“It’s bad. Really bad. You’ve been singing a lot, and it’s wreaking havoc on your vocal cords,” he says, exchanging a nervous look with Lexi. “You need a lot of rest, hot tea, no singing and no speaking. A couple of days at least.”
“But the gig tonight!” I say, my will to plead with him forcing the words through. “It’s the last show of the tour! It’s New York!”
“Haley, listen to me,” Lexi says, putting a hand on my shoulder and crouching beside me. “I’ve known singers who pushed themselves through things like this and did irreparable damage to themselves. You don’t wanna do this to yourself. Even if it is New York.”
“It’s just a sore throat!” I say, looking up at the doctor for a positive sign. Though I’m still croaking and squeaking randomly, I manage to get the words out. “Look, it’s already starting to go away.”
“I wouldn’t advise you to perform…” the doctor says feebly. Lexi nods him away angrily then turns her attention back to me.
“It’s shitty, I know. But you can’t put your entire career on the line. You’ve gotta put yourself first. And there will be other shows. New York isn’t going anywhere any time soon—I promise.”
I shake my head, tears that I didn’t realize were there falling from my eyes. “Not like this! This is what it’s all been building up to! Where’s Brando?”
Lexi snorts. “Where he always is when you need him: Not here.”
“I can’t do it,” I say, still shaking my head, my voice broken by both the sobs and croaks. “I can’t let everyone down. My band. The crew. The fans. I can’t do it. I won’t.”
“Come here,” Lexi says, putting her arms around me and pulling my head against her soft chest. “You’re a fucking star now, Haley. Start acting like one. It’s not them that got this far, it’s you. You’re paying their bills – remember that. Take care of yourself first, and they’ll always follow.”
She pulls away, her hands still on my shoulders, and we look at each other. She wipes the streaks from my cheeks and I laugh.
“I’ve got to admit,” I say, looking into my lap, “I never thought you could be this nice.”
Lexi smiles with her angular lips. “I wasn’t always a bitch, you know. But this business has a habit of bringing out the worst in you. If you survive.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“I know I didn’t make it easy for you, this tour, but you’re going to have to deal with a lot worse than me in the future. I’m impressed though. You came a long way.”
Her kind words only make me feel even more defeated, and my lower lip trembles. “It wasn’t easy. And this isn’t the way I imagined it ending. How am I going to tell everyone?”
“You’re not,” Lexi replies, picking up her phone and tapping out a message. “Let me take care of that. Just do what the doctor said and get some rest. It’s not your job to handle the small stuff. It’s your job to get better.”
I shake my head again as the realization that I won’t be playing finally sinks in.
“I feel so bad about this,” I say to myself.
Lexi looks up from her phone, her expression sympathetic. “I’ve been through worse than this, trust me. It’s not the end, remember that. You know, you kinda remind me of myself – in a funny kind of way. Tough, hard-working, dealing with a lot of shit…”
“Does that mean I’ll end up in a latex dress?” I smile.
Lexi’s face hardens, the pointed lines of her face getting sharper. She gives me a cold look that feels like taking a knife in the neck. I feel my muscles tighten, my spine tingle, my body bracing itself for something violent.
“What the fuck does that mean?” she says in a voice that seems to come from the depths of hell. The voice I imagine people use right before they kill someone.
“Uh…nothing,” I say, my voice barely a squeak. “Seriously…it’s just a joke—”
Suddenly, as quickly as she turned cold, Lexi cracks up into a loud, deep laugh, doubling over as she heaves out huge hoots and snorts.
“I’m sorry,” she says, in between deep gulps of air, “I’m just playing with you.”
“Fuck!” I say, laughing myself, though more from the release of nerves than humor. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were going to kill me or something!”
“Ha!” Lexi giggles, picking up her phone and heading out the door again. “No. If I wanted to do that then you wouldn’t even see me coming.”
Chapter 11
Brando
I decide to give Haley a little space the day after her ‘tour’ of NYC. I’ve never been a patient guy, but then again, Haley’s got me doing a lot of things I never thought I’d do for a girl before. Sometimes you just have to load the bases before you try and hit it out of the park, and right now, I’m closer than I’ve been for a long time. I’m not going to fuck it up at the last moment.
Just after midday, I hear the news, and wonder if I fucked it up at the last moment anyway.
I’m in Brooklyn, at one of the guitar stores I visited with Haley the day before, arranging a pick-up for an amp she liked, when I get the email on my phone. Haley’s pulled out of her slot, and another support artist will be announced soon. I check a few more news sites, almost every one of them confirming her cancellation, the comment sections a shit-show of angry, snarky fans. What the hell is going on?
I’m on the phone to anyone I can get before I even hail a cab, only interrupting the call to hand him a hundred dollar bill and tell him it’s for the speeding ticket.
“Who the fuck did this? How the hell did nobody talk to me about cancelling a fucking show...I haven’t spoken to her since last night! …Well if you didn’t, then who the fuck did?”
I try calling Haley’s phone but it’s turned off, so when I get to the hotel I make a beeline for her room, sliding my key frantically and then slamming the door open like a police raid.
“Haley!”
“What the fuck?!” she says, from the bed where she’s up to her neck in a thick duvet, her hand poking out of it clutching a steaming mug.
“What the hell’s going on?” I ask, marching to the end of the bed. “You’re cancelling the show?”
“I’m sick.”
“But you sound fine! Wait here, I’ll get a doctor,” I say, taking a few strides toward the door.
“I’ve already seen one,” Haley calls, stopping me in my tracks. I turn back.
“What did he say?”
“That if I keep singing without a rest I could fuck up my vocal cords. Permanently.”
I drop myself onto the plush couch at the other end of the suite and cast a hand over my eyes.
“Fuck,” I whisper angrily to the ceiling. “You should have come to me first.”
“Why? Do you know how to perform throat surgery?” Haley quips after a sip of her tea.
I sigh, not in the mood for jokes. “This is bad. Tonight was what this whole tour has been leading up to. The biggest gig of them all. The one we’ve been publicizing the most. Now that—”
“Stop, Brando,” Haley interrupts curtly. “Do you think I don’t feel bad enough already?” I look her in the eye and see the disappointment there, the shame, and I know without a doubt that what she’s saying is true. This isn’t just nerves, or spite. Shit.
“I’m sorry,” I say, getting up off the couch and walking over to her. I sit myself down on the edge of the bed beside her and stroke her hair. “Is there anything I can get you?”
Haley looks around the room. “Well this tea could do with a refill,” she says, offering it to me. I take it and start to stand up, but Haley grabs my arm. “And there is one other thing…”