“Okay, we’ll talk in a few.”
“Thanks for asking me to play for you, Luke. Baby,” she said, scratching her head, embarrassed.
“You’re welcome.” I swallowed. Here it was. The time when we said those words. Before I could start, Cassie was scrawling something on a piece of paper, and held it up. I think we did really well today.
I grabbed my Moleskine to reply. Me too. Keep the emails coming.
“Are y’all showing each other your privates?” Rooster called from the floor. “I want to play online solitaire and Skype sucks up all the Internet.”
“All right, all right,” I said. I rolled my eyes at Cassie. “I love you, honey.” It rolled out easier this time.
Cassie gave me a knowing smile, turning up one corner of her lips. “Love you, too, babe.”
It was smoother from her end, too. Then she crossed her eyes at me, sticking out her tongue.
As the call ended and I pushed back from the green table, I realized I was smiling to myself.
To: PFC Luke Morrow
From: Cassie Salazar
Subject: What did you REALLY think?
So I know you were trying to be nice to your wifey in front of your bunkmate about my new song but I’m actually curious about what you thought for real, since you and Push-Up Rooster are the first people to hear that who aren’t in a band with me. Nora said it’s one of my best, and Toby said it was good, too. Your opinion also matters to me because not only are you my husband but you’re someone who doesn’t listen to a lot of current music, and if you actually DID like it, I would want to do more stuff like that, because I don’t just want to play songs that appeal to obscure Pitchfork people （the blog I was telling you about, not a strange alien race of people with pitchforks for heads）。
So when you get a chance between volleyball games, shoot me an email.
Love, C
PS Please please PLEASE tell me you wear spandex when you play and if so, pix or it didn’t happen
? ? ?
To: Cassie Salazar
From: PFC Luke Morrow
Subject: RE: What did you REALLY think?
It was one of the best songs I ever heard. I was thinking to myself the whole time that your voice sounded like a combination between Billie Holiday and Freddy Mercury from Queen. I also really love how it changed up in the middle, fast and slow, fast and slow, but without seeming too jerky. It was natural sounding. Don’t listen to Toby, it was better than good.
We’re going out on a scouting mission so I can’t skype for a while but to tide you over here is a pic of me and Frankie and Ahmad, who has one of the best serves in the entire world. Sry about the grainy quality of the pic. It’s from Majeed’s cell phone. #selfie <<<Did I do that right?
Love from your husband
Luke
Cassie
I got cut from The Handle Bar early, so I had asked Toby to meet me across the street at Tucci’s. We’d eaten garlic bread and pretended like we knew something about wine.
Toby was signaling to the server for another glass, and pointed to my empty one. “You going to join me?”
I nodded then took another sip of water. “So, I’m thinking The Loyal needs to go on tour soon. If I can figure out a way to get off work for a month or so.”
“I’m ready whenever you are.” He took a strand of my bob and rubbed it between his fingers. My hair was longer again, brushing the middle of my neck. People say your hair and fingernails grow faster when you’re in love.
Oh, God, that was ridiculous. I wasn’t in love.
“We’ll see how this next show goes,” I said, taking his hand. He smiled at me, quiet, and a wave of warmth passed through me.
But I also wasn’t not in love.
My boyfriend got it. He’d known me from the beginning of this little band. He’d been on tour, and he was ready to drop everything and go on tour again. He’d been in bar fights and played with church groups. He’d broken down on the side of the road, taken payment in the form of baked goods. All so he could play. He understood what music meant to me, because it meant as much to him.
Toby had even gotten us a show at the Sahara Lounge. And this time, we weren’t splitting the marquee with anyone. It was just The Loyal, for an hour, playing the new stuff we’d put into our album.
“I want to take you home,” he said, reaching to brush a thumb across my cheek.
“My home or your home?” I asked, already feeling the nerves alight in my thighs.
My phone vibrated in my purse. I reached in to turn off the ringer, figuring it was my mom or Nora. They could wait till morning.