“Yes she is,” the girl says. “Look.” She must pull up our album or a band picture on her phone.
“Shit, you are famous,” he says. “Let me get a picture with you, too.”
“I want one!” a few others say.
Out of nowhere, Crew appears and drags me away. He pulls me down the street like a child who’s being punished until we lose sight of the crowd.
“Crew, what are you doing?”
“Those people were there for Thad Stone, not you.”
“But they knew about us. A girl called me Brianna. Just Brianna. Isn’t that amazing? We should go back. They wanted pictures.”
“You’re not going back there.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not. They were manhandling you.”
I look at him sideways. “They were not. They were getting close for pictures.”
“Hey, how about that picture?” the guy from the restaurant calls behind us.
Crew, moving fast, pins the man to the building. “Are you following her?”
“No,” he says fearfully. “I, uh, she’s famous, right? I wanted to show my friends.”
“Get the hell out of here,” Crew says, locking him against the wall for a few more seconds. He finally lets him go and he runs away.
Needing distance from Crew, I hurry down the street. When someone else approaches me, Crew yells, “You want some of that, too? Go—get the hell away from her.”
“Crew, stop it!” When he grasps my arm. I jerk away. “I’m so tired of you acting this way. I’ve had to bite my tongue more than once this past week, because things have been going so well between us, but you have to get over this. We’re in a band. We’re on the radio. We play in public places. We get recognized. It’s only going to get worse. You can’t threaten everyone who says hello to me.”
“But—”
“But nothing. You should go find that guy and apologize.”
“Apologize, my ass. He followed you.”
“He wanted a picture, not a date.”
“Bria—”
“Go home, Crew.”
“I’m not leaving you here on the street.”
“I’m a big girl, and I’m tired of you treating me like a toddler.”
He tries to hold my hand.
I pull away. “You can’t act like that and then pretend nothing happened. You have serious issues, Chris. I know what happened with Abby must have affected you in ways you may not be aware of, but you’re taking it too far.”
“How about we leave Abby out of this?”
“Maybe we’ve left her out of this far too long.”
He bites his lip, then grips his head like he’s having a migraine. “You promised, Bria.”
“And you promised you wouldn’t be a douche anymore. News flash, Chris, you’re being an asshole!”
I’m yelling, and people are watching.
“Can we not do this here?” he says.
“We’re not doing this anywhere. I’m leaving, and don’t follow me.” I hail a cab. When Crew tries to get in behind me, I yank the door closed. “Drive,” I tell the cabbie.
I turn around to see him standing on the curb, stunned. My phone pings.
Crew: I’m sorry, Abby. Please text me when you get home.
Tears run from my eyes as I read his text. I immediately get another one.
Crew: Shit, Bria. I’m so so so sorry.
Me: I’m sorry too, Christopher.
I turn off my phone.
Chapter Thirty-six
Crew
Seven years ago
It’s been a week, seven long days, since Abby went missing. I sit on the couch, staring at the present I made for her. It’s a framed picture of her eighteen-week ultrasound, along with the lyrics of the song I wrote for her birthday, the one I started writing the day we found out she was pregnant.
Every so often I look at the front door, half expecting her to appear at any minute. She’s eighteen today, the day we’ve been waiting for, when she can make her own decisions without her parents’ approval. I play with the wedding rings I bought for us last month—another birthday surprise—and think about all the plans we made.
I put down the picture and place the rings on top of it. In the kitchen I force myself to make lunch. Mom walks in. “I’m glad to see you eating again.”
I squirt mayonnaise on some bread and pile lunchmeat on top. I take a bite and taste nothing. I haven’t been able to taste anything in a week. I haven’t been able to do anything except drive around and look for her. After dropping Mom off at work, I use her car to go to all the places Abby and I used to frequent: the park, the abandoned paper mill, the mall.