Page 103 of Taming the Rockstar

“I wanted to double-check everything. You’ve inspired me to be more organized,” Priya says, with a forced cheeriness. I can tell that she’s lying through her teeth.

“Tell me the real reason why you’re here,” I say sternly.

Priya groans, “Fine! Vince told me about,” her eyes dart around the room conspiratorially, “The untitled Exter-Vynse project.” She stage-whispers.

I burst out laughing, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well, I figured you could use the help! You probably shouldn’t be hauling amps and guitars around all night if you’re,” her voice dips into a whisper, “With child. Congratulations, by the way! I will be knitting you a baby hat!”

I sit down next to her and give her a fierce hug, “Since when can you knit?”

“I learned how this summer, and I’m obsessed. I’m working on a scarf right now, and it’s technically just a very long square.”

“Good for you, but I should be fine tonight,” I say.

“Really? Lynds, you look green.”

“That’s what the ginger ale is for,” I explain.

“Well, don’t try and be a hero. I already went over our sound stuff with the front-of-house guy. Henry’s bringing his drum kit around five, he just got it refurbished for tour.”

“Thank you so much,” I say as I take a swig of ginger ale.

“Any time. And I’m serious, the moment you need something,”

“I will let you know,” I tell her firmly.

There’s a polite knock on the door. I open it, it’s the opener for tonight: Sierra Reese, a singer-songwriter from New York. She just signed to the Imposter’s label, though she’s only around my age. Her long red hair rests on her shoulder in relaxed waves, freckles dot her face.

“Hey! Random question, but do either of you have extra guitar strings? Mine snapped this morning because my guitar got a bit banged up on the plane, and then my son decided to ‘play’ this morning, which didn’t help.”

“Yeah, I do have some.” Priya digs around her tote bag, and I inhale through my nose as another wave of nausea hits me.

“Here you go,” Priya hands her a fresh pack.

“Thanks so much. Lyndsey, is it okay if I set my stuff over there?” She nods toward the empty desk in the corner, with a tiny, thrifted mirror.

“Yeah, sure thing, do you need anything else?” I choke out.

“Maybe a bottle of water?”

I get up off the couch and walk over to the mini fridge in the corner, trying to focus on the task at hand, but it’s no use. I empty my stomach into the tiny trash can next to the mini fridge.

“Lyndsey!” Priya yelps rushing to my side. I try to swat her away, but another wave of nausea hits me, it’s mostly bile this time.

“Fuck!” I bark. Sierra winces as I straighten up and wipe the back of my mouth with some paper towel.

“I’m not sick. I promise,” I try and explain weakly as I open the mini fridge. Sierra walks over to me and grabs herself a bottle of water.

“It’s okay,” she says before I can come up with a better excuse, “I was like theExorcistduring my first trimester, but it gets better, I promise.”

I pause, “Wait, what gave it away? Do you think people can tell?” My heart starts to pound.

“Well, you’ve been white knuckling that ginger ale all night, and let’s just say, I’ve also been there. It’ll be okay, though. Being a mom is tough, but it’s super rewarding and it also gifted me a bit of a renaissance. I finished tracking my first EP when my son was six months old, and now it’s coming out in November,right around my son’s first birthday.” Sierra walks over to her black leather bag and digs through it, finding a pack of gum and tossing it to me.

“Thank you so much,” I say, popping a piece in my mouth.

“Is your son here tonight?” Priya asks.

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