“I’mgonna start drinking,” Meyer counters, slipping his phone in his pocket. “This is a friggin’ celebration, and I’m gonna get drunk.” He slaps my shoulder, chuckling as he steps away. “You better say thank you to Ava for saving your career.”
And I would, but Ava’s already practically skippingout of the room. I follow her with long strides, weaving through the band and dancers, who pat my back and congratulate me on a great impromptu performance, but I barely acknowledge them.
“Ava, wait up.” I speed walk down the hall after her, but she doesn’t stop and hooks a left into her room.
I step into the room in time to see her flounce onto the bed and sit cross-legged in front of her laptop. She starts clicking and typing and doesn’t look up to acknowledge me. Crossing the room, I stand next to the bed and look at the screen. She’s navigating through a bunch of panels and pages that don’t make sense to me.
I squint and lean toward the screen. “So what’s the number?”
She clicks a few more times and then turns to me with another giddy smile. “Fifteen-hundred. That’s reallygood for having just announced it an hour ago.”
Really goodis the understatement of the year.
I blink. I’m pretty sure my jaw is hanging open, and I can’t really verbalize at the moment.
“So, if we just keep plugging it with ads, and you do that virtual piano bar thing once a week or so, I bet that number would triple or quadruple by the concert.”
“Holy shit,” I finally manage to mumble.
The number I’m staring at is the same as one of our standard shows that have sold out. And they don’t always sell out. And this thing has no overhead. We’re not shelling out a fee to the venue or paying for transportation, hotels, and food for the band and crew. Other than Zoey’s minimal development fee, this is pure profit.
And Ava did this for me.
I find myself staring at her instead of the screen, and now she’s got a nervous, insecure expression.
“I mean…it’s pretty standard registration for a major virtual event,” she goes on, not looking me in the eye because she’s shifting her gaze all over the place, looking more nervous by the second. “And obviously there’s going to be a lot of excitement over this. It eliminates location and venue capacity, which are the only things that limit how many tickets are sold for an event. Since everyone’s able to get tickets for this, they might not necessarily respond like this to every single one.But,if you got clever with what subsequent concerts are going to be…you know, like, maybe you get a hold of other artists and get them to virtually collaborate with you, and come up with a really unique show each time, or even a series of…you know, related shows that kinda build on each other…I bet you could maintain this kind of momentum until things get back to normal.”
There’s an ache in my forehead like I’m furrowing my brow too hard as I stare at her. “Ava.”
She looks at me expectantly. “I…” She cringes. “I’m not entirely sure what this look is that you’re giving me. I know this is a good thing, but you kinda look like you’re ready to slap me or something.”
That shakes me out of my own head a little. “Ava, what is your preoccupation with people smacking you?” I cock my head. “You been smacked around a lot?”
Her gaze drifts sideways, then back to my face, and she ignores the question entirely. “You’re happy with this, right? I mean, this is really good, and you’ll definitely be able to keep the momentum. And going forward, you’ll just have to get creative with—”
I grasp her shoulders, hoisting her up to her knees. “I’m happy. I’m really happy. You did something amazing for me.”
A small smile plays on her lips. “Good. I’m glad you’re happy with it. I’m glad I could help.”
“Y’know, if we weren’t mortal enemies, I would kiss you right now,” I admit, although I would do a hell of a lot more than just that.
She crinkles up her nose at me. “Well, you’ve done that enough already. It doesn’t exactly have a good track record.”
“I know.” I let my hands slip from her arms, and she sits back down on the bed. “I think I’ll go ponder ideas for the later concerts. The virtual collaboration thing is a good idea.”
“Yeah.” She nods and turns back to the screen. “Should be pretty good. After all…what is that saying?” She smiles up at me. “Necessity is the mother of invention?” She turns over her palm at me. “There’s a lot of necessity right now, so you’ve got a lot of potential to come up with great ideas.”
The irresistible wholesomeness of her face is overpowering right now. That combined with the fact that she one-hundred-percent saved my ass is making this feel like some kind of alternate version of reality in which I’m notLucky. One where I’m just Vincent. One where I’ve got a regular, humble life, and faced a regular, humble challenge, but overcame it with the help of this sweet, unassuming, regular girl. One where I don’t have a band or a slick, yet spineless drummer who got to her before me. One where I’ve been casually dating her for a month, rather than her being trapped in my house during a pandemic lockdown. One where I’ve actually got a mama, because I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to do something as wholesome as Ava looks, such as taking her home to meet the aforementioned mama, who doesn’t actually exist.
The ache below the scar tissue hums, and I wish for a different life.
But only for a second.
I love my life. I love making music and performing, and I love that I’ve been able to keep my ass off the streets by doing the things that I love.
Nevertheless, I’m in some kind of weird emotional funk right now. Not even an actualfunk. Just a weird feeling.
“Yeah,” I finally agree. I reach to rub her back; a minor indulgence and nowhere near the way I want to be touching her right now, and then turn to leave the room. “I’ll see you around, Ava.”
