Love Songs & Other Lies(28)
“I’m tapped,” Logan says.
We’re all sitting in the bus lounge, going over set lists for upcoming shows while Vee sits in the back of the bus, answering fan mail and managing our social media. She spends hours each day posting photos online, sharing funny things that happen from day to day and engaging the fans in conversations about what they like. It’s a huge part of our success so far, because people like us. Vee makes us seem accessible, when really we are so far from it. When we aren’t playing or sleeping, we’re in no mood to answer emails or post funny comments. She does it all for us.
Logan has his head in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. “We’ve played most of our stuff. We can repeat a song or two each night, but we need at least two new songs to get through the next few weeks.”
“What about Vee?” I ask.
Logan glances toward the back of the bus, then shakes his head. “She’s not writing for us right now.”
I pull my notebook out of my bag and throw it over to Logan and Anders, who are sitting on the sofa across from me. “I’ve got a whole notebook of songs. Lots of them need work, but at least two or three are good to go, if you want to check them out.”
“What am I”—Reese is scowling at the two of them—“invisible over here?” He drops down onto the couch next to Logan, and the three of them flip through the notebook, nodding and mumbling, page after page.
Logan rips a page out, and I flinch. “This one.” Then another. “And this one. ‘Girl in the Purple Shirt.’ Play a little for us?” This is the first time we’ll play anything I wrote, and I’m trying to push down the little voice in my head saying I should have just kept these to myself.
I grab my guitar and start strumming the melody. Logan joins in with the lyrics, the two of us switching back and forth between verses. Anders taps out a rhythm on the table.
We’re in a full-on jam session when Vee walks in. “What’s this?”
Logan finishes up the verse. “New song,” he says, a giant smile on his face. “You like it?”
“I love it. And the fans are going to eat it up. T-shirt sales will go through the roof.”
When I wrote the song—about Vee and her lucky shirt—I hadn’t even considered the fact that our merch shirts would be purple. They’ve always been purple—since back when we were The Melon Ballers. But when I think of the Girl in the Purple Shirt, it’s Vee I imagine. In that ratty shirt, standing offstage as we play. Not a fan in an overpriced T-shirt.
I fight the urge to correct her. I won’t like her reaction if I say the song is about her. We’ll be singing it in front of hundreds of people soon—thousands, if you count everyone watching on television and online. I’m not allowed to tell Vee how I feel about her, so I’m ninety-nine percent sure she wouldn’t be on board with me telling the world.
VIRGINIA
Priya, one of Jenn’s marketing minions, gathers us all in one of the small backstage rooms of the club we’ve arrived at in New Orleans. Logan is sitting in a red velvet wingback chair in the corner of the room, and Anders is straddling a brown metal folding chair. The rest of us are standing around, propping ourselves against the counters and old dingy walls of the tiny room. I’m looking at my phone, scrolling through comments on the band’s Instagram, when Jenn and her assistant Kaley come in.
“We’re busy, so this won’t take long,” Jenn says. “Logan. Cam.” She nods at the two of them and then glances over the rest of us. “I really just needed the two of you, but I’m glad everyone could join us.”
“Whatever we can do,” Reese says in a serious voice I’ve never heard before.
“Just a heads up, as things move forward—as you move forward—we’ll be asking more of you. Meet-and-greets, radio interviews. You’ll need to stick around for photo ops. And down the road we have some other ideas in mind for you.”
“If we make it,” Cam says.
“When you make it.” Jenn sounds confident. “Listen, ‘Girl in the Purple Shirt’ is huge right now. We’ll set up some promotions geared around that, play off the idea of rock stars falling in love with someone out in the crowd. Fans love that.” Jenn smacks her tablet. “I know—we’ll run a contest to win dates with Logan and Cam.”
Cam crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s not really what the song is about.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jenn says. “That’s what the fans are responding to.”
I’m trying to get Logan’s attention, because, hello, I’m his girlfriend? As far as they know, at least. Isn’t it sort of tacky to send him out on dates with random girls? I clear my throat loudly but Logan is still fixated on what Jenn is saying.
Jenn turns to me slowly. “Virginia—” There’s annoyance in her voice.
What the hell am I supposed to say? I’m not even a part of this band.
While I’m panicking, Cam speaks up. “Logan has a girlfriend.” He glances over at me but doesn’t meet my eyes. “As you know. And I’m not interested in going on dates with strangers. But thanks.”
“It’s not a request,” Jenn says, still smiling. “It’s also not necessary to keep up the false pretenses—” Her eyes land on Logan. “Not with me, at least.”