Love Songs & Other Lies(77)
We’re on a plane to New York the next morning, and by afternoon we’re on our third talk show interview. Most of the shows ask Vee to sing by herself, but she’s refused. And for once, I don’t think it’s her nerves. She tells them it’s not just about her, it’s about the band. On the first show she and I play “This Girl” and at the second the band plays “Dakota” with Vee joining us on vocals. It’s fucking unbelievable that she did this for me. I’m not at all surprised that people around the world love her. That’s easy to believe. But after everything I put her through, I can’t believe she put herself out there for me. Especially when I haven’t answered the one question I’ve been waiting for her to ask: Why didn’t you come back?
I thought she’d need to know the answer to forgive me, but she still hasn’t asked, and I wonder if maybe she doesn’t want to know. The answer is easy. At first it was too hard. How could I ever make it up to her? How could I explain myself? And the more time that went by, the more impossible it seemed. The more I panicked. Could she ever forgive me? Why would she wait for me? I never went back because deep down, I always knew she deserved better.
We’re sitting on a production stage, around a big white table with three very loud women. They’re asking us entirely different questions. Clips of Vee’s videos play on a screen behind us. One of the hosts—a fifty-something retired Olympic something-or-other—is reciting a laundry list of facts.
“You made your first video less than two years ago.”
Vee nods.
“You’ve performed over fifty original songs. Plus covers.”
Vee smiles. “Yep.” She’s holding my hand under the table. I’m losing blood flow.
“You posted this video just last night.” An image of me and Vee sitting on the tour bus appears on the screen behind us. It’s the duet we played at the last show. We weren’t allowed to use the official tour footage, so we re-recorded it on the bus. The video is shaky and grainy. At one point you can see Reese’s finger drift into the shot.
“Do you know how many views it has so far?” the host asks.
Vee shakes her head. We’ve basically been in a bus, plane, or cab for the last sixteen hours. Behind us a string of numbers appears.
“Two point four million,” the host says, shaking her head. Vee smiles, but doesn’t say anything. She’s breathing hard and slow, and I can tell she’s overwhelmed.
The second host, a petite blonde, turns to face us at the table and smiles. “My teenage daughter is a huge fan, Dakota. Or do you prefer Virginia?”
“Either is fine.”
“She says you’re the Queen of the Breakup Anthem.” Vee tenses, and crosses her hands on the table in front of her. “Most of your songs, especially the early ones, are obviously about heartbreak.” She taps her talking cards on the table and gives Vee a conspiratorial look. “Can you tell us who inspired those?”
Shit. I can tell you who inspired them. I’d raise my hand if I thought the joke would cheer Vee up.
The other host chimes in. “Maybe you want to put a warning out there?”
Vee fidgets nervously in her seat. “Oh. Hm. That seems kind of rude.” The hosts all laugh. They think she’s joking.
The Olympian turns to Vee again. “Someone obviously broke your heart.” She lists off some of Dakota’s most popular songs, which include titles like “Catastrophic Love,” “Bleeding Hearts,” “Love’s a Mistake,” and “Over You Under Him.” Vee fidgets in her chair when they read the last one and I snake my hand along the edge of the table and put my hand on hers.
“Obviously,” Vee mutters, when the laundry list of songs has finally ended.
“No comment?” the blonde says, giggling. “You’re a better woman than me. If some guy treated me that way, I’d be screaming his name from the rooftops.”
“I think you’ve actually done that,” the Olympian offers and they all laugh. The women launch into a discussion about Sidney Montrose, an A-list pop star who does put all of her exes on blast. The women seem to think Sidney could teach Vee a thing or two about well-played vengeance. Vee laughs along, but she’s fidgety. Uncomfortable.
The host announces we’ll be performing and says, “Well, we wish you all luck.” Then her eyes fix on Vee’s hand in mine, and she looks at Vee again. “It looks like it all worked out for the best, anyway.”
Vee pulls her hand away from me slowly and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. She doesn’t smile. We make our way to the small stage, where we play “This Girl” again, but for the first time, she doesn’t look at me while she sings it.
VIRGINIA
Before I had even started the Dakota Gray frenzy, I think I knew that I needed to leave eventually. I can’t stay on tour indefinitely and leave my life on pause. And it’s no longer an option to continue acting like what has been going on between me and Cam is normal. We’ve fallen asleep together every night since he found me in his bed. Every morning, I wake up and wonder if he’s still there, or if he’s disappeared. My being on the tour is convenient, and he could be out of my life at any moment.
Plus, a million opportunities have opened up for me since coming forward as Dakota Gray. I need to take advantage of them while I’m still relevant. Because let’s face it, I’m only internet famous. Without a camera pointed at me, I’m a nobody. I need to make an actual name for myself. I need to learn to play on a stage by myself, without a disguise or a fake name.