Page 47 of Tangled Up In You

Closing her eyes, she let the sun warm her through. She was running on too little sleep, but it put her in a mellow, happy state rather than one of exhaustion. Being with Gavin these last two days was the happiest she had ever been, despite the fact that their time was running out. The band was scheduled to leave the day after next. They had five more music festivals, all scattered around the East coast. They then headed to New York City to attend MTV’s Video Music Awards show as both nominees and performers. After that they were scheduled to get back home to Dublin to start work on their second album even though Gavin had confessed they didn’t have any material for it. The band had toured the hell out of their first album, expending all their energy on the performances. They might have kept playing gigs had their label not insisted they start to make efforts toward new music.

Gavin was still in a state of semi-disbelief about the band’s success and current position of being under the gun to make a new album. It was, he’d admitted, both thrilling and terrifying. He confessed that he worried that the success of the first album could well be a fluke. Then what? Sophie had fallen into her old role of biggest supporter, assuring him that he only had to trust himself for it all to flow and watched as he nodded in agreement. He had been gratefully, willfully convinced.

They hadn’t discussed, however, any kind of future together. Sophie tried to steel herself against the inevitable heartache she would feel once he was gone from her life again. The conversation she’d had with her friend Felicity back in their school days came to mind. Felicity had known with an old soul’s confidence that this would be the typical scenario for anyone trying to date one of the boys from Rogue, and she had preemptively guarded against it. It had been smart, Sophie knew. But at the same time, she knew herself. She didn’t have that kind of strength and willpower when it came to matters of the heart. Especially not matters of the heart that involved Gavin.

She’d lost all self-control that moment in his hotel room when he’d declared he’d been heartbroken when she’d walked away from him. Because the unspoken implication was that she had repeated what his mother had done. From the moment she had her first real conversation with him back in school, she saw that a deep part of him was wounded. He did his best to hide the hurt with boisterous confidence and a preternatural drive toward music. He had only opened the door of his hurt a sliver with her at first. Then, in his own way, he had thrown it wide open and essentially begged her to enter. He didn’t want her to know him, heneededit.

In return, he’d worshiped at her feet and fulfilled the unrealistic romantic visions of love instilled in her by the princess movies she had grown up with.

They had fallen right back into the same dynamic in the last couple of days, Sophie realized. It was so easy being with him. They were simply good together. The love they’d found in school still existed.

Not that it mattered now, Sophie knew. She opened her eyes and with the brightness of the sun came the sting of tears. Gavin was soon moving on. To the next city. To the next girl. Just as he had told her at the Palladium gig.

If that was to be the case, she resolved to make the rest of their time as memorable as possible. She knew she would be feeding off the memories for years to come, after all.

26

CONOR

Conor was so frustrated he could barely sit still. He and Gavin had been speaking with John Riley from Rolling Stone magazine for close to an hour and nearly every question was focused on chipping away at the Sophie “mystery.” That Los Angeles Times article had only been the beginning of the publicity their reunion had garnered. The photos of them from the Weenie Roast were plastered everywhere. One particular photo of them gazing at each other as if they were the only ones in the crowd at the Interpol show had gone viral. And just like that, they had gone from being an up and coming band to some sort of tabloid fodder. In Conor’s mind, it was a disastrous turn of events because he feared this meant their music would get lost in the frenzy.

For this interview, he had deferred to Gavin, but his friend had uncharacteristically ducked straight answers, which only seemed to pique the reporter’s interest all the more.

“And how old is she?” Riley asked, sending Conor to his feet with a plaintive look directed at James.

“Is something wrong?” Riley turned his tape recorder off.

“No problem,” James said. “Conor’s just the restless sort.”

Conor reluctantly retook his seat but threw his head back against the overstuffed chair. They had convened in the living area of the Chateau Marmont’s penthouse suite. French doors opened onto a tan and brown striped awning that partially covered a balcony overlooking greater Los Angeles. The midday May sun, combined with a layer of smog, made the sprawling buildings appear to be a mere suggestion of a city as the edges went soft.

He looked at the view, longing to escape into it. This interview was a big deal, but James was being too patient with letting Gavin skirt around the issue. As their manager, he should have stepped in to redirect the reporter to the point—the music. But he hadn’t stepped in, and instead had now sent a signal that he wanted Conor to keep waiting things out as well.

The reporter had waited patiently for an answer to his question and now Gavin picked up the tape recorder and turned it over in his hands.

“The thing is, Johnny,” he said familiarly, “Rogue is of the mind that the focus should be on the music. We all have personal lives, and playing up mine seems trivial and irrelevant when we figure our music offers actual substance. Now, you’re a journalist. I understand you have to ask the questions, but in order to get answers, you’ll have to tell me how the readers of a music magazine like yours will be served to know details about the girl I’m with.”

With that, Gavin put down the recorder and emptied his bottle of Stella Artois. They had all picked at the buffet lunch, happier to indulge in the array of beers on ice.

Riley eyed Gavin while biting on the end of his pen thoughtfully. Conor imagined the reporter was confused by Gavin’s reticence. Gavin had begun the interview as his usual self—charming, open, and bright. But that disappeared with the questions about Sophie.

“You have to admit,” Riley said, “you’re playing naïve about the whole thing. This girl calling into the radio station—if it wasn’t a publicity stunt, well then, it was brilliant luck.”

“It was not a stunt,” Gavin said adamantly.

“Okay, I’ll take your word. But maybe you should hear a playback of the call, because what has sparked this intense interest, what got you and this girl in the L.A. Times and all over the internet, is the sound in your voice. The way I’d write about it is this: the desperation in your voice to connect with this girl was so strong, so naked, that you instantly won over every girl who has ever wanted to be wanted by a boy. So, yeah, Rogue is going to get more attention now than it ever has. It may not be precisely for the reasons you’d like, but it makes your band a household name.” Riley paused for effect. “That’s something hard to come by, and I’d argue that you take this story for all it’s worth because you do seem to be the real deal. You’ve got the music to back up the extra attention.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m reluctant to whore myself out,” Gavin said, and Riley laughed.

“Fuck it, Gav,” Conor said. He was done waiting this out. If James wasn’t going to step in, he would. “Go ahead—tell the story, the whole bloody thing. It’s all going to come out anyway. At least this way, initially, we’ll have some control.”

Riley looked to Conor as he switched on his recorder. “Why don’t you tell me your version of the story, Conor?”

Conor looked at Gavin, and when his friend didn’t object, he realized Gavin was purposely stepping back so that he could shape this the way he wanted. It was a concession he appreciated.

“I’ll give you the quick and dirty version. It’s not all that complicated. Sophie came to Dublin when she was sixteen. We all met her in school. She was there for the school year. She and Gav fell in love. She had to go home. Hearts were broken. She finished school here, and we worked on our band. We came to America on tour, saw Sophie last September at our Palladium show, but then had to move on to the next gig. Next thing we know, we get a call at the radio station. The two are reunited and everyone’s happy. End of story.”

“Except everyone doesn’t quite seem happy,” Riley said.

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