by Ruby Rowe
Since Gwendolyn said we’d be eating lunch outside today, I pad to the French doors that open to the patio. Peering through the glass first, I spot her beneath the white vine-covered arbor, reading a magazine.
“She’s been waiting for you,” Linda says before I jump and spin around. Holding a glass tray of food is my parents’ housekeeper, the most patient woman in the world for tolerating them. I’d rather assume she’s patient than ignorant.
“I was conjuring some courage before I faced her.”
She smiles knowingly and nods at the tray.
“I snuck a little liquid courage into your lemonade.”
“You’re a saint.” Grasping the doorknob, I add, “Let me hold it open for you.”
“Thanks.”
“No, thank you. I’m sure you don’t hear it enough around here.” Slapping on a smile, I follow her out to the patio that overlooks the eleventh hole of the gated-community golf course. I take a seat across from my mother and prepare for a lecture.
“Well, there you are. I was about to send a search party.” She lays her magazine on the table next to her as Linda sets plates in front of us. I survey the piece of grilled chicken and quinoa salad.
“I didn’t want you or Daddy to catch my virus. It came on quickly at the party, and I figured the last thing you’d want was for me to projectile vomit on Ken while doing our toasts.”
Drawing her head back, mother contorts her face in disgust.
“Please, we’re about to eat lunch, and you’re right; I’m so grateful you didn’t let that happen. The embarrassment would’ve stuck with you for decades.” Placing her napkin on her lap, she looks up at Linda like she’s an eavesdropping server. “We’re good here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
My mother brushes back the bangs of her short blonde hair before she picks up her utensils and gracefully cuts her grilled chicken. “If they didn’t believe you were sick, the guests would’ve assumed you were pregnant, and I don’t know which would have been worse.”
“Well, I’m all better now, so we can put it behind us.”
“The assortment of petit fours was the talk of the party. I’m so happy I came up with the idea.”
I resist an eye roll. Gwendolyn kept saying she didn’t want to have a tiered cake since we’d serve one at the wedding. She shot down every dessert idea until I reminded her of how elegant petit fours were. Once I showed her the many varieties online, and how we could display them, she was sold.
But instead of buying them from a local bakery, she hired a sought-after pastry chef to prepare them personally. She went way over budget just so she could brag.
Aside from insisting on wearing the dress I made, the bite-sized cake idea was my only other contribution to planning the engagement party. She and Connie stole the event the second Ken put a ring on my finger.
I look down at the stunning diamond. I hate that I have to wear it today. I’d like nothing more than to drive over it with my car before tossing it into the bay.
I’m glad I didn’t spend countless days planning the party now that I know what a waste it was. I have to put a stop to this wedding. Maybe Blair will have an idea.
I think of Z and how much he already knows about my life. They’re secrets he shouldn’t hold, but I find myself trusting him more every day.
It’s strange to feel that way about someone I barely know, but the fact I have another person on my side is comforting. I can’t let him learn about Landon, though. I draw the line there since it’s not my secret to tell.
“One would think being sick would’ve helped you lose that last five pounds,” Mom says.
Freezing with my fork at my mouth, I look up and find Gwendolyn examining me. I imagine throwing my knife at her eyeball. Do people throw knives as a hobby? If so, I’m in.
“Wow, Mother.” I lay my fork down and pick up my napkin to dab at the corners of my mouth. I don’t know what’s gotten into me (maybe Z’s encouragement), but I can’t find it in myself to tolerate this mean woman a second longer.
Instead of screaming, I laugh. I have to fake it a little since I’m also angry, but I smile and laugh.
“What in the world do you find so funny?” she asks.
“I just realized what an affluent-mother cliché you are. You criticize my clothes, my hair, my weight, and my behavior… The list is endless. On top of that, you try to control every aspect of my life to suit your own agenda.”
“I don’t know what sparked this disrespectful attitude, but everything I’ve done or said has been for your own good. One day, when you’re a senator’s wife, or possibly a first lady, you’ll thank me for all the guidance I’ve given you.”
“No, I won’t. That’s the life you wanted, not me. You’re disappointed that Daddy didn’t go further in his political career, so you’re forcing that life on me.”
Standing, I toss my napkin on the table. “Thank you for lunch, but I need to go. Life’s been stressful lately, and you’re not helping any.”
“There, see? It’s wedding jitters making you grumpy, and you’re taking your frustrations out on me.”
“For once in your life, admit you’re not perfect and take responsibility for something you’ve done or said that was cruel.”
Leaving her alone, I stride to the French doors and through the house. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m not the woman I was raised to be, but I don’t know this bitter person I’ve become, either. I need a way out of this wedding before I turn into my evil mother.
Zain
“Where in the hell are we?” I ask Apple as we sit on a concrete ledge near our bus that’s parked at a gas station. Maybe we’re in Minnesota. At least, I think we’re out of Iowa.
Nash is standing next to me, glancing around like he’s looking for a sign with the answer. We’re performing in Minneapolis tonight, and for a short trip, it’s taking forever to get there.
“For once, your guess is as good as mine,” Apple replies.
“You’re becoming one of us.” I nudge her shoulder.
“Does that mean you’re accepting my relationship with Tripp?”
“I’m trying, but I still feel like he stole my friend.”
“If you’d stop being grouchy and distant, we could be close.”
“Wrong, Peaches. Tripp’s eyeballing us right now from inside that gas station.”
“He’ll understand. I’ve learned with Tripp that I have to push back when he’s being controlling. He bends for me when I call him out, and he’s only that way to begin with because he’s like an abused, abandoned dog.”
Apple turns her head to look me in the eyes, so I turn mine to let her. “He loves me so much. I feel it now from across this parking lot. I can’t explain how deep our connection is, but I need you to trust me when I say it’s real. He won’t leave me again.”
“I still don’t understand why you had to get engaged so soon. Do you even know where he lives?”
“Um, not the exact location, but I don’t see that being a deal-breaker.”
Needing a fix to take the edge off, I rub my forehead.
“Nash, do you have a cigarette?”
“You already know the answer to that, and no, I’m not buying them for you.”
“Dammit, why won’t you become my assistant? It would make my life so much easier.”
“You won’t say that when a mob of fans are clawing at your clothes.” He smirks at me, so I try to touch his blond buzz, but he’s too fast and wraps an arm around my neck.
“Don’t touch the hair,” he warns.
“What hair? You keep it so damn short. It’s not cool, man.”
“Since when do you smoke?” Peaches interrupts as Nash releases me.
“Since I ran out of something better.” Straightening my t-shirt, I wink at Apple, and she grimaces back. My mind’s all over the place today, and it’s not only because I’m running low on drugs. I keep thinking about Olivia … wondering when I’ll hear from her again.
I’m curious how her visit’s going with her mom. I keep trying to think of ways to get her away from Ken. She’s consuming my thoughts, and I don’t like this helpless feeling.
An unexpected breeze blows against us, so Apple turns around to face the field behind the concrete ledge. She brushes stray hairs from her face and admires the scenery.
“Look at this breathtaking field of flowers.”
To humor her, I turn around, too. There are wildflowers and weeds for as far as the eye can see. I’m not connected with nature in the least. Dad was never into that stuff, so I didn’t grow up hiking or camping during his time off. Even though we’ve traveled the world, nature isn’t my area of expertise.
I think of Olivia again and our conversation about cows. I’ve sure seen plenty of those while on the road.
“Don’t move,” Apple says. I fucking freeze because if there’s a snake about to crawl up my leg or a bee about to sting me, I’d like to seem invisible. “You have a butterfly sitting on your shoulder.”
I jerk my arm, and the insect flies off in front of us.
“Why did you do that?” Apple asks in a disappointed tone. “Butterflies are beautiful, and you never know when they’ll appear or stop moving long enough for you to admire them.”
“I’ve never thought about it.”
“Your bright yellow shirt must’ve attracted it.”
“I guess I should’ve worn black then.” I laugh, and she punches my arm.
“You need to appreciate nature.”
“This is about as close to it as I’ve come. Buses and venues are what I’ve known all my life. I was only able to admire nature while going sixty-five down the freeway.”
“I imagine most people think your world couldn’t be better, but every career comes with a price.”
Turning back around, I jump off the ledge.
“We should get back on the bus.”
“I think you’ve been lonely all your life, Z, and there’s nothing wrong with talking about it.”
“I hardly have a right to complain about my life, and I’m sure the public would agree.”
“Money and fame don’t equate to happiness. Think about what each member of this band is struggling with.”
Instantly irritated, I shake my head. “I don’t need you dissecting my life or trying to fix me and the band.”
“I thought you wanted us to be closer, so I was simply trying to have a conversation.”
“Then stick with shit like music or fucking butterflies. I don’t need therapy.”
She crosses her arms and hops to her feet.
“What you need is an ass-whooping by the side of the road like the one my dad gave you years ago. I don’t know if you’re having withdrawals, or needing to get laid, but I miss the fun-loving Zain I knew before you got pissed that Tripp and I were together. Come find me when you figure your shit out, and I don’t mean while you’re giddy from a high.”
She stomps toward the gas station, and I steer toward the bus, kicking a rock along the way. I can’t believe she said that bullshit in front of Nash.
I am having withdrawals. I can admit it, at least to myself. It’s taking more drugs than usual to get me through the days and nights, so I’ve run out before getting back to San Francisco.
Once in my bunk, I fling the curtain shut and pull out my phone. I missed a call from Olivia only minutes ago, about the time Apple was unleashing her wrath.
I can’t call Liv back. I’m too pissed and she’d notice. Seeing how she doesn’t even know I’m a famous musician, I can’t tell her about my fight with Apple or how I’m needing a hit. All I have left are some bars. They help my anxiety, but they also make me out of it.
I guess they’ll have to do since my nerves are shot. I find my stash of Xanax in my backpack and take more than I should. I’m hoping I can fit in a short nap before we get to the venue.
Lying in my bunk, I figure I could at least text Olivia.
Me: Sorry I missed your call. Not a great time to talk.
Olivia: I’ll leave you alone.
Me: No, I can text. I don’t want you to hear my shitty tone, is all. It’s turning out to be one of those days.
Olivia: What’s wrong?
Me: Don’t worry about it.
Olivia: I’ve shared a lot of my problems. Aren’t friends supposed to listen?
I smile.
Me: Are you saying we’re friends now?
Olivia: I guess I am. What do you think about that?
Me: Depends on what kind of music you like.
Olivia: Um, OK. I was raised on classical music, but when I’m alone, I blast pop, R&B and country. I hold my pretend mic and sing like I have the voice of Taylor Swift. I put on quite impressive shows for my friend Blair.
Fuck, no.
Me: That’s a travesty. Sorry, but we can’t be friends.
Olivia: Are you joking? What kind of music do you like?
Me: Hard and classic rock. Metal … blues and punk.
Olivia: I listen to blues sometimes, and I like the rock music I hear on the radio. I LOVE that Fully Wired ballad ‘Only One Night.’
I roll my eyes. That hit is the most aired song of my father’s band. It’s one of many that went mainstream. It’s hard as hell to get a rock song played on local stations nowadays.
Unless you follow the rock and metal scene, or listen to those channels on satellite radio, you’re seldom going to hear it or be introduced to new bands.
That’s one of the reasons it’s a huge deal our new single hit gold. The local stations will play more songs off our new album because of it. Fans will call in, asking to hear us.
I’m disappointed Liv doesn’t love rock, but at the same time, it means she likely doesn’t know much about me. She hasn’t formed an opinion based off years of false tabloid articles. Olivia could get to know the real me, and I could introduce her to amazing music.
Olivia: I can’t believe you were serious about not being my friend.
Me: Chill, woman. I was joking. This means I can expose you to all sorts of new music. I can teach you how to recognize each instrument you’re hearing. When you understand what you’re listening to, you appreciate it so much more.
Olivia: Sounds like you know a lot about it. I do know a thing or two myself. I had years of piano lessons growing up.
She probably learned boring-ass shit, but it would still be rad to hear her play.
Olivia: You make it sound like we’ll be spending a lot of time together.
Me: A guy can dream.
Olivia: You’re a mystery, and I fear I’m not going to live up to your expectations.
Me: Ditto. How did the visit with your mom go?
Olivia: You would’ve been proud of me. I stood up to her. It won’t make her change, but it’s a start.
Me: You can’t fight the fever.
Olivia: You may be right, but that doesn’t fix my issue with Ken. I’m hanging out with Blair tonight. I’m praying she has an idea. If not, I may have no choice but to marry the jerk. Maybe I could divorce him later.
Me: We’re talking about another travesty here. You can’t marry him.
My Xanax kicks in, so I rest my eyes.
Olivia: Sacrifices are worth making if they protect those we love.
Me: You must really love this person.
Olivia: I do.
Me: Right on, babe.
Olivia: Are you OK?
Me: I’m tired, and I have to work late. Let me know what your friend thinks. I’m gonna orchestrate my own plan.
Olivia: No, you don’t need to fix my problems.
I think about Apple ripping my ass.
Me: Apparently, that’s what friends do. Talk later.
Tossing my phone next to me, I close my eyes. Dammit, the bus is spinning. My mouth’s dry, too. I need a drink.
Getting out of my bunk, I stumble to the front of the bus and enter the common area. I take three staggered steps to the right before bumping hard into the row of cabinets.<
br />
“Does anyone have any ties to the Mob? I could use their help right about now.”
Pete turns around, and he’s blurry as hell. Oh, no.
“Fuck,” I hear him say before he lunges from his seat…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tripp
“What did you take?” I yell at Zain as I tap his cheek several times. Pete and I are leaning over his limp body after trying to catch him while he was falling to the floor. “Wake up, man. Tell me.”
I shake his shoulders, and he opens his eyes, but only so I can see them roll back in his head. “Goddammit, Z! Tell me what you took.”
He looks at me and mumbles, “Bars.”
“Xannies,” Faith says. “I overheard him telling Toby he was out of blow. I’ve also seen him slip the roadie wads of cash. I’m almost positive he’s Zain’s middleman when we’re on the road.”
“Toby on your crew?” Apple asks in a surprised tone.
“Yeah. When Zain runs low, he has someone head out right when we get to the next city to make a buy that Zain’s dealer from home arranged.”
“Why am I only hearing about this now?” Pete snaps.
Faith grimaces. “You knew Z used. Did you think the drug fairy was leaving them under his pillow at night?”
“I’m gonna kill Toby,” Apple spouts. I look behind me, and her hands are balled into fists.
“You’re not doing shit,” I reply before I check Zain’s pulse. It’s not faint, and he seems to be breathing fine. “I used to find Nate like this all the time. I think Zain just needs to sleep it off. Luckily, we still have plenty of time before the show.” Faith pushes Pete out of the way and kneels beside Zain. She examines him, too.
“I agree. I think he’ll be OK, especially if he didn’t take anything with them. I haven’t seen him drink much today.”
Sliding my arm behind Z’s shoulders, I start to lift him.
“Let’s lay him on the couch so we can keep a close eye on him.”
“The last words I said to him were mean,” Apple says.
“He probably deserved them,” I mumble as Pete, Aiden and I lift Zain off the floor. He exhales a groan, and that’s a good sign.
