One year later
My phone chirped with an incoming text. I smiled at Pete, Officer Daniels, and held up the phone. “I’ll just be a minute. It’s probably Billy.”
Pete let go of the restaurant door he’d been holding open for me. “He still mad you didn’t let him come for graduation?” After spending the summer with Pete’s family, I’d decided to stay for my senior year, a decision my father didn’t understand and still wasn’t happy about.
“I think he’s coming around,” I said. Billy had wanted to attend my high school graduation. But the thought of my famous father in small-town Beaverton, Oregon, near all my friends, figuratively made me break out in hives.
Pete nodded. “All right, but don’t take too long. We’re excited to celebrate with you.”
“Got it.” I smiled brightly. My gown fluttered in the early summer wind, I’d left my cap in the car. “Tell Gabe to save me a seat next to him.” Pete and Mel’s son Gabe had graduated with me and was set for a full-ride football scholarship to OSU. As for me, I’d be off to New York in a few weeks to attend college. Strolling the sidewalk, I peeked at my phone. It wasn’t my father.
Mystery number: Hi.
Me: Hi. Who’s this?
Mystery number: Warren Price. Remember me?
If it’s possible for your heart to fall straight out of your chest, mine did.
Me: Yeah. How’d you get my number?
Warren: I know people who know people.
Me: Huh?
Warren: It’s the digital age, babe. Not hard to find someone’s phone number. The right YouTube video and I could give myself a vasectomy.
Me: Would you really do that?
Warren: What?
Me: Give yourself a vasectomy?
Warren: Hell, no. But I could.
Warren: You still there?
Me: It’s been a long time.
Warren: Sorry about that. Been thinking about you, though.
Me: Yeah?
Me: I don’t think this is a good idea, you and me talking. Billy doesn’t want us to be friends.
Warren: I disagree. I think this is the best idea I’ve ever had. Besides, last time I checked we were a little more than friends. What you been up to?
Me: In a nutshell? Billy sent me away to live in BFE. Since then… Went to school dances. Drank my first bottle of peach schnapps. Saw Twilight four times.
Warren: Damn. That’s a lot of living for a small town.
Me: I know. Mind blown, right? How about you, what have you been up to?
Warren: Got booted from Billy’s celestial limelight just like you, working the dive bar circuit again.
Me: Ouch. Sorry.
Warren: Not your fault.
Warren: Shit. Got to go. About to the take the stage at a honky-tonk in Nashville. This should be interesting. We don’t play country.
Me: All right.
Warren: Okay if I text you again?
Me: Thumbs up.
Warren: Did you just text me the words: thumbs up?
Me: Yep. My emoji button is broken. Sad face.
Warren: Okay then.
Me: Okay.
Me: I think I just saw you or someone who looks just like you. Are you wearing a green turtleneck today?
Warren: Hell, no. I don’t own any fucking turtlenecks.
Me: Are u sure? Send me a pic of you right now to prove it.
Warren: See. No fucking turtleneck.
Me: Oh, my bad.
Warren: You’re so obvious.
Me: Come again?
Warren: If you wanted a pic of me, babe, just ask.
Me: I’m offended. This was all purely evidence-based.
Warren: Ha.
Warren: Fair is fair. Send me a pic of you.
Warren: What the fuck is that?!
Me: Those are my toes. Don’t they get you all hot and bothered?
Warren: Sexiest toes I’ve ever seen.
Warren: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Warren: What r u doing?
Me: Eating pizza. Naked.
Warren: Really?
Me: No. I’m lying.
Warren: I hope it’s about the pizza.
Me: Prepare to be disappointed.
Me: Where are u these days?
Warren: Don’t know. Somewhere in North Carolina, I think.
Warren: What you doing tonight?
Me: Going out with a friend.
Warren: A guy?
Me: Define guy.
Warren: ?
Me: Like do you mean does he have a penis? Or just identify as male?
Warren: A dick.
Me: Oh.
Me: I’m going out with my friend Lily. My very female friend Lily.
Warren: Oh.
Me: Yeah.
Warren: Can I tell you something without you freaking out and thinking I’m crazy?
Me: Sure.
Warren: I can’t stop thinking about u.
Me: Me either. Phone call?
Warren: Dialing.
Me: I have some new song lyrics for you.
Me: Don’t frown. It just went down. You’re the clown.
Warren: Wow.
Warren: You sure you don’t want to keep hold of those? Could be worth big bucks.
Me: Money and fame doesn’t interest me at all.
Me: I have more.
Warren: I can hardly wait.
Me: I like your style. I like your class. But most of all I like your ass.
Me: Wanna hear more?
Warren: No. I want to hear your voice.
Me: K.
Warren: We’re going to be in Portland next week. Can I see u?
Me: Shoot. Will be visiting Billy in Florida.
Warren: Cancel.
Me: Can’t. He’ll blow a gasket. The whole state of Florida might explode.
Warren: I’d pay to see that.
Me: I’ve seen it. It isn’t pretty.
Warren: I’m in Portland. You’re in Florida.
Me: Yes.
Warren: What are u doing?
Me: Lying in bed in my hotel room.
Warren: And?
Me: And what?
Warren: Just lying in bed? Nothing else?
Me: Oh. I get it. Kinky. I’m lying in bed and eating Milk Duds.
Warren: What would you do if I was with you?
Me: I guess share my Milk Duds.
Warren: Jesus. You suck at sexting. And still I’m hard.
Me: Milk Duds make me tired. Sleepy time. Night.
Warren: Night. Thanks for the blue balls.
Me: Anytime.
Me: Sorry I missed your call. What’s up?
Warren: I’d rather do this over the phone.
Me: Oh, no. Sounds ominous. Call me now.
Warren: Can’t, we’re in the middle of a local radio interview.
Me: Tell me. Tell me. TELL ME.
Warren: Hell. Got some good news today. We booked an opening gig for Miss Americana.
Me: Miss Americana? They’re huge. That’s great. Congrats.
Warren: It’s for the European leg of their tour.
Me: Europe. Like the continent Europe?
Warren: That’s the one.
Me: So far away.
Warren: An ocean.
Me: When do u leave?
Warren: A week. This could be really big for us. We’d be able to build a whole new fan base.
Me: Yeah.
Warren: I know we made plans to meet up in New York when you started school.
Me: Yeah. Big plans.
Warren: Come with me.
Me: What?
Warren: I want you to come with me. The hotels will be shitty, the pace grueling. But we’ll be together.
Warren: Addy?
Warren: You there?
Warren: C’mon, party girl, Peace, Addison Wanks—what do you say?
Me: Can I bring a friend?
Warren: You can bring anyone you want. Except for Gabe. Or Billy.
Me: Okay.
Warren: Okay?
Me: I’ll come.
“Last call for boarding to Frankfurt, Germany, flight 6124,” a woman with a clipped accent announced over the intercom.
“You ready?” Lily, my best friend-slash-secret soul sister, asked. I’d met her senior year in high school. We’d bonded over our love of Twilight and tequila. We’d been inseparable ever since. Pete used to call us the gruesome twosome.
I picked up the carry-on at my feet and hoisted it over my shoulder. “Yeah, just texting Billy.”
“Let’s go then.” She twisted her long blonde hair into a bun, her face bright with excitement. “I can’t believe we’re doing this! A whole year on tour with a band. In Europe! I’m going to eat so much pasta, I shit noodles.” Looping her arm through mine, she began to lead me to the ticketing agent.
Furiously, I tapped out a final text to Billy.
Me: Hey! Made it to New York. Registering for school tomorrow. Busy. Busy. Will call when I have time.
Although I’d matured during my senior year, my penchant for bending the truth was hard to shake. I considered these good lies. Good lies benefited all sides. For example, Billy would have been worried sick knowing his daughter just skipped the States to chase after a rocker. And I got to follow my heart guilt-free.
Well, not entirely guilt-free. A tiny splinter of remorse jabbed its way into my side. Billy and I used to be so close. He used to say: You and me, we’re hair and gum, we stick together, got it? Only we hadn’t. Billy had sent me away at the first sign of trouble. As I boarded the plane, I ignored the emotional pangs. Impulsivity. Brashness. Throwing caution to the wind. That was very rock ’n’ roll. I was following in my father’s footsteps. What could possibly go wrong?