the way you’re treating me right now, this isn’t you. You’re better than this.”
“I thought so too,” he returned harshly. “But apparently we were both wrong.”
“Come in,” Avery said, lifting dry red rimmed eyes to the door.
“Hey kid.” Trevor stepped inside, a brown lock of his hair falling forward over his glasses.
Her heart sank. She started to tear up again. She’d prayed it was Marcus.
“You ready to go?” Trevor asked, eyeing her carefully. “The others already left.”
Avery knew that. She had heard them, had heard the low concerned whispers through the door during the flight and the solemn procession out of the plane after they landed. All the while she’d lain alone, her throat burning, holding back the sobs that threatened to wrack her body.
Moving to the edge of the bed, Avery forced herself to let go of the comforter. During the flight she had buried her face in it, inhaling the scent of him that still lingered. With a heavy sigh, she swung her legs over the side and put her feet on the plush carpeted floor. Her head hung down for a minute while she gathered her thoughts.
“You wanna talk about it?”
She looked up. Trevor’s glasses magnified the worry that filled his eyes. She shook her head. “Just tell me what my obligations are. Where I need to go and what I have to do.”
“Ok.” He bent over and picked up her suitcase. “But if you change your mind, you let me know.”
Avery got her guitar and followed him off the plane. Ray was waiting, leaning against a dark SUV. No one said a word to break the silence on the thirty minute drive over to the Paramount Theatre, but she felt their speculative glances falling on her several times.
Flanked by her silent supporters, she entered the tiny dressing room that had probably been a storage closet back in the twenties when the place had been a movie palace.
Marcus’ blue eyes met hers briefly before his cold gaze skated away. Grabbing a piece of paper off the narrow counter, he exited the room, passing within inches of her without saying a single word.
So close but so very far away. Her throat tightened painfully. She felt the thin ice of control cracking beneath her. Rubbing chilled arms, Avery stood in the center of the small room, struggling to shoulder the weight of her misery. Less than a week ago, she and Marcus had talked about how much they were looking forward to playing here. Now she found herself wishing that she was anywhere else.
“Avery.” She looked up with glazed eyes to see Nina, one of the tour makeup technicians, scurry inside the room with a tackle box full of cosmetics. “Sit,” she ordered, gesturing to a chair in front of an ornately framed wall mounted mirror. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes to make you beautiful.”
Within a few moments, Avery squinted at her reflection in the mirror and lifted up her bangs. The flesh colored bandage was covered up with makeup. “You’re brilliant,” she told Nina with awe in her voice. “You can barely tell it’s there.”
“Thanks. But an artist is only as good as her canvas,” the diminutively framed woman told her as she smoothed a manicured hand through her short dark hair and unwrapped the apron from around Avery’s shoulders. “You’d better hurry. You still need to get changed. They’re waiting on you.”
After shrugging into her skinny jeans and another Asian inspired top, Avery exited the dressing room, nodding to Ray before accompanying him down the corridor.
Sam, JR, Dwight, and Marcus were waiting for her in the shadows to the right of the stage.
“You look beautiful, Avery.” Sam rushed forward and squeezed her hand.
“Thanks,” she mumbled looking down at her shoes. Converse tonight. She hadn’t the heart to wear the boots Marcus had teased her about just a couple of nights ago. Nor did she know how she was going to be able to stand up on that stage with him and act as if nothing had changed.
JR moved next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulder while Dwight lifted his arm around the other. Marcus stepped up to the huddle between the BS drummer and his brother. Heads bowed silently. The strain was palpable. She could feel the weight of Marcus’ gaze on her and knew his body was shifting back and forth, his jeans stretched taut across his long toned legs. She swallowed nervously, lost and disconnected.
“Keep it real,” she whispered, lacing the