Open Road Summer(59)

“Dee, just because he was seen with Alexis Henderson doesn’t mean—”

“Ugh. Alexis Henderson?” She yanks the stretchy fabric down, forcing the skirt to a more modest length. “Seriously, Jimmy? That’s my follow-up act? Alexis Henderson?”

Dee has never said a bad word about Alexis Henderson before now. While all the other cheerleaders were going toe-to-toe with me at the keg, Alexis hung back. Dee admired that—thought it showed maturity and restraint. But, of course, it’s easy to like any girl who’s not a part of your world. The moment she slides into an ex-boyfriend’s orbit, we all have the same instinct: destroy.

The dress is taut against Dee’s flat stomach. Though it’s a bit on the fancy side for a talk-show appearance, the dress will certainly squash pregnancy rumors. Without looking at me, Dee turns back to the mirror, stepping over the director’s chair that she felled. She dabs her eyes with a tissue and stands up straight, examining herself. I can tell she’s still breathing so fast, so angry, but I can’t find words. Dee centers her necklace and fluffs her hair gently. Then she places her hand on the doorknob, pausing to take a deep breath, and she leaves me here.

I’m immobile for at least a minute after the door closes behind her. Dee has never lashed out at me like that, and I don’t know what to do. Do I let Dee go out onstage, as volatile as she is? Do I chase her down; do I call Jimmy? Or Peach? Maybe she and the band are sightseeing somewhere nearby; maybe she could rush down here and try to fix it. I’m not equipped to deal with this.

As I duck into the hallway, my vision becomes a kaleidoscope. Before, I noticed the pictures that line the walls—each featuring the talk-show host, Zoe, with her arm around one celebrity or another. The pictures are vaguely square-shaped blurs to me now. Somehow, where the hallway’s end becomes the soundstage, I find Matt. He’s wearing a blazer, his hair tousled to look effortless, and a production assistant is pinning a microphone to his shirt. Dee is a few people away from him, standing near a camera and nodding at something the director is saying.

“This is so bad,” I whisper. “She’s totally rattled.”

Matt sighs, his face grave. “I know. But she only has to get through three minutes, and then they’ll call me onstage after the first commercial break.”

With that, he moves toward Dee. Zoe starts the introduction, lauding the many talents of Lilah Montgomery, and the studio audience is already peering toward the place where she’ll enter. Matt stands shoulder to shoulder with Dee, their backs to me. He grabs her hand, whispering something into her ear. Zoe calls Dee’s name in an exuberant voice, and Matt drops her hand. Dee’s stride is confident—steady, even—as she waves toward the cheering crowd.

My nerves won’t let me watch this live, so I retreat to the dressing room to view the show on the flat-screen TV. Dee looks radiant, her hair complemented by the dress’s peachy fabric. No one would ever guess she’s hiding a reopened gash across her heart. If emotional wounds showed up on the body like physical wounds, Dee’s dress would be blood-soaked.

I’m taking control. Someone has to. I text Jimmy: Dee’s publicist just warned us that a magazine is saying Dee’s pregnant and you might be the father. There’s a picture of you with Alexis Henderson, your supposed girlfriend.

His response is almost immediate. Is Dee okay? (Am NOT dating Alexis)

I flip my phone in my hand, debating. Not great. But she’s tough.

When Jimmy texts back I hate that they do this to her, I don’t bother to reply. He knows I hate it, too.

On the TV, Matt walks onstage, waving. Dee’s posture relaxes when he sits beside her, and she glances at him in this grateful way, like she’s so relieved to not be alone on that stage. To the average viewer, it will look like admiration or even love. Matt turns on the charisma with Zoe, who seems girlishly smitten with him.

“So I have to ask the question,” Zoe begins. “There’s been chatter all summer that you two are dating, and you’ve responded with denials.”

“And we’ll continue to,” Matt says. “She is one of my closest friends, though.”

Dee looks genuinely flattered. “Same.”

Zoe sees that she’s hit a wall in this line of questioning. Instead, she asks about the omnipresence of Dee’s necklace—the horseshoe charm. Dee looks unnerved by the question. It’s an indirect question about Jimmy, and Zoe doesn’t even realize it. Matt reaches his arm across the back of the couch. It may look like he’s stretching, but I know he’s reminding her that he’s there.

Dee regains her composure and replies, voice steady, “I usually say that my necklace is a good-luck charm, but that’s only partially true. It was given to me at a time in my life when things were simpler, and I wear it as a reminder that all I really need are my family, my friends, and my guitar. I don’t want to lose that perspective.”

Matt smiles in this proud way, which sets Zoe off again. “Are you sure you two aren’t together?”

“Positive,” Dee chirps.

“So you’re both single?”


“I am.” Dee elbows Matt.

“Uh-oh.” Zoe is clearly thrilled. “Do I sense some gossip here, Matt?”

“Well, uh . . . ,” Matt looks torn, but he’s smiling. I wasn’t expecting this. My heartbeat sounds like a horse race. It’s bad for his career, to be seen as unavailable, but I want him to say it anyway.