Their arguments seem to be less frequent, now that I’m famous and able to bankroll the Christmases we never had growing up. Then again, I’m rarely home long enough to know. Maybe the arguments have just evolved into something else.
“Here, let me touch you up,” Erica says when I reach her.
“That was perfect.” Paul nods reassuringly. He passes me my actual drink.
“If you keep going at this rate, we’ll be out of here in no time,” Connie adds.
I take a sip and notice the slogan on the side of the cup—Caffeinating the chaos you call a personality—and stifle a laugh. There’s only one person who’d be able to come up with these slogans. My gaze drifts once more to Christopher.
The sooner I can get out of here. The sooner I get to speak to him.
Seeing him in this room, but not being able to speak to him, is killing me inside.
Sunday
I keep reaching into my back pocket to check my phone messages, but there’s still no response from Christopher. The clock at the opposite end of the hall reads 5:15 p.m.
It’s fifteen minutes past the time we agreed on when filming wrapped this morning.
My excitement and anticipation at finally getting to be alone with him, to address everything, is seeping out of me, like the air out of a balloon.
Did he just say he’d meet me with no intention of showing up?
Did he ever intend to hear me out?
My hand tightens on the mic stand as I look out into the empty rows of seats at Carnegie Hall, where I’ve been rehearsing for my VMA performance all afternoon. The red chairs where Paul, Connie, Lucy, and the team were all sitting an hour ago are now empty. They’d said something about needing to head back to the hotel, to go over things for the week ahead. They’d left me with the band and our sound engineer. Rob had stayed behind, but he's nowhere to be seen.
“Let’s take it from the top,” Freddy shouts from the drum kit behind me. He starts the backing track in my in-ear monitors. I count the measures, waiting for where I come in as Andy plays the opening guitar chords forStolen Moments.
The double-paneled doors at the back of the hall open, and Rob enters, Christopher following behind. Both walk down the red carpet and stop a few rows from the front. Christopher stands there, staring at me, looking handsome in a brown polo shirt, cream cardigan, and jeans, as Rob leaves him and exits through the side door.
I loosen my grip on the mic stand, desperately fighting the urge to jump down from the stage to hug him and kiss him, but I need to nail this medley. The transition betweenStolen MomentsandMy Anchoris still filled with teething issues.
Thankfully, Freddy came up with the ingenious solution ofhaving me set the guitar on a stand behind me when I finishStolen Momentsand then walking over to the baby grand piano to playMy Anchor, rather than having Aiden play the track. The only issue is that we need another two bars of music so there’s enough time for me to make the instrument switch.
Thankfully, this time Freddy double loops the previous two measures, and I make it over to the piano, kickstarting the second verse toMy Anchor.
I try to stay focused on the performance, but I’m transfixed by Christopher. His hazel irises are hypnotic. My eyes well up with tears as I sing the lyrics, thinking about how he used to be my anchor, but now I’m lost without him in my life.
I swallow down my regret and push through to the end. Freddy lets out aFuck yeah!as we finish, bashing his drum sticks on the cymbals.
“Great work, guys,” I say into the microphone and remove my in-ears, letting them flop onto my grey T-shirt.
“I’ll get those two bars sorted out tonight, then bounce the track across,” Freddy says, getting up from his drum stool.
“No rush,” I say, though I know Paul is probably on his back. The VMAs invariably want all the music with them before the dress rehearsals, so they aren’t blindsided by any issues.
“See y’all tomorrow.” I leave the guys and jump down to where Christopher stands at the front of the stage.
“That was great,” he says, clapping as I go to hug him.
Christopher doesn’t stop me from embracing him this time.
“There’s still some bits to sort out, but I’m glad you like it.” I nestle my nose in right by his neck, breathing in his scent.
“Have you changed your cologne?”
“Yeah. Burberry Hero.”
