Page 83 of Wish You Would

I gasped, throwing a hand to my chest like a scandalized church lady. “My own brother won’t take me at my word. What has the world come to?”

“If I thought even you believed what you said, that’d be a different story.”

Ouch.

“Vaughn.” Frustration bubbled under my skin like a thousand bees. I hated the whine in my voice, hated the way it made me sound like a kid. To compensate, I steeled my spine and mirrored his stance, arms crossed, feet apart. “What do you want from me?”

He met my eye, his unflinching but somehow still compassionate. “Gi.” His tone was gentle and steely. “I want you to be honest. With yourself and with me.” He glanced over my shoulder before finding my gaze again. “And I want to hear you sing.”

My heart stopped. My next breath stalled somewhere between my lungs and my mouth. I tried to speak, but no sound came out. Shaking my head, I looked from him to the stage, then back. “Why?” I finally managed, the single syllable a shaky whisper.

He shrugged, nonchalant. As if he hadn’t asked me to pry my heart from behind my ribs and leave it onstage. “It’s been a long time.”

I rubbed my hands over my arms, willing my pulse to slow. “Can’t you, like…watch some videos?” Even as I spoke, my eyes kept finding the stage. The easy camaraderie between the band members, the laughter and joking as they got set up, reeling me in. The sounds of tune-ups and soundcheck a precursor to the night to come. My palms itched to wrap around the mic, my skin craved the heat of the stage lights.

My body was a traitor.

“Not the same.” Vaughn stood firm. “It’s been years since I saw you perform.” He looked me over before he added, “If you’re going turn down their offer, at least do it after your big brother gets to see you shine.”

I tried to roll my eyes. Tried to scoff at his cheesiness. But my stupid heart melted, eyes filling with hot tears. “You asshole,” I mumbled, squeezing myself tighter. “You cheesy, corny, guilt-tripping asshole.”

“That’s what I hear.” He put his arm around me and crushed me in a cajoling hug. “What do you say, Gi? One more for the road?”

“Fuck,” I muttered, softening. He hugged me tighter, knowing he had me. “They might not even need me,” I said. “They might have someone for tonight. Maybe they found their new singer and I’m not even a thought in their minds.”

“They do, and they don’t. They haven’t, and you are.”

I pulled from his embrace to face him, narrowing my eyes. “How do you know?”

He shrugged. “I asked.”

“You—”

“Get over there,” he cut in, his eyes crinkling. “Break a damn leg, kid.” Then he shoved me forward.

The motion caught the band’s attention, and a cheer erupted.

“Fuck yeah,” Halle said, throwing her arms up in victory. Behind her, Olsen gave me the thumbs-up and Ryan did some approximation of a white-boy twerk. I looked back at Vaughn. He shrugged, as if he wasn’t the cause of all of this, and shooed me away.

In a daze, I walked across the bar, one foot in front of the other, until my snail’s pace annoyed Halle and she dragged me the rest of the way. Instantly, I was enveloped by the rest of the band. Ryan shoved the setlist into my hand as Tommy gave me a bear hug.

Despite myself, I let myself get swept away, and before I knew it, we were running through the set as if I’d done this a million times instead of just twice.

Had it only been twice?

As I watched Halle count us in for a run-through of the opening number, I let that thought roll around in my mind. Twice, I’d given in and taken stage with these guys. Two times. Those two performances had left such an imprint on me that they triggered a full-on crisis of identity. What would a third performance do?

Before that thought could take root, the opening keyboard riff of “…Baby One More Time” pulled me from my thoughts. Without missing a beat, I jumped in, letting the gospel of Britney ring through my veins.

This is it, I told myself as I sang the opening lines. This is the last time. Better make it count.

34

34 PARKER

BARELY BREATHING

The first thing I noticed when I walked into Heathcliff’s later that night was the absence of Gigi behind the bar. It was still fairly early in the evening, which usually meant that she was getting pre-rush things done alongside Dante. But there was no Gigi tonight. Instead, Vaughn stood next to Dante, the two men talking as they worked. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Vaughn back there.

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