The Mixtape

That afternoon when she called me, for a small amount of time, Sammie and I felt like my favorite memory of us. We felt like best friends again.

“Ohmygoshhhh! Tell me everything! Every. Single. Thing! Don’t leave a single bald spot out,” Sammie squeaked over the phone as I walked into my apartment with a stack of résumés in my grip. Coming home felt like returning to a closet after dropping Oliver off at his oversize mansion. The moment I got a second to breathe, I texted Sammie and filled her in on everything that had gone down with Oliver the previous night.

Needless to say, she was having a panic attack about it all. If anyone loved Alex & Oliver as much as I did, it was my sister.

Her voice shook with excitement as she continued talking. “What did he drink? How was his hair? Were his eyes as dreamy as ever? What did he smell like? For the love of all things righteous, please tell me what he smelled like.”

I snickered. “Um, whiskey and vomit?”

She swooned over the idea of whiskey vomit like it was top-of-the-line cologne.

“You lucky girl,” she sang through the phone receiver. “I would give anything to smell Oliver Smith’s vomit.”

“You’re insane,” I laughed.

“Maybe, but oh my gosh, Emery. This is wild! I cannot believe you ended up front row and center at the Oliver Smith show—kind of. It’s like your biggest dream came true.”

“This wasn’t exactly the way I dreamed about hanging out with Oliver.” In my mind, I figured we’d randomly cross paths in Venice, where we just so happened to get on the same gondola by accident, then laugh at the same moment due to the mistake. Then our eyes would lock, our bodies would respond, and he’d sing to me as we traveled down the endless stream of love. We’d have five children, the first being named after Oliver. Then, somewhere along the line, E! Entertainment would offer us our own sitcom, yet we wouldn’t accept because I’d see how power couples had been destroyed time and time again due to reality shows. RIP Nick and Jessica, Jon and Kate, and Kendra and Hank.

Then, we’d spend our fiftieth anniversary taking that same gondola ride, only this time surrounded by our children and grandchildren.

That’s how the dream romance went between Oliver and me.

The reality? Not so many swoon-worthy moments. Definitely more gag-worthy situations.

“So, are you seeing him again? Was there some kind of connection?” she asked, as if she didn’t hear me mention his aroma of vomit.

“The only connection was I learned that celebrities are just regular people who are messed up, with paparazzi and money. It wasn’t as dreamy as you’re imagining it to be.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I’m sorry it was such a letdown.” She cleared her throat. “But like, before the vomit, what did he smell like?”

I smirked, shaking my head. “You really want to know?” I asked, walking over to my couch and plopping down.

“Yes, yes, a million times yes!”

“Like a smoky forest oak that burned for just the right amount of time.”

“Oh my goodness, I knew it,” she blew out, “pleased” being an understatement. “Did you cut a piece of his hair for memories?”

I giggled. “You’re ridiculous. But I have to say—”

Before I could finish my thought, I heard a voice in the background of Sammie’s phone.

“We’ll be ready for you in a few minutes for the fitting,” they said.

I arched an eyebrow. “Who was that?”

“What?”

“I heard a voice.”

Sammie snickered. “I’m just leaving a coffee shop; it was a woman coming in. But enough about that. Tell me more. What happened when you were with him? I need all the details.”

“Well, he peed in my plant.”

“Oh my. Um, is that some kind of sexual code word?”

“What? No. He legit peed in my houseplant.”

“Did you ask him to do that?”

“Why the hell would I ask him to pee in my plant?”

“I don’t know. Fangirls are weird sometimes.”

I laughed. “Well, no, I didn’t. He was so drunk that he thought he was peeing in the bathroom but went straight into my houseplant.”

I could almost see Sammie’s frown through the phone. “I’m going to be honest, that’s pretty disappointing.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” I chuckled, shaking my head at my sister’s comment. Man. I missed her. I could’ve really used her around me as of late, but I knew I wasn’t able to ask her to come visit. If I did, the phone calls would get more distant. Sammie had a way of pushing things away when they became too much for her.

As I was talking to her, I received a message from Joey at Seven, telling me to come down to the bar as soon as possible. “Sammie, I have to get going. We’ll talk later, okay?”

We said our goodbyes, and I hopped into my car to drive over to Seven. I tried my best to completely shake the past twenty-four hours from my brain. If I could go back in time, I would’ve never gone in to work that night. Then, my fantasy of the man who made the music that had saved me through my darkest days would still be fully intact. I’d still be a crazed fanatic, and I wouldn’t have to face the reality that he was merely human after all. I remembered when I met him at a meet and greet years ago; I still felt as if he was Superman. Now I understood he was just a man who struggled like everyone else in life. I couldn’t blame him for his struggles. He literally lost his other half.