Page 77 of Reverb
Her mom would be so proud. Had been so supportive of her music, even if the shrillness of the flutophone all those years ago had been like nails on a chalkboard. Even when Mish had taken up stripping to support them, her mom hadn’t berated her.
And deep inside her came that wailing that always did when she thought about her mom too long. Because death was unfair and awful andfinal.
She tightened her grip on David’s hand and got a squeeze in response. He turned in the seat—that much she saw out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze focused in front of her.
Momma would have liked David, thought he was a good, decent man, so unlike the ones she’d dated.Beggars can’t be choosers, she’d said once, when Mish had asked why she dated so many awful guys.Don’t ever be a beggar, my beautiful child.
To this day, Mish didn’t understand what she meant. Her mother had been a bright star in the galaxy of her life. Not a beggar at all.
Mish closed her eyes. This wasn’t good, this train of thought. They had a concert to play tonight. So she took a deep breath, then another and another, and listened to the rumble of the van and the stillness of her bandmates and worked to clear her mind of thoughts of her mother, of that awful voice she’d heard over the phone, and of her pain and sorrow.
David’s hand was warm in hers, and she drew strength from that. She was here. Her dreams werehereand manifest. So many would look to her tonight to give them a taste of that hope.
When they reached the hotel, the tour bus was already there, which was good. There were also fans, which normally lightened her heart, but her heart felt like a stone of iron falling and falling down into something dark and shadowy.
“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered as the van pulled up.
Ray answered in a quiet, soothing voice. “You don’t have to. We can sign. You and David can head to the bus.”
Another squeeze from David, which felt less like agreement with Ray and more like support for her—for what she wanted to do. Mish looked up at the ceiling, hating that this...fucking asshole...was getting to her. Had gotten to her.
No matter what she did, his comments, his actions, and that damn call changed how she behaved by making her think about how she should act. How each motion would be perceived, how that damn man would respond.
“Fuck.” She whispered that, too. “No. I’ll go. Can’t be any worse than after the ring.”
David finally spoke. “Would you like me there? With you?”
“With mewith me, or just with me?” The question tumbled out, though she hadn’t meant to ask it.
He cocked his head. “Either. However you need me, Mish.”
She needed him. Right now, she needed him by her side. She didn’t know what the future held—didn’t want to think beyond the concert and the stage and the freedom that was playing and singing. After tonight, maybe she would. “Come with me. Stand with me. Be with me.”
“Okay.” That was all he said, though his eyes, the curve of his lips, and the warmth of his hand said so much more.
They filed out from the bus.
In the end, signing for the fans lifted her spirits. They were all kind and bright-eyed. Hopeful and excited. They couldn’t wait to hear her sing. See the band play live. They were astounded to be able to talk and hug and take photos with Twisted Wishes.
She was here and now. Because that’s what was important.Hold on to those moments tight, her mom had said so many years ago.Never forget them.
I miss you, Momma.
David was here, his hand occasionally touching her. His soft smile lifted his cheeks, even if she couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses.
There were pictures taken of them like that—David close. Closer than a guard would be. The pool toss, the night out. All of those would be catalogued, too, along with that horrible phone call. Such was her life in the spotlight.
But Mish’s life was also what was before her now—a young woman’s bright smile. Another from a college-age fan wearing a pronoun necklace that readthey. The laughter from a group waiting to see the band. All of this was her life, too.
When they finished signing, she waved to them. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us. To me.” Then she boarded the tour bus.
David followed. The whole band was there. Ray had sorrow in his eyes when she met his.
“Aw, kiddo,” she said, and pulled him into a hug. “I’ll be okay.”
“I know,” came his muffled reply from her shoulder. “But I also know it hurts.”
She gave them all hugs, after that. Kissed Dom on his forehead and Zavier on the cheek. Marcella even opened her arms, though she was the least touchy-feely of them all.
