Page 60 of Lies and Lullabies
God, I could never let Jonas get ahold of the playlists on my phone. I didn’t want him to know that I owned his music, and listened to it sometimes, especially in summer, when I was most susceptible to him. He’d written most ofSummer Nightsduring that summer in Maine.
Until a few short days ago, the music was all I had left of his voice.
“Wow,” Vivi yelled. “My daddy is loud.”
I couldn’t disagree. At least Vivi was sporting a pair of hot-pink headphones that fit snugly over her ears. They were special ones, for noise protection. Just before we’d stepped into the car, Ethan had torn them out of a plastic package, and Jonas had fitted them carefully over Vivi’s ears. “You have to wear these for the whole concert, okay? Otherwise the music will hurt your ears. Promise me you’ll wear them?”
Vivi’s face had become solemn. “Okay, Daddy. I promise.”
I’d had to blink away tears, and Adam had, too.
After clearing his throat, Ethan had given a tiny plastic packet to both me and Adam. “And you two should wear these. Jonas and I always do.” We’d tried on the ball-shaped earplugs, with little tubes sticking out of them. I’d thought they made us look like aliens.
“God, I have enough trouble looking cool without the science fiction headgear,” Adam had grumbled.
For some reason, Ethan had found this hilarious. And then he’d shut our car door and rapped on the window as a signal to the driver to go. Just like in the movies.
* * *
The concert wasamazing on so many levels. Seeing Jonas work the stage was surreal and overwhelming. There were two of him up there—both the guy I knew and the famous stranger, all wrapped up together. He prowled the stage under the multicolored lights, eyes on the audience, his brow glistening with effort.
My eyes were fixed on the way his hands danced over his bass guitar. It was impossible to believe that those hands had once played my body. An entire lifetime had passed for me since that night.
And after each song, a deafening wave of applause rolled over me. I hadn’t been to a big concert like this since my teen years. I’d forgotten the sheer power of live music—the way the crowd’s energy seemed to rise up from their waving hands into the sky, and the way the bass echoed inside my chest.
It was big and wild, and one thing seemed absolutely certain. Jonas was never mine, and he never would be. I’d bet a dozen homemade whoopie pies that every person in this stadium felt an equal sense of ownership.
They played one of my favorite songs near the end. After another loud crash of applause, Nixon began picking out the beginning of a slow tune called “Heavenly.” His strumming shimmered through the amplifiers, breaking over me like goosebumps.
Jonas began to sing about the pain of indecision. I’d heard the song before, of course, but watching him perform it was a different experience. His voice was supple and easy, though there was sweat coursing down his face. His body seemed to bend with emotion, squeezing the high notes from some place deep inside.
The crowd ate it up. As I watched, a scrap of something red sailed through the air and landed on the lip of the stage. I was close enough to see it was a lacy red thong.
And here I thought thrown panties were just a myth. And how was it done, exactly? Had the panty-tosser wiggled out of them? Or had she brought a spare pair in her pocketbook?
Adam cupped his hand over my ear. “Are you going to toss yours?”
I gave him a sharp look. “I did that five years ago.”
He shrugged, grinning like he knew a secret.
I’d better learn how to tamp down my reaction to Jonas. And I’d better learn to do it soon.
Vivi shocked me by staying awake for the entire concert. Even so, she leaned more heavily on me after each song, her little body sagging with the lateness of the hour.
Finally, on the heels of thunderous applause, Jonas unhooked the microphone and announced their last song of the evening. “We’re going to play you our new single, just released last week. I thought I’d tell you a little something about it. It’s called ‘Sweetness.’”
“Hey!” Adam poked me in the arm. “Isn’t that what he calls you?”
“About five years ago I met somebody wonderful. And then I spent five years trying to write a song about her. But I couldn’t do it. Every version was worse than the one before. But then last year I finally figured out where I went wrong with the lyrics. And everything fell into place. This is a song about meeting the right person at the wrong time. It’s a song about regrets. And I hope the girl in the song knows that I mean every word. Because I’m really hoping the story isn’t over yet.”
The audience hooted its approval, and Quinn clicked her sticks together four times, bringing the rest of the band into the groove. By the time Jonas sang the first lyric, I was holding my breath.
It wasmany years ago now
That summer was my saving grace
We were so much younger then
