homeward bound, but it feels like forever.
Stretching, I fix myself a cup of coffee and close myself out on the balcony so I don’t wake up Mom and Chuck. Caspian left a voicemail last night, so I should probably call him back and be a good non-girlfriend. But I find myself online instead, searching for Roman Montgomery sightings.
There isn’t a single picture of us from last night—thank God. One person on a forum said she saw him in Myrtle Beach, but no one believed her. But she reminds me of the only Holidayer I actually care about, so I dial my best friend’s number. She picks up in two rings.
“Good morning,” I greet happily. “How’s work hanging?”
“Like how bad do I want to hang myself or how low Mrs. Jackie’s hemorrhoids are hanging today?”
“I’m sort of disgusted you know the second one.”
“She talks. A lot,” Maggie deadpans. “Like, her voice
echoes
in the library.”
The palm trees sway against the breeze. The condo is on the fourth floor, so we’re eye-level with the top of them. Cyclists move in lines across the beach, leaving thin trails in their wake like comet tails.
I begin to trace the hairline scar across my knee where I fell on a broken bottle while playing in the bar when I was nine. “I met someone last night.”
“Ooh!” Maggie’s voice jumps an octave with interest. “Do tell! Cute? Tall? Hunky? Dorky? Sneezy?”
“And he lives with six other men in a cottage by the woods, sure.”
“I always loved the polygamous type. Is he hot at least?”
“Yeah,” I reply, trying not to think about that one half-naked poster of him in Maggie’s bedroom.
“On a scale from one to fuckable?”
“Super fuckable. And I’ll probably never see him again.”
“Oh, you know what they say, never say never.”
“Where have I heard that before?”
“Besides,” she goes on, “he can’t possibly be comparable to Roman Montgomery. Oh, hunky piece of hipster manflesh...I just read a new
amazing
scoop on John’s blog. Well, it isn’t really amazing. It actually kinda sucks.”
My stomach twists. I sip my coffee to try and loosen my nerves. The coffee is warm and bitter, just the way Dad would’ve liked it. “How does it suck?”
“Like, Roman doesn’t
have
a contract anymore. Muse Records dropped him. I mean, it’s like
duh
because you can’t have a band that doesn’t want to be found, but still. I think my heart broke like a thousand times when I read that. The record company even gave their Madison Square gig to
Jason Dallas
. This is huge, Juniper.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “This is
bad
.”
Does Roman even know this? I remember the bitterness in his face last night. He probably does. “What if he just doesn’t want to be found?”
“But why
wouldn’t
he?”
Rolling my eyes, I slouch down in the chair and prop my feet up on the railing. A seagull hovers in the air, cutting against the beach breeze. “Mags, think about it. What does he have to come back to?”
If Maggie replies, she does it in her own mind, because the next I know she’s drilling me about the boy I barely met last night. “How tall is he? Hair color? Social Security number?
Oh
! I forgot to tell you yesterday, I saw Cas with some guy yesterday. Tall, dark-haired...totally McDreamy material. I didn’t recognize him at first but it was
Geoff
. Like, out in the wild. Did you know they knew each other? They were having coffee down at the Bean. Now, I wouldn’t mind getting between
those
two hunks of manflesh. Mmmh.”
No, I didn’t know that my head bartender and my secret boyfriend knew each other. “Cas doesn’t even like coffee,” I murmur more to myself than to her.
“He sure seemed to be enjoying it.”
A kid takes off from across the pool deck and goes flying into the deep end after a beach ball. The poor kid belly flops and sends a tidal wave across the pool. He pops his head up, and goes paddling after the ball.
“Anyway, my smoke break’s up. Yay,
Stretching, I fix myself a cup of coffee and close myself out on the balcony so I don’t wake up Mom and Chuck. Caspian left a voicemail last night, so I should probably call him back and be a good non-girlfriend. But I find myself online instead, searching for Roman Montgomery sightings.
There isn’t a single picture of us from last night—thank God. One person on a forum said she saw him in Myrtle Beach, but no one believed her. But she reminds me of the only Holidayer I actually care about, so I dial my best friend’s number. She picks up in two rings.
“Good morning,” I greet happily. “How’s work hanging?”
“Like how bad do I want to hang myself or how low Mrs. Jackie’s hemorrhoids are hanging today?”
“I’m sort of disgusted you know the second one.”
“She talks. A lot,” Maggie deadpans. “Like, her voice
echoes
in the library.”
The palm trees sway against the breeze. The condo is on the fourth floor, so we’re eye-level with the top of them. Cyclists move in lines across the beach, leaving thin trails in their wake like comet tails.
I begin to trace the hairline scar across my knee where I fell on a broken bottle while playing in the bar when I was nine. “I met someone last night.”
“Ooh!” Maggie’s voice jumps an octave with interest. “Do tell! Cute? Tall? Hunky? Dorky? Sneezy?”
“And he lives with six other men in a cottage by the woods, sure.”
“I always loved the polygamous type. Is he hot at least?”
“Yeah,” I reply, trying not to think about that one half-naked poster of him in Maggie’s bedroom.
“On a scale from one to fuckable?”
“Super fuckable. And I’ll probably never see him again.”
“Oh, you know what they say, never say never.”
“Where have I heard that before?”
“Besides,” she goes on, “he can’t possibly be comparable to Roman Montgomery. Oh, hunky piece of hipster manflesh...I just read a new
amazing
scoop on John’s blog. Well, it isn’t really amazing. It actually kinda sucks.”
My stomach twists. I sip my coffee to try and loosen my nerves. The coffee is warm and bitter, just the way Dad would’ve liked it. “How does it suck?”
“Like, Roman doesn’t
have
a contract anymore. Muse Records dropped him. I mean, it’s like
duh
because you can’t have a band that doesn’t want to be found, but still. I think my heart broke like a thousand times when I read that. The record company even gave their Madison Square gig to
Jason Dallas
. This is huge, Juniper.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “This is
bad
.”
Does Roman even know this? I remember the bitterness in his face last night. He probably does. “What if he just doesn’t want to be found?”
“But why
wouldn’t
he?”
Rolling my eyes, I slouch down in the chair and prop my feet up on the railing. A seagull hovers in the air, cutting against the beach breeze. “Mags, think about it. What does he have to come back to?”
If Maggie replies, she does it in her own mind, because the next I know she’s drilling me about the boy I barely met last night. “How tall is he? Hair color? Social Security number?
Oh
! I forgot to tell you yesterday, I saw Cas with some guy yesterday. Tall, dark-haired...totally McDreamy material. I didn’t recognize him at first but it was
Geoff
. Like, out in the wild. Did you know they knew each other? They were having coffee down at the Bean. Now, I wouldn’t mind getting between
those
two hunks of manflesh. Mmmh.”
No, I didn’t know that my head bartender and my secret boyfriend knew each other. “Cas doesn’t even like coffee,” I murmur more to myself than to her.
“He sure seemed to be enjoying it.”
A kid takes off from across the pool deck and goes flying into the deep end after a beach ball. The poor kid belly flops and sends a tidal wave across the pool. He pops his head up, and goes paddling after the ball.
“Anyway, my smoke break’s up. Yay,
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