“Can Darius see anything at all?” I ask, wanting to prepare myself.
“He can see movement, shadows, but no detail. Imagine you’re standing in the dark, but it’s not pitch black, and someone waved their hand in front of your face. You’d be aware of the change of light and movement, without being able to make out any details. That’s what it’s like for Darius.”
“Is he ever likely to regain his sight again?”
“Not unless there are some serious advances in medical science, no.”
“It might happen,” I say hopefully.
“There’s no point in even thinking about it. All that does is stop him living his life as it is. He’d always be looking into the future instead of working with what he has now.”
I nibble at a piece of dry skin on my lower lip. “I think I understand.”
Everyone is leaving, and we join the throngs. Reed’s fingers lightly wrap around my upper arm, as though he’s worried he’s going to lose me in the crowds. While everyone else is exiting through the front of the building, we push against them and head toward the rear. A separate staircase takes us to the space behind the stage, and then down a corridor, where individual doors lead to what I assume are dressing rooms.
We stop at one that has the name Darius Riviera on it.
Reed pauses and turns to me.
“Darius isn’t exactly the warmest person you’ll ever come across,” he says. “So don’t be offended if he seems a bit standoffish at first. It’s not personal. He’s just far more reserved than his brother.”
“Oh, okay.”
He continues, “Also, don’t touch anything. Don’t move anything in the room, not even a chair. If he asks you to sit, then sit exactly where the chair is already positioned. Don’t drag it across the floor or anything.”
“Why?” I’m confused.
“Darius needs to be able to control his surroundings. Before he goes to a concert hall, he demands that both the stage and dressing room is laid out a certain way. He always has a chair a set number of steps from the door, so he can walk straight to it. He has a specific list of items he demands to have in his dressing room and has them laid out in exact positions on the table, like on the face of a clock. It means he knows exactly where everything is, so nothing is going to catch him by surprise. His memory is excellent—almost photographic—and he only needsto be run through where everything in once to have a vision of the space around him in his mind.”
“Like the number of steps that are needed to put him center stage?”
Reed nods. “Exactly.”
I picture how difficult that must be for Darius, traveling around like he does, always ending up in different places. Does he resent it, or does he enjoy the challenge?
I draw in a shaky breath and try to tamp down my nerves. I tell myself that Darius is just like any other man, except he’s not. He’s practically a rock star, minus the electric guitar or the growly singing voice. I don’t want to find that intimidating, but I do.
Reed lifts his hand and knocks on the door, and from inside, a deep voice calls, “Come.”
Chapter Six
Laney
REED OPENS THE DOORand gestures for me to step inside.
Darius’s dressing room is immaculate. The man himself sits at a dressing table. A bottle of expensive-looking mineral water is in front of him, and beside that is a bottle of Irish whiskey. There are also bunches of flowers, placed in vases—no doubt from admiring fans.
“Dax,” Reed says. “I brought someone to meet you. The person I told you about on the phone.”
Darius slowly turns in his seat to face us. He’s bigger this close up than he’d appeared on stage. His presence seems to dwarf the already small room.
“A sister, huh?” he says. “Laney?
How can his stare be so intense, even when he can’t see?
But then I remember how Reed said Darius was able to see shadows. Is that what he’s seeing now? Me in the form of shadows? If he sees shadows, surely that means he can see light as well? Somehow, it comforts me to think that he’s not in complete darkness. The thought of that would be terrifying.
“What did you think of my show, Laney?”