What the fuck was Quentin supposed to say to that? “Fine.”
“When will you be at the show?”
“The driver’s supposed to pick me up at six-thirty.”
“Okay. Good. Do you need anything?”
Quentin raised his eyebrows, a gesture lost to his phone. “No. I’m good.”
“All right. See you tonight.”
Quentin showered and then got dressed, making his way to the lobby to get some breakfast and real coffee. Raine, he knew, had appointments with all kinds of people for her hair, makeup, and clothing. While he was eating, someone from the awards called to confirm his attendance.
No one ever asked. They just assumed.
And that was fine. This was for Raine. This shit wasn’t for him or about him.
But he couldn’t help seeing all the news about this goddamned event and all the speculation, asking if Quentin was making a comeback.
He tried not to think about it.
Early afternoon, he arrived at the venue for a light rehearsal. They wouldn’t perform the song, but the crew wanted to run over blocking and sound check. Raine was so excited and Quentin wished he could muster up the energy to be enthusiastic. She looked beautiful, just like the star they wanted her to be. Rather than her hair being dyed in unnatural colors, they’d changed it to the lightest brown with blonde and copper highlights. It made her look less like a teenager and closer to her real age.
When they stood backstage waiting for their cue, Quentin took it all in—the excitement on Raine’s face, the smells of dust and warmth. When was the last time he’d been backstage? While he tried to remember, a stagehand gave him the acoustic guitar and said, “Good to see you back, man.” Nodding and trying to smile, Quentin put the strap over his shoulder…but it wasn’t until they went onstage under the lights that he felt it, far heavier than before.
It was panic gripping his chest, tight as a vice.
Clenching his jaw, he kept himself as calm as possible, reminding himself that, by this time tomorrow, it would all be over.
When they moved to where they were told they needed to be—Quentin at a mic slightly behind Raine to accompany vocals, another guitar at the level of his gut to pick up the acoustic—he forced himself to breathe. As soon as they were ushered backstage, Raine asked, “Are you all right?”
Had she noticed? “Yeah. It’s just been a while.”
But he knew…he was never supposed to be back here again.
It was two in the afternoon…and Quentin had nothing to do. He couldn’t leave, much as he wanted to, and he couldn’t drown himself in work, usually the best remedy for these shitty emotions. It was too goddamned much time on his hands left alone with his thoughts.
The effects of losing so much sleep over the past few weeks and feeling that old pull to drink his stress away were catching up to him.
When Raine called, it was like a light in a tunnel, and he picked it up with the first ring. “Hey.”
“Hey. Just checking in to see how you’re doing.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll see you tonight…okay?”
God…he wanted to. He really did. And he told her “Okay.”
Needing distraction, he turned on the television in the room—but every movie and insipid sitcom he tried failed to distract him. Switching to YouTube, he signed in and picked one of his playlists. Music, if nothing else, could calm his soul.
After what felt like a good solid hour, he sat up—because he knew he’d have to start getting ready soon. But he couldn’t help but notice on a sidebar on YouTube a video with the title Is Quentin Russo making his comeback? Jesus. He couldn’t fucking escape that shit. And the video thumbnail was a picture of Quentin standing onstage under a spotlight at a mic singing, a guitar draped over his body. It was from the tour for his solo album.
He shut off the TV immediately…because it pulled him back so hard to the past, he could barely think straight. That time in his life now resided as a big festering wound in his gut, one he’d tried so hard to get away from, but here it was in his face. Once again, he was being watched like an ant under a microscope
Picking up his phone, he thought talking to Raine might help ground him, pull him back into the here and now—but as he held his thumb over the phone icon, he couldn’t make himself touch it.
No—she didn’t need his sick energy right now. She didn’t deserve to be dragged down to his level. Raine—she was the one making a comeback, and she was going to wow everyone. The last thing she needed was Quentin there to fuck everything up.
