Page 92 of Your Echo
“It was good,” I answer. “We talked a lot about you.”
“Good things, I hope?”
I make a zipper motion over my lips, and Ace gives my foot a shove with his own.
I started seeing a therapist a few weeks after Ace and I officially got together. At first, I felt awkward and self-conscious about the whole thing. I almost considered giving it up, but now I don’t know how I ever managed without it. Ace goes to see a professional once a week as well, and he’s been sober since the night his rib was fractured.
We joke around a lot and call ourselves the ‘Crazy Couple,’ but the truth is that I’ve never felt so happy or so secure. I picked up a vacant administration position at my dance studio, so combined with my teaching salary, I no longer have to work a second job. I’ve also gone back to volunteering at the AMM. My schedule rarely lines up with Ace’s now that Sherbrooke Station is back from hiatus, but we make time for each other, and we understand that we’re both busy doing things we love.
We get out of the car in front of a small theatre on the edge of the Plateau. Metro Records, the newly formed label the band is signed to, rented it out for the evening. Sherbrooke Station’s latest single dropped today, and tonight we’re all pretending to be movie stars at the premiere of the music video.
It’s not a hard thing to pretend when we climb out onto the sidewalk and cameras start flashing. There are five reporters outside the building, snapping pictures nonstop and shouting Ace’s name. I even hear them call my name once or twice.
Publicly dating a rock star who seems to get more famous every day has been a bit of an adjustment. For awhile, I was a very hot topic on all the Sherbrooke Station fan pages. There were some borderline threatening messages from a few devoted groupies, and I think Molly might be harbouring a secret grudge against me now. Ace and I get stopped for pictures when we’re out together sometimes, but when I’m by myself I’m left alone.
We pose in front of the theatre and let the journalists get a few shots before heading inside. The lobby is buzzing with music industry people in semi-formal clothes. I know this is all just a big networking opportunity. That’s why I made sure Jacinthe got an invitation. I spot her chatting up some suits and we share a wave.
“Bon soir, bon soir!” a cheery French voice booms behind us. I turn around to find JP in dress pants, a button-down complete with a bow tie, and flip-flops.
“I like the outfit,” I tell him.
He does a little twirl for me and then kisses both my cheeks.
“Belle comme toujours,” he comments, sizing me up like the flirt he is.
“What about me?” Ace demands. “Am I beautiful too?”
JP kisses both his cheeks as well.
“You’re an ugly ass motherfucker,” he tells him, “and I don’t know what this woman is doing with you.”
“At least Ihavea woman,” Ace retaliates. “Did you even bring a date?”
JP gestures around the room. “Why would I limit myself to just one?”
Matt and Cole approach us, Kay and Roxanne trailing along behind them as they chat over glasses of champagne. I still haven’t figured out Roxanne and Cole’s dynamic yet, but she looks stunning tonight in a flowing black jumpsuit. Kay’s got a tight long-sleeved dress on, and when Matt looks back to find her, the adoration on his face makes my heart lurch.
Cheek kisses are shared all around, and after some small talk, we follow the crowd shuffling into the theatre. We pull the tape off the row of seats marked ‘Reserved for the Band’ and settle in.
Shayla, the head of Metro Records, stops next to us as she makes her way to the stage.
“Ready to see yourself on the big screen?” she asks me.
“I’ve never seen my face take up an entire wall before,” I joke. “This will be interesting.”
She laughs and keeps moving, climbing up a small staircase and grabbing a microphone from someone hidden behind the rippling red curtain drawn across the stage.
“Bon soir, tout le monde.” The crowd hushes as she begins. “Good evening, everyone. I want to start tonight off by saying thank you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for your support and your enthusiasm, and your commitment to bringing art to life. That’s what’s brought us all here tonight. I know you may have only accepted the invitation because of those four useless assholes sitting right there”—she points to our row and the guys laugh harder than anyone else—“but at the heart of it, we’re here to celebrate music. We’re here to acknowledge the weird, wild, and wonderful thing that happens when the right people get together at the right time and make something so powerful the world can’t ignore it.”
Ace reaches for my hand in the darkness, and I intertwine my fingers with his.
“I’ve known the guys in Sherbrooke Station for awhile now,” Shayla continues, “but it didn’t take me long to realize they were something special. The first time I ever saw them play, I knew that’s what they were: powerful. They’ve seen their share of ups and downs, but they always keep coming back for more. They can be annoying as hell and they drive me up the wall sometimes, but I’ll give them that. They’re tenacious. They don’t make music because they want to. They make music because theyhaveto, and I know they’re not going to be ready to stop anytime soon.”
There’s a smattering of applause. I drop Ace’s hand to join in, twisting to see him try to hold in the pride I can practically feel swelling inside him.
“So now, before someone tells me to shut the hell up and pulls me off the stage, I am very pleased to announce that Sherbrooke Station’s new single, and the first ever single to be released by Metro Records”—she’s interrupted by yet more applause—“is now available everywhere and ready to climb some serious charts. Please sit back and enjoy the experience of being the first ever audience to see the video for ‘Nevermore.’”
Shayla is cheered off the stage as the red curtain draws back to reveal a huge projector screen. There’s a moment of silence, and then a woman appears on the screen, looking like she’s floating in the darkness around her as she sits with her legs drawn up and her face pressed into her knees. Long blonde hair spills down her back.
