And I’ll have to agree, I’m my own worst enemy
Sometimes I’ll laugh at nothing
It’s just an inside joke, no one else seems to know, yeah
Another shot in the dark, wishing on a lucky star
Hoping prince charming will come rescue me
Whisk me away like a knight in a story
Wouldn’t I make the most imperfect princess?
Oh, yeah, Oh…
At the end of the day, I’m standing in the pouring rain
My hair’s messed up and my make-up’s washed away
All I want is you and me, the perfect end to my fairytale, baby
I’m imperfectly perfect
Oh, wouldn’t I make, wouldn’t I make
I’m imperfectly perfect
Oh, wouldn’t I make, wouldn’t I make
The most imperfect princess.”
The roar of the crowd caused me to grin like a fool. This was the best part of my day, every day. The rush I got from performing was unlike anything else.
Well, except maybe the rush of butterflies I got from Easton…
Fuck.
If only everything didn’t remind me of my green-eyed best friend.
“What’s up, Portland?!” I took a drink out of my water bottle while the crowd went nuts. “I’m so happy to be here tonight! Thank you all for coming out, this next one’s for all of you.”
***
Chapter 16
Since that show in Portland, the days turned into weeks, then into a month, faster than I could have imagined. I had done nine shows in nine different cities. All miles from home.
Thankfully, I had little time to dwell on the fact Easton never once called. Not that I tried calling him either… but still, there was a little piece of me still clinging to the hope that East would realize we were better together than apart.
That tiny speckle of hope was what kept me going.
Sitting in my hotel room, I was thumbing through the contract for Easton’s property. The sale had been finalized yesterday. I still couldn’t believe he had actually gone through with it. He sold his dream. Did that mean he was giving up? That wasn’t the East
I
knew.
I let out a heavy sigh, and jammed the paperwork into my suitcase—still unpacked—before popping in my headphones and letting the sound of Mumford and Sons filter into my eardrums. Today was my first real day off since my tour restarted, and it took everything in me not to just hop on a plane and fly home.
After everything, that’s where I wanted to be. Home.
The ringing of my phone jolted me from my thoughts and pulled out my headphones.
So much for that.
“Hello?”
“Aisley. Hi, it’s Dr. Tinsley.”
“Er, Hi.” I almost forgot about our weekly phone appointments.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, no. Now’s fine.”
“How are you doing today?” That was the first thing she always asked me and it took a lot not to just give her a generic response.
“I am doing okay, I think. I still haven’t missed a meal since I’ve been back on tour so…”
So maybe everyone can stop worrying about me.
“Do you still weigh yourself daily?” During our second ‘phone appointment’ I let it slip that I was back to weighing myself daily. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, right? The damn doctor sure as hell wouldn’t let it go, though.
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“And?”
“And, what? It’s not as if it’s really affecting anything. I just like to know.”
“Well how much do you weigh today?”
“117.”
“You’ve gained some weight. Does that make you want to start dieting again?”
“Not much,” I fibbed. Of course it did. But I wasn’t going to go there, again. It might have been only two pounds, but in Hollywood, two pounds was more like ten.
I’m not fat, I’m healthy.
I hated that I still needed to say that to myself.
“It doesn’t?” Her voice perked up. “Well, that’s new. I think you’re making great progress, Aisley. You’ve come a long way.”
“What if I haven’t though?” I blurted.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I know I can’t
not
eat. I mean, I did before, too, but—I don’t know, I just don’t want to lose what I have left.”
I’ve already lost too much just to get where I am.
“And what is it that you don’t want to lose?”
“Performing. This whole thing is like a double-edged sword—I eat too much and people criticize me for my weight. I eat too little and I’m back into treatment.”
“Tell me, why does it matter what people think?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“Quite serious.”
“I guess, I don’t want to become irrelevant. Weight matters more than you think, especially when you have an image that you’re supposed to uphold.”
“Shouldn’t you just strive to be the best performer you can be, without thinking about any of that other stuff? Wouldn’t you like to be someone that your fans can look up to?”
“Yes, but that still doesn’t change how fucked up I feel inside. I honestly don’t know why I’m like this. I’m not overweight. And, I know I have a problem.” I let out a ragged laugh. “But I don’t know how to fix me.”
“It takes time. Trust me when I say that you’ve come far from where you were when we first met. Tell me, how much did you weigh at your lowest?”
“When they admitted me into treatment I was at ninety-eight,” I admitted, cringing.
“Just think about that. You’re beautiful, and more importantly, healthy, right now. I think if you go back and look at some of the photographs, you’ll see that ninety-eight isn’t as pretty as you thought it was.”
“How very insensitive of you, Doc,” I joked. I didn’t want to tell her how right she was. I had already looked, and couldn’t believe how bad it actually was.
“I’ll call you next week, okay? If you need to get ahold of me before then, you can always call.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Take care.”
“Bye,” I mumbled into the phone, before hanging up, then putting my headphones back on.
Tonight, the music will heal me, and eventually everything will be right again.
***
“Do you know what I love about this?” East looked over at me with a crooked grin.
“What?” I set my guitar down in the stand next to me and waited, expectantly.
“It’s real. It’s honest. It’s beautiful, Aisley.”
“Do you really think so?” I blushed.
“I wouldn’t lie to you, babe.”
“So do you think it’s the song I should sing at the open mic?”
“Without a doubt. So your parents are really on board?”
I bit my lip. “Not exactly.” By that, I meant ‘hell no.’ They were definitely not on board with their sixteen year old daughter playing music in a Seattle bar, on a Saturday night. Sure, The Watering Hole was fair game, but a bar in a real town? They practically laughed in my face.
“Carter.” East groaned.
“Relax. We won’t get busted. Pinky promise.” I wiggled my pinky finger at him. “We’re spending the night at Becks’, so how will they even know?”
“Okay. But is her mom on board, at least?”
I shrugged. “Don’t be a wuss. What happened to my big strong boyfriend?” I teased.
“Hey, I just don’t want you to be grounded for life when they find out. I’ll be fine. My parents are on board,” East said coolly.
“They so are not!” I called his bluff.
He winked. “Maybe, maybe not. Just don’t get us caught.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his chest, kissing my temple.
“You’re going to be right there in the front, right?”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, babe.”
“Oh. My. Gosh!” The high-pitched scream knocked me out of my daydreams. “Can I get an autograph? Oh my god. Oh my god.”
I smiled at the young girl, who looked like she was about to hyperventilate, and looked at John, who quickly jumped in between us. “It’s okay, John,” I whispered.
She thrust a CD at me and I signed the cover. “Here you go.”
“I cannot believe this! Thank you so much. My sister is going to die of jealously!” she squealed.
I giggled as she ran off. The girl couldn’t have been more than fourteen.
“We should go in.”
“Relax. No one’s here yet.”
“
She
is someone.” John pointed behind him, in the direction the girl had ran off.
I shrugged. “A true fan.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I just need some air.” The show wasn’t for another six hours, but I was going to have to do another run through, and some interviews before the show. Not to mention the meet and greet.
Today I was in Los Angeles. This was the last tour stop, for a couple months. After this show, I would get to go back in the studio and lay down some new tracks for my new album. That meant, starting today, L.A. would be my new home for the next two months. As much as I loved traveling around the world and singing, being in one place for a bit would be a welcome change. Because once the album was done, I would be going overseas for three months.
Then, back to the U.S. to do it all over again.
As exhausting as it all sounded in my head, it was equally exhilarating. And I still couldn’t believe this was
my
life. Even after two years, some days it felt like a dream.
And it all started in that tiny little dive bar, with Easton and Becks cheering me on.
John nervously checked around for the millionth time.
“Fine.” I sighed. “Let’s go back in.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re such a pain, John.”
“Right back at ya, kid.”
I dialed Becks number on the way back inside.
“Holy shit, Ais! You haven’t lost my number yet?”
“Don’t be a bitch, Becks, or I will lose it,” I joked.
“Ha ha. Where are you at today? Ooh, wait let me guess—Las Vegas.”
“Ooh, sorry. Los Angeles,” I said. “Solid guess, though.”
“Can’t win every time.” She laughed.
“So, I was wondering—how would you like to come up here and stay with me for, like, a week?”
She squealed. “Seriously?”
“I’ve got a plane ticket with your name on it. It’ll be fun. I’m in L.A. for a while recording. We can go all touristy and go to a Conan taping or see Universal Studios or something.”
“You know how I love my Coco!”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes. Why the hell not? Yay! I miss you, best friend.”
“I miss you, too, Becks.” More than she knew.
I hung up with her and dialed one more number, knowing my call would go unanswered.
I was right. Straight to voicemail.
“Hey, East. I know we’re not really on speaking terms right now, but… I just wanted to call and tell you… I miss you. It sucks how we left things. I hope we can be friends again sometime.”
I hung up and smacked my palm against my forehead.
That was really lame.
I almost called back to tell him to disregard the lameness of my first message, but that would have been even lamer. So instead, I just went back to work, trying to keep myself distracted.
That worked okay for the first few hours, but while the make-up artist was doing her magic, my mind wandered to that East place again. Did he get my message? Would he call me back?
“Quit flinching, honey,” Amanda, the make-up artist, scolded.
“Sorry.”
“You’re very tense, today.”
You’re telling me.
I couldn’t be happier once it was time to get on stage. Nothing else mattered, but the music. I played a two-hour set and then went back out for an encore.
“Thank you so much. This last song is brand new, not even recorded yet. Wanna hear it?”
The crowd went nuts.
I laughed. “It’s called
The Unknown.
”
“I’m not really good at these kinds of things
I don’t want to talk about all the possibilities
I’m not the kind of person who’s easy to have
And hold onto but I don’t want to let go
I just want to live in the moment now
Don’t stop and don’t look down
Capture this moment and hold on
We are jumping into the unknown."
All of a sudden as my eyes scanned the front row, I found Easton staring back at me. It took me a good two minutes to decide if it was really him, or if I were somehow hallucinating. He held up a handmade sign that read:
Forgive me?
If I weren’t in the middle of a song, I would have laughed out loud.
"Stuck in this free fall, and god, do I love it
Wind in my hair and you right there with
Oh feeling, feeling completely hopeless
It’s something and I can’t control this
I just want to live in the moment now
Don’t stop and don’t look down
Capture this moment and hold on
We are jumping into the unknown
And I can’t think with these butterflies inside
I’m losing control and I wanna take flight
Come a little closer, baby hold me tight
Oh, we’re jumping into the unknown tonight
I just want to live in the moment now
Don’t stop and don’t look down
Capture this moment and hold on