It felt nice to be home, better than I thought. Now that I was home, I could just forget everything that happened before spring break and during spring break and just start fresh. I actually had the itch to do a concert; I missed performing. I called my agent to see if he could set something up, and there was room for one more set on stage at the annual farmer’s market festival called Freshfest.
It usually featured a mix of local amateurs and maybe one headline act. The festival was in a week, and one of their big names had to drop out. I had him sign me up for it. I only had a week for rehearsals, but I was only doing three songs, so it wasn’t so bad. Having a concert to look forward to and prepare for made me feel like I was coming alive again. My Feather page went nuts.
But the moment I started deciding what I wanted to wear for the concert, I started to think about Clark again. He liked my thrift store style. So did I, and I decided to bring it back for my comeback concert. Would he be there? I would think so, he’s paparazzi. And he’s a fan. Was he still a fan? No, I knew I shouldn’t care if he would be there or not. I was starting fresh, right? Freshfest. Ha, I didn’t even.
Of course I went back to the hotel once or twice. I went there on the pretense of eating in their restaurant so I could once again eat my favorite hot fudge sundae. And people knew I was Saffron this time, and followed me around and took my picture and asked for my autograph. There were also reporters asking where I had been hiding all this time, what I thought of Bryce and Heather, other stuff like that.
I didn’t answer a single question. I just sat there and enjoyed my hot fudge sundae. But I didn’t see Clark hiding behind his camera anywhere. When I got out to the lobby, he was just coming out of the employee lounge, or whatever that place is called. I rushed up to him, only just remembering that I was being swarmed. So I said, “I need to speak with the hotel manager, please.”
He said nothing, but led me back into the door he came through. As soon as the door shut behind us, I said, “I want to talk to you.”
He looked around to make sure there was no one around, then sat down at the table. “I heard you’re doing Freshfest.”
“Are you going to be there?”
He nodded. “It’s a good opportunity for some extra cash if I can get a unique picture.” Then he looked at me, softening a little. “You seem like you’re back to normal.”
“Yeah. I’m feeling a lot better. I took out my tablet. “I’ve been trying to write my own song lyrics.”
“I want you to read some of them.” I felt a lump in my throat, but I slid the notepad across the table to him. He looked at me as if to see if I was serious, then he opened the notepad and started reading quietly. He nodded once in awhile, and even started smiling.
Then he laughed a little. This is terrible.
“I know.” Maybe if I made it seem like a joke…
“You couldn’t think of a better rhyme for ‘time’ than ‘grime’?
“Nope!” We were both laughing now.
“It’s a good start.”