Perfect Tunes - Emily Gould Page 0,21
you still do music at all?”
Laura summoned all the self-confidence she could. “Yeah, I’ve been playing a few shows. And I’m working on an album. I’m still writing the songs, but I’m hoping to have enough finished to start recording them soon.” This latter part was a lie, but like the one she’d emailed Dylan, it was the hopeful kind of lie. “I’m kind of in a band called the Groupies with my roommate, Callie. I’ll let you know when the next show is; you should totally come see me. And also …”
She paused. She both did and didn’t want to tell Amanda about Dylan. It was still thrilling to tell other people about him; talking about him conjured him and made it almost like he was there. In some ways it was better than actually being around him. For the past week he’d been so stressed out that when he wasn’t practicing or in the studio or gone, he only wanted to sit inside and smoke blunts and watch movies. Eventually they would crawl into his tiny bed, or she would have to leave for work. It seemed like whatever he was going through was a natural reaction to the sudden onslaught of attention and pressure, and therefore, she hoped, temporary. When she went to watch band practice—which made her feel gross, like she was a cheerleader watching her quarterback boyfriend—she still saw him radiating joy in his skill, magnetizing something in her that wanted to, simultaneously, fuck and be him.
All of this raced through her head as she tried to figure out how to describe him to Amanda. “The guy I’m seeing is in a band, too. But, like, a real band. A successful band.”
Amanda drank the remainder of her glass in a single gulp and made a wincing face as though she was about to do something difficult or brave.
“Okay, I have a confession. I heard you were dating him. That’s part of the reason I wanted to see you.” She gave a cute little shrug, then refilled both their glasses. “I wondered whether you might be able to get me an interview with him. If I could do a profile timed to the release of the new album, it would be my first long article for the magazine. They’d have to promote me! Or at least get me off my boss’s desk. I’m so sick of answering his phone. If this is too awkward of a request, don’t worry about it. But I just thought, if it was easy, you could introduce us, and then I’d convince him it was a good idea.”
Laura tried to figure out what she was supposed to do. “I think stuff like that has to go through their label or their manager or whatever.” She wasn’t inclined to do favors for someone who had just admitted to using her.
Amanda shrugged. “I figured. I mean, I’ll try that, too, but they haven’t been doing much press, and … okay, well, just think about it.”
Laura had an impulse to make the ensuing silence less awkward but squashed it. Let Amanda feel awkward. She deserved to. Laura wished she’d stayed home, maybe finally picking up her guitar and working on new songs. It probably wasn’t too late, though she’d absently already drunk too much wine to get anything done well.
“I’d love to hear your songs sometime,” said Amanda as she walked Laura to the door.
Before she could stop herself, somehow, Laura found herself telling another hopeful lie. “Well, we’re opening for the Clips soon, so maybe you’ll hear them then.”
* * *
Laura decided to ask Dylan if she and Callie could open for the Clips the next time he was in the right mood, which was tricky. She rarely saw him during daytime, conscious, sober hours. Even in the noonish times they spent together after waking up late he was often preoccupied, smoking joints with his headphones on as he fussed with the piles of electronics that lined his cavelike bedroom.
She knew that if she waited for the perfect moment, it would never come, and of course part of her didn’t want it to. The thought of playing for a large crowd that had come to hear the Clips and would likely hate her music was terrifying. But she didn’t want to look like an idiot to Amanda, and she also wanted to give herself a chance to be serious. If nothing else, Dylan would have to take her seriously after seeing her perform