off by the arrival of a trio of women, all of them crowding in and talking fast—saying pretty much what she and Teresa had, and wasn’t that embarrassing. As the din got louder and more fervent, Cait fully expected him to peace out and pay attention to his fans. Not how it went. Five minutes later, Gordon Benjamin, a.k.a. G.B. of the golden pipes and Fabio-without-the-cheese hair, had parked it at their table, ordered a chai latte, and was leaning back in his chair, apparently ready to stay the night.
“So what do you do for a living?” he asked Cait.
“I’m an artist. I teach at Union College and I illustrate children’s books.”
He nodded as his bowl-size mug arrived. “So you’re like me, making a living off your passion.”
“It must be hard to be in the music business. Things have changed so much, haven’t they? I mean, file sharing, piracy, all that.”
“Actually, that’s just the business side. Creatively? So much worse. The overuse of Auto-Tune, singers functioning as marketing concepts, everything so totally packaged.” He pushed his hair back, and she was momentarily distracted by how beautiful it was. “There are very few of us left who write our own material—and I’m not a twenty-year-old girl writing about famous boyfriends who treat me like crap. I want to convey truer emotions than puppy love gone bad, you know?”
“Teresa told me you write your own lyrics.” She nodded across the way to make sure her friend was included. “That song about eternal life was … inspirational.”
Like he was reading her mind, G.B. smiled at Teresa. “And that’s what everybody wants, right? The time we have here is so damned short—and we need to leave something behind.”
“So you’d be immortal if you could be, huh?” Cait said.
“In a heartbeat. Come on, life is great—I don’t want to lose all this. I don’t want to get old. I certainly don’t want to die.”
“With the way you sing,” Teresa cut in, “everybody’s better off with you on the planet.”
“Does that mean you’ll vote for me on
American Idol
?”
Teresa clapped her hands. “Hell, yeah! Are you trying out?”
“Maybe. Will you vote for me, too?” he asked Cait.
“I don’t watch that kind of TV, but if you’re on it? I’d be there every night.”
“You guys are the best.” He pushed that amazing hair back again, and Cait lingered on the way the stuff gleamed. “But I haven’t pursued that one yet. I don’t know … I hate to go that route. It feels like a copout in some ways, but the reality is—it’s time for me to break out on a national scale, and I need a platform. I mean, I do okay money-wise, like, singing backup for people on tour, and doing voice-over work down in Manhattan. And I’ve just gotten a part in the local production of
Rent
.”
“Have you sent any tracks in to record companies?” Cait asked, like she knew anything about “tracks” or “record companies.”
“I have, but again, it’s hard to get noticed. That’s the only reason I’d do
Idol
. If I could get on there—”
“You would,” Teresa said.
“And you’d do well,” Cait echoed. Star quality, it was called. And he had it.
“Thanks. That really means a lot.” G.B.’s smile was so genuine, Cait found it hard to believe the three of them hadn’t been friends for years. “It’s not about the fame thing, by the way. I just … you know, I want to leave behind something important, something that lasts. And that’s not a bad thing, is it?”
Cait thought of recent events … and upcoming funerals. Shaking her head, she said grimly, “Not at all.”
“So how about you?”
“Me?”
“If you could be ageless, would you?”
She took a drink of her water and grimaced. The ice cubes had all melted and there was a tinny aftertaste now. “I don’t know. I suppose if everyone I loved could be along for the ride with me? Well, then the losses wouldn’t be that bad and I’d say yes—because the
“So what do you do for a living?” he asked Cait.
“I’m an artist. I teach at Union College and I illustrate children’s books.”
He nodded as his bowl-size mug arrived. “So you’re like me, making a living off your passion.”
“It must be hard to be in the music business. Things have changed so much, haven’t they? I mean, file sharing, piracy, all that.”
“Actually, that’s just the business side. Creatively? So much worse. The overuse of Auto-Tune, singers functioning as marketing concepts, everything so totally packaged.” He pushed his hair back, and she was momentarily distracted by how beautiful it was. “There are very few of us left who write our own material—and I’m not a twenty-year-old girl writing about famous boyfriends who treat me like crap. I want to convey truer emotions than puppy love gone bad, you know?”
“Teresa told me you write your own lyrics.” She nodded across the way to make sure her friend was included. “That song about eternal life was … inspirational.”
Like he was reading her mind, G.B. smiled at Teresa. “And that’s what everybody wants, right? The time we have here is so damned short—and we need to leave something behind.”
“So you’d be immortal if you could be, huh?” Cait said.
“In a heartbeat. Come on, life is great—I don’t want to lose all this. I don’t want to get old. I certainly don’t want to die.”
“With the way you sing,” Teresa cut in, “everybody’s better off with you on the planet.”
“Does that mean you’ll vote for me on
American Idol
?”
Teresa clapped her hands. “Hell, yeah! Are you trying out?”
“Maybe. Will you vote for me, too?” he asked Cait.
“I don’t watch that kind of TV, but if you’re on it? I’d be there every night.”
“You guys are the best.” He pushed that amazing hair back again, and Cait lingered on the way the stuff gleamed. “But I haven’t pursued that one yet. I don’t know … I hate to go that route. It feels like a copout in some ways, but the reality is—it’s time for me to break out on a national scale, and I need a platform. I mean, I do okay money-wise, like, singing backup for people on tour, and doing voice-over work down in Manhattan. And I’ve just gotten a part in the local production of
Rent
.”
“Have you sent any tracks in to record companies?” Cait asked, like she knew anything about “tracks” or “record companies.”
“I have, but again, it’s hard to get noticed. That’s the only reason I’d do
Idol
. If I could get on there—”
“You would,” Teresa said.
“And you’d do well,” Cait echoed. Star quality, it was called. And he had it.
“Thanks. That really means a lot.” G.B.’s smile was so genuine, Cait found it hard to believe the three of them hadn’t been friends for years. “It’s not about the fame thing, by the way. I just … you know, I want to leave behind something important, something that lasts. And that’s not a bad thing, is it?”
Cait thought of recent events … and upcoming funerals. Shaking her head, she said grimly, “Not at all.”
“So how about you?”
“Me?”
“If you could be ageless, would you?”
She took a drink of her water and grimaced. The ice cubes had all melted and there was a tinny aftertaste now. “I don’t know. I suppose if everyone I loved could be along for the ride with me? Well, then the losses wouldn’t be that bad and I’d say yes—because the
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