Page 13 of Feuds and Interludes
I’d told her I’d be going to the twins’ place, which was a few blocks away, but I wanted to be close in case she needed me. I pulled around the lot and backed into a parking spot against the fence. I had a clear view of the door. I turned on some tunes and sighed. Maybe I could read. Maybe I could write. I had my notebook with me and my tablet…
I flicked open YouTube and searched my favorite obsession instead.
Shane Butler interviews.
I’d probably seen them all, but I loved hearing him speak, hearing the cadence of his deep, smooth baritone.
The first one to pop up was from three months ago as a wrap-up to Wicked Soul’s most recent world tour. I’d never seen them perform live. I’d stalked—I mean,watchedrecorded performances, and then there was that iHeart Radio festival where I’d supposedly refused to go on if we were playing the same day. Whatever. I might be a diva, but I was dead seriouswhen it came to performing, and the only issue I had with iHeart was that they didn’t appear to have a contingency plan in case of bad weather, which had been forecasted, and I wasn’t about to play in an electrical storm. We nearly pulled out until the organizers provided us a plan. The other bands gave me shit for being the squeaky wheel, but I got them all protection, now didn’t I? No thanks necessary.
“All right, Shane, clear up the rumors for us. Is ‘Faker’ about Boone Collins?”
Ugh, I hated this question. For Shane and for myself. I watched his jaw muscle twitch, which I’d learned was a clear indicator that he was fighting his urge to bite the head off the person who was talking to him. He hadn’t held back when it was me though.Hmm.
“That song is not about any one person. It’s about every person, the ones who think they’re better than others, the ones who step on others to get where they want to be in life. People are going to think what they want. It was never meant to be about one person.”
“So you and Boone Collins are cool?”
Shane’s nostrils flared and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Next question.” When the interviewer insisted, Shane shook his head. “Our grandfathers were in a band together. He’s immensely talented. I’ve got nothing against Boone. Next question.”
My face flushed. “Aw. He doesn’t admit to hating me.”
The interviewer asked him about his obsession with Warhammer. Shane spoke about the game and its impact on his songwriting, and though I got lost a bit, my ears perked up at the last question.
“Tomorrow’s Mother’s Day. How will you be celebrating?”
Shane’s face paled noticeably. “I’ll, uh, bring her flowers.”
The interviewer was at least professional enough to know that his question had led to a topic Shane was not at all comfortable discussing. They moved on to songwriting and the host talked over a clip of the one Wicked Soul song that I particularly loved, “Fall Into Pain,” and I found myself wondering, what if? Shane and I were so different, his lyrics went in a direction that I never dared to go. His music was powerful, angry, passionate in a different way than mine. Would we mesh? Could we make something incredible together?
Too bad he hated me.
“All right! You heard it, folks. Catch Wicked Soul tonight at the Palladium.”
“Damn, that would have been a good show,” I muttered to myself, thinking it was about time I went to see them play. Incognito, of course. I wouldn’t want my appearance at one of his shows feeding the rumor mill or causing any problems for him. I didn’t give a fuck what people thought about me, as long as people listened to the music. Shane seemed to care. He wanted to make music that people respected, and though I didn’t agree that his band was the best platform for him, I wanted to see him thrive. Truly.
The next video loaded as my phone started buzzing in my hand. I squealed and tossed the phone in the air, honking the horn in my attempt to catch it. I sighed when I saw Rose’s name on the screen.
“I’m so glad it’s you,” I said after answering. “I nearly concussed myself with my own phone.”
Rose barked out a laugh. “Please don’t do that! I would hate to concuss a person. I’dcussat them, ordiscuss them, butconcussing seems really harsh. I’m against it.”
We giggled together for several moments before getting to the point of the call.
“I can’t wait to see you next week,” I said.
“I concur, not to beconfused withconcussing. I was calling toconfirm your studio time with Morrison.”
“Yes, please! Tell Morrison we areconpletely—wait that doesn’t work. We’re, uh,confident in hiscontrol—oh, forget it. We’ll be there.”
“Awesome,” she said. “Can’t wait to see you. Please bring your nail stuff. You give the best manicures ever.”
“And I love to do them. If you have requests for colors, let me know. I can stop by the beauty supply and pick up some fresh bottles.”
Rose squealed with delight and clapped her hands. “We’re going to have such a great week. You guys are going to be there, both More and Lydia are home, and Wicked Soul will be here?—”
“Wait,what? Really?”
My whole body flushed at that news. I hadn’t heard they were going back in the studio. I wondered if I’d manifested his appearance. I also wondered if Shane knew we were going to be there.
