Chuckling, he lifted the bottle of beer to his lips to drink the last few drops. “How are you feeling about the band nowadays?”
“Loads better. I can’t even describe how relieved and happy I am. I still miss Liam…but I feel like…” My voice drifted off before I finally said, “I don’t want to say it. My mom always said not to speak ill of the dead—and it’s not really, but—”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
Yet I was compelled to. “Liam was a fucking genius. I think we all felt that way, and we respected his talent, his leadership, and his artistic vision, but…”
“But it didn’t belong to any of you. None of you felt like you owned it.”
Out of everyone in my entire life, Wolf seemed to get me—and I’m sure it showed on my face. “Exactly. And I felt privileged to be part of his vision—but it felt like we were inhisband…and now it feels likeourband. I don’t even know if that makes any sense.”
“Sure does, Birdie. I’ve been in that kind of band before.”
“How many bands have you been in, Wolf?”
“Counting this one?”
“Yeah.”
“No idea. I could figure it out, but no sense dwelling on the past. Let’s say more than five and less than ten. There was one band I don’t even remember the name of, because I was in it for a day—and the prima donna lead singer pissed me off so bad, I walked away.”
“Did any of them ever get big?”
“Big—as infamous? No. One of ‘em became pretty popular in the Denver area, but no record deals or anything like that.”
“Are you okay if we do? ‘Cause that’s always been our goal. Getting recognized, then getting a record deal.”
Wolf leaned against the counter, seeming to ponder the possibility—but it turned out that he was instead debating internally. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
I couldn’t even imagine what he could want to ask if he felt like he had to ask permission.
It made me all the more curious.
“Go ahead.”
The way his green eyes searched mine made me feel like he could see my soul. As the breath left my lungs feeling like it would never return, he spoke softly. “What if, no matter what we do, it doesn’t work?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if…this is as far as you go? If the band never gets that record contract? Never becomes famous?”
This time it was me searching his eyes—and I could almost feel his energy and his body heat, even though we weren’t touching. But he was asking out loud a question I’d asked myself silently more than once.
And I decided to tell him exactly what I told myself every single day—because the voices in my head tried to contradict my belief in myself constantly.
“We haven’t even tried yet…and there’s no way we’ll know until we try. All I know is people pay to listen to us. Maybe they don’t buy tickets to a concert or buy an album—but they pay with their presence and they buy drinks. And maybe we don’t have a huge fan base—but we will. Once we have a solid setlist of awesome songs, all we have to do is play different places and get more fans. And if we can’t get a label to pick us up, we’ll do it ourselves.”
“You’re pretty confident.”
“Damn right I am. You saw us with Liam, but you didn’t see us when we played other places. There were three bars in Silver City alone where we could book a gig whenever we wanted because they knew we drew a crowd. Only now…”
I let my voice drift off and looked down at the bottle in my hands. I swallowed what was left of the beer inside and setthe bottle down a little too hard on the counter before taking a deep breath and looking up at Wolf again. “Now we’re stronger. Better. Maybe we’re plagued by different demons, but I’d like to think we’ve grown a little.”
“Youhave, Hayley Bird…but you can’t speak for the whole band.”
Suddenly, I felt like all the people who’d never believed in me throughout my life—my mother, her string of asshole boyfriends, teachers, classmates—were right in front of me, spitting on me and telling me I was worthless and would never make anything of myself.
This was my one fucking shot to prove them all wrong, and I’d die trying before I ever gave up.