Page 19 of Wish We Were There

“It’s perfect,” Parker repeated. “And now I get bragging rights that I helped name the place.”

Taylor stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. Parker’s eyes crinkled with mirth as he laughed, too.

“Definitely mention that when you write an article about the grand opening. People will eat that up,” Taylor chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back to the cabinet that he’d been spraying down.

“Oh, I’m already planning it out,” Parker agreed.

Chapter Eight

Parker

With everything they got done the first day, Taylor said that he thought they could get the venue ready to host performances again within six months, hopefully less. Parker had laughed, shaking his head, and bet that they could do it in half that amount of time if they put their minds to it. Taylor had only smiled shyly back at him and shrugged, giving a noncommittal reply.

But looking at all the interviews and trips he had booked already in the coming weeks and months, Parker would only be free to help around one day a week for the first few months, so maybe it would take the better part of six months after all. A daunting timeframe, but Taylor seemed unbothered by it.

“I’m not in a rush,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll finish it when I finish it. When I’m ready.”

“You’re not worried about the rest of the band getting antsy? Or fans wanting to know what’s going on?” Parker asked, frowning. Taylor shook his head.

“Honestly, I’m completely off the band’s social media right now,” he said. “I’m really trying to avoid anything about it.”

He chuckled, but his expression was pained. Parker’s throat tightened with concern. He didn’t press Taylor on it, though; it seemed understandably stressful to talk about, so he moved on to lighter conversation as they packed up for the day.

When he got home that evening, Parker realized that he never got the phone number to the doctor’s office from Taylor. Kicking himself mentally, he texted Taylor to ask for it, but the other man didn’t reply until the next day.

Taylor

Here’s the number. Schedule it whenever. Thanks for helping.

The soonest date the doctor’s office could see him would be in two weeks, which seemed an awfully long time for Taylor to keep the cast on his arm still. The receptionist on the phone didn’t seem overly concerned, just surprised that it had taken this long for him to reschedule. Luckily, Parker’s schedule was clear that day, so he texted Taylor, letting him know and offering to take him, if that would help. Again, the other man didn’t reply right away; but when he did, he agreed to have Parker accompany him.

Taylor

Thanks again, dude. I really don’t know what I would do without you.

Parker smiled stupidly at his phone, re-reading the message. It felt silly to get so sappy over such a mundane message, but something about the words were sweet and intimate. Much as he knew he shouldn’t read too much into it, he indulged the butterflies in his stomach for a little bit at the thought that maybe Taylor’s thanks might eventually grow into something more.

But it was wishful thinking, and he had a ton to do before they saw each other next. So eventually, he pushed it from his mind and sat down to work on his next article.

A last-minute interview disrupted Parker’s plan to meet Taylor at the venue the next week.

“Can we seriously not reschedule for any other day?” Parker groaned over the phone. His boss, Tim, scoffed from the other end of the line.

“Parker, we’re talking about Jason Daugherty here,” he snapped. From the faint background noise and the distant echo of his voice, Parker could tell Tim was talking to him while he was driving. “The man hasn’t done any official interviews in nearly three years. He’s practically a hermit by now. His agent reached out to us saying he wants to get the word out that he’s working on a new album, and it’ll be a cold day in hell when I turn something like that down. Anyway, the guy would be a gay icon if he hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth, so I thought you’d be happier about an opportunity like this.”

Parker bit his lip, trying to tamp down his frustration. “I mean, I am, really, I just...”

“Parker, I promise you I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if I didn’t think it was important. No one else can take it on such short notice.”

He remained silent for a long moment, considering. The chance to interview Jason Daugherty was one he would have accepted in a heartbeat on any other day. He had been one of the biggest up-and-coming stars in the emo revival a decade ago, but the bright trajectory of his career had fizzled out abruptly following the messy public breakup between him and Sterling Sloane, frontman of The Astral Complex, a less successful but more established emo band. The scathing breakup album Jason’s band Synesthesia released less than a year later was the final nail in the coffin for his career; the album sounded great, but the lyrics were pointedly personal and cruel even to casual listeners, much less those who had been following the entire sordid saga.

Both Jason and Sterling had fallen far out of the public eye since the breakup that blew up both of their careers. Parker had interviewed Jason once, but it had been long before Jason started dating Sterling—an eager, starry-eyed twenty-year-old prodigy. The prospect of interviewing him again, knowing how reclusive he’d become, was sorely tempting.

Taylor would be understanding, he was sure. And he could just come by the next day instead. Parker swore under his breath before adding more loudly,

“Yeah, alright. I’ll do it. Send me the address.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Tim cawed cheerfully, which only irritated Parker more. But he wasn’t doing it for Tim, he told himself—if Jason was working on a new album, maybe he could get him to agree to come onto his podcast to help promote the album later on, and that would be sure to draw plenty of new listeners. The better his podcast did, the sooner he could leave Punk News Net and Tim’s annoying voice completely.

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