She wasn’t the one who had to stand in front of fifty thousand people for ten nights and make them happy they’d paid the ticket price and front up to buy the next album. She didn’t have to curate her social media and her real-life friendships. She didn’t have to feel the pressure of needing new songs that charted, wearing the right clothing and having the right hair and opinions.
But the idea of hearing her own music, loud and dominating a space like this was slyly seductive.
Isaac’s push became a hug and he lifted her off her feet. “This is going to be fucking awesome.”
“Do that to me again and you won’t live long enough to experience it.”
He put her down gently and grinned at her like all he’d eaten for a week was sugar and he was permanently hyped up on it. That could even be true. Then he snatched her phone out of her hand and took a selfie of the two of them. When she looked at it, the photo showed her up front, and Isaac slightly behind in the foreground, and Abel, Oscar and Grip in the background. It was like a promotional shot for the band she wasn’t lead singer of and made her laugh.
“You looked good up there, Evie,” Errol said, looking over her shoulder at the phone screen. “Before the part where your brother tried to break both your legs.” That made Isaac retreat. “You could still have this, you know. Smaller audiences, different venues. We could make it happen. Especially as we’ve got real momentum.”
She wasn’t intending on having it out with Errol now, here, but there he was, disappointed again, dangling the bait again. Wishing he had a different person for a daughter.
“I’d rather Isaac did throw me off the stage.”
He shook his head. “The older you get, the harder it will be to break out.”
She wasn’t intending to, it was another question of timing, but really, why was she waiting? “Once upon a time I might’ve wanted this.” Maybe that was true. She’d been opposed to it for so long it was a shock to find standing on the stage imagining it was such a thrill.
“There you—”
Unbelievable. She wheeled to face Errol. “You’re not listening. I don’t want this. I never wanted to be a performer. I wanted to be a session singer or a songwriter but that wasn’t good enough for you. I know you manipulated it so that Jay and I broke up, Dad.”
“No, I—” He put his hand over his face. That fact she’d called him Dad made this extra serious.
“You never thought he was good enough for me. Or for the band. You told Jay he was holding me back. You wanted us to break up. You made me hate the idea of becoming a musician. I got my own company out of that, but you’ll never understand what I lost in Jay.”
Head dropped, chin almost on his chest, Errol said, “I never meant to hurt you. I don’t want you to have regrets, and we all know how wrong I was about Jay. I don’t blame him for telling you.”
“He didn’t tell me.”
Errol took a step back. He’d turned an unhealthy shade of gray, as if she’d thrown him off the stage and broken his spirit. A kinder, more respectful daughter might be worried about that.
“When did you, how. . .? I only wanted you to use your talent. You have incredible potential.”
“No, you only wanted me to be someone I’m not and you still do.” Thank the music gods he’d never know she’d written a new song, it’d only breathe green hope into his ambitions. Jay would never expose her in that way.
“Evie, that’s not how it is.”
Everyone was looking at them. This was unprofessional. “I love you, Dad, but it’s going to take a while until I can forgive you for trying to make my decisions for me and I’m going to need to believe you’re proud of me for who I am today, not what I might’ve been, before we’re okay again.”
Errol’s shade of gray turned to pumice as Evie turned away.
Wow, like the shot of fear Isaac had given her, she felt taller, stronger. Who knew honesty was a good osteopath?
She left Errol standing in the middle of the stage and made for the shelter of the back of house. She’d go chill out on her own for a while, let that dust settle and drink some water to try to starve off the headache that that was knocking for entry on her skull.
Jay had said he was proud of her, but that’d sounded a false note. As much as she tried to unhear it, it was a faint whisper of misgiving. He’d been so happy when she was messing about with Suzy Q, she couldn’t help but think that like Errol, he still saw her as not having lived up to her potential, that he’d love her more completely if she was the person he’d sacrificed for.
That’s why this was a timing issue. If she was going to let Jay kiss her, she needed to be sure of him.
Once she kissed him, the lid would come off her reticence and doubt and everyone would smell the delicious seasoning of a second chance and take a bite out of them. They might not be strong enough for that yet. She might not ever be strong enough for it.
There was chilled bottle water at a refreshment station and she took one and sat on a packing crate. What reason had Jay given her to doubt him? It could be that her old wound was a tender spot, itching as it fully healed. She couldn’t hold Jay accountable for that.
If she only agreed to a kiss when he next asked that would make him wonder why she’d held out so long, too much of an anti-climax for all its budding sweetness. If she waited too long Jay would be interstate. That would increase the pressure on their next meet-up. She could hardly jump a jet and go see him in Melbourne or Adelaide and keep their relationship under wraps or pretend he didn’t deserve a proper kiss.
There were some obvious moments. After the high of the first Sydney show, but that was also the moment everyone else would want to claim him and she didn’t want to have to fight for access to his lips. Right before he went on stage. There was some dramatic stuff in that. No, what if that threw him and affected his performance; that would be unforgiveable. She could pick a quiet time when they were at the hotel. That was likely the best course of action, but she wanted this first kiss to mean something more than the sex that would be swift and inevitable if they were alone in his hotel room.