Page 31 of One More Made Up Love Song
When I’m traveling on my own, I can usually stay in hotels under a pseudonym, and most hotel staff don’t even know it’s me. But that’s harder to do with an entire tour. Even when we use fake names, concert schedules are public. Andtour buses are pretty conspicuous. If you’re looking, it isn’t hard to figure out where we are.
Wayne leans forward and props his elbows on his knees. “I’ll be extra vigilant through our last tour stops. You know it’s why I’m here. I won’t let anything happen.”
“Grateful for you, man,” I say. “Thank you.”
I mean the words, but on the heels of my conversation with Ivy, it’s hard not to wonder if I’m inching toward a place where this kind of attention isn’t worth it.
It’s not so much that I want to stop performing. Stop making music. I just don’t want to do it at the expense of having anyotherkind of life. And when stuff like this happens, it’s hard to imagine having a real relationship when so much of my life is so completelyunreal.Or at least unrelatable.
I think of Adam, my former bandmate who left Midnight Rush after his mom died. He often comes to mind when I’m feeling reflective, mostly because he had the same life I do, then he walked away, and now, everything is different for him.
When I crashed with him in North Carolina, I was fascinated by the simplicity of his life. With his freedom to just live and do what he wants.
When he first met his girlfriend, Laney, she didn’t even know who he was. She fell for a simple guy running a dog rescue. Maybe that’s the thing I’m most envious of. His ability to control when and how much his past with Midnight Rush plays into his current relationships.
Wayne stands, pushing himself up off his thighs. “You need anything else before I go to bed? Jason is posted outside your room. Just as an extra precaution after what happened.”
“Tell him to get some sleep. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
Wayne doesn’t answer, just looks at me, his expression patient. He will not, under any circumstances, tell Jason to get some sleep just because I tell him to. No matter how much I hate the idea of him staying up all night for me.
“Actually, there is one thing you can help me with,” I say.
Wayne nods. “Okay.”
“Any chance you can get Margot Valemont’s cell number for me? You know one of the guys on her security team, right?”
Wayne frowns. “No.”
“No, you don’t know the guy?”
“No, I won’t get you her number.”
“Not for me, Wayne. Chill. Ivy’s sister is hanging out with her, and she’s not answering her phone. I’m just trying to help Ivy track her down.”
“You don’t need Margot’s number for that,” he says. “She’s always telling the internet where she is.”
“Not anymore. She’s on a beach somewhere, but she isn’t tagging her locations like she used to.”
“Hmm,” Wayne grumbles. “Maybe she’s finally getting smart.”
“I don’t want to see Margot,” I say. “Or even talk to her. I just want to reach out so I can connect with Carina. Maybe find out where they are.”
Wayne rubs a hand across his jaw, eyes cast skyward like he’s considering his options. “I won’t get you her number,” he finally says. “But I will find out where she is.”
His confidence takes me by surprise. “How? Is there some underground security guard network I don’t know about?”
Wayne doesn’t respond, his face perfectly impassive.
“Seriously?” I ask. “For real? Do you compare stories? What’s the weirdest one? Who is it? Musician? Actor? I’ve always thought musicians have to be weirder. Am I right? Tell me I’m right.”
Wayne blows out a patient breath. “Do you want my help or not?”
“Yeah, of course I do.”
“Then stop asking questions.”
I hold my hands up. “Fine. I’ll leave it to you.”
