Backstage Pass

by Gaby Triana

  Love. Like she even knows what that means. “You’re mental, you know that? My dad doesn’t love you. He loves my mom. He loves me, J. C., Max, Phil, Ryan, the music. Not you.”

  “He told me so,” she says, almost like a child.

  This is news to me. Could that even be true? I mean—as a friend, I’ve always known that. But as more?

  Marie sighs, leaning her head on the door, staring past me at the palms. Their long shadows sway on her figure. “He said he did. We were together for four months, Desert.”

  “When?”

  “During the last recording. It wasn’t just a night, or a mistake. He told me he loved me. Then he ended it—the day of the new release.”

  Why do I care about these details anyway? It doesn’t matter anymore. Mom slashed her off the payroll last night. “Yeah, and you know why? Because he didn’t. He didn’t love you. He probably didn’t even know why he said it. He was confused.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, Desi.”

  Desi. What a lie. What a freakin’ lie of a name. How dare she use it. “Don’t call me that.”

  “You’re upset. You have every right to be, but you have to believe me, your dad had an equal part in this.”

  “I know my dad had an equal part in this!” I scream, and a couple of faces peer out down the hall. “What does that have to do with anything? But you, Marie! How dare you? How dare you tell me that everything you were doing, with Adriana, by hiring the photographer, hiring Faith, all those things. How could you tell me you were doing it for me? You lied!”

  She stands there, quiet. Our eyes, locked.

  “Stay away from my dad. That’s all I came to say.” I walk away, toward the outside stairs.

  By the time I reach them, I can hear her crying. Her sniffs sound odd, unfamiliar. I’ve never known Marie like this. When she begins speaking again, I pause. “In the end he refused me, Desert. Unless you’ve been cast aside when you love someone, love them so much your heart can crumble just by imagining them gone from your life, unless you know what that’s like, you can’t judge me, you hear?”

  Silence. The heads down the hall are actually listening. “What?!” I shout at the audience, and they retreat, slamming doors.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” she goes on. “If he thought he could just play with my emotions like that, leading me to think we would someday have something, then ignore me on a new day—I wasn’t going to let him get away with that. He had to go down.”

  And there it is. The ugly truth. That’s why she did it all. To hurt him. For hurting her. Eye for an eye. In the face of rejection, I can’t think of a more immature way to respond.

  I see Liam watching me from the car, worried expression. I start down the steps again, leaving her behind for good. “Go to hell, Marie.”

  The ride home seems long. No one speaks; no one dares. But my brain is screaming. So I do the only thing I know how to shut it up.

  Until you’ve walked that mile in my shoes

  Until you’ve seen my pain

  Don’t even pretend to know me at all

  Don’t even claim to know my game

  I don’t know what’s worse, your betrayal or my trust

  In you, because I wanted to, because I felt I must

  And you laughed in my face, you laughed in it hard

  But I’ll turn my cheek, try to disregard

  Your foolish attempt to fracture this whole

  This family, this love, that you tried to control

  Leave me here to repair the wounds you made

  In your joke, in your game, in your masquerade

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Halloween. What a totally useless holiday. Exactly why should we celebrate the dead? I’ve had enough of walking into Eckerd’s, finding black-and-orange aisles full of crappy candy, adhesive for gluing fake scars to one’s forehead, and cheap plastic masks. Plus, why do people feel the need to pressure us anti-Halloweenists to participate in stupid costume parties? I do not care to humiliate myself in front of others.

  So rather than attend the Palm Grove Monster Bash or accompany Liam and his little sisters on a trick-or-treat hunt, Becca and I are home tonight, watching monster movie marathons—the one and only great thing about Halloween.

  After I trashed my room last weekend, all has somewhat stabilized on the home front. Mom’s been home. Quiet, but home. Dad’s been really nice to everyone. Quiet, but nice. They’ve been civil. Pissed, but civil. A miracle in itself. Me, I don’t get a new monitor for a while, until I learn to manage my anger in more resourceful ways.

  But I’m not the same. I can’t tell you for sure what it is, but I’m not. Still angry, maybe? Don’t know. Cynical? I was already cynical before the Marie Episode. Empty? Yeah, empty maybe.

  On the floor Becca eats popcorn, watching TV and using my bed as a backrest. I’m on the bed, nabbing popcorn out of the bowl. Creature from the Black Lagoon coming up next. Awesome. That movie’s the best. I love the way the gill dude walks with his arms out, trying to catch Julia Adams, like an amphibious Frankenstein. The whole thing’s so stupid, it’s good.

  “I can’t believe Marie was trying to break up Crossfire, just to get back at your dad,” Becca reflects during a commercial.

  “I know, right?”

  “Do you think it worked?” she asks.

  “Things don’t look good, Beck.”

  Becca sulks for a while. “I don’t know what I’d do if they broke up, Des,” she says finally. “I look forward to the next set release, just to help me keep coping.”

  “You’d manage. You don’t have any other choice. What would you’ve done about Marie?” I ask, changing the subject. Becca takes this whole Crossfire thing way too seriously.

  “Don’t know. Probably the same thing you did. I’m surprised you didn’t break her legs, after what you did to your computer.”

  My poor monitor. Look at it there in its box, its coffin. The glass had been everywhere. I hadn’t realized how hard I threw it. In fact, I don’t remember all that much. I only remember seeing red and feeling blood rushing, hearing it in my ears, in my head. I felt like some kind of animal.

  Universal Studios presents…

  “I can’t believe Jessie cut you loose like that,” I say, changing the subject. Although I totally believe it. She was so obviously using her.

  “Whatever.”

  Richard Carlson…Julia Adams…in a Jack Arnold film…

  We watch the movie in silence for a while. At the next commercial break I ask, “But seriously Becca, didn’t you see it coming?”

  “Huh?” She leans her head back to see me upside down.

  “Couldn’t you tell Jessie was totally using you to gain some access?”

  “Someone’s getting a little snobby,” she says, holding the popcorn bowl up on her shoulder for me to reach into.

  Snobby? Surely she doesn’t mean me. “It has nothing to do with being snobby, Beck. Anyone could see it, ask Liam.”

  Her head straightens up. Her eyes blaze, questioning me. “Why should I ask Liam?”

  “Because. He didn’t like her either.”

  “Is that right? Then why the hell didn’t anyone inform me of this? You guys are supposed to be watching my back, not talking behind it. Dammit.”

  She sets down the bowl, gets up, and tramps to my bathroom. I can hear her using the toilet, yanking toilet paper angrily, washing her hands. Then she pulls the door open, hard.

  “Look, for your four-one-one, I thought Jessie really liked me, okay?” she says, standing in the doorway. Looks like the tears are on their way.

  “Movie’s back on,” I say. The boat glides slowly on the water’s surface, while unbeknownst to its crew, a creature lurks in the lagoon. “Look, what do I know?” I tell her. “Maybe she did for a while, but you’re better off without her, trust me.” I toss kernels around in the ceramic bowl, hearing them clink over and over again.

  From the depths of the murky water in Wakull
a Springs, Florida, comes a creature unknown to mankind, a creature so fierce, so hideous, so absolutely horrifying, he has to wear a rubber suit.

  “I’m better off without her?” Becca hisses.

  Darn, and I thought she was finished. I look up to find her still standing there, mouth open. I thought she was watching the flick, not obsessing over what I’d said.

  “Yeah, Becca, it’s good that you found this out early, before you invested any more time in her. Or would you rather have found out a year from now that she was a total wench?”

  Yikes. Not good. Becca could not look any scarier. I think the Halloween spirits have possessed her, and now she’s about to lash out at me, her only friend besides Liam to ever take her in. Why is she making such a big deal about this? Everyone gets dumped at least once.

  “You’re incredible, you know that?” she pretty much spits. “Thanks for your sympathy! What did you know about Jessie anyway? Nothing. You never even gave her a chance.”

  “I did give her a chance. She blew it. She asked to meet Flesh. But I told her no. I told her no because I wasn’t going to let her mooch off you like that. That’s all she wanted you for. She dumped you, Becca, not the other way around.”

  “Yeah? Well, it still hurts! I thought she cared for me. I thought she appreciated me.” Becca wipes her tears.

  “She was using you.”

  “Fine, but you don’t have to call her a wench. She’s still a nice person.”

  “If you say so.” That’s not what Liam’s heard on campus, but whatever. “I just thought you were mad at her. Sorry.”

  “Well, I’m mad it didn’t work out, I’m mad she wasn’t the one, I’m mad that my supposed friends thought she was worthless and didn’t bother to tell me anything. Yeah, I’m mad, but not at Jessie.”

  Enough already. We’re supposed to be leaning on each other tonight. God, Becca sulks like no other!

  “Becca, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by that, okay? I’m just trying to make you feel better. It’s moping night, isn’t it? Here, watching cheesy movies, eating popcorn, drinking carbonated crap, isn’t that what we agreed to do tonight?”

  “Yes, but you don’t have to insult anybody.”

  “But that’s half the fun!” If she takes me seriously, I’m gonna go postal on her.

  She sits back down. I never know how Becca’s going to take something. She pretends to watch the movie, but I can tell her mind’s going a hundred miles an hour. She’s trying to figure out her life, trying to understand how anyone could get sick of her excessively negative attitude. Imagine that.

  What she needs is a little perspective. “At least you didn’t have to go through what I went through this week. What I’m still going through. What I’ll continue to go through, at least until my parents patch things up,” I offer.

  And by the eerie silence in the room, except for the sound of Wakulla Springs bubbles, swishing of water, and the chirping of B-grade studio birds coming from the TV, I’d say I just lit a short fuse.

  Becca turns around and glares. I mean, glares, like shooting daggers, like she could never think of anything strong enough to say to warrant the hatred she has for me at this moment.

  “You know what your problem is?” she asks, all cool suddenly.

  This should be interesting. I’ve always wanted to see Becca’s view of my shortcomings. “No, why don’t you tell me?” I say, sitting up and crossing my arms.

  “I think I will.” Her voice is calm, but her eyes well up, betraying her. “Your problem is you think you’ve got everybody figured out, and everything’s always about you, isn’t it? You can’t see past your nose to save your life.”

  “Oo, scary!” I pretend to shiver. She can do better, I hope.

  “And you’re too self-involved to listen to anyone else’s goddamned ideas.”

  You mean Becca has goddamned ideas beyond her brooding silence? “Please, enlighten me,” I say, noticing the striking resemblance between her and the swamp creature on the screen behind her.

  “Yeah, so your dad cheated on your mom, with her best friend even. That definitely sucks.”

  She can’t even begin to understand this one. “Sucks” is an understatement.

  “But guess what?” she continues. “At least he didn’t run off, leaving you and your mom behind. At least he ended things with Marie. Do you think it’s easy for him? With his job and all?”

  That’s it, if she even thinks for one second…“Don’t defend what he did, Becca!” I shout. “Forget Flesh for one freakin’ second, will you? As my dad, as anybody’s dad, what he did was wrong! Okay? Wrong!” How anyone can ever think rock ’n’ roll behavior is permissible is beyond me.

  “I’m not defending what he did. Yeah, it was wrong, but at least he acted responsibly enough afterward to try and fix what he did. Because he loves you!”

  This is true.

  “At least your dad loves you!” She’s screaming. Becca’s screaming. At me. How weird. And now she’s crying. God, I didn’t remember about her dad. Maybe I do need to see past my little circle. Damn.

  Becca stands and starts gathering her things. I guess she’s not going to stay overnight then. She pauses by the TV, wiping her eyes. “He’s still home, isn’t he? Your dad?”

  I guess. He could’ve taken off. He could’ve stayed with Marie, or any of the other thousands of women who’ve offered themselves to him over the years, even. But I say nothing.

  “And then there’s your mom!”

  You mean she’s not finished? I think I’ve had enough of this abuse!

  “Your poor mom, sacrificing herself, taking nasty criticism, all so you can grow up with two loving parents by your side, not some nanny! She’s done everything to keep you comfortable and satisfied, even on the road. But no! You’re too much of a selfish brat to see any of this, aren’t you? ‘I’m on the road too much, everyone caters to my needs too much, my life sucks!’” she says, flailing her arms like a baby.

  Is that supposed to be me she’s imitating? I don’t whine that way!

  “And! Oh, wait, and…!” She pauses to laugh, but it’s a crazy laugh, and I get the feeling what’s coming isn’t all that funny. “You have a boyfriend who’s nice to you, who does anything to please you! Jesus! Can someone please tell me where the line starts for these free giveaways?” She looks around, like she’s expecting the photos on the walls to answer.

  Great tantrum. I’d say she’s ranting almost as good as me. I just can’t bring myself to interrupt her.

  “You think your worst problem is your beautiful name and that your life isn’t all perfect, like that stupid TV show.”

  “Seventh Heaven.”

  “Whatever! God! Well, you know what? Define ‘perfect,’ poor little rock star’s kid! If I had your life, I’d make your parents proud. But that’ll never happen, now will it?”

  I could answer, pull anything out of my deep reservoir of sarcastic wit, but why bother? She won’t be around to hear it. Becca could care less.

  She crosses the room, grabs her bag and her guitar. Then she pauses at the door. “I can’t take this life anymore. I won’t be back,” she announces through sobs. Then she’s gone, leaving nothing behind but me.

  And the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  If there’s anything that should take my mind off Becca right now, it’s Liam’s half-naked body in my pool. His bathing suit hangs low on his hips, so those abs I was talking about are in their full glory. But unfortunately, I can’t stop thinking about the little brat.

  “I swear, it was like she was possessed by someone else, Liam. She totally went ballistic on me.” I tell him about last night while wading in the shallow end, wishing I had the nerve to run my hands down that stomach of his.

  He’s listening, but he’s also stealing glances at me as I glide by. I may not be Barbie in a bikini, but I guess I shouldn’t complain. Liam seems to appreciate me just fine. And from the artwork I saw in
his bedroom, I don’t think I have to worry about looking any particular way.

  “What else did she say?” he asks, his finger drawing curvy lines on the surface of the water.

  “Well, let’s see…that I’m unappreciative, that my dad deserves respect even though he cheated on my mom, that my mom is the best, that you’re nice to me, that I’m unappreciative—”

  “You said that already.”

  “That I’m a jerk for not giving Jessie a chance.”

  “That girl was using her.”

  I look up at him. “That’s what I told her!”

  “Yeah, but I told you you can’t say that to Becca, remember? She doesn’t take criticism well. Look, Des, you know how Becca can be really negative sometimes.”

  “Sometimes? Try all the time.”

  “Right, well, you gotta take it easy on her. She can get really down on herself.”

  “I know this, Liam. Anyone who thinks they’re invisible to the world has got to be pretty down on themselves.”

  I let myself slide under the surface for a few seconds, then pop back up. When I wipe the water from my eyes, I see Liam smiling. “Um…what?” I ask.

  He shrugs and looks down. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Yeah, okay, buddy.

  He bugs his eyes out. “Nothing!”

  “Okay, then.” Whatever you say.

  “You just look hot when you do that, that’s all.”

  To which I freeze. I mean, what do I say to that? “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He grins.

  “Um. So anyway…that time I told you about? When Becca said Crossfire’s music is the only thing that keeps her going, I was like, ‘What?’ Why would someone say that?”

  He backs up and leans against the edge of the pool, arms stretched out. “Why? Because she’s depressed, Des.”

  “Yeah, no kidding, she’s depressed. You should’ve seen how she got when I told her that Crossfire’s future didn’t look so hot.”

  “No, you’re not understanding.” He reaches back to support his weight then hoists himself out of the pool, water spilling onto the baked brick. “I mean she really is depressed. As in, depression. As in, she takes medication.”