Page 51 of Extended Bridge

We remain locked together. Darren kissed my heart on the stage this afternoon, and now I take this time to truly allow him to rest in peace. He’ll always be part of me, urging me to grow professionally or help with another injury. I’ve finally admitted out loud something I’d long buried—the fact we probably wouldn’t have made it as a couple. Our personalities were too diametrically opposed. He’d never share with me his deep truths, beyond the curated ones he disclosed to the whole world. Nor did he show an interest in learning about mine.

Bennett, however, is the polar opposite. No matter what, he’ll answer all my questions, which makes me not want to ask. Rather, let him reveal them to me on his own time.

My eyes close. In the silence, I allow Darren to fly free.

Chapter Thirteen

Several days pass. The guys do their pre-show ritual and then they run onstage, with Bennett taking his time, due to his injury. He’s doing well with his therapy—I can’t believe he pushed to keep his afternoon sessions this week. Tomorrow, though, I’m insisting he drops down to one. It’ll fit better with his schedule anyway, since doing skater leaps on a moving bus is no joke.

Once they’re performing, I return to the green room and call Ma. We keep missing each other, so I’m hopeful tonight will be a different story. I’m happy when she picks up. “You’re a hard one to reach.”

Her laughter floats through the receiver. “Takes one to know one. How’s life on the road?”

“Good. It’s challenging being with everyone again, but there are new faces. The band’s doing well. In fact, they’re giving a concert as we speak.” I hold my cell out toward the stage.

“They sound good. How’s Darren’s replacement doing?”

“Tristan Lambert is his name. He’s a really nice guy. Super talented. I like him a lot, and it seems the band does too.”

“Good to hear. So, how does being on tour with this version of UC differ frombefore?”

“It is different, Ma, to be sure. You know how Darren was always cracking jokes and ready to try something new at the drop of the hat?”

She laughs. “Hard to forget.”

“Well, that vibe’s no longer here. The guys are less, I don’t know, rowdy. But they’re still very much into their music, which is all that matters.”

“Sounds like they grew up.”

I let Ma’s observation sink in. “You may be right. Although Río is still loud with an oversized personality.” They all follow Bennett’s quieter lead, even if he doesn’t believe me.

“How areyoudoing, Sweet Pea? Keeping your head amongst all the rock stars?”

More like losing it to the lead singer. Though I’m not going to share this with Ma—I need to ease her into our growing relationship. “I’m doing my best. Bennett’s PT is going well and we’re dropping down to once a day.” To deter her inevitable questions, I focus on the new additions. “The tour has different crew members than I remember. I’ve made a good friend, who’s their stylist, Nese.”

“That’s nice. Does she know your track record with the band?”

“With all the press, it would be impossible for her not to know. She’s cool about it. I’m hoping to spend more time with her to see how she picks out different outfits for the guys that all work together.”

“Sounds like a big job.”

“It is.” I move the discussion to the various crew members and roadies and their jobs, hoping to avoid anything about Bennett. Or Darren. Or my recent revelations about him. They’re too raw for me to share, even with my mother.

“Well, it’s getting late, so I should go. It was wonderful to hear your voice and not only in voicemail.”

After we click off, I return backstage and watch the crew bringing UC to life. Sound, lighting, staging, Kieron doing his guitar tech work on his own now that Chico’s gone. All of the members working inconcert with the five men performing. It takes a village. I wonder how many in the audience realize...or care?

Bennett sings the final note to “Make Me Feel It” and the audience screams their appreciation. He drops the mic to his side, then stretches his arms wide as if asking each person in the crowd to give him a hug. Soaking up their adoration.

Am I ready to be with this man? While Darren was many things, he never was the face of the band. One that women from four to eighty-four want. Am I cut out for this type of lifestyle?

“Damn. Every time they perform, they sound better.”

I glance to my left, where Nese now stands. “They sure do. Their clothes don’t hurt, either.”

She blows on her knuckles. “Glad to have a hand in their continued rise.”

We both laugh. “So tell me, Oh Guru,” I tease, “how do you dress each guy to their own style, yet make the whole look that good?”

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