Bright Lights: Book One of the Talia Shaw Series

by Darcy, Christine J

I looked at him, I couldn’t talk. He came around the bench and sat in the stool beside me.

  “Talia,” he began. “You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “I do. I lived,” I answered.

  “So, we should blame you?”

  I sniffled. It felt like they should.

  “We don’t blame you. You act like you didn’t go through a shit tonne yourself. I came to see you in hospital you know? I saw how beaten up you were. It was horrible. And you lost them, too.”

  I cried harder. He was getting upset himself but he stayed strong.

  “Mom listens to you on the radio, you know? Even Dad will tell people he knows you. You’re living this life for them. For Kel and Ashley. Keep living it for them. Remember them in your music. That’s what’s making us happy. Hearing Bettys. I cried.”

  “Really?” I asked, unable to imagine it.

  “I did. Don’t tell anyone.”

  I laughed through my tears. He put a rough hand on my shoulder.

  “Come on. Stop crying, you wuss. Come here.” He gave me a pull and I came over and hugged him. We’d barely touched before. It was a little awkward but welcome.

  We let go. I wiped away my tears. “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome.” He walked back over to his pasta, taking it off the stove and serving it. “You hungry?” he asked. I smiled. He served me a bowl, sat beside me and we ate together. We’d done that before, I remembered. Kelly and her parents sat at the table but there was only one more seat. I didn’t want Steven to give up his seat so I sat at the bench. Steven wouldn’t let me sit on my own so he came to join me. I think he remembered it too because he was quiet. We stayed that way, only a few words passing between us here and there as I asked him about his life. He asked me about mine. He told me he thought Easton was a dick and that I could do better than Laurie Siler. Then I forced him to hug me again and went home.

  I walked inside and found Mom in the laundry. I gave the keys back to her.

  “Where have you been?” she asked.

  “I went to visit Ashley and Kelly’s parents.”

  “How are they?” she asked.

  “Good.”

  Mom nodded. I think she knew I had something to tell her.

  “They asked me to go on tour,” I said, cautiously.

  “On tour. Wow,” she said with a smile. “When do you go?”

  “I don’t know if I’m going to do it,” I explained.

  “Why not?” she asked, her brows furrowed.

  I used the old excuse. “I’m not good performing live. And it would take me away for months and months.” I looked for her reaction.

  “I’ve seen you live and you’re incredible. You’ve been away for that long before,” Mom said. She hadn’t seen me perform live since it happened. It wasn’t easy anymore.

  “But… don’t you want me home?” This wasn’t the reaction I was expecting from her.

  “Of course I do. I’ll always want you home.” She put her hands on my arms and rubbed gently. I furrowed my brows.

  “I have to apologise,” she started. “It’s been really hard to lose you so quickly and you being so far away.”

  “You don’t have to lose me,” I said.

  “Yeah, we do,” she answered. “Every parent does. At some point. I thought I was ready that first time I saw you off but I wasn’t. And I haven’t been dealing with it well. It’s natural that we’re not going to see each other as much or even talk as much.”

  “I want us to talk as much as we do,” I insisted.

  “Our relationship is supposed to change that way. You’re growing up into your own person. And I’m so proud. I’m so proud when I hear your song on the radio or see your music video or when I hear people talking about you.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Of course. And you don’t have to feel guilty. We’re okay here, Dad and I. Even Saffy, though you should probably call her more often. You don’t have to feel guilty for leaving us behind. That’s how it goes.”

  “I do feel guilty,” I said.

  “I know you do,” she answered.

  “Not just about you and Dad and Saffy,” I said.

  “I know,” she nodded, she knew I was talking about Ashley and Kelly.

  “You think I should do it?” I asked.

  “Definitely. Do you want to do it?”

  I took a breath. I thought about it. She touched my chin, picking it up a little. She knew the answer.

  I went to Teddy’s room and knocked on the door.

  “Yeah,” he said. I opened the door and walked inside. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “I’ll do it,” I said, standing in front of him.

  “Really?” He sat up.

  “On one condition. You agree to be my opening act.”

  “What?” he scoffed. “You can’t do that.”

  “It’s my tour, right? I can do whatever I want.”

  “I’m not a singer. I don’t have an album. I don’t have enough songs.”

  “I know you have songs.” He didn’t answer. “I want you out there with me.”

  He was shaking his head but he wasn’t saying no.

  “That’s my condition,” I repeated.

  He started laughing. “Alright.” I jumped on him.

  Fourteen

  I came home to Los Angeles to find a woman on my door step. Manny had hired Sabra to be my personal assistant because I hadn’t hired one myself. “I need somebody to liaise with since you refuse to answer your phone.”

  She was sweet, just eighteen and the niece of someone at the label. I didn’t hold it against her. There was so much work to do in the lead up to the tour that she was a godsend. There were mountains of meetings with Manny and the tour director, Kiran. Organizing the band, the crew, the costumes, and the graphics. And then work for Teddy, too. He had to rework his songs and record them into an EP and I wouldn’t leave him alone to do it. He’d been with me every step of the way on my record that I needed to be there for him.

  There had been some argument about Teddy being the opening act but as soon as we had one song recorded I forced Manny to listen to it and then he was just as big a proponent as I was. Finally, I assured the label that I wouldn’t be touring without Teddy as my opening act and they agreed. We worked on his album, writing the music and lyrics and producing with Joe, in between working on the tour.

  I’d made sure that the band would include Lucy on drums and Vinny on second guitar. Merrick would be doing the live sound mix. Vienna was my makeup artist and Megan my hairstylist. I wanted to surround myself with people I knew.

  Ari refused to be my stylist for the tour, claiming it was not in her wheelhouse but she introduced me to a woman named Rashida. We had a meeting where we discussed the songs on the set list and the possible looks. She gave me an album full of looks, some of which had photo shopped me into them, others she had designed herself, drawing me into them. I was shocked and delighted to by the outfits. A pale blue crop top and short shorts to be worn under a loose delicate lace t-shirt with thigh high combat boots. A tuxedo jacket dress to be worn with sparkly ankle boots. There was a picture of the emerald green dress from the movie Atonement. There were sketches of two versions of it, colored in a deep red shade. The first was almost the same as in the movie but with deep thigh splits on both sides and the other was a mini skirted version. I wanted to wear all of it.

  When it came to the graphics, I was struck by an idea. I wanted Saffy to be involved in the artwork. Manny almost laughed when I suggested it. So many things were being decided for me - had been decided for me since the beginning. “Who gets to make these decisions then?” I asked Manny. I had never yelled at him before. Everyone had thought I was so pliable. “I want this,” I said, firmly. He nodded. I called Saffy and told her the news.

  “No way,” she said at first. “I’ve never done anything like that. I can’t do that.”

  “You can do it. I’ve seen your stuff. I want it
to be you,” I pleaded.

  She took a little more convincing but I begged and Peter in the background encouraged her and finally she agreed. I flew both of them out to work with the graphics artists and tour director to put together the packages for each of the songs.

  She was a painter and sculptor. Mostly of floral pretty things. And, that is what I expected of the graphics. But when I was presented with the packages I cried. For Bettys, she had painted Ashley and Kelly and animated them to be present there as I sang the song. I cried because the likeness was so right and the graphics made them graceful and ghostlike and hauntingly beautiful.

  And, the rest of works were perfect. It was still her art through and through, but she had taken the songs and made visualizations that suited the songs and suited me. And, she had found the deeper meaning in them. Not just Bettys but the songs that we’d never even talked about. Because she knew me.

  “It’s incredible work,” Manny said. The Tour Director was just as impressed. I hugged Saffy tightly.

  “I’m almost offended,” she said as she wiped away my tears.

  “Thank you for this,” I said, truly moved.

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “And, thank you. I’ve loved every second.”

  We had both been worried that this tour would change our relationship again. That we’d lose the closeness we’d recovered the first time I’d gone away. But having her work on the tour and stay in my house in Los Angeles, we’d recovered our friendship back to where it used to be and we weren’t letting it go. We’d promised each other.

  In the midst of preparing for the tour, I was contacted by my business manager and we had a meeting to discuss finances and investing. He gave me a lot of advice and I was told to think about it.

  I felt strange seeing all this money come in. Money like I’d never even imagined. Even when buying lottery tickets and dreaming of the things I’d buy, I could never have imagined this amount of money. I didn’t know what to do with it. I reached out to Ashley and Kelly’s parents, telling them that I wouldn’t be in this position without their daughters, but they refused. Even Nadine, who Ashley had so wanted to support, wouldn’t take a cent. So, I reached out to Craig and begged him to let me do something. He helped me book a trip for the two of them, two weeks in Bora Bora.

  For the Mendel’s, I forced Steven to let me pay his university tuition. It didn’t feel like enough, so I had a car delivered to the house. I remembered a poster on his wall of a red Camaro with black racing stripes. He wouldn’t complain.

  Then I reached out to the label. I wanted to contact the families of the pilots and the fiancé of the flight attendant who’d died in the crash. I wanted to find out what they needed and give it to them. Manny told me he would help.

  These little things made me so happy. It made any complaints I had about the strange men following me around with their cameras, or the mean things people said about me in their magazines, all fade away.

  I kept communicating with the fans online. I started lurking, listening in between our conversations. There were fans that were really struggling financially. A lot of them couldn’t afford their college fees much less a ticket to my concert. I decided to do a giveaway, 100 tickets per night to low income families. And, privately, I reached out and offered to help some of the families of those fans that were struggling. I didn’t want any press for it but the fans talked about it online and it became a story.

  At least they weren’t saying I was a slut anymore. In the months that I had been home, I’d gone on a few dates. A basketballer asked me out after Teddy and I went to a Laker’s game and Adelaide Mills, who had become a fast friend, introduced me to her brother, Michael, who’d quickly asked me out. I’d been photographed on both dates and suddenly I was a serial dater. It was a story picked up by all the tabloids and was even all over the TV. Two dates and a boyfriend was all the world had seen of me and this was the coverage I was getting. It made me furious but as Teddy was finalizing his EP and we were getting into rehearsals and choreographing, I had things to stop me thinking about it.

  Finally, in the weeks before the first tour date, there were fittings, makeup tests, rehearsals and choreographing the show. The choreographing was terrifying but this was the part I needed to be prepared for. Being up there in front of thousands I needed to feel comfortable. For the slower tunes, I’d be alone at the piano, for others I’d be moving around on the stage with dancers following and moving around me. They asked me to dance at first but I refused with all assurances that it was truly the best thing for everyone. Dancing at a club, in the dark, I could do that. But dance choreography, I would look like a baby giraffe on a frozen lake.

  After one such rehearsal, where I’d been lip-syncing to the set list, Manny pulled me aside. “What’s up?” I asked.

  He had an apprehensive look on his face. “There is some talk that we don’t have a huge moment in the show. That we need a climactic event.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “We were hoping we could remix one of the songs and make it bigger,” he suggested. “What do you think about that?”

  “Bigger?”

  “It’s just something to think about,” he said lightly.

  “There’s only three weeks left,” I said.

  “I know. I know. You know what? Pretend I didn’t say anything,” he said.

  I went home that night and thought about it. The album was a hit. But none of the songs were ‘explosive’, as he put it. But there was a song that could be. A new song I’d been writing. About Laurie, I couldn’t deny it. From the bits and pieces I had started writing after that first night we slept together and the things about us that I had started to see positively. The song was about the first moments, the first dates, the first kisses, first love.

  Joe was busy with Teddy’s EP and I wasn’t going to take him away.

  “I know someone. You’ll like him,” he assured me when I’d asked for names.

  He gave me the details of James Aaronson. James was in his own band, Draino, who I’d never heard of, but they were taking a break. I called and left a voicemail to organize a meeting. He called back and spoke to Sabra, confirming everything. The night before our meeting, I listened to every song Draino had ever done and was so overwhelmed. The songs were at once intimate and explosive. The lyrics felt deeply personal but the music was universally good. Every song had a huge and memorable melody. They were true pop songs with new sonic sound that seemed to have kept them from being the smash hits they deserved to be.

  The meeting was at his house, an apartment downtown. I walked up the three sets of stairs and found his door. It was covered with stickers of bands and cartoons and teen heart-throbs. I looked at it, highly amused and knocked on the door. I heard running feet and the door swung open.

  “Hi,” he said, a bright smile on his olive toned round face. His buzz cut was dyed a radiant shade of orange and he wore a khaki pair of coveralls with simple white tennis shoes.

  “Hi,” I said back.

  “Come in,” he offered and stood aside. I entered. The loft was eclectic, like the door, a mish mash of styles and colors with crazy cool furniture and knick-knacks all over the place. He had a station set up, with keyboard, computer and even recording equipment.

  I was becoming distracted by the place but I had something to tell him. I turned around and started gushing, telling him honestly that I’d never heard his music till the night before but that I’d be listening to it for the rest of my life. He shook his head vehemently like he couldn’t believe it.

  “You’re kidding me?” he asked. “I’m obsessed with you.”

  “You are?”

  We bonded over our love of each other’s music and geeked out over particular lyrics and beats. He had me play the song. He became quiet as I finished. I waited for him. His head started to bounce. His foot started to tap, as if he were still hearing it. He turned around to his computer and started working.

  “Okay, what do
you think of this?” he played a beat, a killer complex beat that had its root in my simple composition but elevated it. And he kept doing that. We’d work through every part of the song and he kept offering up new possibilities. We changed some of the lyrics, added layer upon layer upon layer.

  I thought it was a good song when I wrote it but with James molded it, changed it into another beast. An anthem. Unique and modern but at the same time retro and reminiscent of the great 80’s pop stars like Cher and Blondie. It was a song that I would’ve died for as a young girl. I was crazy proud that it was mine.

  We finished the song in a week and became fast friends at the same time. We had two weeks to rework the lights, the look, the package but everyone worked really hard, put in long hours, including Saffy working from home and we got it done. I felt proud of the whole team and I wanted to make them just as proud of me. I had to perform.

  I flew over to Manchester within three days of the first night. I was glad that Laurie’s tour was finishing up on the other side of the world. I met Teddy at the hotel and played him the song. He was hyped. “Holy shit. I can’t wait to see that on stage.”

  We had two days of rehearsals and sound checks. I arrived in the morning at the biggest arena I’d ever been in. There were so many crew members working around the stage, shuttling equipment, setting up the front of house console and the lights. In hours there’d be people in all of those empty seats and I couldn’t think about it.

  We had our rehearsals, going through the choreography on the stage with its different levels and hazards. Teddy’s rehearsal was so simple. It was just him alone onstage. A guitar, a loop machine and a microphone.

  The next day I was supposed to do my sound check but I asked Teddy to go first. I watched as he performed his five songs. Songs we’d worked on together but that came from a certain place within him that he hadn’t shown me in any of our writing sessions. I wasn’t mad that he’d saved all of this for himself. He was going to become something big. I knew it. Bigger than me, I thought. He deserved it.

  Then it was my turn. I sang my songs, but I was shaky. Everyone could see it. I was forgetting the choreography even though I knew it perfectly. The arena was empty but I was imagining it full. Finally the sound check was over. Lucy put a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be better tonight,” she assured me. I wasn’t so sure.