Page 47 of Rock Strong

I was almost positive it was only girl banter, and like us guys, they said shit to each other they really didn’t mean, just to keep up appearances. But something in her line—I’m not sure how I feel about him yet—threw me for a loop. On top of that, now I felt guilty that I’d looked at her phone when it wasn’t my business. Still, was that really where I stood with her? She was on the fence about me?

Man.

I shouldn’t have given it too much thought, but I slipped out of bed, got dressed, and left her a note hastily written on the hotel paper by her bedside.

I have a meeting with Robbie.

Stay as long as you like.

I’ll see you later. – L

I didn’t have a meeting with Robbie, of course, but I wasn’t about to tell her I was having a holy-shit moment. It wasn’t until I was outside the hotel in the early morning hours with no one around and the peach glow of sunrise peeking around the buildings that I was able to take a deep breath and let it out. What the fuck was going on? Wasn’t Abby what I wanted? Was she not the perfect combination of beauty and brains I always said I’d marry someday?

She was. Of course she was.

But I wasn’t supposed to meet her till two or three years from now.

Plus, there was unfinished business with Helen, and I knew, after our spat, that I had to talk to my best friend. Through the pool gate, I edged along the property on the sidewalk, and headed toward the venue and buses where the merchandise crew would be setting up. They always came out bright and early to make sure everything was good to go, then around midday, they lunched, took naps, and shot the breeze, coming back in time for the show.

At the corner of Rogers Arena, I pulled my slouch cap tight over my head, narrowly missed a group of fans camping out front to be the first ones let in, and swerved around the building to the back where the buses were parked and most everyone was still sleeping. I could hear the merch girls before I saw them, cackling, talking shit, carrying boxes. I turned the corner, and my stomach sank.

Helen wasn’t there.

Wes stood nearby, watching them, smoking a cigarette, blowing kisses, and making the girls laugh with his stupid faces. He was always good about staying friends with them, and it made me feel extra guilty that I rarely hung out with them anymore. In fact, since this tour began, I’d been all about Abby and hadn’t spent much time with my tribe. At least last year Giselle had had more in common with my friends than Abby did now.

Wes looked surprised to see me. “Good morning, sunshine.” He took a long draw of his cigarette. He was born to be a lead guitarist with the tall, lean, slouchy look he’d had since he was a baby. “What got you out of bed so damned early?”

“Your cigarette morning breath, lover. I walked all the way here just to give you this breath mint.” I fake-handed him a breath mint and instead gripped fists with him. He chuckled through the corner of his lips. Wes…my boy, my man.

“Fucking asshole.” He gave me a slap against the back of my head.

“That’s Mr. Asshole to you, Shit For Brains.” I turned and said hello to the merch crew who gave me some mumbles and all-around mediocre vibes. There could be only one reason. I turned my back to them, facing Wes. “Hey, have you seen Helen?”

Wes shifted his body so his mouth was out of their view. He blew out a puff of smoke. “Dude, she left yesterday after you supposedly had some tiff with her.”

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know, but I heard some of the girls over there say that maybe, perhaps, she went to see…” He leaned his messy bed head toward me and whispered, “Giselle.”

“What? Why would she fucking do that?” I blurted, lowering my tone right at the end.

“Why?” Wes took on the tone of an older, wiser love sage. “Why do birds shit on windshields? Why do frogs cross a busy street? Why does Liam Collier have such a perfect body?” He raised his cigarette into the air poetically.

“Wes,” I said adamantly. “Why did she go see Giselle?”

Wes returned to his normal shrugging self. “You know how chicks are when they get together to talk shit about you. She probably wanted someone she could bond with. Giselle’s fucked you. Helen wants to fuck you. You scorned both of them. That’s all.” He drew on his cigarette.

“In the ten years I’ve known Helen, why she has to go and get all clingy on me now, I don’t know.”

Wes shot me a look like I was quite possibly the stupidest, most naïve person in Vancouver. “Dude, she’s always held a candle for you. You broke her biggest high school rival’s heart at the height of her love for you, you douchebag. That left her feeling she had a chance…”

God, Helen had told me she’d always wanted a chance with me. And of course, I’d never considered how her hopes might have been affected by my break-up with Vanessa…or the fact I’d kept her close to me by offering her the merchandising job. Still… “Helen knew I broke things off with Vanessa before things got crazy. Because I knew things were going to get crazy.”

“That is true, my friend.” Wes nodded. “But she also knew you wanted to settle down some day. I think she was hoping to make her move on you during this tour. You’re not with Giselle anymore, you weren’t supposed to be with anyone…well, until the cello chick.”

“Abby,” I said.

“Yeah, her.” Wes smirk-smiled at me out of the corner of his eye. “Abby Chan, Mystery Woman.”

---