Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

 

 

The next week passed achingly slowly. Jessica and Nelson trailed after me all day every day, teasing me about missing Paul. I hated how I wore my heart on my sleeve.

Mom was kind enough to not mention the guys again, but it didn’t take a psychic to see she was dying to warn me against them. I was pretty sure the only reason she didn’t was because Dad had asked her not to. Relief was pretty apparent in both Dad and me. We both were aware that if Mom got on me about the band again, a fight was sure to assume.

To get my mind off of the whole situation, I spent a lot of time checking the comments on MySpace, Facebook, and YouTube. At their requests, I put the video on Paul and Benny’s accounts. I offered to put it on David’s, but he told me, not very nicely, that he only put his art up. His loss.

Finally the week came to an end. I called Paul multiple times to make sure they weren’t staying any longer. He just laughed and teased me, pretending they’d bought an apartment and were never coming back. I was a good sport about it, just relieved to know they were really coming back.

Sunday night, the night they were coming home, came and I snuck out of my house and strolled to Paul’s house, where we’d agreed to meet. The garage was noticeably empty, the lights in the house all dark except for Robbie’s room. Robbie, Paul’s younger brother by three years, had spent all of the nights his parents weren’t home at a babysitter’s house, so he had never been put in danger by Uncle Nate. He adored Paul almost as much as I did and followed him around, copying him and saying things like him. It was cute, but it bugged the hell out of Paul.

Now, being thirteen, Robbie was allowed to stay home by himself. He looked out the window, saw me, and ran downstairs and out the front door.

“Are they almost here?” he asked, stopping next to me. I grinned at the mini-Paul.

“Yup. Excited?”

“Yeah.” His voice may have been higher pitched, but I heard the deep tones of Paul’s voice already affecting his pitch. He had the same hair cut and clothing style, but he had more of a freckly-kid face. His hair was lighter too.

“Where are your parents?” I asked. Robbie rolled his eyes.

“At a dinner. They said they didn’t want to interrupt our so-called ‘kid moment’. They guessed you would be here and that the band’ll want to stick around. They said we can use the house to chill in.”

“Well aren’t they…supportive,” I said, not wanting to be rude, but annoyed as ever with their lack of interest in Paul’s life. Didn’t they care that he’d been gone for a week? Weren’t they excited about his bands break?

We chilled on the porch, smoking �" something Robbie had started doing at twelve to be like his brother. I sort of liked talking to him, even though he was pretty immature. He was sweet and funny, Paul’s neediness and people-pleasing attitude completely absent from his humor and personality. He would probably be a very good boyfriend to a little rich girl someday.

At nine-thirty, John’s van pulled up in front of the house. Robbie was inside, getting something to eat and I looked forward to having them to myself for the moment. Paul stepped from the passenger side door. Jumping up, I ran over and threw myself blissfully into his arms. He laughed, almost falling as my full weight fell against him.

“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you,” he said, stepping back and looking me over. “Have you grown?”

I giggled. “Shut up.” Feeling suddenly daring, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

“Get a room!” John called, shutting the driver side door and coming around to lean on the car beside Paul. I grinned and flung myself in his arms.

“I missed you too,” I told him, and just to be fair I kissed his cheek too.

“Hey, what about me?” Benny asked, emerging from the back of the van and a pile of carefully protected instruments. I tossed my arms around his neck.

“I missed you the most,” I promised. He flushed.

“Are you trying to steal my best friend?” Paul asked, pushing Benny.

“Yeah. Whatcha gonna do about it?” Benny asked, pushing him back.

“Oh please,” Paul said scornfully. “Go unpack, little boy.”

“Psh,” Benny said, but he did as he was told. I hit Paul’s arm.

“Don’t order him around like that,” I said.

“He’s the youngest,” John said, shrugging and lighting a cigarette. “That’s how things go.”

“Yeah, he’s earning his place in the band,” Paul said, bumming a cigarette off of John.

“So you’re…what? Hazing him?”

“Pretty much,” John said. I threw my lighter at his head. He laughingly threw it back. “Oh come on Meg. At least we’re not beating the poor guy up.”

“You guys are terrible.”

“Paul!” Robbie charged down the driveway. Paul grinned and held out his arms, catching his kid brother and giving him a bear hug.

“Hey kid, how’s s**t?”

“Crappy. But I’ve got the house to myself, which is awesome.” Robbie chattered excitedly about the things that had gone on while Paul had been in LA. Paul, always pleased to have someone admiring him, paid wholehearted attention to Robbie. Disappointed that I’d been replaced, I went to pitch in with Benny and help unload. John followed my example and, after a moment, so did Paul and Robbie.

David, however did not. Instead, he stood around, rubbing his head and complaining about a headache and how he wanted to go get a drink. Paul, forever rubbed the wrong way by David, made snide remarks about how lazy people weren’t welcome around them, but he didn’t take the hint.

“If you want to go to a bar and get wasted then go,” John finally burst out exasperatedly.

“I don’t want to go alone,” he said, staring sullenly at the sidewalk, fingertips massaging his temple.

“If we go, Meg has to come,” Paul jumped in. I raised my eyebrows.

“Like I want some kids tagging along,” David muttered. Then, under his breath, “And that includes you and Benny. John and Jimmy and I used to do just fine without you.”

“Oh yeah, that’s why we just had a week long gig at a club in LA,” Paul began hotly, but I grabbed the back of his jacket and spun him around, away from David.

“When are you going to learn to not engage?” I asked. “It’s just giving him what he wants.”

“Yeah,” Benny said, “he insulted Meg and me and you don’t see us jumping all over him.”

“Your temper is way too short,” I agreed.

“I just can’t stand how condescending he is,” Paul said. I snorted. “What?”

“Because you’re oh so welcoming to Benny? ‘He’s earning his place in the band’. Remember that?”

Paul looked sheepish. “That �" that was different. I did that lovingly.”

Shaking my head, I shoved his guitar case into his arms and pushed him in the direction of the house. He resisted, grinning over his shoulder at me. Robbie, watching with wide eyes, turned to glare at the moody drummer who had gotten under his brother’s skin.

“Come on John, let’s go get a drink,” David said.

“No can do, Dave,” John said. “I’ve got s**t to do and being drunk will not help me out.”

“Right, okay, have fun then,” David sneered. “I’m going to go get some sleep done.”

“Alright,” John said. “Call me tomorrow or something so we can go smoke a joint with Jimmy and Danielle.”

“Yeah sure. Drop off my drums then okay, Johnny?”

John saluted him and David turned and walked down the sidewalk, leaving a haughty air in his wake.

“Screw you,” Paul said at his retreating back.

“Yeah, screw you a*****e,” Robbie said.

“You see what you’re teaching him?” I asked. Paul grinned. Eagerly, Robbie led the way into the house.

“So, are you going to tell me how your trip was?” I asked.

“It was awesome,” Paul said, forgetting David. “You should’ve been there. You would’ve loved it.”

“Yeah, we would’ve let you come up on stage with us,” John said, grinning.

“I would’ve killed myself before I let you do that,” I said, shuddering.

“We’re going to break you of this whole stage fright before the end of this.”

“End of what?”

“Life.”

“Oh great so we’re not working with much time then. You’re all older than me so you’ll die first.”

“Benny’ll probably last as long as you do.”

Smiling, I put my arm around Benny’s waist. “I don’t have to worry about him. He’s a gentleman.”

“Oh the things girls believe,” John said.

“Yeah, I’m an a*****e,” Benny said. “Just not to you.”

“Duh guys, that’s what makes him a gentleman,” I said.

“Oh is that it?” John asked. I laughed, following them through the door.

I could never help a small moment of awed breathlessness whenever I entered Paul’s house. It was an old, regal three story with an imposing staircase the first thing that met your gaze. To the left was the spotless living room done in all white, with the mantel over the fireplace taken up by professional photos of Paul and Robbie. To the right was the beautiful dining room with the superb mahogany dining table and matching china cabinet. Beyond that was the kitchen, our destination.

“Did you guys party a lot?” Robbie asked excitedly as we moved into the immaculate kitchen.

“Are you kidding?” Paul asked. “We were there for work, not play.”

“Yes because your work is so not partying,” I said. Paul grinned and pushed me playfully. “Take note Benny. That is an a*****e.”

“Where’s the beer?” John asked.

“My parents don’t drink beer,” Paul said. “The whiskey’s in the liquor cabinet.”

“Bully,” John said, disappearing into the pantry while the rest of us settled in the around the cream tiled island. I sat on a bar stool between Paul and Benny, Robbie sitting on Paul’s other side.

“Did you meet any cool people?” I asked.

“We saw this band that played at the Top Ten Club, which is way better than ours,” Paul said. “We hung out with the drummer of the band. He’s this older guy, older than John even, and he said we were a pretty good band. We had a few drinks with him and he said to look him up if we ever go back.”

“His band is really popular down there,” Benny added.

“What’s his name?”

“Tom Zimmer.”

“What’s the band called?”

“Sand to Pearl,” John said, reemerging from the pantry, bottle of whiskey and four whiskey glasses in hand.

“Gay name,” Paul scoffed. I punched him.

“The Preying Men isn’t exactly genius either,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, well, it’s on the drums so we can hardly change it now,” John said unconcernedly. “Anyway, Tom’s cool. His band is legit. They’ve been playing for four years now and actually have a real fan following. It can’t hurt to have him on our side. He can give us pointers and advice and s**t.”

“Cool. Wish I could’ve been there,” I said, still slightly jealous.

John poured whiskey into the four glasses and handed them out, excluding Robbie.

“Hey, I want some,” Robbie complained, reaching for Paul’s glass. Paul pulled it away.

“Nuh-uh. You’re too young.”

“Like I’ve never had alcohol before,” Robbie said, rolling his eyes.

“You wouldn’t like this,” Paul said, sipping the whiskey. “It’s strong.”

I sipped my drink, grimacing. Strong was an understatement. It burned my throat and my eyes watered, but I sipped it anyways. If Paul did it, I wanted to be able to do it.

“So what did you do while we were gone?” Benny asked me.

“School, chores, boring s**t. I’d rather hear more about your week,” I said. He smiled dreamily.

“It was pretty amazing. We were in this grimy little club with all these back alley people. Pretty much the time of my life.”

I laughed and John reached over to ruffle Benny’s hair.

“Our little brother dirties down very nicely,” he said.

“Little nothing,” Benny said, ducking out from under his hand. “I kept up just fine with you guys.”

“You did even better than David,” Paul said, snorting derisively. “All he did was drink sissy little girl drinks.”

I made a face at Benny, who quirked his mouth and winked.

“Yeah, we’ll see how long he lasts,” John said. “Tom sat in for us twice last week. I have a feeling that’ll be happening a lot more as time goes on.”

“You thinking of replacing him?” I asked, vaguely surprised. I could tell, despite the exasperation, that John was fond of his friend and the back and forth between them was more affectionate and affable than the bickering Paul and David shared.

“He’s, uh, not really in it for the long run,” John said. “He keeps talking about this art school he wants to go to after he graduates.”

“I thought he quit,” I said.

“”I thought he did too,” he said, shrugging. “Apparently not.”

“He chickened out,” Paul said unforgivingly. “He’s a chickenshit.”

 “David’s a chickenshit!” Robbie crowed. I raised my eyebrows at Paul, nodding at Robbie meaningfully.

“You better stay in school, Rob,” Paul said warningly. “You’re too smart to quit.” Robbie scowled, pouting. After a moment, Paul added, “He’s still a chickenshit.” Robbie giggled.

“Be the bigger man, Paul,” I said.

“Yeah, you didn’t do it either,” John pointed out. He suddenly glanced around. “Hey, where are the rents?”

Paul glanced uncertainly at Robbie. “At a cocktail party or something equally tedious. They told me not to wait up.”

“Compassionate little b******s, aren’t they?” John asked.

“Oh they’re just delighted with my lifestyle,” Paul said, avoiding my gaze.

“Are you guys going back to LA?” I said, feeling I needed to intervene for Paul’s sake. He sent me a quick sideways grin.

“The manager offered us a job for the summer,” John said. “They’d open it up just for us and we could play every night if we wanted. What d’you think?”

“That sounds…awesome…” Paul said. “May I ask why this is the first I’m hearing of this?”

“We still have s**t to work out with the Vault.” He smiled. “They might not let us go so easily.”

“That sounds like a serious problem,” Benny said, swirling his drink absently.

John couldn’t hold back a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m working on it.”

“Meaning?” Paul prompted.

“Meaning don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re dealing with lawyers now,” I said, sipping my drink and smiling.

“Uh, not exactly,” he said. He raised his glass to me. “Close though.”

“Tell,” Paul ordered.

“No,” John shot back, clearly enjoying his position of power.

“If you get out,” I asked, “you’ll go to LA for the summer?”

“Hope so,” John said.

“Know so,” Paul corrected.

“It would be so mind-blowing to play there all summer,” John said hungrily.

“Yeah,” Benny said doubtfully. “One minor problem. How’re we going to get our parents to let us take off to LA all summer without supervision?”

“No problem for me,” John said. “I’m eighteen. Maya can’t stop me, no matter how much she wishes she could.”

“My parents won’t be happy about the reason,” Paul said, “but if I beg enough they’ll probably cave. Besides, they’ve completely given up on me taking over the business.”

“No, they’re focusing on me now,” Robbie said, not altogether unhappily. I knew that, despite all their efforts, his parents could never get Paul interested in legal offices and ever since Paul had gotten his guitar, his parents lost interest in trying to form him into them, instead becoming obsessed with grooming Robbie to take over the family business. Strangely, Robbie was bearing up remarkably well under the pressure. I suspected Robbie was less like his brother than he ever wanted to admit.

“That leaves you,” I told Benny. “Well, and David, but you’ve got that taken care of.”

“I don’t think my parents would be too happy about the idea,” he said gloomily, ever the pessimist of the group. “They actually support me, but they weren’t, uh, thrilled to hear I was performing illegally in a night club.”

“You didn’t tell them when you left?” I asked.

“I figured ignorance is bliss,” he said, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. “Evidently they didn’t share the same opinion.”

“Just, I don’t know, beg,” Paul advised. “Tell them it could be our lucky break.”

“Swear off alcohol,” John put in. “I mean, obviously don’t tell them you drink, but let them know you’re not planning on starting any time soon. You have to come. No way can we do this without you.”

“They might, might, I stress might, did I stress might �"“

“Oh my god, get on with it,” Robbie cut in. I giggled.

“I agree with the kid,” I said. Benny pushed me good-naturedly, finally letting out a smile.

“As I was saying: They might let me go if Peter goes too.”

Benny had two older brothers, Peter, nineteen, and Aaron, seventeen, and an older sister, Louise, twenty-one. Peter, unlike Benny, didn’t smoke, drink, or play guitar. Louise, who would probably have been a far superior babysitter, was off in college across the country. Peter, at the moment, was the most responsible kid in Benny’s household.

“He can come,” John said diplomatically, “as long as he stays out of our way.”

“I’ll suggest it,” Benny said, frowning again. “I can’t promise anything though.”

“What about me?” I asked. “No way Mom’ll let me go without her or Dad.”

They all looked at each other.

“You could visit on weekends,” John offered. I was annoyed when he turned away to talk about other band stuff, like travel and money. Clearly he wasn’t as concerned about me as he was about getting Benny to LA.

No way was I getting left behind. Not again. But how would I convince Mom I could come alone?

 

 

…                …                 …

 

 

The guys went back to their former routine of band practice �" which David only deigned to show up for half the time, due to “having lots of headaches and the flu” �" and performing at the Vault. I was extremely relieved to have my routine back too; Jessica and Nelson were getting way to comfortable at my house.

After a few weeks, I noticed John was missing a lot, often coming to rehearsals late and disappearing in any spare moments. His phone rang constantly and Paul and Benny were going insane with curiosity. I couldn’t help being interested myself, asking him persistently what the hell he was up to.

It wasn’t until the end of the third semester of school that we found out what he was doing.

“I dear friends, loyal bandmates, have procured us the one thing that has the ability to get us places,” John announced at the end of band practice.

“What are you talking about?” David asked in his usual irritated bluntness.

“Patience, most priceless drummer,” John said, glowing with triumph. “My esteemed friends, I am a genius.” He reached into his backpack and produced a slightly crumpled packet of paper, stapled together. He held it out and the three of them crowded around to read the typed paragraphs on it.

“What is it? I asked, still lounging on the couch, cigarette in hand.

“It’s a contract,” Benny said, leaning closer to read. “A contract for a year. It says we’re under Ryan Martin’s management for a year.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Is this for real?” Paul asked, straightening up to look at John. “Do we really have a manager?”

“Well, not a great one,” John conceded modestly. “But he’ll do for a year.”

“Will he really get us places?”

“Yeah. He says he can get us on tour with a real band. He can’t get us a record deal right away, but if we get out there, it could happen in the next few years.” John seemed very pleased with himself.

“How’d you do it?” Paul asked. “You didn’t have sex with this guy, did you?”

“How else was I supposed to get such a brilliant deal?” he asked innocently. Reaching over, he hit the back of Paul’s head. “I sent him our demo, dummy. That, along with a very long, well-written, and pleading letter, earned me a meeting with the guy. We’ve been meeting regularly for weeks now, trying to get a satisfactory contract written. I’ve used all my savings on the dude. He won’t take us on for more than a year, but if we start making money under him, he’ll see about a longer settlement.”

            “Well, aren’t you just so mature?” I teased.

“Why yes, yes I am,” he preened.

“What’s the catch?” Benny asked seriously. “What do we have to pay him?”

“Two hundred up front so cough it up. I already paid the first hundred with my savings, but you all have to help me with the last hundred.”

“Why should we have to pay?” David pointed out. “He hasn’t done s**t for us yet.”

For once, I had to agree with him. This guy sounded like a fraud: He wanted money before doing anything, he couldn’t promise a record deal, and he would only sign them on for a year. Not exactly the most reliable sounding deal.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” John said defensively. “I couldn’t even get most of the managers to listen to the demo, and none of them would answer my calls. Believe me, Ryan was the best option we had.”

“Well, I only have twenty dollars,” Benny said.

“I’ll chip in ten, but that’s all I’ve got after the hundred I already gave,” John said. He and Benny both glanced at Paul, easily the richest in the group.

“I’ll give thirty, but any more and our gas money is gone,” Paul said.

“So, David, can you make up the rest?” John asked.

“Don’t any of you have jobs?” David snapped.

“This is my job,” John said matter-of-factly, sounding somewhat surprised that we didn’t already know that.

“My parents don’t think I can handle a job on top of school,” Paul said, shrugging.

“Yes, I do,” Benny said at everyone’s meaningful looks. “But as you’ll recall, I didn’t work at all last week because you insisted on having extra rehearsals and I’m not working for another couple of days. And anyway, I won’t get this week’s paycheck until Thursday of next week.”

“S**t,” John said. “How much can you give, Dave?”

“Twenty’s my limit.”

“When does this guy expect the money?” I asked.

“By Saturday. Two frickin’ days from now.”

“Oh, lord. How much do you need?” There was a moment of silence as we all tried to figure out how much they had. I was failing miserably.

“Twenty,” Benny spoke up. I stared at him.

“I thought you were dumb,” I teased.

“I’m not dumb, just disinterested,” he said without resentment. “And lazy.”

“Quit,” John advised, as he always did when school was mentioned.

“Halfway through next year and I’ll be out of there, I promise.”

“Paul?”

“If I fail exams, I have to redo junior year,” he said. “Not happening.”

“And if you pass?” I asked.

“Then I’m shooting for graduation.”

“Anyway,” John said. “How much cash are you willing to lend us?”

“Is this ‘lend’ in the traditional sense in that I’ll actually be paid back?” I asked. “Or is it more of a donation type thing?”

“You’ll be paid back ASAP,” John promised.

“Meaning never,” I accused, pulling out my wallet and handing over two tens.

“Thanks, doll,” Paul said, kissing the top of my head and pocketing the money. I bit my lip, contented.

“Prostitute,” John said, grinning and ruffling my hair. “Thanks, kiddo.”

“You’re welcome…sport?” He snorted. “Well what was with the kiddo?”

“Are you not younger than me?”

“Yeah, big bro, why don’t we go out later and you can teach me how to play baseball?”

“Point taken oh old and wizened elder.”

“Thank you Meg,” Benny said. “You’re amazing.”

David stayed noticeably silent, but I didn’t care because Paul had kissed me. What did David matter when I had Paul?

They spent the rest of the time practicing, but were too satisfied with themselves to criticize each other and after running through their set for the third time, they gave up and ended rehearsals.

On Saturday, they all went to Ryan Martin’s office to pay and work out any details. By the end, they’d all signed the contract and were officially under Ryan Martin’s management. I sat in the van, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who would hopefully change the band’s �" and my �" life. No luck. In fact, I didn’t meet Ryan �" he insisted I use his first name �" until two weeks later. I found I wasn’t really fond of him. He wasn’t mean or condescending or anything like that, just artificially friendly. He talked to everyone overly brightly, as if he’d known them forever and not at all at the same time. He looked at the band like his property and at me like I was his asset. When he talked to me, he used a superficially polite voice, but loud, like he was trying to impress the people around him. As there was no one to impress, it came off as a habit he couldn’t shake. He weirded me out, though not intentionally, I’m sure. Every time I was around him, though, he would lean towards me and use a stage whisper, talking about the band as if they were “ours”, like we owned and controlled them. He tried to be gentlemanly about it though, like he didn’t want to offend me or anything. It was awkward and uncomfortable and I did all I could to avoid him.

The guys, on the other hand, were so excited to have a real life, actual manager, they barely noticed how he treated me �" or them for that matter. Even David was swept up in their eager expectations of the band’s success.

“This summer you’ll be performing at the Nirvana,” Ryan was stating as I walked into band practice one day near the end of my sophomore year. He had his Blackberry out and was gazing at the screen. Glancing over his shoulder, I saw the calendar displayed with notes and tasks marked on almost every day.

“Yeah,” John said from where he sprawled on the couch, guitar in his lap. “Benny’s parents said he could go as long as Peter comes with.”

“And after summer?” Ryan asked. “What are the plans?”

“Coming back,” John said, slightly glum.

“Do you have school?”

“I do,” Benny said. “My parents want me to stick around till winter break of my junior year.”

“How old are you?” Ryan asked, taking the cigarette Benny had just lit and dropping it to the cement floor. He ground it out absently, looking at Benny as if nothing had happened. After learning that all the guys smoked all the time, he’d insisted they cut back to two cigarettes a day, but preferably less.

“Sixteen,” Benny said, eyes on the ruined cigarette.

“Legally you can leave,” Ryan said, voice turning subtly wheedling. I felt an instant need to jump to Benny’s defense, to protect him from Ryan’s ploys. I hated it when Ryan tried to get the guys to do things I didn’t think they should be doing. I only kept my mouth shut because I knew I had no control over the band.

“I know,” Benny said coolly. I forced my hackles to lie down. Benny could take care of himself.

“If your parents heard you say how much leaving school and starting out on your career meant, they couldn’t really say no, could they?”

Again, I was put on edge, annoyed by the coaxing voice he used.

“They would try,” Benny said. “And they’d be disappointed as hell. But, yeah, I could probably convince them to let me drop out if I really tried.”

“I’ll send them an email,” Ryan decided. “Write their emails down for me later.”

Benny nodded and when Ryan turned satisfactorily away, he lit another cigarette. I grinned at him.

“What about you Paul?” Ryan asked. I kept a watchful eye on Paul, my Paul, careful of what Ryan would say to him.

“Depends,” Paul said. “I get my exam results online two weeks after school ends. As soon as I know I failed, I’m out of there.”

“How do you know you’ll fail?” I spoke up.

“Do you know me?” he asked, grinning.

“You should graduate,” I said quietly, uptight at his negativity. Though Paul had once been a straight A, goody two shoes student, the guitar and John had distracted him immensely. I usually didn’t care about that, because Paul so obviously belonged onstage, but Ryan’s influence over Paul irked me. It was wrong to be encouraging a talented student to give up his education for such a tenuous career.

“They won’t need diplomas for their line of work,” Ryan said, waving my protest away unconcernedly. “You worry about school and let the boys worry about the band.” He turned away and missed my glare. Benny sent me an apologetic glance and I rolled my eyes. The others seemed determined to just pretend they hadn’t heard.

“Since you have no plans,” Ryan continued obliviously, “I thought it would be good to start traveling, getting your name out to the public. This town is very interested in you, and clearly devoted fans. I believe, once the rest of the country gets you in their heads, they’ll buy you too. Eve Lockwood �" have you heard of her? �" is going on tour of the west coast and needs bands to open for her. You can audition for the spot if you want. Try-outs are next month if you’re interested. She starts touring in January, so you’ll be long done with the Nirvana. What do you think?”

Predictably, they were delighted. Beyond delighted. Eve Lockwood was a somewhat local celebrity �" in the east coast, and most of the rest of the country, she was basically unheard of �" with a forte in alternative rock. You had to be fairly atypical to like her, which was why John had taken an instant partiality to her. And anything that John deemed worthy automatically made the top of the list in Paul and Benny’s mind.

So, yes, they were thrilled. I, however, was not. While they toured for who-knew-how-long, what was I going to be doing? Homework. School. Dealing with Jessica and Nelson’s ever insufferable presence. Woop-dee-do for the bore that was my life.

The end of school quickly �" too quickly! �" approached. Worry kept me on edge, knowing that as soon as Paul had his exam results, he and the others would run off to LA. I didn’t want to get left behind, so I bit the bullet and finally brought the subject up to Mom and Dad a week and a half before the conclusion of school, fully aware this was like baiting the enraged bull.

“So-o-o,” I began, trying my best to be polite. “The guys are going back to LA for the summer.” Mom humphed critically. I kept my eyes down, stirring my peas and trying to keep my cool. “Benny’s older brother Peter will be going. He’s nineteen. He’s going to be a doctor.” It couldn’t hurt. “Their manager’s going too.”

“Megan, why are you telling us about this?” Mom asked impatiently.

“Well, I-I was sort of hoping you’d…let me go too.” There was a big fat no written all over her face before I even finished.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mom said frostily, turning back to her food with finality.

“Actually, I disagree.” My eyes shot up in desperate hope to Dad.

Mom’s eyebrow arched irately. “I beg your pardon? You think it’s a good idea?”

“We can’t keep her here forever, Meredith,” he said with a slight smile.

“Are you suggesting Megan is old enough to make such decisions on her own? Because if she is, then by all means she may go. And while she’s at it, she can get a job and pay bills and start looking for her own place.” Her voice had risen, as had her fury. “Although, if I remember correctly, she’s not even sixteen yet and therefore is not allowed to make decisions or move out on her own or enter a nightclub or anything else you seem to be interested in allowing her to do.”

“She won’t go in a nightclub,” Dad assured her calmly. I silently countered, but kept my mouth shut. “And I’m not saying she can or should do any of those things. Nor am I advocating she go all summer. I am, however, proposing we allow her this one freedom as a reward. She got A’s and B’s all year and didn’t have any unexcused absences. She hasn’t gotten in trouble at school, hasn’t blatantly disregarded our rules. She’s been very compliant and respectful. Don’t you think she deserves a few weeks of vacation to hang out with her friends?”

My eyes were still on my food and I closed them tight, heart skipping a beat. It was so close. A simple word from Mom and I could go. Please say yes, please, please say yes!

“I don’t want her going without supervision,” Mom maintained stubbornly.

“Meredith �"“

“Conroy, I don’t want her to go,” Mom interrupted.

“I know,” Dad said patiently. There was a pause as Mom silently fumed. Dad waited genially for her to cool off somewhat. I watched, fascinated by Dad’s methods of dealing with Mom.

Finally, he continued. “Don’t you want her to have some fun?”

Mom slammed her fork down. “Megan, go to your room.”

“But Mom, I �"“

“Now Megan,” she ordered.

Sighing, I pushed my chair back and left the table. I could have taken my plate to the kitchen and washed it for them, but why should I do something for someone who was being really rude to me? Was it obvious how much I disliked Mom?

Instead, I ran up the stairs and into my room, which was right above the dining room. I slammed my door shut and threw myself on the floor, pressing my ear to the carpet. The faint voices of my parents reached me through the floor.

“…a good kid,” Dad was saying. “I think she’s deserves a chance to prove she’s trustworthy.”

“And if she goes to a nightclub?” Mom’s voice asked. “If she drinks? Smokes? Does drugs? What then Conroy? How will we know? How will we be able to punish her and steer her in the right direction? I refuse to allow the child in this household to decide what is acceptable for her.”

“You know how I feel about that speech, Meredith,” Dad said quietly. I had to strain to hear his soft voice. “You know I don’t believe in your penchant for punishment. If we reward her for her good behavior, instead of punish her for her bad behavior, she will be more willing to be good. This is our opportunity to show our belief in her. We should let her go.”

I heard Mom mutter something about “hippy parents” that I couldn’t hear, and probably wouldn’t have understood anyway �" Dad’s parents had died when I was just a toddler.

“I’ll tell you what,” Dad continued. “If she gets an A on her geometry final, we’ll let her go for two weeks.”

“I’d prefer one week.”

“Be reasonable.”

There was an annoyed pause. “I’d consider letting her go if there were adult supervision.”

“Their manager will be with them the whole time.”

“An older man of unknown age whom we’ve never met who works in an immoral profession and can hardly be relied upon to direct our child on a suitable course.”

“Well, you’ve met Peter, haven’t you? When he drops Benny off here? You always were impressed by him.”

Mom mumbled something. I only caught “…your reasoning ski…” I strained harder and heard the heavy whoosh of air Dad exhaled on a sigh.

“I want to speak to Peter first,” Mom said at last.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to talk to you about it.”

“And I want her to get an A on both her geometry and biology finals. And B’s on everything else.”

“I’m sure that’s do-able.”

“I suppose it’s no use telling her what’s not allowed while she’s there?”

There was a pause and a rustle of clothing, and I guessed Dad was moving closer to Mom. In a warm voice he said, “Instruct her all you want. But she knows.”

Mom’s tone changed remarkably. “You always know the exact things to say to make me see things the way you do.” She sounded like she was smiling and there was tenderness I had never heard in her voice. 

I sat up quickly, alarmed. I definitely didn’t want to hear that. Mom never spoke like that and it took a moment to recognize the fact that I was hurt. Hurt? I thought curiously. By Mom? That was an emotion I wasn’t used to. And yet, there it was, a startling pain. Why had she never spoken to me lovingly? I was her daughter, wasn’t I? I mean, they’d decided to have me, I didn’t decide it. Why have me if she couldn’t love me? Why have a daughter if all you wanted to do to her was make her a mini-mom? What was wrong with my mother if she couldn’t even show a tiny bit of caring to her own flesh and blood?

Slowly, I stood up and moved to my bed, sitting down and biting my lip. I studied my internal emotions inquisitively. My chest literally hurt. This felt terrible. And it was all due to Mom. Obnoxious, sharp, glowering Mom. This wasn’t worth it.

I shook the feeling away, fiercely thinking I shouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she could get under my skin. And, to get back at her, I did the one thing that would bother her most. I conference called Paul, John, and Benny to tell them the news.