“You should. You absolutely should. But not for the reason you think.”
“What reason then?”
“You said it yourself. My fans won’t hear explanations.” I turn away from the window and look at TJ. “They only hear music.”
Chapter 21.
TJ
Everything happens so fast.
Yet the world around me looks slow motion.
People start showing up at the house. Like Tyrone King and a few of his pals from the sheriff’s office. I shake Tyrone’s hand and meet some of the others, though I don’t remember their names. I ask him how his husband’s doing and forget what he says before he gives my shoulder an affectionate squeeze, mutters something about securing the premises, and off he goes.
Malcolm shows up, asks how I’m holding up as if I’m grieving a dead relative, then makes his way to find my mom. I got plenty used to his presence in my house last summer for the pageant.
Then I’m caught in a video call between Cole and Noah about what they’ve done. “There’ll be, like,millionsof viewers,” promises Cole. “Tamika’s on it, too. She’s a wiz at this.” To that, the far more levelheaded Noah adjusts his glasses and tiredly says, “We cannot guarantee any number of viewers with such short notice, but we will do our best to take advantage of any viral activity and field the negative reactions as best as we can.Again,” Noah emphasizes with a look at Cole next to him, “there are no guarantees.”
I blink and then I’m standing in the kitchen holding a glass of iced raspberry sweet tea I haven’t taken a sip of yet while a bunch of technicians discuss wiring and sound design at the counter.
Then I’m standing outside staring off at the pavilion watching ten or twenty people at work, no idea how or when they got here. My mom’s been so all over the place, I don’t even know when’s the last time I saw her. My dad, too.
And Austin.
It’s already approaching evening. The whole day has been a whirlwind of unfamiliar faces mixed with familiar ones, everyone having a job to do except me. I keep trying to slip in to help out—“Let me carry that for you,” I try, or, “Do you need a hand?” and even, “I watched a rehearsal or two of the Annual Spruce Ball, I could help with the sound system.”
But everyone’s okay. Everything’s handled. “We’ve got this,” over and over.
Just sit tight, TJ.
But I’ve never been one to sit tight. Ever.
“Um … TJ, is it?”
I turn from the window I’m apparently staring at and find a young guy with bright welcoming eyes, short bleached hair, a tiny loop earring in each ear, and wearing a big black sleeveless t-shirt with a glittery golden skull over the front. A thick rolling suitcase stands at his side.
I don’t know why I’m so slow to recognize him, but at last my brain catches up and I remember myself. “Raj! What’re you doing here?? Oh.” It’s like I forgot Austin’s whole plan. “Right, of course. Forget I asked that. It’s—”
“Been a day,” he says on my behalf, nodding with sympathy.
“I’m just losing my mind staring at windows wondering what the hell to do. How’d you get here so fast?” I ask suddenly.
“We all live in Texas. Fiona’s flight should land soon. I think she’s with Laina. Oh, you don’t know about Laina, do you? Or did Chase actually tell you about his other bandmates’ lives? I kind of hope he didn’t. I like being the special one.”
It’s strange, hearing the name Chase instead of Austin.
I find myself warmed to the use of that name right away.
I crack a smile, grateful for Raj’s company. Then I spot his luggage and know just how to make myself useful. “Come, I’ll take you to your room. You can fill me in on everything.”
“I’m really the only one you need to know anything about,” Raj insists as I guide him to the guest wing to get him settled.
The sun is inching down the sky when the whole band is here. Fiona, who looks so much different in person somehow than she does on the stage, arrives in a flannel shirt over a tank top and jeans with a cowboy hat crushing whatever hair she’s got. She says hi to no one, heading straight to the pavilion to set up her pair of keyboards. The guitarist Wily has his long hair twisted up into a man bun and looks like he’s both running on zero sleep and also intensely electrified, ready to crush someone with his bare fists. Is that on my behalf? Did Austin rile him up?
“No, no, it’s all mostly online viewers,” Malcolm is explaining to one of the technicians as he walks past me, headset shoved in his ear, “so we won’t need any shots of the audience or the—Hey, I am not looking for an Oscar-winning shot here, it’s a live stream. Calm down! You’ll be fine. I thought photography is your thing?”
It’s then that I spot Austin for the first time in however long it’s been since my soul fled my body at the start of this chaos. The second my eyes land on him, I swear my soul slams back into my body, and I feel complete again.