Page 19 of Dirty Love

I flip over to a new browser window and order Ellie one of those fruit basket bouquets with the chocolate strawberries. To further be a bastard, I use Jason’s credit card and make the personal note sound like it’s from him.You go above and beyond. I’d be lost without you. J.

Then I buy a ticket for Tabitha’s show and start looking for whatever the hell is in Fargo, North Dakota.

—ten—

Wilson

The music hall isn’t that big, maybe three thousand maximum capacity, and I was able to buy a ticket earlier this afternoon so it wasn’t sold out—not like that would’ve stopped me—but right now it feels full. Packed to the rafters with die-hard fans who are radiating a crazy amount of energy to be able to see Tabitha Leyton sing.

She’s got talent. Anyone who has watched her videos knows that. Her range is incredible, and she seeds her songs with exactly the right hooks. But before tonight, I’d have said she was just another pop star.

I was so fucking wrong.

She’s standing in front of a mic stand, feet planted wide, and her hands are resting easy on her electric guitar. The last song, she played the shit out of it. This song, though, she’s letting her band do the heavy lifting on the music, because she’s just singing.

Justnothing. Her voice is a finely-tuned instrument and she’s under my skin, a reaction that seems standard.

The lyrics soar above us, which is for the best, because they’re so raw, so powerful, they’d hurt if she didn’t belt them to the heavens.

From the tortured look on her face, she didn’t believe they reached.

Oh, baby girl.An unfamiliar ache bursts in my chest. Does nobody else see that the pain is real for her?

There’s something clawing at the back of my head. A warning—I’m aware of that much. But I can’t stop myself from getting up. From finding the head of security and introducing myself, so I get invited backstage. Unlike Tabitha, he buys the badge, and my story that she’s coming to the White House for a private concert and I’m doing advance reconnaissance.

Hacking pro-tip: pretend to be an insider. Works just as well with social hacking as online.

He shows me around, and tells me everything I need to know about the team around her—nobody’s telling her no. She’s self-destructive, powerful, and enough of a professional to keep that mostly hidden.

“Drugs?” I ask casually, like,no biggie, but I gotta ask.

He shakes his head. “Booze. After the show, never before. But she gets blitzed afterward.”

“The reception is before the concert,” I lie effortlessly.

“For the best.” His radio squawks and he excuses himself to go deal with a drunk in the front of house. I make my way right to the edge of the stage. She’s head-down, biting her lip as she plays her guitar. This song is about the death of a lover, and the frozen surprise of not having a chance to say goodbye.

Did I tell you I loved you

Enough times for you to remember

Won’t make it to heaven, though

So you’re on your own there, love

But you’ll be fine

You’ll fly

You’ve got wings I’ll never have

You’ll fly

So carry my dreams, love

And you’ll be fine

You’ll fly

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