on my opinion, I did what any best friend would do. I told her the truth – that I thought David was great, but if she was having doubts, then maybe she should take some time apart from him to think about their relationship. Renee was flying home to Boston the following week to attend her grandfather’s funeral, so she’d have some space to evaluate their future while she was away.
I just honestly didn’t think that, in the end, she’d decide to stay with him.
It was almost one in the morning by the time the band was packed up and ready to go. Everyone except for the venue employees and band members had already gone home, so I was left in the smoke-filled backstage room with the Electric Wreck guys while Renee was off settling their bar tab. Dylan must have sensed that I was uncomfortable, sitting alone in the corner, because just as I was about to leave he sat down next to me.
“You like the show tonight?” he asked.
“You know you’re always great,” I said, although I wondered if he really did. No matter how many compliments Dylan received, he still seemed to doubt himself. Typical self-loathing artist.
“Do you have to drive back to the Cape tonight?”
“Yeah. It’s only a little over an hour. Not so bad.”
“Except at this hour.” He smirked. “You’re always welcome to crash with us, you know.”
Renee and Dylan lived in Quincy, which was only a 15-minute drive from the city, but I hated sleeping anywhere except in my own bed.
“I’ll be okay,” I said. “Thanks, though.”
“How are you kids doing over here?” Andy asked, sliding in between Dylan and me. He removed a joint from his pocket and held it in my direction. “You smoke?”
I thought about it for a minute. I wasn’t much of a pot-smoker because it made me sleepy, but I did have a long drive home…
“What the hell,” I agreed. “Here?”
“My car. I think they’re going to kick us out soon.”
I followed Andy through the empty main room, catching Renee’s eye on the way. She abruptly stopped her conversation with the bartender when she saw us leaving, giving me the thumbs-up sign. I made a joint-smoking motion with my hands so she wouldn’t get the wrong impression. She shrugged and gave me a smile that said, “Hey, it’s a start.”
Andy drove a black Infinity with gray-leather interior. It was much nicer than I’d imagined. I guess I assumed all musicians drove beat-up vans like Dylan did.
“This is nice,” I said, running my hand along the seat. It had that new-leather smell that I loved.
“Well, playing in a band isn’t the only thing I do.” He lit the end of the joint. “I also teach guitar lessons. And I taught music theory classes for years at the Art Institute.”
I took the joint from his grasp, looking around before taking a hit. We were parked in the lot behind the club, a dark, inconspicuous place. I felt safe. “Why’d you quit?” I asked.
“If we’re going to be touring more, I need the schedule flexibility. I’ll go back to teaching once we start working on our next album, when I know I’ll be home for a while.”
I exhaled a ring of smoke into the air, feeling much more relaxed. That was the good thing about pot. It made your problems not seem so bad. David felt a million miles away.
“What are you smiling about?” Andy asked, looking at me with hazy eyes. I hadn’t even realized I was.
I took another hit of the joint and shrugged. I was having too much fun in my little stoned world to start unleashing my weird thoughts. My head began to feel lighter. I wondered how long we’d been in the car. It felt like forever.
“Just smiling at life, huh?” Andy asked, stubbing out the joint in his ashtray. It was the furthest thing from the truth, but at that moment, it felt one tiny step closer.
“Yeah,” I said. “Something like that.”
Los Angeles, CA
April 2009
The day had finally arrived. My long-anticipated date with Vincent was here at last.
And I had absolutely no idea what to wear.
He hadn’t mentioned where he was taking me, but I assumed it was somewhere fancy, so I had to dress to impress. The problem was, I wasn’t your typical LA girl. I didn’t own designer bags or shoes or sunglasses. I liked funky shit. Purple pants, glass jewelry, fake fur. Those were my style. Red dresses and strappy shoes… not so much.
Renee was out of town, so I ransacked her closet, seeing as her wardrobe was slightly classier than mine. I decided on a low-cut sparkly gold dress because I had a pair of heels that matched perfectly. Luckily, Renee and I were the same size, although she was much taller. It was essentially a mini dress on her, but on me it ended about an inch above my knee. Just long enough to be classy, but just tight enough to be sexy.
Vincent picked me up promptly at 8.30 in a black Maserati. Very close to the black Porsche I’d pictured him in. I felt sexy as I stepped into it. Like a woman. The red lipstick and curls I’d added to my hair also helped me feel closer to his maturity level and less like an intern.
We valeted at the Huntley hotel on Second Street in Santa Monica. I was officially a Hollywood cliché. A cliché in a tight dress and a Maserati, strapped to the arm of someone 20 years my senior. There was a split second where my senses kicked in and I wanted to haul ass in the opposite direction, but instead I kindly kicked my intuition to the curb and followed Vincent to the elevator.
The Penthouse was located on the top floor of the hotel, and was one of the most gorgeous restaurants I’d ever seen. Everything was white. White tables, white chairs, white floors, white walls. They even had white sheer curtains that enveloped each booth; your own private canopy overlooking the city. The bar was lined with candles, and in the corner was a fireplace surrounded by oversized leather chairs.
Vincent and I sat across from each other in one of the cozy booths, and as each drink passed, I wished the curtains weren’t sheer so we could have a little privacy. I studied him in his blue-and-white-striped button-up, realizing that I’d forgotten how attractive he was in his absence.
Or maybe it was because I had been a little preoccupied developing a crush on a certain someone…
“Did I tell you how gorgeous you look tonight?” he asked, stroking my hand from across the table.
“Thank you,” I said politely.
“I mean it. You look stunning.” He removed my hand to grab his menu. “Have you eaten here before?”
