I do interviews they always ask me about Gabe. Some of them only ask me about Gabe.”
“Right.” Good to know. If he didn’t want questions about Gabe, then I’d try not to ask any. “Well, I guess I’ll clear out of here. Unless you need anything else today.”
“No.” He went back to his laptop. “Thanks for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” As I was packing up my laptop, I added casually, “Did you know that a lot of famous musicians have stage fright?”
He looked up at me.
“It’s a type of performance anxiety, like you said,” I went on. “Which is a type of social anxiety disorder. It’s a very real thing.”
“I’m aware.”
“Yet they manage to overcome it and get themselves onstage. Hence the famous part.”
He just looked at me.
I held his gaze. I’d read up on it yesterday, while I ate my dinner. I was interested. And I wondered how much he knew about it. How much work he’d done to try to overcome it.
I wondered if he wanted to go back out onstage.
And what it might take to get him there.
“Maybe you could get back out onstage,” I said, when he said nothing.
“I’m not in a band anymore. I’m a music producer.” He said it with such conviction, I almost bought it.
But if all he really wanted was to hide out in his cave, alone, where no one would ever admire him again, why did he let me in here?
He had to have noticed the way I looked at him by now. The obvious chemistry between us.
He didn’t have to hire me. If all he really wanted was an assistant to help him with his work, he could’ve hired some dude who was just as proficient at this job but would bring zero complications to his life.
He also didn’t have to have me living in his backyard and working right here in his tiny office with him.
So, frankly, I wasn’t buying the whole hermit thing.
His haircut was far too sexy, his body too toned, and he smelled way too fucking good to have one-hundred-percent thrown in the towel on his dick and decided he was living alone for the rest of his life, never to be seen, desired or touched again.
Of course, if he had no desire to be in a band again and get back out onstage, there was no reason for me to ever mention it again.
I mentioned it again. “But I mean, if you ever thought about it… You’re not the only one who has a hard time getting onstage and performing. Like there are some super, super famous musicians who struggle with stage fright.”
“Thanks for the info.”
“You’re welcome.”
I stuffed my laptop in its bag and zipped it up. Cary had gotten up and went over to the printer. Some paperwork I’d printed out for him hours ago suddenly seemed incredibly interesting to him.
“Quick question,” I said. “What do you think when you think of Eddie Van Halen?”
He looked up at me. “What?”
“Just answer the question. Please.”
He blinked at me. “Okay. Probably ‘Runnin’ with the Devil’ because it was the first Van Halen song I learned to play on guitar.”
“Anything else?”
“I mean, he’s pretty much a virtuoso in the guitar world.”
“Anything else?”
“That Frankenstrat guitar he created. And maybe that power drill effect he did in the nineties. There are a lot of things that come to mind.”
“Uh-huh. Did you know he has performance anxiety?”
In characteristic Cary fashion, he stared at me too long for comfort and didn’t actually answer me. “And your point would be?”
“My point would be that you’re not the only musician who’s struggled with stage fright. And it doesn’t have to define who you are.”
“Right.” He looked down at the papers in his hand.
“Did you know Cher has stage fight?”
He gave me a look.
“And Barbara Streisand.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” He walked back over to his desk like he was dismissing me.
Consider me undismissed.
“And Adele,” I pressed.
He put the papers down, but he didn’t sit down. “When I plan to launch my career as a female pop star, I’ll take that into consideration.” His back was to me. He was trying to ignore me and what I was saying.
But I could be pretty hard to ignore. It was a talent I was obnoxiously proud of.
“Oh, it’s not just the ladies,” I said. “And it’s not genre specific. Rock stars get it, too. You know, like Eddie Van Halen.”
He turned to me, like he was wondering why I was still standing here and still talking.