Page 25 of Kind of Famous
“Oh. Yeah.” How to explain? “A friend wanted me to back her up in an argument.”
I stopped what I was doing and watched so-called fire-breathing Eden putting glasses away.
I’d been so mesmerized by Adam, I’d completely failed to process that I was hanging out with another musician, who to be honest was more infamous than famous. When her scandal hit the tabloids a few years back, fans speculated about her relentlessly. She had a career of her own—and her own fans—but to Walking Disaster fans, she was Adam’s wife. There were plenty who still thought she was a gold digger, unworthy to lick his boots.
The running narrative was that she was a harpy—rude to reporters, rude to fans. I kept a close eye on the forums whenever the topic of Eden came up—and she often did. I didn’t want to censor people, but I liked to remind them that Eden wasn’t a fictional character. She didn’t deserve to be raked over the coals by the very people who should show the most support for her. They could criticize her music all they wanted, but when they started to attack her personally, it crossed a line.
She reached into the fridge and brought over a can of Coke, then she tucked a blanket around Joshua. A little monkey that looked a lot like the one fans had sent peeked out from under the baby’s arm. When she stood, she arched her back, hand on her waist, striking such a quintessential exhausted mother pose, I had to smile.
“You seem tired.”
“Oh, yeah. We’re just getting out of the crying-all-night phase. Now he weighs so much, it’s like carrying around a sack of flour all day.”
I watched the baby’s face change from little pouts to gaseous grins. “He’s precious.”
She fell back into her chair. “Thanks. Luckily, he takes after Adam.”
Adam and Eden had the exact same coloring—dark hair, fair skin—so from where I sat, the baby took after them both. “He’s going to be a little heartbreaker.”
She smiled. “I hope not.”
Sipping on my beer, I peeked outside to where the real heartbreaker stacked burgers onto a plate, laughing at whatever Shane was saying to him. Shane had such an open expression, good-natured, honest. I loved that he was laughing at his own story. What could they have been talking about?
“You’re handling this all really well. Have you spent much time around musicians?”
I turned my phone to airplane mode and dropped it into my purse, determined to experience the present. “Not really. I spend a lot of time listening to musicians.”
“My best friend fell apart when she first met Adam.”
“How so?”
The ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “She gushed all over him and made him take pictures with her. She posted them all over Facebook.”
“Oh.” I laughed a little nervously, hoping not to show her the cracks in my facade.
“You’re not losing your shit, so I figured either you’re not much of a fan or else you’ve spent some time among musicians. And since it’s not the latter—”
“Actually, no. I’m a fan. I’m a huge fan,” I confessed. “I’m just not that kind of fan, I guess.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of fan?”
“I’m in it for the music.”
“Oh, one of those.” She snorted. “I’ve read comments like that on the message boards. ‘True fans’ I think they called it.”
My stomach twisted. Had I said too much? “You read the message boards?”
She shot a glance at the baby. “I don’t have time for that. I have though. Curiosity.”
I wondered what that would be like, if I would want to read about myself. “That must be weird.”
“Most people are well meaning. The fans are opinionated, but supportive of Adam.”
“And you? How do they treat you?” Not that I didn’t know the answer. I wanted to hear her point of view.
She straightened the placemats within her reach. “Considering the circumstances, they’re forgiven for the occasional barb. Plus, there’s a forum admin who has been amazing at keeping things about me pretty quiet. I appreciate that.”
I couldn’t make my eyelids stop blinking in overdrive. She couldn’t know who she was talking to. It was pure coincidence. I forced myself to remain calm. “How nice.”
