We’d played a show at the Barnyard.
Bleeding Moonlight had showed up.
Silas had asked me to help them record an album.
An astounded laugh burst out of my lungs. What version of reality was this, and how did I get here?
He couldn’t have been serious. I wasn’t gonna get my hopes up and be all naive about it. The guy had checked me out, so maybe this was his version of a pickup line.
But what if it’s real?
If there was even a chance that this was a real opportunity, I’d have to consider it. It would pay, I assumed, although I wasn’t sure how well. Probably more than whatever we’d earned tonight.
Could I do it? I had listened to a few tracks off their last album last night, and they were pretty technical. I’d have to put in some serious practice if they wanted me to play songs like that. That meant dropping more shifts at the bar, and given that was the only place that paid me any real money, this had to be worth it. I pressed my palm against the shower tiles, placing my head directly under the shower. The water streamed over my face like a veil.
The most likely scenario was that I was never going to hear from them again. What were they even still doing here? The funeral was weeks ago, and somehow, I doubted they made a habit of spending their free time in River Valley. This all had to be a dumb joke.
I toweled myself off and glanced at the screen of my phone. There were no messages.
Padding to my room, I peeked inside Molly’s room. She was sleeping with a small nightlight on by her window. My heart broke at the thought of her leaving so soon and me being in this big house all on my own. It would make sense to sell it and move into a smaller apartment when she was gone, but that was another future problem I didn’t want to think about.
Finally making it to my bed, I wrapped the fluffy comforter around myself like a cocoon, and let my thoughts drift to the real highlight of the night. The cheers, the strings under my fingers, and that elusive feeling of being on top of the world.
* * *
“I can’t believe you didn’t even get a photo,” Molly said as we sat around the kitchen table for breakfast the following morning. When she chastised me, she sounded just like Mom, her voice all low and clipped.
“My brain was fried, along with my body. I could barely get a sentence out,” I explained, recalling my sorry physical state after the show.
“What a missed opportunity,” she commented, shaking her head at my utter failure to get any Instagram content with the members of Bleeding Moonlight. “This is why I need to be there next time.”
I sighed, my index finger rubbing against my brow. I hadn’t told her about Silas’s request, and I wasn’t planning on doing so. I didn’t get any texts, besides one from Liam to tell me that we’d made two hundred apiece last night, so I was confident at this point it had all been a joke.
“I’m going to hit the gym before my shift,” I told her, eager to change the topic. “It’s Sunday, so I’ll be off at nine. Wanna catch a movie afterward?”
“Sorry, I’m having a sleepover at Lauren’s. I told you a few days ago.”
“Oh, right.” I’d been too focused on the show for the past few days to remember. “Well, have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The gym was almost empty at one pm on a Sunday. I pushed myself to get a hard workout in, knowing it would help me feel more normal. I’d woken up this morning with a strange mix of grogginess and confusion swirling in my head. If it weren’t for the bizarre interaction with Silas, I would probably still be riding the residual high from the show, but instead, I was off-balance. My eyes kept snagging on the blank screen of my phone, each instance accompanied with an annoying prickle of disappointment. It didn’t help that every time a particularly tall guy walked by my bench, my mind jumped to the guitarist.
After a quick shower, I left my damp hair down to air dry while I drove to the bar. Sunday’s were usually pretty dead, so it would just be me and Jimmy, the cook, working. I popped by the kitchen to say hello when I arrived and then made my way to the bar.
A small trickle of regulars came in over the next few hours. I was wiping the counter after one of them left when I saw the door swing open out of the corner of my eye.
“You can sit anywhere you’d like,” I said over my shoulder, turning to the sink to rinse off the cloth in my hands.
A stool scraped against the ground.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll take a pint of Stella and your real phone number.”
I whipped around at that familiar deep voice. Cole sat at the bar, an easy smile stretched across his handsome face. He wore a cut-off band T-shirt, putting his muscled arms on display.
“What?” I asked, dumbstruck by his words.
“The number you gave us didn’t work. We’ve been trying to call you all day,” he explained, his eyes squinting under arched brows.
