Wildflower promises, p.13
Wildflower Promises, page 13
“Ooh, I like this,” Nadia’s mom said in the background.
A minute later, Starr was back and sitting on a piano bench. The band cut back into the song they’d left off, and Starr sang the rest of it from her bench. She didn’t stand for the applause.
“Damn, that was intense,” Nadia said. “Thank goodness the band is so tight, or that would have been a disaster.” Nadia was right. Whatever had happened to Starr, at least the performance was saved.
But the next day, the dirty details came out. Starr had indeed stumbled and re-sprained an already weak ankle and left the stage in pain. Which would have been fine and understandable if she hadn’t hit the poor dancer who had tried to help her up. The web was flooded with close-up photos of her rabid-looking face right as she clobbered the poor woman. The press had a field day, saying the highlight of the show had been when Starr left the stage. They named Ash, the backup singers, and the bass player as the unsung heroes of a performance led by an overgrown toddler.
“It’s a complete mess,” Ash said when I talked to her. “Geena lost a tooth when Starr hit her. The dancers are completely fed up with how they’ve been treated. The next two shows have been postponed because of Starr’s ankle, but the way things are going, I’m not even sure we’ll make it to LA.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A COUPLE OF days later, I took the bus to Parkersburg to visit my parents. There was the Quickie Stop, glowing like a bright beacon of convenience. The recording studio and the dry field were long gone, but the pop machine was still there. I bought a soda for old times’ sake and crossed the desolate road to where a cab was waiting.
“You must be starving!” My mom said after a quick hug. My dad was in front of the TV and barely looked up.
“I could eat,” I said. “What do you have?”
A few minutes later, the three of us were seated around the tiny kitchen table with our knees brushing under it. Dad was inspecting me with tight lips. Mom was smiling placidly, watching me gnaw the chicken salad sandwich she’d made and cut into quarters. No one had said a word in minutes.
“You’re still writing?” she asked. Though I’d been a professional writer for years and could barely do anything else, my mother always asked me this.
“Yep, I just finished a story on Warren Hatch. It’ll be out any day.”
Blinks. Vacant stares.
“It’s a big step,” I continued. “Hatch is an icon. He wrote for the magazine for twenty-five years,” I added, trying to help them understand.
“Wonderful,” Mom said, looking over at my dad. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
More silence from my dad’s side of the table. I bit into the third quarter of my sandwich.
“Your dad thought a barbecue might be nice while the weather is still good,” my mom said.
A barbecue seemed like a fine plan until Benji (remember him?) showed up wearing a clean shirt and carrying a six-pack of beer for my dad. To be fair, Benji had grown up to be a nice guy. He drove a pickup and owned an irrigation company; a self-made man, my dad said. When I saw him standing in the kitchen, hovering over the chocolate chip cookies mom just so happened to be pulling from the oven, I realized he had no clue why he was there either. Dad pulled two beers from the plastic rings and handed him one, keeping the other for himself.
“I’ll have one, too, thanks,” I said. To which my father shot me a look as though I’d already stepped out of line.
The men talked hoses, underground piping, and drip irrigation systems outside while my mom had me spoon another batch of cookie dough onto the pan. She gave me a smile of blissful domesticity as though her dreams had finally come true. I drank that tin of lukewarm beer faster than I’d ever drank before. After a quick dinner, they left Benji and me alone to chat in the backyard.
“They didn’t tell you they asked me over, did they?” Benji asked.
“Nope,” I replied.
“Parents,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I seriously thought your dad was going to faint when I pulled out my veggie burger.”
“I wish I could have seen that,” I said.
“Hey, I saw Nadia yesterday. She was having lunch with Pete. Remember Pete?”
“Sure, I remember Pete,” I said.
“Thought they might be here tonight.”
They? “Nadia’s coming. Must be running late.”
He smiled at me and then looked down at his feet. “I was surprised when your dad asked me over.”
“I bet. We haven’t talked in, what…?”
“A long, long time.” He looked at me. “But it wasn’t just that.”
“What was it?”
“I guess you never really seemed like that kind of girl.”
“What kind of girl is that?”
“You know, the kind that wants a guy to drop by. I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong.”
“No, you’re not wrong,” I admitted.
His smile was kind. “You got someone?”
“I do, actually.” I smiled, thinking of Ash.
“And I’m guessing your parents don’t know?” He chuckled.
“No. Maybe it’s time I told them.”
“Good luck with that,” he said, and gave me a playful nudge with his shoulder. Then his face took on a more serious expression. “Seriously, if you need anything, I’m around, okay?”
“Thanks, Benji. I appreciate that.”
Nadia stepped out onto the back porch. “Hey, you two!”
“Ah, long time no see,” Benji said. “Where’s Pete at?”
“Uh, well, he’s right here,” Nadia said, looking oddly nervous. Pete stepped onto the deck with a fresh beer in hand, looking taller, more buff, and frankly, a lot more everything than how I remembered him in high school. No wonder Nadia was in a state.
There was a lot of small talk, but I was too busy observing the subtle and not-so-subtle interactions between Nadia and Pete. Something was definitely up between them. As soon as I had a chance, I pulled Nadia aside. “So?”
“So, nothing,” she said.
“Mm, nope. Try again.” I wasn’t buying nothing for a second.
“It’s too early to say,” she whispered.
“But what might you say if it wasn’t too early to say?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe that I didn’t expect him to-”
“To look at you like he wants your children?”
Her eyes lowered. When she looked up at me, there was something entirely new in her eyes. Vulnerability. “Whoa, Nad. You like him!”
She shook her head sorrowfully. “I did not expect this to happen.”
Pete was chatting with Benji at the other end of the yard, but he looked over and smiled at us as though he knew exactly what we were whispering about.
“Well, he sure blossomed,” I said.
“He sure did,” she sighed.
“How did you meet up? Did he call you or something?”
“No, I bumped into him yesterday when I was downtown. We went for lunch, and then for a walk, and then for coffee after that, and then … now it’s today. Tonight? Shit! I’m sorry I’m so late. Has it been awful?”
“No, maybe a little awkward because my parents are acting super weird, but Benji’s been fine.”
“Oh, my God, I almost forgot! Guess what I have in my purse?” she said.
“Do I really want to know?”
“Yes!” She pulled a carefully rolled magazine from her bag. “Fresh off the stand.”
It took me a moment to realize it was my cover because I hadn’t seen the photo yet. It was taken the night of the Pittsburgh show in the parking lot. There was Hatch sitting on top of the van with his rubber duck around him. Ash was sitting right below, just inside the sliding door with her legs hanging out. And there I was, leaning back against the passenger door beside her. There was a small crowd around us, but the other faces had been blurred out like they were in fast motion. Even the van looked good.
“What do you think?” she asked, slinging her arm around me.
“It’s real. I can’t believe it’s real.”
“I can! It’s the best thing you’ve ever written! We read it to each other in the ba-” she stopped and immediately turned red. “So … any word about the tour after the shit show the other night?”
I brushed my fingers over Ash’s face. “Not yet. Ash sounded pretty down about the whole thing.”
“I bet. Aw, sweetie, you miss her,” Nadia said, giving me a squeeze.
“So much,” I replied.
Benji joined us. “Hey, I’m going to head out. I told my mom I’d drop by.”
“At least you don’t have far to go,” I said.
Nadia plucked the magazine from my grasp and handed it to Benji.
“Whoa, look at this!” he said. “You’re all famous and shit.”
“Keep it, I have ten more copies,” Nadia told him. “Not including the ones I plan to give away.”
I figured Nadia and Pete had better things to do than hang around my parent’s kitchen, so I walked them out after Benji left.
“I’ll text you in the morning,” Nadia said. “Not too early, though. I want to sleep in.” She eyed Pete. Pete eyed her back. They both grinned. Which made me doubt sleeping was any part of their morning plan.
“Congratulations,” Pete said. “I always knew you’d do it.”
“Thanks, Pete. It was great to see you again.”
“See you soon,” he said, taking hold of Nadia’s hand.
She looked back at me over her shoulder and smiled the biggest, goofiest smile I’d seen on her in probably ever.
“Benji seemed nice,” Mom said behind me. “Do you think you’ll see him again before you leave?”
“I doubt it, Mom.” I went back inside.
She followed me into the kitchen. Dad was standing at the counter with another beer in his hand. A fresh copy of the magazine was sitting face-up on the kitchen table, left there by Nadia.
“Didn’t Benji seem interested? I thought he seemed interested,” Mom went on.
“Neither of us are interested, Mom. He’s a nice guy, that’s all.”
Moments passed in silence. Neither of them said a word about the magazine laying there - the cover story that was the culmination of everything I had worked so hard for. Nope, they wanted to talk about Benji. My frustration hit a whole new level.
“So … this is what it’s come to, eh? You’re so desperate for me to date a man that you’re dragging them in off the street?”
“For goodness’ sake, it’s Benji,” Mom said. “We didn’t have to drag him.”
“Do you have any idea how awkward that was for both of us?”
“That’s enough!” my father growled.
I turned and faced him. “A guy I haven’t said three words to since the first grade knows and accepts who I am, but you don’t?” I reached over and slid the magazine across the table. “Take a close look at the cover. Recognize anyone?”
My father stared at me with his usual look of brutish contempt while my mother took the magazine in her hands. “My gosh, Brindle! I didn’t even recognize you! You look so … different!”
“I’ll give you a hint who that is,” I said to my father. “That’s Haven Pope, or Ash, as she liked to be called when we were twelve. She’s the girl who was at the schoolyard with me when I got hit by lightning. You should remember since you were there. She went to the hospital. You met her mother, Harley Pope. They came here a few days later to see how I was doing. Left a package of gifts and cards. Sent letters after that.” My heart was racing. My temper curling up the front of my body. I stared straight at my father, who knew damn well who I was talking about. But he wasn’t going to budge.
“Leave it alone,” he growled.
“It was a hard time for us,” mom said. “We didn’t know-”
“I remember exactly how hard it was, Mom. It might have been a little easier if you had told me the truth,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “I didn’t turn out the way you wanted, but I’ve made a pretty good life for myself with zero support from either of you. If you care to find out what any of that life looks like, read this. Or don’t. You know what? I don’t even care anymore.”
I went upstairs to get my bag because I couldn’t stay in that place any longer. A bus to New York was leaving from Parkersburg in two hours. With any luck, Benji was still at his parent’s house a few doors down and he’d agree to give me a ride to the station. I’d hoped my parents were mature enough to finally fess up, but they let me walk out without saying a word.
I flung open the door, hoping to see Benji’s truck still parked there, but it was gone. Standing in its place was the van. Ash’s van. I did a double-take to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
“Hey, kid, good timing,” Hatch called through the open window. “Err … going somewhere?”
“Hatch? What are you doing here? Is Harley with you?”
“Nope, she’s back at the ranch. Why?”
“You drove here by yourself?”
“Yes, I drove here by myself! I’m not an infant. I see you’re already packed. You getting in or what?”
“Yes, I’m getting in. Where are we going exactly?”
“We got a meeting up in Cleveland. Some kind of conference. Seymour wants to meet you.”
I handled driving duty while Hatch went for a recline in the back with his faithful duck. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Harley had the address in her little book.”
I peered back at him in my rearview. “That was pretty good timing. I was about to storm off to the bus station.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” I sighed. “Going home is always disappointing. Don’t know why I expect it’ll ever change.”
“I’m sorry, kid. Some parents are jackasses. Hey, have you seen the magazine?”
I smiled. “Pretty cool cover, eh?”
“Indeed.” He was grinning. “The magazine took care of our rooms, by the way.”
“Mighty nice of them,” I replied.
“I thought so. By the time we get there tonight, Seymour will be well in the sauce. Told him we’d talk turkey over brunch tomorrow.”
“Did he mention what he wanted to talk about?” I really hoped it was about a permanent position, but I would take anything. Hell, I’d even take a free brunch.
“He didn’t say.”
We got to the hotel after eleven and were given keys to adjacent rooms up on the seventh floor. I was beat, but happy I wasn’t stuck at my parent’s house. Hatch said goodnight and went off to find his old chums in the bar. I spread the curtains to the dark night and pulled the armchair over to the window to stare at the city. I sent Nadia a text telling her what had happened, and that I wouldn’t be driving back to New York with her. Then there was a knock at the door. I figured it was Hatch, but when I peered through the peephole, Ash was standing there.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I FLUNG OPEN the door. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Denver?”
“It’s a long and convoluted story.”
“What happened?”
Ash raked her hand through her hair and sighed. “You saw what happened at the awards show. Starr rolled her ankle. We kept playing, because that’s what you do when there’s a live audience and the show is being televised. The next day, the world sees the photos. This morning, Starr is in the worst mood. She’s freaking out on everyone but me especially because of the unauthorized dub tracks I mixed on the fly while she was offstage. Suddenly the whole fiasco is my fault and not because she hit Geena while everyone watched. Then she walks over and just fires me. No warning. Just tells me to pack my shit. I’m reeling. Like, what the fuck just happened? We’ve got weeks to go, and she’s lost it completely. She fires three more key people, completely sabotaging the rest of the tour. Then, as I’m walking out, I get a call from her manager saying no one’s fired, that they’re just restructuring but to take a couple of days off while things settle. So I packed my stuff and here I am.” She sighed. “I’m sorry to dump this on you. It’s really good to see you.”
She looked like a lost puppy standing in the middle of a freeway. “Do you need a hug?”
“I really need a hug.” She leaned into my arms and sighed. “Thanks,” she said into my neck. “Honestly, it was a great experience in some ways. The shows went well. The dancers were fun. I’m happy with the response and all that. But fuck, I do not want to do this anymore if I have to work with people like Starr. I just don’t.”
She looked tired all the way through to her bones. “Why don’t you go have a shower? I’ll grab us some takeout from downstairs. You can wrap up in a blanket and relax-”
The look on Ash’s face stopped me mid-sentence. Something dark, fiery, and impatient was burning in her eyes. “No!” she said. “I’m not here to curl up in a blanket and relax!”
“Oh-kay,” I said.
“We have a problem!”
“We do?” I asked.
She threw her hands up in the air. “Yes! We’ve been friends for too long!”
“How … is that a problem?”
She took a step back and folded her arms. “Describe me in three words or less.”
“Uh, well, let’s see, you’re kind, considerate, creative-”
“You see? Exactly my point!”
I was at a loss. “I’m sorry, what?”
“We have a matter of hours before we go our separate ways again. Do I really want you thinking of me as kind, considerate, and creative? Nuh-uh. No way.” She stepped closer. “I want you to think of me in other ways.”
“Like … what other ways?”
“I don’t know, like how good I make you feel or the sound of my voice in the morning when we’re … you know.”
Something in the squishy center of my body did a little somersault, and I temporarily lost my speech.
“I seriously think we just gotta say fuck it to all the polite, friendly bullshit once and for all,” she said.
