He hesitates for the longest time before placing it on my lap.
I’m almost afraid to look at it, but when I see the first few words, I can do nothing but smile. I run my finger under the lyrics as I read them.
When your eyes locked with mine, I went out of my mind
I fell head over heels for you
Though we never had words and we came from different worlds
Somehow I felt I always knew
(chorus)
New girl, you slay me
The way you disobey me
New girl, you own me
As if you’ve always known me
I’m grinning so big, my face splits. “This is beautiful.”
Crew still looks sick. “Keep reading.”
I look back at the page for the second verse.
That California Sky, reflected in your eyes
You put me under your spell
We were only seventeen, going after our own dreams
We told the world to go to hell
With a kind of shock, I realize the song is not about me. It’s about her.
I read the rest of it. He was in love with her, that’s for sure.
“This is about Abby.”
He nods.
“Was she your high school girlfriend?”
He looks down the street in the other direction. “I can’t talk about it.”
“Then why show me the song?”
“Because you need to know how fucked up I am.”
“What happened, Chris?”
He takes his notebook from me and stands. “I’ll walk you home.”
We are silent, though I want to ask many questions. He moves farther and farther away from me with each step we take.
When we’re almost to my place, a familiar man comes out of the alley, asking for money. He touches my arm.
“I don’t have any cash,” I say, recognizing the homeless man as Jonah, one of the regulars who begs on this street.
Before I realize what’s happening, Crew punches him in the face. Blood instantly appears on Jonah’s lip. “Crew! Stop it,” I yell, yanking him off. Jonah runs away. “What’s wrong with you?”
“He was robbing you.”
“No he wasn’t. He was asking for money. There’s a big difference.”
“He put his hand on you,” he says, staring at the place where Jonah touched my arm.
“Jonah didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Jonah? You know him?”
“He’s a nice man. A little slow but harmless.”
“Are you kidding me? Nobody’s harmless.”
“He’s hungry, Crew. Sometimes I give him my leftovers.”
“You encourage him?”
I’m confused by his behavior. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing. Sorry. I overreacted.”
“You think?”
I unlock the outer door, and we go upstairs. Crew doesn’t follow me into my apartment. He’s staring at my hair again.
Finally, he averts his eyes. “I promised Gary I’d help him do some painting. I have to go.”
“You’re not staying for dinner? I was going to make spaghetti.”
“I really have to go.” He backs away, putting more distance between us. “Another night. Lock the door.”
“Crew?”
“Sorry,” he says and runs down the stairs.
I sit on my couch, remembering the song he shared with me. Is that his way of letting me into his past—or telling me I can’t be his future?
Rather than drive myself crazy, I fetch peroxide and bandages, and make a quick turkey sandwich, wrapping it in tin foil. Then I go in search of Jonah.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Crew
Garrett gives me the stink-eye during our break and corners me in the hallway. “What’s up with you tonight? Are you sick or something?”
“No.”
“Then why do you sound like my goddamn grandma?”
I don’t argue with him. I know I don’t sound great tonight, but I can’t look at her, and that prevents me from singing the way I need to sing.
“You have to get it together,” he says. “We’re playing at the hottest club in Manhattan on Friday. Whatever the problem is, find a way to fix it.”
He walks away. I force myself to look at Bria. Why did Ronni make her do that to her hair? Worse, Bria seems to like it.
I go to the bar and order a shot of whiskey, but I stop after one. No matter how much I want to drink, I won’t be any good onstage if I do. I can’t perform drunk.
Every song I sing, I do it with my eyes closed, trying to give the crowd the performance they deserve. When I play backup guitar, I look at the strings even though I don’t need to. But it’s better than looking at her.
When our set is over, the proprietor escorts us to a table and offers us free drinks. I make sure to sit next to Bria so I don’t have to look at her across the table. She puts her hand on my thigh. I squeeze it to