I probably shouldn’t be surprised by Kammie showing up to the studio decked out in a nice dress and greeting Dev with a kiss that lingers a bit longer than is strictly necessary, or by the fact that Frog Snout arrives fifteen minutes late, clutching coffee cups and moaning behind sunglasses about what a late night they had.
Griffin moves about the studio like a little dictator, bossing everyone around about what he wants done. “Here, look through these songs I wrote,” he says, handing off the stack of loose papers he’s left his notes on.
“Dude, what language is this?” the unspoken leader of Frog Snout asks. His name is Bill, I think; he likes moonstones, and he’s been to Sweden a few times. That’s really all I know about him. “I’ve never seen this before.”
“It’s an ancient language,” Griffin says, propping his hands on his hips in a haughty manner.
“Oh. Cool. How do I read it, though…? I didn’t pay much attention in school when we studied Greek and German and stuff.”
Griffin snatches the papers away from Bill. “Whatever, you don’t need to know the words anyway. Just listen and then play along.”
Frog Snout shares a collective shrug before taking their places around the studio. Dev stands with Griffin for a while, peering over his shoulder at the notes and whispering to him, until Griffin waves him away.
“I need some space; I need some space,” he says. “Go stand with Kammie; you know you want to.” Griffin picks up his guitar, looking a bit like a fluffy purple chicken thanks to that ugly sweater he’s insisted on wearing again. “This is one of the best songs ever written, so don’t ruin it.”
From my spot in the corner of the room, I can’t help snickering a little. But the song isn’t bad, really. In fact, between Frog Snout’s surprising talent and Griffin’s soaring voice, it sounds… well, really good! I’m tapping my feet and nodding along, and the second song is even better.
The third song they practice, though, is much slower. Griffin shoots me a meaningful look before lyrically articulating, in a deliberately enunciated manner, how impressive last night was. His description is quite blunt. All I can do is sit, frozen, and try to will my face not to be so warm. When I catch his gaze, he smirks at me, apparently mistaking my reaction for pleasure rather than embarrassment.
I imagine him singing this in front of the world… and my mother hearing it.
I imagine never speaking to my mother again, just in case.
They run through five more songs, and then Griffin abruptly declares they’re finished.
“We’ve only practiced them once each,” Bill says, and the rest of Frog Snout nods, long sheets of shiny hair flapping about as they do so. “We usually practice about fifty times before we perform a song live. Sometimes, we just skip performing it live. You know.”
Griffin shoots Bill a look. “You don’t need fifty times to learn my song. Our concert will be the night after tomorrow.”
“Wait, the night after tomorrow?” I say, at approximately the same time Dev and Kammie echo my question. “Griffin, that doesn’t give you much time to prepare!”
“I’m prepared. I could perform it right now!” he says.
“You’ve just written the lyrics and you guys just jammed a little, but how is anyone going to remember how the songs go?”
“Night after tomorrow,” Griffin says again, with a tone that doesn’t invite argument. He and Dev lean their heads together, Dev even going so far as to slip his arm around Griffin’s shoulders to close them off into a private bubble. They converse quietly, and then shoot a few meaningful glances in my direction before announcing they’re going to step outside. I can’t help feeling like I should go with them, but Frog Snout stands around in the doorway, patting themselves down for cigarettes.
“Weird guy, huh?” Bill says, glancing over at me. “Real weird.”
“Maybe he’s an alien,” another of them says, and they laugh, high-fiving each other. “You saw his eyes, right? Weird eyes.”
“Yeah, weird eyes. Weird guy.”
“They say we’re ripe for an alien invasion any day. Like, any day. We could already be invaded and don’t even know. He could be the alien.” Suddenly, they’re all shooting nervous glances about, twitching, and clearing their throats.
Kammie elbows me with a wink and a smile, as if we’re in on a special secret, and I just offer her a half-hearted smile.
Frog Snout decamps outside to smoke, and I angle myself closer and closer toward the door. “We should go find Griffin,” I say.
“Yes, yes, and Devon. We need to keep an eye on them,” Kammie says, falling into step with me. She doesn’t seem to be in such a hurry, but I can’t help quickening my pace a bit more with every new stairwell.
What if Griffin and Devon sensed something? What if they’re in danger? What if they decided to go home and Griffin broke his promise to me? Thankfully, the bodyguards are so tall that I spot them right away, ringed protectively around Griffin and Devon. I approach without hesitation, for once, pushing right between two of the hulking aliens.
“What’s going on? Did something happen?”
Devon raises his head from Griffin’s weird, phone-like device, which both of them have been staring at, but he doesn’t seem to know what to say.
“My father’s gone and given us three sodding days,” Griffin says. “Three days! He’s decided there’s a—a deadline now. Didn’t even send the bloody message himself. I tried reasoning with him earlier, but his secretary’s sent me a message back and signed it off with ‘have a productive day.’ I’d like to give her a productive day!”
For a second, I think Griffin might dash his device against the sidewalk, but then he lets out an angry puff of air and pockets it instead.
“It’s alright, Griff,” Dev says quietly, cupping his hand around the back of Griffin’s neck and leaning their heads together. “We’ll figure it out.”
“We can’t bloody figure anything out in three days! If the Origin Collective doesn’t contact us immediately, we’re lost.”
“Is that why you want to have the concert so soon?”
Griffin closes his eyes and shudders. “Even that’s not soon enough now. Can we do it tomorrow night? Nust. Nust!”
It sounds like he’s saying noost. “Nust…?”
“Yeah, nust; it’s the worst word I can think of, and that’s not even enough. My mother’s probably turning in her grave right now.” Griffin pulls away from Devon, waves his hands to the bodyguards like he’s parting the Red Sea, and stomps away from us.
I hang back with Devon for a few seconds, but his exasperated sigh tells me he has no idea what to do or say. He glances in my direction, a certain level of pleading in his dark eyes.
“Alright,” I say, without Devon needing to say anything. “I’ll go talk to him.”
Griffin’s got his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face when I approach. I can hear a faint buzzing noise radiating from him, frightening and pulsing in the air around us. Part of me warns to back away, reminding me he’s not human, no matter how much he might appear to be, but I take a deep breath and step closer anyway.
“Can we find a venue for tomorrow night?” he asks, before I can open my mouth.
“I’ll talk to Kammie. Look, even if we can’t take over Madison Square Garden or something, we can get our hands on the biggest venue available and just wing it. Do you have any of your finger-snapping magic left? Brainwashing? Maybe you could seduce someone…?”
“It’s not magic,” he says, but I can hear the slightest humor in his tone. However small it may be, and however grim his face still is, I’ll take it.
“Do you think you have enough for this?”
Griffin stares into the distance for a few seconds, and then flashes those strange blue eyes in my direction. “I have a little left.”
“Well, let’s talk to Kammie about it,” I say. “And you need to reserve every bit of your energy, power, magic, or whatever it is, alright? You’ll need it f
or this.” After a long pause, I lower my voice and say, “If you can’t do it for some reason, though, just stay here. You’re trying so hard to help your people and your dad doesn’t even appreciate it. So just stay!”
“Sounds like he’ll arrest me before he’ll allow that to happen,” Griffin says. “I’m the last in our family line, and he wants me to hurry up and marry that dreadful woman. Makes everything all neat and tidy for him, looks good for the public. And then we can spend the next ten years trying bitterly to produce an heir.” The air ripples around him, and the hairs on my arm stand on edge from a static charge.
“Griffin.” I reach for him, but he catches me by the wrist before I can touch him. Warm shockwaves run up my arm, and not from some silly, romantic moment. He’s humming with dangerous energy that reflects clear to his eyes. “Calm down, Griffin.”
For a moment, I’m afraid he’ll lose his temper and electrify the city, fry a bunch of people like some bad Carrie remake, and then government agents will show up, haul him off, and open him up like a classroom anatomy experiment.
With caution, I turn further toward him and gently pat his hand that’s grasping my wrist.
“You’re not a bad alien,” I say, quietly, forcing myself to stare back into his eyes. “You’re a really funny, weird alien who likes to wear ugly sweaters and shop for designer clothes. You can pull this off, Griffin, I believe in you. But you can’t get all scary right now, okay? You can’t. Everyone needs to love you, not fear you.”
I can feel rage, sadness, and frustration seeping out of him, leaking into my brain through our eye contact, but then Griffin’s shoulders slump and his grip on my wrist loosens a bit.
“You okay now?” I ask, and he nods. “Good. I’m gonna bring Kammie over here.” I feel a little nervous to leave him alone, so I turn and catch Kammie’s eye, waving her over. Frog Snout has set up a smoking post not far from us, and all of them are staring at Griffin with suspicious looks on their faces. Oh well.
“Is everything alright?” Kammie asks as she approaches. She eyeballs Griffin and then raises her eyebrows to me, as if in some kind of secret signal that I don’t quite catch. Dev follows her closely, taking his place beside Griffin. The two of them exchange a look, although I’m pretty sure they know exactly what the other is thinking, without needing words at all.
“Griffin needs to do the concert tomorrow night,” I say. “We need a reasonably sized venue, someone to film it, and a way to broadcast it online.”
“Um, hello, Daisy, don’t you remember about Lillian Gale? I can ask her to help us out. I bet she’d get us booked for anything we wanted!”
“Madison Square Garden?” I ask, and Griffin perks up as he waits for her response.
“Well, we’ll see. But she left her cell phone number with me, so we could discuss the terms for her renting the studio. Want me to go call her?”
Griffin nods, leaning against Dev’s side. “You will be repaid for your kindness and assistance, Kammie. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Oh!” Kammie says, tossing some of her red hair over her shoulder. “I’m happy to help, and you don’t need to worry about paying me back with money or something. I’m not materialistic… If I was, I wouldn’t live in this horrible place! All I’d really like is a bit of time alone with Dev, honestly. Your friend is quite the gentleman, and one doesn’t come across single men like him very often.”
Dev’s face tinges a light pink, and he smiles, wide and bashful. “That’s very nice of you, Kammie. I think you’re lovely, too.”
“You two are ridiculous,” Griffin says in a gruff voice, poking Dev in the ribs. “Just take her out tonight, won’t you? You’ve been making eyes at each other all day, and I can’t stand it anymore.”
“I can’t leave y—”
Griffin stands up a bit taller. “I’m commanding you, Devon. You’ll take her out tonight, and you’ll have a good time doing it. You never think of yourself.”
Dev acts as if he might argue again, but Griffin cuts him off with a wave of his hand, turning his attention back to Kammie.
“How soon will you know if your friend can help us?” Griffin asks.
“Oh, she’s a famous musician; she’s not exactly my friend, but I’ll call her right now.”
“She’s famous, you say? Ask her if she’ll perform with me. That’ll get us even more attention.”
Kammie glances between Griffin and Dev, and then at me. “Alright, let me go call her. Someone had better talk to the Froggy boys, though, before they mutiny. They’re convinced the two of you are aliens.” She shrugs one shoulder rather daintily before leaning closer to Griffin and Devon. “Don’t worry, though. I won’t tell them that they’re right.” With a wink, she’s off, headed inside to run back up to her studio.
“What did she say?” Griffin and Devon ask each other at the same moment, exchanging a pointed look.
“Uhhh… I think maybe she knows,” I say at last.
Griffin pokes Dev in the side. “I suppose that makes tonight a bit simpler, eh?” he asks, laughing to himself before he puts on his best pop star face and walks off to talk to Frog Snout.
Somehow, maybe because I’ve been around him long enough now, I sense a change in the air even before I hear Griffin’s finger snap.
Dating an Alien Pop Star Page 22
