“Ilovethat feeling,” smiled Andy with dreamy eyes.
Madeline turned to me next and handed me the flowers. “And these are for you. My God, I can’t believe we played poker instead of celebrating your birthday. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say something? I hope you’re not allergic to flowers. I picked them up from Bud’s. Maggie said marigolden-girls are your favorite. Very rare, apparently. It’s not weird to buy a man flowers for his birthday, is it?”
I shook my head, thinking about the flowers in the vase at home, the ones with Dean’s name on the card… in my handwriting. “Not at all. Thank you, they’re lovely.”
She spun on her heel to face Dean. “And you must be the famous Dean Reeves. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Madeline. Madeline Montgomery. I’m the new math teacher at the school.”
“So, Mr. Lowery finally retired, huh?”
“Yes. Not surprisingly he took his abacus with him. I think it was the only thing in that classroom older than he was.”
Dean laughed while Madeline spotted the toilet paper on one of the curtain rods, then saw it everywhere. “Are those supposed to be decorations?” she asked Andy, one eyebrow raised. She didn’t wait for an answer. “Classy.” With a wink in Dean’s direction she added, “I bet this is just like the parties back in LA, huh?”
Dean laughed again.
DEAN
The last partyI went to in LA was at the house of Selena Gomez and Benny Blanco. Troye Sivan had crowned himself “Queen of the Cocktail Cart” and was pushing a small mobile bar clinking with bottles around the living room, mixing some potent potions guaranteed to please Selena’s guests. Billie Eilish and Liz Grant aka Lana Del Rey were squeezed onto a piano stool with Finneas sandwiched between them, tinkling the keys. Outside, Taylor Swift was getting cuddly in the jacuzzi with Travis, while upstairs, several agents and acquisition managers did private business deals in one of Selena’s twelve enormous bathrooms, drunkenly negotiating royalties and penning record deals on rolls of toilet paper.
So, while a party at Dad’s place felt very different to a party at Selena’s, they did have one thing in common. Toilet paper.
Of course, if I had mentioned any of the famous names at the party to Dad or Harry, they’d have been clueless as to who I was talking about. And that was fine by me. The more time I spent in LA, the more I realized how important it was for my sanity to keep Los Angeles and Mulligan’s Mill completely separate. Most days, I wanted nothing more than to step away from the bright lights and take a back seat to it all, to let someone else step out onto that stage, while I focused solely on the music, writing the best songs I could. Hell, I was even open to the idea of never singing again, of writing songs for other people and letting them lap up all the fame.
Celebrity, I had learned, was not for everyone.
Madeline, however, was keen to know more. Perhaps she was being polite, perhaps she was genuinely interested. I figured it was a little of both as we sat at the table in the back room, drinking and nibbling on Dad’s stale snacks.
“I have to admit, I’ve heard your songs on the radio. It’s not every day I get to meet a rock star.”
“Dean’s not a rock star,” Andy laughed. “He’s just Dean, ain’t that right, buddy?”
Madeline spoke before I could respond. “Oh, I think your son’s more famous than you realize.”
“Thanks, but Dad’s right. I’m just Dean when I’m here.” My face was hot and flushed. The truth was, I was never truly myself when Harry was around. I had to try to hide my true feelings, I had to constantly simmer the urge to reach for him, to do whatever it took to be close to him, to come up with some stupid excuse just to be alone with him. It struck me that between being onstage in LA and sitting here in the back room of Dad’s house opposite my secret crush, I was constantly pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I didn’t even know if my mask was convincing. I tried not to look at Harry, in case he somehow saw straight through me. “It’s not real, anyway,” I added, trying to downplay the conversation. “The whole fame thing. None of it’s real.”
“Your success seems pretty real to me,” Madeline said. “I mean, I’ve seen you on the covers of magazines.”
I thought of theRolling Stoneshoot and the upcoming cover, and felt my face burn bright.
What would Harry think if he ever saw that?
I squirmed. “If I’m honest, I find all that stuff pretty embarrassing.”
“You shouldn’t,” Madeline said. “You should be so proud of what you’ve achieved. I’m impressed you coped so well with such a seismic shift in your life, moving from Mulligan’s Mill to LA. I mean, talk about a change of pace.”
“Yeah, that was kinda crazy. All the meetings and lawyers and recording sessions, it’s all a little overwhelming. I mean, my manager steered me in the right direction, she’s kept me on track, kept me from making the wrong move, kept me from screwing anything up. She’s kind of amazing at what she does. But some days, it feels like everyone wants something from you all at once.”
“But you must get a kick out of all the fans out there listening to your music. You must love the idea of people playing your songs and singing along. So much love and appreciation for your art. And your music is so damn catchy. I mean, “Hammer of my Heart”… I love that song!”
I smiled and nodded in Harry’s direction. “You can thank Harry for that song. He was the one who nailed the lyrics… excuse the pun.”
Madeline looked at Harry, wide-eyed and impressed. “You did?” She patted him on the arm and rested her hand there, and the sting of jealousy shot through my heart. “I didn’t know you wrote music?”
It was Harry’s turn to blush. “I didn’t do anything. I just thought the word ‘hammer’ might work.” He laughed awkwardly. “I mean, you’re talking to the guy who spends his whole day surrounded by hammers. It was hardly a stroke of genius.”
“It went to number one on the charts,” I told him, my tone soft and grateful.
“Don’t tell him that,” Andy joked. “He’ll ask for money.”
