39.

The antique theater marquee glowed.

—   Damien Goode IN PERSON / SOLD OUT

Holograms of Damien looking brooding and handsome, standing in front of a brick wall, were projected onto brick walls. 

“I’m on the guest list,” Milly told the doorman.

Damien’s crooning — plus AI musicians, live drums, bass loops, theatrics, and dancers — served sprinkled with his guitar playing mixed up a danceable blend of pop music. Hundreds of girls, going crazy, crowded close to the stage.

Milly looked on.

Sliding his computers aside, Damien shouldered an antique acoustic guitar and strummed solo.

🎵 “When You Were Young” - The Killers 🎵

It was a bold move to slow down an up-tempo song and sing it with soul, but he pulled it off.

As she listened, Milly used her stature to push past the other girls. Damien’s hair fell in his face as he belted out the lyrics. By the end, she mouthed the words along with him.

It’s unclear if she’d heard that song before or if it just resonated with her that night. She’s never said. But whatever the reason, it moved Milly closer to the stage.

She must have come into Damien’s view under the blinding lights because he nodded at Milly as he spoke into the mic: “That antique song was just for you. Know who wrote it?”

Milly smiled.

Girls nearby gawked with envy.

Damien pointed at Milly. “The Killers!”

Her face dropped. “Am I?”

He turned away to wave at the crowd.

She looked down at her shaking hands.

Milly, a teenage killer? Of rabbits and snakes, yes. But her steadier hands had aimed that old rifle at bigger targets. Yet her gun was just a little .22. Did she not know? Or feel remorse? Blame herself? Fear discovery? She’s never said — not yet.

Later, Damien’s buddy spotted Milly in the shadows. He brought her back to the dressing room. Inside, weird people were either snorting nose drugs and making a racket or ignoring her and smoking weed.

It must’ve reeked.

Damien did two encores.

Milly waited, then said, “I should go,” just as he entered.

He immediately spotted her, then scolded his entourage for “not making my guest feel welcome.” Damien poured the last of the champagne. “Take your party outside,” he told his people. The pair were alone.

It was not her first drink of alcohol.

“Ugh, look at this mess,” he said. “You deserve more.”

“Do you think I’m beautiful?”

Damien laughed. “Everyone’s asking me about that gorgeous blonde!”

“I asked what you thought.”

“Don’t you know?”

Milly coyly tilted her head.

“Yes, I think,. you are so beautiful.”

“Good.”

“Goode: that’s my name!”

She eked out a tiny smile. “You’re funny.”

Damien invited Milly to join as he went to sign autographs. She waited in the shadows, watching with a curiously blank expression as females aged fifteen to fifty lost their minds with joy simply being next to Damien.

He finished and strolled over. “Sorry that took so long.” That was the first of his many non-apologies. “A lot of people want to talk to me, as you can see. I try to be good to my fans. I bet that was intimidating for you.”

Milly replied with nonchalance. “No, I’m familiar with this type of situation.”

Damien tilted his head. “Huh.” He smiled. “I’d like to see you again.”

She slowly blinked, like a cat.

“I’m leaving tomorrow on tour, but you and I will be in contact every day.” He tapped his phone to hers. “You’ll see the world through me. When I return, you’ll have it — with me.”

Milly gave him a standoffish sigh and rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious.” He leaned in.

She followed his lips as they pulled away from hers. As Milly’s eyes blinked open, she shivered a little.

The next day, Milly’s phone beeped while she was working at the diner. She ignored it. The day after, Damien’s message came during her Aikido practice. On the third day, his message arrived while Milly got ready for bed. She finally responded.

Damien kept his word. Every day he sent Milly something, even if it was only a silly photo, regardless of whether or not she texted back. But soon, she did more often. Weeks passed as Damien shared the wide world through her narrow screen.

His tour nearing completion, Milly cradled her phone in her hands. Smiling, she wrote:

—   Not on my phone, but here, with me, I want: you.