Hunter shakes his head. “Fucking nosy people.”
Everyone relaxes then, and all of us but Hunter proceed to finish our drinks. And then we order more. And more.
We talk about high school and grade school, and they catch me up on all the gossip I’ve missed out on over the years. It’s so nice not to talk about auditions and the latest fad diet or the best way to baby your voice leading up to a performance. I get to be a person again, and my whole body relaxes.
Hunter and I don’t touch again for the remainder of the night. But I’m always aware of him, of his hand near mine when I reach for my beer, of his absence when a flirty redhead beckons to him from the bar and he goes and speaks to her. He’s not gone for long, and he doesn’t act flirty with her, but I hate the stab of jealousy in my chest as I watch them from the table. I need to get used to seeing him with other women because I can’t give him anything that he wants or deserves.
“Who was that?” I ask him when he returns. “An old girlfriend?”
His mouth lifts in a half-smile. “Nope. I don’t have those.”
“Girlfriends?”
“Right. She’s a friend of Cathy, and she wanted an autograph for her son. He’s six.”
“Do you mind that? Always being on the job in a sense?”
He shrugs. “I don’t mind. Especially when they’re our fans and not the other team’s. What about you? Do you mind the fame?”
I take a large sip of beer. “I don’t get recognized much. Some, but not a lot.”And I don’t enjoy it.
Hunter doesn’t miss a thing. “You don’t like it, though.”
I swallow. “Not like I thought I would.”
“How come?” he asks me curiously.
“You know, I’ve been asking myself that same question. I’m not sure.”
“Maybe you just need a break.”
“Everyone keeps saying that,” I say. “And maybe they’re right.”
I’m far past buzzed when someone taps me on the shoulder. “Winter Allen?” a smiling blond girl says. “I saw you in Seasonal Bliss—can I get your picture, please?”
Hunter catches my eye. When I nod, he takes the girl’s phone from her extended hand and snaps a quick picture of her beaming next to me.
Five minutes later, an older woman approaches. “My daughter just got your photo. Would you mind very much taking a quick one with me?”
I feel like I’m floating up out of my body when I say yes. Almost like I’m watching the whole scene from the ceiling.
“We flew to New York and saw you perform,” she confides. “My daughter wants to be a singer someday. You’re her idol.”
“Thank you.”
Hunter whispers in my ear that he’ll be right back. I watch him go up to the bar and gesture to Ike.
Charly takes advantage of the moment to slip into Hunter’s empty chair. “I think you’ve got a secret,” she says.
I whip my head over to her. “What do you mean?”
I’m pretty drunk, but Charly’s really drunk. So drunk that she doesn’t notice my obvious panic. “You and Hunter. Fill me in. What made you decide to keep the job?”
Ashley squats down next to us as she returns from the restroom. “Yeah. Spill it, Allen.” She shrieks. “Seriously, what are the odds that you’d become his housemate?”
“Pretty slim,” I admit. “I think he was relieved in a way that someone he already knew showed up at the door. You know how private he is.”
“He always was,” Charly says. “You and he made the perfect private pair, Winter. But living together? Do you think that will be weird?”
