I was surprised at his anger. Cal was never angry. He was always so even-keeled. I envied it. Sometimes.
But anger could feel good.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s not your fault,” he said.
It’s Ryan’s was the unspoken part.
“You can tell him to stop,” I said.
Cal snorted. “Yeah. Right.”
He had a point. If he said something, Ryan would probably just double down and do it more. He was mature like that.
“He’s jealous,” I said. “Of you.”
“He’s the star,” Cal said.
“Yeah, but you’re smarter than him and he knows it.”
“Because I went to college?” Cal asked. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But it matters to Ryan. It makes him feel small.”
Sometimes it made me feel small too.
“That’s his problem, not mine,” Cal said.
“I’ll tell him that.”
Cal laughed, and looked at me.
“What about you?” he asked.
“What about me?”
“Are you jealous?”
I thought about lying.
“A little,” I said.
Cal pressed his lips together and gave a tight little nod.
“I just wonder sometimes,” I said. “What it would have been like. To go to high school. College.”
“I can tell you,” Cal said. “It’s pretty boring.”
I smiled. “I wonder what that’s like too.”
“What?”
“Boring,” I said. “Because this life?” I gestured around myself. “It’s not boring.”
Cal shifted, arms crossed.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Tour buses can get pretty boring. You can only listen to Wyatt singing ‘Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall’ so many times.”
“Has he ever gotten to one?”
Cal shook his head. “He always gets lost around the seventies.”
We both laughed at that.
“He’s a nice guy,” Cal said. “They all are.”
“Not Ryan,” I said.
I was only half joking.
Cal didn’t answer.
We stood there in silence, and I wished I had something to do with my hands.
“He should have known,” Cal finally said.
“What?”
“That you could sing,” Cal said.
“Oh.”
“And you should make them listen to Harriet’s songs,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I turned to face him. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll make you a deal.”
He gave me a suspicious look. Smart of him.
“I’ll play the songs for my team if you ask yours to let you direct the next music video.”
Cal’s laugh was a burst of surprise.
“They’d never allow that,” he said.
“Okay,” I conceded. “Then you get to choreograph it. Or a new number for the next tour.”
He regarded me.
“You’re serious,” he said.
“Were you serious about Harriet’s songs?”
“I was,” he said.
“Then I am too,” I said. “Come on. Pinky promise?”
I extended a pinky. Cal looked at it. Looked at me.
“Pinky promise,” he said.
We hooked our fingers together and blew on our thumbs the way we’d done back at camp.
“Should we go back in?” Cal asked.
“Sure,” I said. “I think I owe them another song from a musical.”
“You definitely do,” he said.
Ryan would hate it, but I didn’t care.
Cal held open the door for me.
“And just for the record,” he said, “I like your nose. A lot.”
CHAPTER 19
“Stop scowling at me,” I said. “You can have dinner when we get there.”
The only response I got was a very disappointed mew.
“I know,” I said. “I’m terrible. I’m forcing you to spend a few months in a beautiful furnished apartment in Rhode Island while I live out one of my lifelong dreams. I should have just left you in Brooklyn to fend for yourself.”
“Meow.”
I’d wanted this for so long but now I was starting to have second thoughts. And they were coming at rapid intervals, keeping me up at night, burrowing into the muscles at the base of my neck, keeping a tight grip on my lower back.
What if I was too late to pursue a dream like this? What if I’d missed my chance?
After my career had gone up in flames, after Diana—who had always discouraged me from doing theatre—had dumped me, I tried to get in the door on my own. But my brand was so damaged that no one wanted to touch me. The one or two offers that had been floated my way had felt more like cash grabs from producers hoping I’d draw attention—and ticket sales—from people who wanted to see me fail.
At least I’d been in shape back then.
Not just physically but emotionally. The scandal had leveled me in a lot of ways, but I’d been well calloused from years in the public eye—accustomed to the abuse that came with fame.
I was softer now.
Maybe too soft.
“I thought you and Harriet were going to ride together.”
I looked up, not entirely surprised to see Cal standing in the aisle. Because of course.
He hesitated, and I could tell he wasn’t sure if he wanted to just keep walking and find another seat or…
“Sit down,” I said. “We can handle a train ride just the two of us.”
He sat. The cat yowled.
“Oh,” he said, peering into her carrier. “You really do have a cat.”
“I really do have a cat,” I said, thinking that it would be a weird thing to lie about, but I couldn’t really blame Cal for believing I was somewhat unhinged.