into a band, I want to hear new songs because it’s like a secret that you’re sharing with us for showing up. But I always love covers.”
“Yeah?” He tapped his pen on the list. “Why?”
“Seriously?” Cover songs were always a hugely popular topic. Fans fantasized about which songs they wanted Walking Disaster to cover, and the list was endless. “It’s just fun to hear one favorite band interpreting another.”
“But if you’ve paid money to see a show, wouldn’t you rather hear the band’s own songs?”
“You’d think.” I combed through my knowledge of fan behavior and tried to articulate something more meaningful. “To be honest, a lot of it comes down to identity.”
“What do you mean?” He leaned in, really listening now.
“Fans want to think their favorite artists are fans of each other.”
He chuckled. “Validation?”
That gave me an idea. “Have you ever covered any of Adam’s music?”
As far as I knew, neither band had ever covered each other.
Micah scoffed at the suggestion. “Cover Walking Disaster? That would be—”
“Incestuous?” Jo piped in.
“But Eden’s covered both of you, right?” Was I showing too much of my hand? Eden’s style wasn’t remotely similar to either band, and she’d recorded acoustic versions of their music. Micah had a whole acoustic solo career. Maybe he did WD covers on the side that I wasn’t aware of. “It would be really interesting to hear your take on some of their older songs.”
Micah rubbed his chin, scratching at the golden scruff that hadn’t been there a few hours earlier. He drew a line under something he’d scrawled. I wished I could make out his illegible handwriting. I wished I could sneak a photograph of his notes.
He looked up from the paper. “You ought to come out to our rehearsal tomorrow.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What? I mean—” Fuck I wanted to say yes. “I have to work.”
“Ah. That’s too bad.” He seemed legitimately sad, and it fed into my own sense of tragedy. Life was unfair.
I mentally slapped myself. How could I pity myself when I was sitting across a kitchen island talking music with Micah Sinclair? And not just talking, but actually advising him. How easy it was to want more, but I needed to count my lucky stars.
“Thanks for asking though.” I bit my lip and finished with more honesty. “And for letting me help with your planning. That was a pretty cool moment for me.”
He grinned. “Awesome. And you did help. A lot. So, thank you.”
I jumped down from my stool, chest swelling with pride and gratitude, and headed upstairs to log into my erstwhile life and try to figure out where I fit in there now.
Upstairs, snuggled up in the covers with my laptop, I had so much to catch up on, but I didn’t go straight to the forum. Instead, I cracked my knuckles and logged into my blog. I clicked on New Post, then began typing an article for the front page apologizing for putting the ban on efforts to organize a skirmish against a poor review. As long as I stayed out of it, there was no conflict of interest. Fans would do what fans would do.
I added a link to the thread and unlocked it as promised. Fuck Gabriel Sanchez and his ignorant review.
Then I clicked on my bookmark to the Theater of the Absurd fan board and dug around until I found a thread dedicated to Shane. Holding my breath, I opened it up and was rewarded with a lovely photo someone had dug up of him laughing, eyes crinkled, teeth flashing, oblivious to the camera. I wasn’t surprised his thread was far shorter than those for Micah and Noah. On my board, our thread for WD’s drummer, Hervé, only attracted the drumming enthusiasts. Then again, Hervé’s dominant physical trait was a walrus mustache. Shane was boyishly adorable.
My curiosity wasn’t sated at all though.
I shot off a private message to Jaclyn, aka State of the Absurd. We’d virtually known each other for years, and I figured she’d be honest.
Jaclyn—
What’s the DL on Shane Morgan? Asking for a friend.
—Pumpkin
I didn’t expect to hear anything from her right away, so I hunkered down into the soft, fluffy blankets of Micah Sinclair’s guest bed, taking a moment to marvel at where I was. I wanted to squeal like a crazy fan girl. At the same time, I wanted to shrug like a nonchalant insider. Could this be my real life? Would these be my friends now?