I wondered if this was anything like what it was like for him after Gabe died.
After his heart was broken.
Did it ever mend?
In all those days, those months and years, alone in his home?
And sometimes I wondered… was this anything like what dying was like?
I felt like a ghost.
It was like the world went on without me in it.
How much could you keep talking to yourself, asking yourself questions, and getting nowhere, before you feared that your sanity might be slipping?
Before you told someone how bad it was?
Before you sought help?
How would I know when I’d reached the end of my rope, if no one was there to catch me?
October
One of Brody Mason’s staff, a girl named Talia, was promoted to assistant manager of the Players.
And all I could think was: why didn’t I think of asking Brody for that job?
I would have, if I knew it existed.
But I already had a job. After Cary had kicked me to the curb, off Ash’s suggestion, I’d called up Brody myself and asked him if he might have any work for me. I told him I’d do anything, and I meant it. I’d tear wax strips of the asses of rock stars if I had to. Better than purse dog lady; at least I’d get to go to free concerts. I told him there was only one thing I wouldn’t do.
Work with Cary.
Because Cary had made it clear he didn’t want to work with me. And I didn’t want to interfere with the Players’ album.
I just wanted it to be done.
Brody had taken me up on the offer, and put me to work with his assistant, Maggie, on Dirty’s team. She had me filling in the holes wherever she needed them filled. And I threw myself into the work with a fervor.
Dirty, as usual, seemed to be on fire; they were deep into writing their next album. I went down to their rehearsal space a bunch of times with Maggie, the old church where they wrote and practiced. And later, to Left Coast Studios, where they were recording.
It was incredibly cool being a part of all that, working with such a big band. And the part of Taylor that showed up for her job in a big way was both aware of it and grateful for it.
I tried to fit in, do my job as well as I could, and save my lying-flat-on-the-couch-and-pondering-the-black-hole-inside-me moments for my days off. Even if I was just fetching coffees and running errands and taking notes for people to remind them of what they’d said later, I was loving every minute of my job.
I couldn’t believe how much stuff they had to do, and all the stuff people were constantly demanding of them.
No wonder they had a whole team of people to just get them through the day when they were writing and recording.
No wonder Cary had broken under the pressure of his grief. I couldn’t imagine having so many eyes on me on a good day, let alone at a time like that.
I couldn’t even imagine how crazy it would be on tour.
Good crazy, hopefully.
I told myself I was up for the challenge, if the offer came my way. If I’d managed to prove myself to Maggie and Brody by the time Dirty went on their next tour.
Why not? I was single. I rented. I didn’t even own a pet.
I had nothing keeping me here in Vancouver.
Or so I told myself on my bravest days. My angriest days. My saddest days.
But the truth was, I was still waiting for Cary.
And there was a downside to being around Dirty, too. Because it just reminded me, day after day, of Cary and the work he was doing—without me.
Plus… I had to see Maggie with her husband, Zane Traynor, Dirty’s lead singer, and the way they looked at each other. The way he looked at her.
And Katie and Jesse Mayes.
And Elle Delacroix with her man, Seth Brothers.
And Dylan Cope, Dirty’s drummer, with his girlfriend, Amber.
And on and on.
Season of love.
November
I went to a toddler’s birthday party at my boss’s house, and I cried in the bathroom.
Brody’s little boy, Nick, was turning two, and he and his wife, Jessa, announced at the party that she was pregnant with baby number two. Elle and Seth’s baby, Emma, who’d turned one this summer, and Katie and Jesse’s baby, Madsen, who would turn one next month, were there, too. Amber, who was a photographer, took photos of the