Page 46 of Make Me Laugh

We’re making progress.

Our night out didn’t last long—we were all pretty worn out from the night before and ended up in bed much earlier than normal.

But that didn’t mean I fell asleep. No, I laid a bunk above the woman I’d much rather be in a bed with. Instead, I’m forced to keep my cool, to be mature, to ignore whatever this unfamiliar thing with Joey is.

I think I get a total of thirty minutes of sleep, really hoping for a nap before night two’s show, but I'm surprised with a jam-packed day of batching content with Joey, who recruits Enzo and Kell for a few hours.

My path never crosses Joey’s again after sound check, and this time she’s not in the sound booth when I walk out on stage.

The show goes over without a hitch, the smaller venue on their feet as I thank them for coming, ending the show how I do all the others. “Wear your seatbelt, don’t drink and drive, and tell your mom I said hi.”

I’m almost off stage when I spot Joey in the wing and freeze, forgetting how to walk.

Tonight, she’s in a little black dress with a slit on the left thigh. If it weren’t for her tattoos, the bruises I left on her long legs two nights ago would be much more noticeable. The braid she’s worn since we left her apartment in Salem is gone, leaving her hair with a beachy wave she keeps down. Her Docs reflect the stage lights, reminding me that I’m still visible to my audience.

Joey stares at me over her phone, waving me forward with wide eyes. She mouths, what the fuck are you doing?

My feet thankfully propel me forward, restarting my brain. I flash one more dimply smile to the crowd and tuck into the tiny wing with Joey.

She lowers the phone down to her side and meets my gaze with a soft smile. “Got some good stuff from back here tonight. I’ll have plenty of content to leave you with.”

The crowd’s cheers die off and turn into an excited chatter, but I feel a heavy weight settle into my chest now that I’m off stage.

Joey leaves tomorrow.

“Joey, I don’t—” I’m cut off by the club’s manager.

“West, my guy!” He pats me on the shoulder like we’re good buddies, but I can’t remember if his name is Tim or Jim. “What a great weekend! People are already asking when you’ll be back.” TimJim nods at Joey. “I hope you get this girl a drink! She’s been go, go, go since you got here!”

Joey puffs a strained laugh and takes a step back, putting more space than I want between us. “Oof, I think—” she starts.

I don’t let her finish. “She thinks that’s a great idea.” She’s not bailing on the last night we have together. If I only get one more with her, I’m not going to waste it. “Where’s the best dance spot around here?”

The second word gets out we’re going to a club down the street, everyone’s abuzz with excitement. A few of the crew members and a group of their friends join us, along with my boy, TimJim.

It's not a nice club, filled with middle-aged locals who probably should have gone home hours ago, but when they see fresh meat, they find their second wind.

Joey takes every opportunity she can to record content. When we take our first round of shots and clink our glasses together. When Kell does the worm in the middle of the sticky dance floor, she squats down to get the perfect angle.

I’m swept up by a group of women somewhere between the ages of forty and seventy who reek of stale cigarettes and cheap beer. I entertain them long enough to be a good sport but find my escape the second I can.

Enzo left almost an hour ago, wanting to reply to the influx of show requests we’d gotten since he’d caught up this morning.

It doesn’t take me long to find Kell, who chugs, what I hope, is two back-to-back cups of water at the bar. Beside him, talking to the bartender with frosted tips, is Joey.

I squeeze myself in sideways beside her, apologizing to the woman next to me with a sweet, West Parker smile.

Works every time. It’s crazy what a pretty face can get you!

Thanks, Mom and Dad!

The lady forgets what she’s annoyed about and stares until I turn my attention to the reason I shuffled her out of my way.

“How much would I have to pay you to delete the videos of me dancing with those ladies?” I give Joey my sugariest smile, really amping it up in hopes it might work on her too.

My eyes drag to her lips as they pull into a slow, mischievous smirk. I can’t stop thinking about kissing her—this obsession is becoming a distraction. “Hmmm.” Joey ponders, glancing at the ceiling while she pretends to think long and hard. “There’s not enough money in the world, Hotshot.”

I'm finally able to pry my eyes from her lips, and when I do, Joey’s staring at me—watching me, watch her.