He pressed his lips against my forehead. “Positive, Star Shine.”
I pushed him away so I could see his face when I asked, “Are you ever going to tell me why you keep calling me that?”
“Maybe.” His coy expression left no doubts he planned to milk the mystery a while longer.
“Fine.” I turned my back on him and started down the sidewalk.
Shane caught up, laughing. “I promise I will, but do you want to go eat with the guys or not?”
I’d barely eaten anything since the croissant at breakfast, and my stomach churned. “Yeah, let’s.”
He ushered me into a local fast food burger joint that gave off a dodgy vibe, but seeing a crew of rock musicians casually hanging out in such a dive made my entire year. I never thought about where they might eat, but if I’d been forced to imagine it, I might have pictured somewhere that had silverware. Or catering.
A couple of teenagers at a booth had their phones out and were taking their own selfies with an impressive photobomb in the background. Micah signed an autograph for a mom wearing a baby in a front-facing sling while Noah sat with one foot up on the Formica bench and his arms draped across the back, a half dozen leather wristbands hanging loose.
They were kings of the greasy burger bar.
I made eye contact with the gawkers, feeling both self-conscious and exceedingly cool when I slid in next to Shane. A waiter brought out a mess of bacon burgers, and the guys continued to squabble over some decision they hadn’t ironed out regarding which cover song they wanted to focus on. Micah wasn’t happy with their rendition of the Black Keys song, and since I’d recorded both covers, he asked if they could be leaked out to fans to find out which was working enough to take on the road.
They all looked at me like I had some kind of say in their plan. Micah said, “Do you think you could?”
Shane reached over and blatantly stole a fry from Noah, which didn’t go over well. Noah smacked Shane’s hand and then hunched over his food like a caveman.
“Damn, Noah. Can you try to remember who your friends are?”
“Fuck off, Shane. Am I supposed to just put on a happy face and act like everything’s okay?”
I watched the two of them, afraid to say a word. I couldn’t help but speculate on what could be eating at Noah. My brain ricocheted from testicular cancer to creative differences to a pregnant groupie to a bad review to a hike in his tax rate. I had to sit quietly. It was none of my business.
That immediately changed when Noah gave me one nasty look and blurted out, “How about when you catchyourgirlfriend fucking some other guy, I’ll come and tellyouto cheer up.”
There was too much to unpack in that statement. First, Noah’s anger suddenly made more sense. If his girlfriend had cheated on him, no wonder he’d been such a grump. I felt pity for a split second until I understood the implied insult hurled atme—as if Noah believed I would one day do the same to Shane. My instinctive response was to defend my honor, but even as my mouth opened, I heard the echo of the wordgirlfriendand clammed up with a quick look to Shane for some idea how to react.
I could see my input going over like a lead zeppelin, but I didn’t know any way around this particular Yoko Ono moment.
“Don’t drag Layla into your shit.” Shane placed his white-knuckled fists on the table. “Apologize. Right now.”
Noah’s lips, which I used to find so beautiful, curled into a sneer of disgust, and he spit out, “I apologize, Layla. You’re obviouslynotusing Shane as an entry-level rock star to work your way through the band.”
The sarcasm dripping off his words could have burned a hole through the floor.
My jaw dropped open, and I finally found my tongue. “How dare you?”
Whatever thrill the band vibe had given me, Noah had just completely torn the scales from my eyes. “You know, you’re right about one thing. I did consider myself a fan of your music, and even of you, Noah. But you’re not who I thought you were. And I’m not who you think I am.” I grabbed my bags. “And I’m leaving.”
I stood and headed toward the door, unsure where I was going, but I wanted to get there before the tears stinging my eyes started to fall.
Shane said, “God dammit, Noah,” and ran after me. He put an arm across my shoulder, and that, more than anything else he might have said or done, made me feel like I wasn’t alone. He was on my side. “Fuck lunch. Let’s go on back to my place.”
Out on the street, once we’d cleared the view from inside the hole in the wall, I grabbed his forearm and twisted him to face me. “What was that?”
His cheeks sported splotches of red from his own anger. “Noah’s been out of control all week.”
“Why is he taking it out on you? Or me, for that reason?”
“It’s not about you. His girlfriend dumped him last Saturday night.” His eyes narrowed, and he added. “For Samuel Tucker.”
I gasped at that. “The lead singer of Whiplash?”
