Famous in a Small Town

Lucas and Jessie had lasted one whole day in the house before being evicted. Due in large part to Jessie acting like an ass and refusing to pick up her shit. The bathroom floor had been covered in wet towels, makeup wipes, and other assorted detritus after she’d spent two hours enclosed in the space perfecting her look. She was saddened to find out that I wasn’t in fact her maid. Not even a little. And Garrett had zero tolerance for the way she talked down to me. We now ignored each other, which worked great.

Smith had decamped early on to the battered wooden A-frame he’d convinced Mr. Akana to sell him. It was just down the road. Guess Smith had decided to at least attempt spending some time in Wildwood. I had returned his list to him, and he smiled and declined to discuss same. But here he was, a local homeowner. Some of the Main Street contractors were working with him on fixing up the place when they had the time. Whether he stayed on once the album was finished was yet to be seen.

The mysterious bass player, Adam, had gone with Smith. He was a tall, lanky, dark-haired guy who had put out his own album during the band’s hiatus. And it had done well for him. Like Smith, he in general seemed lighthearted. Less prone to the intense brooding Garrett used to indulge in and Lucas still held dear. Though any mention of his ex-wife, Genevieve, tended to send Adam into a sullen silence.

Men. They were such delicate creatures.

What I loved about them recording at home was getting to hear the songs come together. Hearing Garrett’s voice go from whiskey-smooth to rough and raw and back again. I could listen to him sing for hours. And I often did. “Sunshine” and “Lost and Found” were my favorites of their new songs. I had never had songs written about me or around me before. Both experiences were amazing. As was watching The Dead Heart work.

The whole band were consummate professionals when it came to laying down the tracks. Even Jessie stopped her prima donna crap long enough to provide backup vocals on a song. Everyone in the band contributed to the writing. Adam and Garrett seemed to be the main suppliers of lyrics. But everyone worked on the music together most of the time.

Half of the album was done. Tonight they’d play for Wildwood. Party lights were strung up above the stage and everyone was dressed in their Sunday best for the occasion. At least, there were no holes in Josh’s jeans and his mullet was freshly washed and styled. It was a high compliment for him to pay the band, considering his disdain for rock ’n’ roll. Though maybe he did it to impress Jessie.

And none of this went toward explaining why I was in hiding when the band were about to go onstage. In the Wildwood Bar and Grill bathroom. As you do.

Like the main room, it was all wood, with three stalls and white pedestal basins from the ’50s. Old, but clean. I sat on the random chair placed in the corner. In all likelihood, it was intended as a resting place for drunk girls. Or for women to put their purses on while they washed their hands. I don’t know. But right now, my butt rested on its aged surface and I stared at the floor and tried to keep my cool.

Cézanne stood nearby, with a hand smoothing over her tiny baby bump. She said nothing. There was nothing left to say. But I appreciated her support just the same. I’d already been on Cézanne’s phone to Maria earlier. We’d had a long and involved three-way conversation. Truth was, I had a damn great support team to see me through the ups and downs in life.

Now I just needed to talk to the other person this situation truly affected. Once he’d finished his show. I wouldn’t load him up with stress when he was about to go onstage.

Only the door opened and Garrett strode inside. “Babe. You okay?”

“Hey,” I said with relief and a shaky smile. “What are you doing here? I thought you guys were about to start?”

“I saw you come in before and you didn’t come out. Is everything okay?”

Cézanne gave me a nod and headed for the door. Garrett and I were alone.

“Hey. What happened at the doctor’s?” he asked, squatting in front of me. He was in full rock-star mode. Black jeans, matching button-down shirt, boots on his feet, and half his hair tied back in a man bun. He was so beautiful. He really was my whole damn heart. I just hoped he felt the same. “You took a while.”

“Yeah, I um . . . there was a wait. The doctor had to go out to the Miller’s farm for an emergency. Mrs. Miller pulled something in her back and got stuck under a tractor she’d been fixing. My cell died or I would have texted you that I’d been held up. Sorry.”