Keeping the Beat

by Marie Powell

  “Gotta fly,” he rumbled, still grinning wickedly at her. He unfolded from his slouch and loped down the hall.

  She was still struggling to form a non-lame-moronic-fan-girl comeback when he called over his shoulder, “What? You’re not gonna come cheer us on? You’re breakin’ my heart, Drummer Girl.”

  Lucy could feel a totally ridiculous grin forming on her face as she moved to follow him, but she didn’t care. She was really here. In the actual Hollywood Bowl. About to go and watch Electric play from the wings because Trent Eisner — possibly the hottest guy on the face of the planet — wanted her there. It was the best night of her life.

  And it was just the beginning.

  The after-party at Blvd3 was in full swing when Iza took another little sip of champagne. She was beginning to like the stuff, though the taste was still quite odd to her. But then again, it was better than beer. Or tequila. God, she hated tequila.

  “Lemon-drop shots next. What do you say?” Robyn shouted over the blasting music. She grabbed Iza’s hand and twirled her about, chanting, “Lemon drop, lemon drop, I want a lemon drop.”

  Iza giggled helplessly, trying to steady them both before they fell. Robyn was hilarious, but she was also completely plastered. In fact, neither of them really needed another shot. But now Robyn was swinging her around in a mock Irish jig and Iza just couldn’t bring herself to be the one who pointed out they should go home and get some rest. She never could.

  “Where’s Harper?” Iza called over the music. “And Toni and Lucy? They’ve been gone for ages.”

  “Harper is right here,” said Harper, pouting her way into their corner of the dance floor, by the VIP tables. “And she brought friends.”

  Iza wasn’t surprised to see Rafe Jackson and Skye Owen approaching just a few steps behind Harper. That particular pout of Harper’s almost always meant that Skye was nearby. But Rafe and Skye weren’t alone.

  Iza’s heart slammed out a sonic-boom-level thud.

  “Aren’t you going to say hello, Iz?” Harper smirked. “I was going to introduce you to Rafe’s fraternity brother, but I hear you two have already met.”

  Iza wasn’t sure she remembered how to say hello. She wasn’t sure she remembered how to speak at all. She hadn’t replied to the handsome violin player’s texts and now Luke was here, staring at her with his gorgeous blue eyes full of questions and she’d been struck mute. Maybe she’d never talk again. Maybe she was going to be a piano-playing mute from now on. Maybe —

  “I’ll get the next round. I’ve got my brother’s ID,” Luke said, breaking the insanely awkward pause. “What do you girls want?”

  “Lemon drops, please,” Robyn said. “Thanks, Luke.”

  “You’re welcome …” Luke looked confused. “Wait … how did you know my name? I don’t think we’ve met … have we?”

  “Oh no,” Robyn said, giggling. “But we have read your text messages, haven’t we, Iz? And that’s almost the same thing.”

  “Robs!” Harper said, elbowing their drunken bandmate.

  “What? It’s true,” Robyn said. “It was a lovely text. Last night was fun. Deep, thoughtful stuff that.”

  Rafe burst out laughing. Skye rolled her eyes.

  Iza was fairly sure she was going to die of pure, unadulterated embarrassment. It would be a relief, really. It was likely to be the fastest route out of there.

  “Sorry, Luke,” Harper snorted, choking back giggles. “Robyn loses all filter when hammered.” She shoved Iza gently in Luke’s direction. “Iza, why don’t you go with Luke and help him carry everything. It’s too much for one person to handle.”

  Iza was surprised she even managed to choke out, “Sure,” before she found herself following Luke to the bar.

  He lined up behind a trio of middle-aged guys who were trying to convince the girl at the other end of the bar to let them buy her a drink, which naturally was taking forever.

  Come on, Iza, she thought. Speak. Talk. Enunciate. Do SOMETHING.

  “I, um.” Must. Not. Hyperventilate, Iza commanded herself. “I showed them your picture from the LA Phil website. They made me, after they saw your text.”

  “So they’d know who to make the restraining order out for?” Luke said, mildly. It sounded like a joke. Sort of. But it also sort of sounded like his feelings were hurt.

  The old guys left and Luke stepped up to the bar.

  “Four lemon drops, a tequila and a Coke, please,” Luke told the bartender.

  They watched in silence as the bartender poured the Coke and Rafe’s tequila then started to mix the bright yellow vodka shots.

  Luke took a long drag of the Coke.

  Iza tried to force her brain to form full sentences.

  It wasn’t working.

  Finally, Luke blurted out, “I won’t bother you. I promise. I thought … You gave me your number. I thought you wanted … but that’s okay. It is. It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

  Why hadn’t she just texted him back? What was wrong with her? He was so wonderful and he liked her and she was letting him think she didn’t like him back. She was being such a complete blithering idiot and ruining everything and she had to do something. She had to.

  What Iza wanted to do was find a cupboard and lock herself in it. She wanted to burst into tears. She wanted to run all the way to the airport, get on a plane and go home. But instead she grabbed Rafe’s shot of tequila and tipped it down her neck in one ugly gulp.

  Tequila was awful.

  Choking, she gasped out, “No, Luke. I did want to go out with you. I’m just … I’m a complete idiot. I was so nervous about what to say that I spent two days fiddling with my stupid text back to you and then … and then it had been so long it seemed like anything I replied with would be weird and … I … just chickened out. I’m so sorry. I’ve never been asked out before and you’re so perfect and I just … I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want to go out with me anymore.”

  “But I do,” Luke said, quickly. He grabbed her hand, holding tight like he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t get away. “Want to go out with you, I mean. Tomorrow. If you’re free tomorrow, that is. My rehearsal is over at three. Can you meet me at the concert hall then?”

  Iza could still feel the dizzy courage of the tequila running through her brain as she looked up into Luke’s eyes and said, “Yes!”

  The smoking patio of Blvd3 was nearly empty, thank goodness. So there’d only been a few curious stares when Lucy and Trent had settled into the corner with the best view.

  “So I wake up, and I’m lying in the middle of a cornfield — naked.” Trent snorted with laughter at his own story. “With my guitar still strapped around my neck, and my mother standing over me.”

  Lucy giggled. “No! Did she go absolutely mental?”

  He matched her grin. “Nah, my parents thought a little psychedelic exploration was healthy. We lived on a commune after all. She just gave me a lecture about tripping without adult supervision.”

  “That’s brilliant,” Lucy said. “My dad would have murdered me. And then my mum would have sent me to convent school. They’re the opposite of cool at all times.”

  “At least they care.”

  “Yeah, they care so much neither of them is speaking to me.” Lucy looked out over the glittering web of city lights that spread below their perch. “They aren’t keen on the music-as-a-career-path bit. They want me to get a degree. But without studying like a madwoman this summer, which I’m obviously not doing, Oxford is probably out of the question. I know I should care, but I’m not sure I do.”

  “And you shouldn’t,” Trent said. “Sometimes the music won’t let you wait until after someone tells you you’re officially grown up. You just gotta let it out. It’s not a choice.”

  Lucy nodded, keeping her eyes glued on the city lights so she could be sure they wouldn’t tear up. �
��Still, I wish they understood. They’re a pain but I miss them, you know?”

  Trent’s big, callused hand cupped her bare shoulder for a moment, and then slid down to rub her back.

  “They’ll come round,” Trent said. “After all, I’ve just met you and I already know you’re great. They’ve known you all your life. They won’t let this come between you for long. Promise.”

  He was right, he barely knew her. And pretty much everything she knew about him came from NME and MTV. But somehow she felt like she’d known him forever.

  At first she’d thought it was just the excitement of chatting to the actual, honest-to-God Trent Eisner — after all, he was literally the rock and roller of her dreams — but as the night had worn on, she’d decided it was more than that. Being with him felt like being on a roller coaster and being curled up in the world’s comfiest chair at the same time — Lucy had only ever felt that way before on stage, behind her drum kit with the beat pounding through her fingertips.

  They were standing close together, leaning on the patio railing. His hand was still resting on her back, his rich brown eyes on hers.

  Lucy had never made the first move with a boy before, much less attempted to kiss a rock-and-roll legend, but the kiss was right there, just waiting to exist. It seemed so obvious that kissing him was the proper thing to do at that moment that she didn’t actually consider not going through with it. Not even once. She just went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips gently to his.

  Trent’s hands slid up her back and into her hair, and then cupped her face for a long, perfect moment. But then, instead of pulling her closer, he took her by the shoulders and set her away from him.

  Startled, Lucy looked up at him and found regret in his beautiful eyes.

  Oh. He didn’t want her. Of course he didn’t want her. He probably had ten model girlfriends who were all ten thousand times prettier than some girl drummer from a stupid reality show competition band.

  “I’m … I’m sorry, I didn’t …” he said, cutting himself off.

  It was too humiliating. She had to get away from him. Now.

  She was almost through the door back into the club when she felt his hand on her arm.

  “No, Lucy, please. Let me explain,” he said.

  He looked as awkward as she felt.

  Good. He deserved it.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be embarrassed. You weren’t wrong to think … I definitely wanted to kiss you, too,” he said.

  Then why had he pushed her away?

  As though he could read her mind, Trent continued, “I think you’re awesome, Lucy. But …”

  There it was. The “but.”

  But, you’re too young. But, I have a girlfriend. But…

  “I’m on tour. If we start something now, I’ll want it to be real, and so will you. But I’ll almost never be around and there’ll be a thousand girls throwing themselves at me every night and you don’t know me well enough to trust me the way you’d have to.”

  He slid his hand down her arm to squeeze her fingers. “I don’t want you to be just another tour girlfriend that finally gets sick of wondering if whatever TMZ said about me last night was true. You deserve better.”

  Lucy wanted to brush it off, to pretend he was overreacting to a little kiss, but she couldn’t find the words to make the lie real. It was too obvious, she thought, that she wanted more from him than he had ever considered wanting from her. She found that she couldn’t even force herself to run off, which she desperately wanted to do. Her feet were glued to the floor, like a deer in the headlights of an approaching car.

  Finally, very, very slowly, he leaned toward her and planted a feather-light kiss on her forehead.

  “You have no idea how sorry I am to say it, Lucy Gosling, but I already like you too much to let you get hurt. And if we did this …”

  He shook his head.

  “I’ll see you back in there, right?”

  When she didn’t respond, he stepped around her and walked back into the club.

  Robyn stared at the toilet cubicle. This was a terrible plan. A monumentally terrible plan, in fact.

  She really should just go back and convince Lucy and Harper to dance like maniacs with her for another hour. That would take care of the basket of chips and onion rings she’d guzzled after the set. Not to mention the three glasses of champagne and the sugary lemon-drop shots.

  She couldn’t believe she’d been such a glutton, not after all the work she’d done. Robyn had dropped another size in the last few days and she was determined to make it to an American size four by the end of the month. She couldn’t destroy her work now by eating all that crap and not doing anything about it.

  She needed to do something about it.

  She had to.

  Right?

  No. Not right, she thought, mentally smacking herself. The throwing up wasn’t good at all. She was terrified of ending up like those wretched, skeletal girls with their hair and teeth falling out everywhere, madly yammering about how pretty they felt for some sad BBC documentary.

  But just thinking of all the grease and fat and carbs floating around inside of her made Robyn heave. It would be so easy to get rid of it all.

  No. She wasn’t going to do it.

  Distracting herself, Robyn reached into her bag for her lipgloss. Her fingers brushed the little bottle of pills that lay at the bottom of her lime-green snakeskin clutch. Maybe she’d just take an extra dose to take care of the nosh session. Yes, that was a better idea.

  She fished out two pills and downed them. That was better. Robyn always felt better when she took her pills. She looked into the amber depths of the plastic bottle. It was nearly empty. She’d have to see Tomas about a refill — and soon. She couldn’t be without her pills.

  She’d been positive there would be some kind of weird side effects to the little pink tablets, but there’d been absolutely no problems. In fact, she felt bloody amazing. It was as though she’d never truly been completely awake before she’d begun taking the pills. She hadn’t even known what it was like to be as awake and alert as she was now. The world was brighter. Crisper. Fresher. Her eyes open wider. Her body super-charged.

  It had got even better after she’d tried taking them two at a time. The other girls were always knackered, but Robyn was breezing through the early mornings and late nights. In fact, she used the time they spent napping in the afternoons to swim laps in the pool.

  Robyn dabbed on her gloss and studied herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the gorgeous, thin girl she saw there. This was the kind of girl who made the cover of glossy mags and played on world tours. This was the kind of girl who she’d always dreamed of being. She wasn’t about to lose this new Robyn now. The pills should do the trick, but just to be safe …

  She turned back toward the toilet cubicle and nearly jumped a mile when Lucy stepped out of it.

  “Christ, Luce,” Robyn exclaimed, clutching her pounding heart. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, you know?”

  “I’ve been clanging about back there trying to use the toilet without contracting typhoid for at least five minutes,” Lucy said, dragging the back of her hand across her eyes like a tired kid. “I would have thought you’d heard me, but you were quite intent on whatever you were doing out here, I suppose.”

  Robyn turned back to the mirror and poked at her hair, trying not to look guilty.

  “Intent? I don’t know what you mean, lady,” Robyn said, unpinning one strand of her hair and twisting it back again into the messy French-twist that Debra Z had taught her to do. “I’m not intent on anything. Just standing here, catching communicable diseases, same as you.”

  Lucy didn’t even crack a smile, she just busied herself washing her hands. Robyn could almost see the black thundercloud hovering over her. Something was clearly wrong. She should ask Lucy
about it, but could she really concentrate properly on Lucy’s problems with a queasy stomach full of junk?

  Robyn looked up at the cubicle behind them in the mirror. All she needed was another few minutes alone, then she could be a sympathetic ear to Lucy.

  “Robs?” Lucy said. “What are these?”

  Robyn’s eyes widened in horror as she looked back to Lucy. She was holding up Robyn’s bottle of pills, which she’d apparently left by the sink.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she have been so stupid?

  “Um, nothing,” Robyn said. “They aren’t mine, actually.”

  “They’re not?” Lucy asked, skeptically. “But you took one, when I was in the bathroom. I heard you.”

  Robyn didn’t want to lie to Lucy about the pills. She shouldn’t have to, anyway. They weren’t illegal or anything. Why should she hide something that was helping her so much?

  She’d wanted to talk to Lucy about it from the start. Lucy had become one of Robyn’s best friends since they’d joined Crush. She wasn’t like most of the other girls in their class. You never had to worry whether Lucy was judging you, or at least, Robyn had never used to worry. Ever since Lucy had caught her throwing up after Skye’s barbecue that first week, things had been off between them. Robyn felt as though the drummer was watching her all the time now, waiting for her to screw up again.

  But would telling Lucy the truth make things better? Or worse?

  “You can tell me, Robs,” Lucy added. “I won’t say anything to the others. I swear. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

  “Fine,” Robyn said, her stomach feeling like it would twist up so tightly that it might actually explode. “They’re diet, um, supplements that Debra Z asked me to take. That’s all.”

  “Diet supplements? Like vitamins?” Lucy said, not looking quite convinced.

  “Not exactly,” Robyn said. Before Lucy could ask more questions, she quickly added, “Tomas says they’re totally safe. I haven’t had any weird side effects or anything and I have so much energy now. I feel amazing! He gets them from his mum when she goes to Asia for work. She’s a consultant, Asian markets and that. Anyway, they should totally be approved here, but the diet industry probably doesn’t want them to be because then they’d lose their monopoly. Why are you looking at me like that, Lucy?”