Page 105 of If Not for My Baby
It’s a late night and some guy she’s only known for two months has unexpectedly left her.Too much baggage, he’d said, when she’d begun to feel sick again. A guy who she’d missed opening night ofCabaretfor, when I was Sally Bowles. And her sobbing, her desolation, wasn’t about disappointing me, or knowing I’d have to clean up all her shattered pieces, or even for the guy who’d just abandoned her, but for the same man it had always been for. My dad, who stole her entire future the day he left.
And maybe I hadn’t known it then, maybe I’d been so caught up in my desire to take care of her—to help her up to bed and make sure she had her correct medications and that whatever his name’s number was deleted from her phone—but I’d thought then and there that I’d never be like her.
And here I am. In tears onstage over a guy.
I need to get out of here.
The song ends to raucous applause. I can hear none of it.
We bow as a group and I’m off the stage before Tom finishes his last few words, thanking Cara and the whole band for the best tour of his life and memories he’s made, and Los Angeles for being one hell of a final audience with some very fine vocal chords.
I have a one-track mind as I plow past techs and sound engineers milling around backstage, ready to take the entire setup apart: get to the greenroom and pull myself together. I can talk to Tom after this. I can tell him everything I’m feeling and he’ll help me see reason.
I’m only a foot from the dressing room when I hear Jen behind me. “Clementine, a word?”
Goddamn it.I wipe my eyes as best I can, but I know there’s no way to hide how red and splotchy I look. “Hey,” I say, turning.
“Good Lord,” she huffs. “Come with me.”
I scan the bustling hallway. Tom’s surely offstage now. I need to find him. “Actually, do you mind if we link up at the party?”
Jen is not smiling. She’s usually got at least that phony smirk on. Her stern face tells me I don’t really have a choice. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Thirty-Five
Jen leads us down aless busy hallway, and then an even quieter one after that.
“Where are we going?”
Jen doesn’t answer, motioning for me to join her in an electrical closet. She closes the door behind her and clicks on a light. The room smells like warm plastic and buzzes like it’s alive. Lights twinkle at me from every direction and I realize I have a bad headache. “What’s up?”
“What happened to you out there?”
“I’m sorry.” My eyes find my knee-high boots. “I think the end of the tour just got to me.”
When I look up, she’s unimpressed. “You think I got to where I am in my career by falling for dumb shit like that?”
“Excuse me?”
“Clementine. You’re a smart girl, but let me give you some advice. Nothing is going to happen with you and Tom Halloran.”
Her words might as well be a punch to the throat. “What?”
“He’s one of the most successful musical artists alive right now.To him you’re…just a tryst, I’m afraid.” She tucks a stray hair neatly behind her ear. “And one of the most problematic. After Austin I was this close to taking you off the tour altogether. Do you know how many strings I had to pull to keep TMZ from posting the photos they snagged of you two?”
It’s cold ice down my back. I have no words.
“A bloodied Halloran spotted fleeing Dime a Dozen with mysterious blonde.Can you imagine what that would do to him?”
Destroy him. His worst nightmare, I’m sure of it.
“And don’t get me started on Molly—”
“Molly?”
“You saw how she felt about the duet.”
“Yougave me that opportunity.”
