So, I was the complete opposite of myself. Wonderful. Sober Oliver could hardly gather his thoughts to form a sentence. Drunk Oliver had enough courage to get into a bar fight.
I narrowed my already swollen eyes as I tried to piece everything together, and still, it all blurred over. I stood up and scratched the back of my neck. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“As long as you don’t go peeing in my plant again, sure. First door on your left. And eat the doughnut. You need to soak up some of that poison you took in.” She definitely was a mother. She walked out of the room and shouted, “Reese! Shoes, now!”
The moment I reached the bathroom, I closed the door behind me, turned on the faucet, and splashed water against my face. Tyler was going to give me hell for missing the performance. I should’ve played the show last night. No, I never should’ve agreed to performing the damn thing in the first place. It was all too much, all too soon, but I thought it might help me to get out there and face the reality that Alex was gone.
You fucking idiot. You should’ve just performed.
All I remembered from the night before was sitting back there in the dressing room trying to get up enough nerve to walk out on the stage and perform songs I’d been performing for the past ten-plus years. All I had to do was get out of my own head, but I wasn’t good at that shit. My thoughts swallowed me whole every time I was sober, and like an idiot, I hadn’t had a drink that evening. I thought I could perform sober, like Alex.
Alex never walked onto that stage with a drop of liquor in his system. He didn’t need anything else to get him going. His preshow tradition was meditation and prayer—that’s all. No vodka, no whiskey, no temporary fix. Alex spent most of his life grounded. I was the opposite of my brother. I spent my whole life trying to float away as my anxiety spun me around at full speed.
Last night I tried to be more like my brother. I sat in my dressing room with nothing but a ceiling fan running. I needed to have complete silence, except for the sounds of the blades running around in circles. That was how Alex did it. That was how he prepped before a show. I tried to pray, but I felt as if no one was listening. I tried to meditate, but my mind was too loud.
How had Alex done it? How did he silence his mind when mine was always so loud?
As the ceiling fan spun above me that night, and my heart kept racing, I gripped the heart-shaped piece sitting around my neck. When I was younger, I thought it was kind of a dumb thing, but the older I got, the more I missed my parents and their gentleness when I was in a harsh, harsh world.
I didn’t get home to Texas nearly enough to visit my parents, so every time I held that necklace close to my chest, I thought of them both and their love.
Though, that night before the show, without the whiskey, without Alex, my thoughts were eating me alive. I hated thinking so much. I hated the silence. Sometimes my mind got so dark I wondered why I was even still breathing.
Then I thought about Alex. That shit only made me sadder.
When it was almost time to perform last night, I told Tyler I was going to run outside for a quick breath of air. Once I started running, I just kept going. Which brought me exactly to my current situation.
I sat in the bathroom of a stranger that morning, completely ashamed of who I’d become. The worst part of it all was I made the mistake of looking up into the mirror. I saw how faded my existence had become, I saw how troubled my life had been, and worst of all? I saw my brother.
6
OLIVER
Five Years Ago
“Our first sold-out show! This is fucking amazing,” Alex exclaimed as he marched back and forth in our dressing room. It was a tiny venue with the smallest dressing room that we had to share, but we didn’t care. This was the first show we’d ever had where tickets sold out—all three hundred. Which was a huge deal to us. The venue was all standing space, and I could hear the crowd from the dressing room.
My nerves were shot.
“And did you see this?” Alex said, excited as ever as he held a paper in front of me. “‘Alex & Oliver are the Black Sam Smiths of this day and age,’” he said, reading the quote. “I mean, sure, that’s a bit racist bringing our skin color into the situation, and sure, it’s annoying to be compared to another artist, but shit! I love Sam Smith. If there’s not a somewhat decent compliment in that sentence, then I don’t know what’s good,” he joked.
Our race and sound always seemed to be a big topic in the tabloids. We were always being compared to other artists, and it was both annoying and flattering, all at the same time. The oddest comparison we’d received was when they said we were like Dan + Shay—which made no sense. We didn’t sing a lick of country, and the only thing we had in common were our names being in our duo titles.
“It’s like a backhanded compliment,” I agreed, fidgeting with my hands.
Alex looked my way and snickered. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Overthinking. Listen, you’re talented as fuck, Oliver, and those people came tonight to see that talent. We got this. You got this. This is about to be the best show we’ve ever done. Now come here.” He held his arms out wide as he looked my way, nodding.
I cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“I’m giving you my bear hug of comfort. Now come on, little brother. Come hug me.”
“You can’t call me ‘little brother.’ I was born three minutes after you.”
“Which, in fact, makes you my little brother. Now come on. Bear hug.”
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up, Alex.”
“Fine. If you want to act all tough like you don’t want a hug, then fine.” He shrugged, giving up on the idea. I was thankful for that.
I stood up and moved to the full-length mirror, and as I began to smooth out my outfit, Alex rushed up behind me and pulled me into the tightest bear hug known to humankind.
I couldn’t help but laugh at my idiotic brother, who was swinging back and forth with me tied in his grip.
“Boys!” Tyler came bursting into the dressing room and cocked an eyebrow in our direction. He didn’t for a moment seem freaked out by our brotherly embrace, because he knew we were weird assholes. “Hate to break up the warm embrace, but you got a meet and greet to handle before the concert.”
Alex and I looked toward one another, and then at Tyler, before we silently agreed, bum-rushed him, and pulled him into a tight hug too.
“For the love of all good things, let me go, you little emotional shits,” Tyler groaned.
“Did you hear that we’re the Black Sam Smiths?” I joked.
“Yes, I heard, and I called the paper for the insult. Now, pull yourselves together. You got a big night ahead of you. Tonight might be the night you play for the right person and we get the chance of a lifetime.”
Good ol’ Tyler had been saying that for the past ten years. It hadn’t happened yet, but I wasn’t giving up hope.
We headed to the front of the venue, where all those for the meet and greet were waiting in a line. There were about forty or fifty people. That was insane. For the longest time, our biggest fans were our parents. Mom and Dad were still our biggest fans, but now there were at least forty-some people who felt the need to wait in line simply to meet us.
We met with the fans and autographed whatever they brought our way—including a few tits—and it was a fantastic time. When two women walked up to us, I realized how dedicated our fans were, because one of them looked at least fifteen months pregnant. That baby was going to fall out of her sooner rather than later. The other woman, her sister maybe, based on how much they looked alike, was grinning.
The pregnant woman rested her jittery hands on her stomach. Even though she shook, I couldn’t get over the fact that there was a small smile on her face, which to me felt like the biggest victory in the world. Seeing people excited to meet us made me feel beyond blessed.
The two women took a step forward, and I noticed that their legs began
to tremble as they linked arms and came closer.
“Hi there, I’m—” I started, but the squeaky-clean voice of the nonpregnant one cut me off.
“Oliver Smith, yes, we know, hi. How are you? And you’re Alex Smith. Oh my gosh. You’re amazing. You both are. You’re everything good and inspirational and meaningful in the music industry. People don’t create music like you do. I think you’re both the best. And amazing. And amazingly the best and and and—” And she was full-blown fangirling. I never in my life thought Alex and I would have fangirls.
Hell, we were lucky.
The other woman reached forward and pinched the chatty one’s elbow, making her halt her words.
“Sorry,” she muttered, turning slightly red. “I’m just—we’re—excited to meet you both,” she said, gesturing toward herself and the other woman, who hadn’t spoken a word at all. She held out two concert tickets for Alex and me to sign. “Sorry, I wish we had something better for your autograph, but money is tight, so these are our souvenirs.”
“That is beyond good enough for us,” Alex said. “It means the world to us that you even came out.” He turned to the pregnant woman and shared his smile her way, which made her cheeks blush over. “It’s nice to meet you both. How far along are you?” Alex asked.
She parted her lips, and as she was about to speak, I watched her nerves overtake her. No words left her mouth.
The other woman placed her hand on the other one’s forearm. “She’s due next week.”
My eyes widened. “Really? And you’re here at an Alex & Oliver concert? That’s dedication.”
“Like I said, we’re your biggest fans,” she joked.
I smirked. “Well, if it’s a boy, Oliver is a great name.”
Alex added, “I hear the name Alex is better. Alexander works too. Plus, if it’s a girl, Reese is a good choice, too, which is my—”
“Middle name,” the women said in unison with him.
He laughed. “You are our biggest fans.” He winked their way, and I was almost certain the women were going to explode into a million pieces of joy from their giddiness. “Are you two sisters? You look like twins.”
“We are sisters, not twins. You two look like twins too. I mean, obviously,” the nonpregnant sister said bashfully. She was so beautiful, in her shyness.
“Would you guys like a photograph?” I asked.
“Oh yes, please,” she replied, pulling out her cell phone and handing it to Tyler, who was in charge of snapping the photographs.
She jumped to the left side of me, and the other placed herself right in between my brother and me. I went to place my arms around her shoulder, and without hesitation the other sister snapped. “Wait, no, my sister doesn’t like to be tou—”
“It’s okay,” the pregnant sister said, shaking her head. She smiled wide and nodded toward Alex and me, giving us permission. Right as my arm landed against her shoulder blade, everything was flipped upside down.
“Oh my gosh!” she gasped. Seconds later a splash of water hit my shoe. I was so completely thrown off by hearing the sound of her voice that I almost missed what had happened to pull the sound out of her. Her water had broken, leaving all four of us with pale expressions.
“Oh my gosh,” she kept repeating, holding her hands against her stomach as she looked back and forth between my eyes and his shoes. “I’m so, so sorry,” she muttered, humiliated by what had taken place. She kept clearing her throat repeatedly as her voice shook with nerves.
“Oh my gosh, don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”
Before she could answer, her sister went into panic mode and rushed to her side. “We have to get you to the hospital. I’m sorry, but we have to go. I’m sorry about your shoes.”
I smirked. “As long as you keep considering using my name for the child, we’ll call it even. I wish you the best of luck, and congratulations.”
Alex’s light-brown eyes were bright and filled with care as he added, “You got this.”
Her eyes watered over as her smile returned to her lips. They thanked us both one more time, and the sister grabbed her phone from Tyler, who was still snapping photos with a mocking smirk on his face.
As the women began to walk away, the pregnant one looked back toward us. “Alex? Oliver?”
“Yes?”
“Your music . . . your albums . . . your music gives me light. I hope you know how important what you’re doing is to the world. You’ve saved me more than you know.”
Alex’s eyes glassed over before he blinked back his emotions and gave a halfway grin. He always was the emotional one out of us. “Without you all, our music doesn’t exist. You’ve saved us more than you know too.”
I nodded. “Without you, we’re singing in the dark. You bring us the light.”
They hurried away, and I looked down at the puddle sitting in front of us, then turned to Tyler. “I’m going to need a new pair of shoes.”
Alex smirked at me, cheesing harder than ever. “The puddle on the ground kind of makes me think of a good theme song for today.”
“What is it?”
“‘Float On,’ by Modest Mouse.”
I gave Alex the same kind of grin he was shooting my way because the song was too perfect. We did exactly that, too, after the most awkward yet somehow perfect interaction between two fans.
We floated on and went ahead to play one of our best shows to date.
7
OLIVER
Present Day
“Hey, mister! Hey, mister! Number one or number two?” that small voice asked, breaking me away from my thoughts of the past as she pounded on the bathroom door.
I almost smirked at the nosy kid. I wasn’t big on children, but I had to say, the girl was forward and bold.
“Number three.”
She gasped and dashed away. “Mommy! That guy has explosive diarrhea!” she hollered, making me wide eyed. I didn’t even know number three was an actual thing that other people knew about, and now the girl’s mother thought I was exploding my insides into her toilet.
Smooth, Oliver.
Not much later, another knock came at the door, only this time it wasn’t a tiny voice. “Uh, sorry to interrupt, but can you hurry it up? I have to get my daughter to her day camp, and I have a busy day ahead. So . . .” Her words faded as I opened the door. “I mean, only if you’re okay. If you’re sick, we can be late. Or if, well, if you have number three and—”
I swung the door open. “Sorry. I’m ready,” I said, trying to bury the embarrassment building inside. Wonderful. She thought I was blowing up her toilet.
“No, you’re not! You didn’t flush or wash your hands!” the little girl hollered my way. Again with this girl and her hollering. Did she not know what an indoor voice was?
I walked over to the toilet, flushed it, then went to the sink, quickly washed my hands, and dried them. “There,” I said, smiling a fake grin. “Happy?”
She placed her hands on her hips like the sassiest girl alive. “You’re supposed to wash your hands to the song ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ to get rid of all the germs.”
“Yeah, well, you know what? We don’t have time for this. Come on, let’s go,” the woman said, hurrying toward the front door.
We walked the hallway and then rode the elevator down in complete silence. When we hit the first floor, a man was coming out of the main office, and he shouted toward us.
“Emery! Emery! You’re late on the rent,” he said.
Emery was her name. I liked it. It fit her, from what I could tell.
Her shoulders tensed up as she grabbed her kid’s hand and started walking faster. “I know, Ed, I know. I swear you’ll have it by the end of today. I get my check from Seven.”
“I hope that’s true. Honestly, Emery. You know I like you, but I’m busting my ass here. I can’t let you keep sliding.”
Emery’s eyes shifted to the ground as embarrassment washed over her entire body. She seemed fragile, as if she’d shatte
r if life hit her one more time. I sensed a stern shift in her energy as she lowered her voice. “Can we talk about this later, Ed? Just not in front of my kid?”
Ed’s eyes shifted to Reese, and he gave a pathetic frown. “Yeah, all right. Just get me the money, will you?”
“Will do.”
Reese pulled on Emery’s sleeve. “Mommy, I have money in my piggy bank you can have.”
And just like that, I knew the kid had a heart of gold, even though she was sassy. Emery looked as though she was going to cry from her daughter’s offer.
Before she could reply, Ed looked over to me, and his eyes widened. “Holy shit! You’re Oliver Sm—!”
Emery gripped my arm with her free hand and pulled me closer to her in a protective manner. “Okay, we’ll chat later—bye, Ed!”
The woman handled me better than my own security team.
We hurried out of the front door and headed around the corner. Emery walked up to her car and glanced toward me. “You’re going to have to get out of Dodge before people start realizing that you are in this neighborhood. Ed has a big mouth.”
I rubbed the back of my neck and nodded. “All right. I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused.”
She smiled, a genuine curve to her lips, and it was clear that I was wrong—that smile was the best feature on her, not her eyes. Still, her eyes took a very close second.
But those eyes plus that smile? Phenomenal.
After seeing that pairing, something tightened in my gut. A sense of familiarity.
“Thank you for the apology.” She opened the back door of her car and helped her daughter into her booster seat. She turned back to me after closing the car door. Her hands landed on her hips, and she narrowed her eyes as the sun shone directly into her line of vision. “Well, it was nice to meet you. Even though it wasn’t the most normal night of my life.”
I nodded once.
She walked around to the driver’s seat and glanced over toward me. I kept looking up and down the street, trying to familiarize myself with the neighborhood, but of course, I was completely lost.
Emery cleared her throat and tapped the top of her car with the palms of her hands. “Do you need a lift?”
The Mixtape Page 6
