His eyebrows fly over his glasses. “Come again?”
“Have I become a pretentious bag of dicks with a guitar? Are people sick of me? Am I a sellout? Give me your honest take.”
“Whoa, where’s this coming from? Is this about that song?”
I study his face for a sec, biting at my thumb. “Never mind.” I kick my foot down off the counter and get up to pace the room. It’s the only way I can clear my head: when I’m moving. Seems like I’m always on the move lately. Like I’m outrunning something.
“Chase … Naomi and her light cues were thrown off. Band had to pivot, too. And you know one of the label reps was in the crowd. I don’t get why you didn’t clear it with Dee before you—” After a beat, he lets out a sigh and indulges me. “It was nuanced.”
I stop near a clothing rack. “Nuanced?”
“And short.” He stares ahead of himself. “It was a short and … and nuanced song.”
“Do me a favor, Ian. Be less of a machine. Give it to me real.” I come up to his chair and crouch down to his level. “How’d it make youfeel?”
He blinks at me. “It … felt … like the old Chase.”
I bring my thumb to my lips again, contemplating his answer, unsure whether it’s a compliment or a warning.
He adjusts his glasses and adopts a soft tone. “Is it something you’re working on in private? Or … an old tune? Dee and Emmett think it’s an unfinished song you left off theHate Mealbum.”
Unfinished?My gaze drops to the boot I kicked off. Then I sit on the floor right next to it, my back finding the leg of Ian’s chair as I hug one of my knees to my chest, pensive.Unfinished…
“When’d you write it?” he asks.
I rub a finger over my chin. “I didn’t.”
Ian stirs. “That was a cover song?”
“No.”
His face crinkles up. “You … improvised it?”
“From a conversation that happened seven and a half minutes before I took the stage.”
“Chase …”
“I just wanted to know how it made you feel, that’s all.”
He sits up with a huff. “What’re you really asking here?”
I realize what I’m asking is something he can’t quite answer. I don’t know why I always seek validation from him, other than he’s sorta held my career by the balls for the last six years. I owe him and his machine brain so much, if not everything. Sure, it takes a village, but it also takes someone to gather that village, and Ian is a mastermind of getting the right people together.This tour has a dream team of staff and crew who’ve never once let me down.
Feels lately I’m the only one doing any letting down.
But no matter who I ask after a show, we killed it even if we sucked or something was off. My singing’s top notch. Our stage manager Dee cried in the wings. Head of security Rob mouthed every lyric. Like everyone’s been ordered not to tell the truth. Like one bad thought is enough to topple our empire.
I used to feel grateful for this echo chamber of flattery. Inside it, I’m safe. Always brilliant. Never a missed note. I’m on top of the world. Who wouldn’t want that?
That guy in the hallway …
Can’t say the last time anyone’s ever spoken to me like that.
“I need the truth,” I finally say to the floor, thinking of him.
I feel Ian’s eyes on me even when I’m not looking. That’s how deep it runs between us, I guess.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Chase … we’re past that.”