Page 11 of Rocks You Like a Cabernet

“It’s five o’clock somewhere Princess. Chill. We’ll open this bottle, have a glass and practice lines or whatever. The Cabernet will help calm us in this new environment and loosen up.”

She doesn’t look completely sold on my explanation, but she doesn’t stop me when I locate the opener. Instead, she walks to the cabinet and takes out two long stemmed wine glasses. I pour us a generous amount and raise my glass to her.

“Here’s to The Burning House of Firelight.”

Bryn raises her glass and gently clinks it against mine. “To The Burning House of Firelight.”

The dry, crisp wine dances in my mouth as I savor it around, picking up hints of blackberry and tobacco.

“Damn, that’s good.” Bryn hums in agreement, studying the wine again before she takes another large sip. “Not gonna lie,” I tell her, following her out to the open living room. “I don’t drink this high quality of wine but shit, I might just start.”

“I’m the same,” she admits, falling into one of the plaid wingback chairs. “I buy by the box and nothing like this either.” I almost feel my heart jump out of my chest when Bryn looks over at me with a genuine smile. The wine couldn’t have mellowed her out this quickly, could it?

“I’m surprised you like wine, honestly. I thought a big rockstar like you would prefer whiskey. Or maybe absinthe.”

I try not to take offense to her words but they still sting. She’s really holding on to his persona of me that I have no idea how she came to.

“Former rockstar,” I correct her, making sure she’s looking at me when I say the words. “And I was never into the hard stuff. Sure, I got drunk with the band every now and then but I knew my limits.”

She gives me a skeptical look. I stare back, needing her to see the truth.

“Why former?” she asks, her voice quiet but speaking volumes in the space between us. “Why are you trying out acting now?”

For a beat I think about lying to her. Telling her the same tale that I’ve been telling everyone outside my circle of trust. It would make sense, to keep her at a distance. She was, after all, holding tight to my old image.

Yet, when I open my mouth to give her the practiced speech, I find myself telling her something real instead.

“My sister has substance abuse issues.” The words hang between us and I direct my attention down to the glass that’s balanced between my fingertips. “She was in the band a couple years ago, but when we hit the peak of our fame, she hit her lowest low. Left the band for something else.”

“She’s a country singer now, right? She’s still in the limelight.”

I smile, thinking of Torri and the name she’s built for herself. The odds she’s overcome. “Yeah, she’s still in the spotlight, but she’s calling the shots now. Not someone else. It’s made all the difference.”

“And she’s okay now?”

“Yeah,” I smile at Bryn. “She’s doing really well. No one really knows that’s why she left the band. There was speculation but before she could really be targeted by the media that action star–I can’t remember his name–got attacked by his stalker and took the focus off Torri.”

Tucking her feet under her, Bryn leans forward, prompting me to continue. I liked seeing this softer side of her. “It’s because of Torri that I took a step back from the band and tried out for this role. It was something out of my comfort zone. Something completely new and exciting.I’m getting tired of touring. Of the hard lifestyle my bandmates continue to live. I thought acting would be cool.” I laughed to myself. “And I thought I was good at it. Apparently not.”

The room goes quiet. The awkwardness of the moment makes me anxious so I take a large sip of my wine. The glass is almost empty now.

“You are good at it,” I hear whispered from across the room. Lifting my head, Bryn’s eyes meet mine. “You are good. It’s me that’s been dragging you down.”

Instinctually I want to tell her no. That it’s not her fault. But some of it kind of is. Like she can read my mind, she snorts out a laugh. The sound must surprise her because she slaps a hand over her mouth and her cheeks go bright pink.

A laugh breaks out of me. Howling, I fall back into the sofa cushions, balancing my drink while also holding my belly.

“I do not know where that came from,” Bryn giggles, still covering part of her face with her hand.

“It came from your nose Princess. And it was brilliant!”

“Shut up.”

“Never. I loved it.”

“Asshole,” she mumbles. The profanity rolls off me this time. She’s smiling as she teases me.

When our laughter dies down and we’ve both taken the final sips of our drinks in the aftermath, I watch Bryn as she internally gathers strength to do something.

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