After a second, I nod. “To … the top,” I return less heartily.
He leans against the wall next to me. The Italian restaurant is sandwiched between a car rental shop and a nail salon. The whole road and intersection is crowded with random businesses, just off the highway. Ian keeps telling us someday we’ll afford penthouses and suites and this and that. Guess that’s the thing about getting to the top; you’ve gotta climb through some roughvalleys in the mountain. One hit five years ago helps, but isn’t enough to do it.
“Something’s up with you.”
I throw my eyes back to the sky. “Let’s not do this out here,” I nearly beg him. “Not when I’m with my stars.”
“I’m not coming at you. I’m reaching for your hand.”
“I’m not danglin’ from a cliff.”
“You kinda seem like it.” Ian peers at the side of my face. “I’m worried. I don’twantto worry, but … I also care about you. Forgetthosestars. I gotta make suremineis still burning bright. And right now, you’re not burning bright. You’re like …”
“Like a falling star? Like a black hole? You really wanna keep up with this metaphor bullshit? Careful, you’re writin’ me lyrics.”
“Simile, not metaphor. Just tell me what’s up.”
I push away from the wall, boots scuffing along the gravel. It’s so quiet out here you can hear a cricket fart. “Reach way back with me, Ian, way, way back. Do you remember the Saltshaker?”
“Of course I remember that old-ass bar. We started there.”
“I meanreallyremember it. Me up on that tiny stage, just me, my guitar, and a fuckin’ stool. Do you remember the crowd? How huge it got? Packed wall-to-wall? The way they roared after every song? How I had the whole room gripped by the balls?”
The more I paint the picture, the more Ian’s eyes go further away, drawn back to that bar, to that time. “Yeah, I do.”
“ThesmallChase you were talkin’ about the other night. Old smoky bar Chase. My first days. You remember howaliveI was?”
Ian shuts his eyes, realizing where I’m going. “Chase …”
“Didn’t seem so ‘small’ back then, did I? I felthugein that bar. I knew my fans by name. I’d call them out and sing songs to them, righttothem, right into theireyes. I was a snake charmer. Every soul in that room wasdancing. Not like these big-assauditoriums that turn me into an ant where I can’t even see past the third row. Ian,” I say before he has a chance to respond, his lips twitching. “I’m tryin’ to tell you I … I think I’ve lost something.”
He sighs, flipping through a whole rolodex of replies before he says, “Snakes shed their skins. Stars make sacrifices in order to grow, too. These big auditoriums will start to feel smaller, too. You will fill them not just with ticketholders, but withyour next big hit. I don’t think you’ve lost a damned thing. You’re finding something new, Chase. You’re evolving, and it’s scaring the shit outta you.”
“Evolving? That’s what you call this?”
He comes into the parking lot and takes my hands. “Chase.”
“You about to propose to me? Shit’s gettin’ serious when you gotta hold my hands.”
“I’ve been with you since the start. I’ve watched you grow. I’mcertainyou haven’t lost anything. Your music is like … like fucking medicine for the soul, no matter the genre. And I know everyone in that Saltshaker was made better by hearing you. And the more people we touch with that music of yours—the moreyoutouch—that sure ain’t a bad thing. Higher you get to the top, the more you see around you, y’know?”
And the farther the world gets, I want to add, but something just won’t let me. A look in his eyes. The call he just had with his wife. Another bit of his life he’s missing because of me—because ofthis.
All those people in that restaurant, laughing, breaking garlic bread, messily slurping pasta, my on-the-road family.
“I love you, Chase. Like a brother. Like a husband sometimes.”
“Careful, Hailey might find out.”
Ian snorts at me. “Hails knows damned well I’m not your type, that ship’s sailed.”
“Ship was never in the harbor.” I toss his hands back at him, causing him to laugh. Then I squint. “So whatismy type?”
“Oh, I dunno. A cute guy. Younger. Sassy. Doesn’t put up with your shit. And take a look around you. Everyone here puts up with your shit. Me, most of all.” He shrugs. “I guess that’s why we’re all family. You wouldn’t fuck any of us.”
The things that come out of his mouth sometimes … “Did you sneak in a bottle of wine I don’t know about or what?”
“Had a drink back at the hotel, shh.” After a chuckle, his face turns serious again. “Nothing’s missing in you. You’re still Chase Holt. Every bit of you that was at the Saltshaker. And hey, if you’re still doubting yourself in the morning, you’ve got a whole day to think it over, reclaim that part of you I know is still there. Maybe he’s … in the back of the room, like a quiet, loyal fan that doesn’t scream or wear all the merch. He’s still rooting for you. As am I.” With one last nod and a gesture with his finger pointing up—to the top—he heads back inside, leaving me with the crickets.