And then the program switched to some commentary on the newest celebrity sex tape scandal.

“Can you believe that? Cole was on TV!” Dina said, turning the volume back down.

Gracie pulled out her phone and started texting, most likely either Maysie or Mitch. The smile on my face was fake and thin and I realized I had never answered Theo’s question.

He was looking at me now, with an unreadable expression.

“You know that guy, I take it,” he deduced.

I swirled the melting ice in my drink with my straw to try to distract him from my discomfort.

“Uh yeah, that’s Cole. He’s the lead singer for Generation Rejects. They’re a local band. Have you heard of them?” I asked, wishing we could change the subject.

“Can’t say that I have,” Theo said and there was a note in his voice that could only be construed as confused.

“They play at Barton’s a lot. Well, they did before they went on the road. This is where they got their start. Gracie and I are friends with Maysie, the drummer’s fiancée.” I was rambling. Why was I rambling?

“I take it you don’t like their music much,” Theo said, surprising me.

“Why would you say that? I like their music,” I argued.

Theo ate a fry from his plate and shrugged. “You just looked like you had sucked a lemon when that Cole guy was giving his interview. I guessed it was because you thought they sucked or something.”

I laughed lamely. “No, they’re fine.”

I had nothing to say after that. The earlier easy rapport that had been steadily building between us had flickered and died.

I hated how much power I allowed Cole to have, even when he was thousands of miles away and had no place in my world.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about what he was doing? Wondering what show they were playing tonight. I wanted to ask him about his interview and I wanted to know how he was holding up.

I quickly pulled money out of my purse and laid it on the bar. “I’ve got to get back to the office,” I said suddenly, getting to my feet.

Gracie and Dina, who were still discussing the finer points of Cole’s interview looked up as I made my excuses to leave.

“Okay. See you at home,” Gracie responded.

I turned to Theo and wished I didn’t feel so strange.

“I’ll see you later. I’ll call you to touch base later this week,” I said and I knew I was being distant. I didn’t want to be. But I felt I just needed to get out of there and deal with this lump in my chest.

Theo reached out and took my phone that I gripped tightly in my hand. He tapped on the screen for a minute and then handed it back to me.

I looked down at the screen and saw his name and cell phone number.

“That’s my cell. Not my office number. Call it when you want to take me up on dinner. I’m just going to put it out there, Vivian. I want to take you out. I want you to go on a date with me. So call me, please.” Theo was earnest and sincere and I wanted to say yes.

I really did.

But I couldn’t.

Not yet.

I gave him a small smile and nodded, not able to think of any adequate way to respond.

13

I was living the life. I had everything I wanted. I was the king of the f**king castle.

At least that’s what I was trying to tell myself each and every day.

Because sometimes it was hard to remember that this is what I always wanted.

In the weeks since Raleigh, everything had been kicked into overdrive. Our shows were selling out faster and faster. And we were starting to get almost as much press coverage as the band we were opening for.

Last week, Jose had told me that I had been asked to do an interview for Spin magazine. I was stoked, until I registered what he said. I had been asked. Not the band. When I had said so to Jose, he said it wasn’t going to be a huge piece. Just a few questions. And they had specifically asked for me.

Then we had gotten the cover art of our new album. We had been excited to see it. Jordan had ripped open the box and pulled out a CD. He flipped it over and then promptly threw it in my lap, stalking off to the back of the bus.

Garrett and Mitch had grabbed one to see what Jordan’s problem was.

The picture of the band on the back was his problem. Because I was standing in the front. My body had been enlarged due to the perspective of the shot. Jordan, Garrett, and Mitch were shadowed behind me. You could barely see their faces.

I thought the picture was pretty awesome. The guys did not agree.

“We didn’t agree on this picture. We chose another one,” Garrett pointed out to Jose.

“I can put in a call to the label, but they have final say over the design and layout. I think it’s great,” was our manager’s response.

“Yeah, that’s because it’s not your nose stuck up Cole’s ass**le,” Mitch muttered, tossing the CD back in the box.

“Stop your bitching, boys. It’s a great cover. They used Garrett’s artwork, which we wanted. What does it matter if they didn’t use the picture we wanted? This is our first album. That’s what’s important,” I reasoned. I was pretty proud of myself. I hadn’t gotten pissed; I had been calm and understanding.

Paging Oprah!

Mitch and Garrett mumbled their agreement but I knew that Generation Reject’s armor had some major chinks.

I took the CD back to my bunk, where I was beginning to feel I spent most of time. I stared at the picture that had caused such a problem.