when I slid in next to Shane. A waiter brought out a mess of bacon burgers, and the guys continued to squabble over some decision they hadn’t ironed out regarding which cover song they wanted to focus on. Micah wasn’t happy with their rendition of the Black Keys song, and since I’d recorded both covers, he asked if they could be leaked out to fans to find out which was working enough to take on the road.
They all looked at me like I had some kind of say in their plan. Micah said, “Do you think you could?”
Shane reached over and blatantly stole a fry from Noah, which didn’t go over well. Noah smacked Shane’s hand and then hunched over his food like a caveman.
“Damn, Noah. Can you try to remember who your friends are?”
“Fuck off, Shane. Am I supposed to just put on a happy face and act like everything’s okay?”
I watched the two of them, afraid to say a word. I couldn’t help but speculate on what could be eating at Noah. My brain ricocheted from testicular cancer to creative differences to a pregnant groupie to a bad review to a hike in his tax rate. I had to sit quietly. It was none of my business.
That immediately changed when Noah gave me one nasty look and blurted out, “How about when you catch your girlfriend fucking some other guy, I’ll come and tell you to cheer up.”
There was too much to unpack in that statement. First, Noah’s anger suddenly made more sense. If his girlfriend had cheated on him, no wonder he’d been such a grump. I felt pity for a split second until I understood the implied insult hurled at me—as if Noah believed I would one day do the same to Shane. My instinctive response was to defend my honor, but even as my mouth opened, I heard the echo of the word girlfriend and clammed up with a quick look to Shane for some idea how to react.
I could see my input going over like a lead zeppelin, but I didn’t know any way around this particular Yoko Ono moment.
“Don’t drag Layla into your shit.” Shane placed his white-knuckled fists on the table. “Apologize. Right now.”
Noah’s lips, which I used to find so beautiful, curled into a sneer of disgust, and he spit out, “I apologize, Layla. You’re obviously not using Shane as an entry-level rock star to work your way through the band.”
The sarcasm dripping off his words could have burned a hole through the floor.
My jaw dropped open, and I finally found my tongue. “How dare you?”
Whatever thrill the band vibe had given me, Noah had just completely torn the scales from my eyes. “You know, you’re right about one thing. I did consider myself a fan of your music, and even of you, Noah. But you’re not who I thought you were. And I’m not who you think I am.” I grabbed my bags. “And I’m leaving.”
I stood and headed toward the door, unsure where I was going, but I wanted to get there before the tears stinging my eyes started to fall.
Shane said, “God dammit, Noah,” and ran after me. He put an arm across my shoulder, and that, more than anything else he might have said or done, made me feel like I wasn’t alone. He was on my side. “Fuck lunch. Let’s go on back to my place.”
Out on the street, once we’d cleared the view from inside the hole in the wall, I grabbed his forearm and twisted him to face me. “What was that?”
His cheeks sported splotches of red from his own anger. “Noah’s been out of control all week.”
“Why is he taking it out on you? Or me, for that reason?”
“It’s not about you. His girlfriend dumped him last Saturday night.” His eyes narrowed, and he added. “For Samuel Tucker.”
I gasped at that. “The lead singer of Whiplash?”
“The very same. Noah met the girl on one of our tours. I don’t know what he expected.”
If that was true, she’d done the exact thing Shane said fans did to him, climbing Noah to gain access to another musician. Samuel Tucker was a much bigger deal than Noah. Whiplash played huge arenas.
Damn. What a cold-hearted bitch. Poor Noah.
“I’d warned him she was a fame fucker. And then two days after she proved me right, I met you. I think he’s jealous you’re so obviously not working an angle. That’s why he’s mad at me. You got caught