't just
go
to New York. I haven't got anything to wear there. I can't show up looking like I do here. Especially in company like that.”

She leaned across the table and placed a hand over his. “Baby,” she said, in a tone of voice that let him know she was condescending to him and enjoying it, “little secret I learned: they have shops in New York. Some pretty good ones, even.” She sat back. “Plus, that's already arranged. I've got a meeting with a stylist all set up for the morning after we get there. He'll be taking you in hand, shaping your complete look.”

“Oh,” he said, rolling his eyes, “and how much is
that
going to cost?”

She winked at him. “Little present from me.”

He shook his head emphatically. “I can't accept a gift like that.”

“Then look at it as an investment. You're my client. Well, you're Daddy's, but I'm on his team. So anything I do for you now, I reap the benefits of later.” She ran her fingers up his arm. “Jesus, will you
cheer up
? I've just gotten you a spread in a national magazine, and all you have to do is get on a plane, instead of lying on your couch all day watching the Cartoon Network.”

“Syfy,” he said, gritting his teeth. “It was Syfy I was watching all day, and you
know
that, and it was only
once.
”

She blithely ignored this and looked over her shoulder. “You hungry at all? We could put in our names for a table here. Let me just find our waitress.” When she looked back at him, his face must still have been set in a frown, because she said, “Or we can go someplace else. Your call.”

What he wanted to do most was escape her. Never mind that everything she was doing was taking him further along the road he'd always dreamed of traveling. The way she was doing it was making him feel more and more like a passenger than the man at the wheel. And he hated it. He wanted to get away from her—flee into the night. Find Loni. Explain. Make peace. Make love. But he was paralyzed. He needed something. Some sign from the universe. Some
prompt
.

“Baby?” Pernita said. “Thoughts? About dinner?”

He couldn't answer. He could barely breathe. He sensed, somehow, that this moment was crucial. What he did now would drive his future in one direction or another—toward the career he'd always wanted or the girl he couldn't even be sure of.

His phone vibrated. He almost couldn't believe it. He'd asked for a sign, and here it was. It
had
to be. He raised his finger to signal Pernita to wait a moment, then took his phone from his pocket. It
was a text from Lockwood.
Sorry man Loni already has a guy, moving to Cali with him in a couple wks bummer but still, tour calling.

He read it over a few more times, then put the phone back in his pocket and turned to Pernita.

“Dinner here's fine,” he said.

CHAPTER 12

Pernita was right, of course. It took barely half the morning for him to pack up whatever of his life in Haver City needed transporting to New York. The rest he left in a pair of battered old suitcases to go on the van to Pittsburgh, where he'd meet the rest of the band to start the tour.

He'd been a little apprehensive about telling the others he was being whisked off to Manhattan for a magazine fashion shoot. He was sensitive about how, as the front man, he tended to overshadow the others in the band, and he often thought he picked up little currents of resentment from them…especially Jimmy. But in fact, they were almost unanimously excited for him—and for themselves.

“You know what this means for us, don't you?” Lockwood had said. “Your pitiful mug is somehow going to hypnotize gullible women and gay guys across our great nation to go straight to their smartphones and download
Grief Bacon
. We'll be millionaires by the end of the month.”

“The spread doesn't run till November,” he'd said, embarrassed.

“End of the year, then,” Lockwood corrected himself.

Trina hooted and cawed like a whole stadium full of football fans and told him, “Just show that ass, Dayton. Whatever they tell you,
show that ass
. It's a superfine ass, and if you've got
me
fucking telling you that, you better fucking believe it's down.”

Baby had, in his own laconic way, showed tremendous excitement, almost agitation. He'd muttered “Wow” seven or eight times, then said, “Opens some doors for us, you know?” Shay got a little nervous, hearing him go on this way, and told him to calm down, nothing was for sure.

It was, as Shay predicted, only Jimmy who'd felt obliged to spike his congratulations with a little acid. “Way to go, mic-man,” he said. “Just don't forget while you're swanning around with the goddamn glitterati that we're the ones who make you look good.”

His parents, too, proved Pernita right about them, which was maddening even though he'd known she was dead-on when she'd said it.

“But, sweetheart,” his mom had said, “this is the most wonderful news
ever
. Of course don't worry about Dad and me. Just get on that plane and
go
. You know what they say: don't knock opportunity once.”

He grimaced. “I don't think that's quite the way it's worded, Mom.”

“Or however it goes. You know what I mean. Do you think you'll make it home for Christmas?”

He hadn't even thought to ask about that. “I'm not sure.”

“Well, if not, maybe we can do the Skype. Dad got it working last month to see Cheryl's twins out in Nevada. Cute as all get-out. One of them knocked over Cheryl's computer and broke the Skype, though. So Dad keeps saying we can't use it anymore. I keep telling him, it's just on Cheryl's end, ours is fine. But you know how he never listens sometimes. Do you do the Skype?”

“I can manage it. And it's just Skype, Mom.”

“That's what I said.”

“No, you said
the
Skype.”

“I know. That's what you said, too.”

“No, I just said
Skype
.”

She gave a little exasperated sigh.
“Same as me.”

“No, Mom, you said
the
Skype.”

He realized he was rapidly spiraling into a conversational whirlpool of no return—an easy place to end up with his mom, so he always had to be wary—and strategically withdrew to an earlier point. “I'll find out about Christmas.”

“We'd love to have you. Also let us know if you're going to be on the TV anytime.”

“I will.”

“Or the Interweb. We do the YouTube, you know.”

“It's not
the
YouTube, Mom, it's…fine, yes, I'll let you know.”

There was a pause. “You don't sound very excited, honey. What's wrong? You want to go, don't you? I'd certainly
think
you'd want to go.”

“Yes, of course, it's…it's just. Well. You remember last time we talked, and I mentioned that girl I met?”

“Mm-hm,” she said, in a way he could tell meant she didn't, not quite. But it wasn't necessary.

“Well, I'm kind of leaving with that whole thing in a bad place. My fault, really. And I don't have time to make it up to her, and…and in the meantime, she's moving out west, and it's just a big freaking mess. That's all.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I'm sure there will be other girls. Lots of them, from what I remember about the club scene.”

He absolutely did not want to hear any more stories about his mom's adventures in the club scene; they had already scarred his adolescence. “Yeah,” he said, “but there's something about this girl. A thing I can't really describe. Like, she intrigues me. She shouldn't, but I can't help it. I…I think she may be, like, someone I'm meant to be with. Possibly. Sort of. Ish.”

She laughed. “You men and your qualifiers! You know your dad never tells me he loves me? Not in those words. Whenever I ask him, he just grins and says, ‘You'll do.' ”

“I know that, Mom.” He'd heard it often enough.

“Well, fine, Shay, let me play devil's advocate. You say this girl
may
be the one you're meant to be with. You're not sure, then.”

“No. But I'd like to be. I have a feeling.”

“Fine. Test it, then. Go to New York. Wade through all the girls that get thrown in your way. If you can make it through them and still be thinking of this one, then track her down and tell her so.”

“Yeah, but…” He shifted in his chair and scratched his knee, a nervous gesture. He was hearing what he needed to hear, but it embarrassed him that he had to hear it from his mother. He felt like he was fifteen or something. “Here's the thing. She's moving west with another guy. To be with him.”

She scoffed. “Oh, honey, you know that means exactly nothing. If this is a destiny thing, then who she's with now means less than zero.”

He smiled. “It's crazy how you always make it sound so easy.”

“Well, I'm a professional. Of course I make it sound easy. But it's not. Like they say on TV, ‘Don't try this at home.' ”

“Try what at home?”

“Giving yourself advice. That's what moms are for. What time is your plane, honey?”

“Six thirty–ish. Pernita's picking me up.”

“This is the one who's the daughter of your manager?”

“Yep, that's her.”

“Well. That's very nice of her.” Shay's mom had a way of saying things about Pernita that sounded like the exact opposite of what the words meant. Like now, what she was really saying was,
How deviously grasping of that little witch.
It was amazing to Shay that she'd developed such a strong dislike for Pernita, despite Shay having said almost nothing about her, ever. Hell, maybe that
was
why. Mothers could read between the lines. It was kind of their superpower.

Seated at the airport in the departure lounge, Shay felt restless and bored. Pernita was immersed in her iPad and exuded a kind of serene patience. It made him want to knock the thing right out of her hand. He readjusted himself in his seat, checked the flight number on his boarding pass for the eleventh time, and compared it to the one on the board over the check-in desk in case something had suddenly changed in the forty-six seconds since he'd last done this.

Everything still seemed in order, so he shifted again, then turned to Pernita and said, “By the way, I forgot to ask, what hotel are we staying at?”

She looked up at him with her usual didn't-Shay-just-say-the-cutest-thing look.

“In the city, I mean,” he said, thinking she didn't understand him. “In New York.”

“Idiot,” she said, grinning. “You're not staying in a
hotel
.”