“It’s only true some of the time.” He wipes tears away. “Your face right now, Grey. Your face!” He sinks against the leather seats, shaking his head. “God, I’m going to miss you. I hate that you’re not coming. Hate it. But wow, I love sugar. This drink is so good. I don’t remember it being this good. I can’t believe you kept me away from these for weeks. It’s true what they say. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.”
All I can think is, it better not. I’m banking on the opposite effect. I could definitely use some unfonder feelings for Sky.
Sometime around mid-morning while they’re shooting a scene where Emma Beautiful Emma runs into Knightley at a florist, as young would-be lovers often do, I find a chair in a dark corner of the studio and pull my phone out of my pocket.
I scroll up to my last group message to the band from this weekend, when I was thinking of calling off the showcase. I told them we needed to talk. Usually we all say gig or practice. We never talk. I know they picked up on it because their replies as we worked out scheduling logistics were pretty short.
I’m smiling as I type out a new message. It takes me a few tries since my big ole fingers aren’t made for quick texting, but I get it and hit send.
Grey: Are you idiots ready to burn it up tonight or what? 8 p.m. Last one there pays for the beer.
Immediately my phone lights up with replies.
Reznick: Fuck yeah, motherfucker!!!
Titus: WTF, Grey!! I thought you were breaking up with us! Thanks for the ulcer, you dick!
Shane: Told you dumbasses nothing was wrong. Tight-ass, you owe me $40!!!
Titus: Hold on, your sister’s right here. Lemme see if I can borrow.
Titus: Wait she can’t talk she’s busy.
Shane: Does Beth read your texts?
Titus: No, Dude. That was a joke.
Emilio: Some people R trying 2 sleep, U shitheads
Reznick: Loser, it’s noon. And stop texting like a little girl. KK? LOL? TTYS! ILYSM!
And so on.
“No cell phones in the studio while we’re shooting.”
I look up. Adam’s standing above me. I slip my phone into my pocket. “Sorry.”
In the pool of stage lights, Garrett and Skyler are talking between takes. Skyler squints into the darkness, searching, and I wonder if she’s looking for Mia, Brooks, or me. Probably not me.
“I was kidding, Grey,” Adam says, with a small grimace. “You got a sec?”
“Sure.”
I follow him out into the bright sunshine. The day is unseasonably warm, but we walk for a few minutes. I’m not sure where we’re going or if there’s even a destination. I haven’t been alone with my brother in almost a month and a half, I think. Maybe longer. And it feels like the walking we’re doing is just to let the two of us expend a little pent-up aggression.
Finally, Adam stops around the corner from some commotion. Bernadette and Kaitlin are stressed about shipping out wardrobe to the BVIs, which should have left two days ago. Adam and I stand there for a minute, listening to them hassle the shipping company rep. I would not want to get on Kaitlin’s bad side. Girl’s tough.
“I’m not going,” I say, finally, because I’m sick of waiting for him to talk.
“I heard.”
Garrett. The traitor.
Adam slips an envelope from his back pocket and hands it to me.
It’s my paycheck. But I’ve already done the calculations. I hand it back. “That should cover the rest of the cleaning fees for your place.”
Adam shakes his head. “I want you to keep it. You’re going to have expenses for the showcase, and the point was that you understood. Your actions have consequences.”
“That wasn’t the point, Adam. The point was that . . . that I understood I was disrespecting you by trashing your house. I get it now. And I’m sorry. It was stupid of me. I think . . . things are different now. It’s like I didn’t have anything that was making me think ahead or to . . . I don’t know . . . to get excited about. I don’t think I was seeing clearly what mattered. What matters.”
“And now you do?”
“The band. My music.” My family, I add silently. Then my mind supplies an image of Skyler’s smile, as an addition to that list.
He nods. “Okay.” A shaky smile appears. “Okay, Grey.”
“I’m not done yet. The Cobra you built with Dad?”
Adam lifts his hand. “No need. Mom finally broke silence and told me. Don’t get mad at her. She’s been—”
“I’m not mad.” She should be able to talk to Adam about what I did. And I know she was only trying to protect me by keeping quiet about what happened. “I’m going to replace the Cobra, too, when I can.”
“Talk to Dad. See if he still wants that car.”
“You don’t?”
Adam lifts his shoulders, the gesture tight and tense. “I don’t care about a fucking car. But I do want my brother back. How do we put all this shit behind us, little bro? I want you to come home. I want to hear you sing. Ali misses you. Mom’s beside herself. You’ve even got Dad worried. Jesus, Grey. We’re all just waiting for you to come back. You know that, right?”
I wrap him up in a hug, quick and fierce. Then I push him away and press my thumbs into my eyes. “You’re an asshole for trying to make me cry.”
“You’re crying?”
“Not what I said.” And like he’s not in the same boat. Adam’s grinning, but I know he’s welling up.
We hear Bernadette and Kaitlin coming before they round the corner. Kaitlin breaks off in mid-sentence and starts in like she’s going to deliver a status report to Adam, but they both pick up pretty quickly that this isn’t a good time. “Sorry,” they say in unison, and keep going.
“So Dad’s even worried?” I ask.
“He’s flying out here.”
“I heard. For the showcase.”
“Not for the showcase, dumbass. For you. God.” Adam runs a hand over his face. “I feel so relieved.”
“Like you just took an epic dump? Me too.”
“You’re really not coming to the Virgin Islands?”
“Can’t. I don’t qualify. And I don’t think you do, either.”
“Can you be serious for a second here? Garrett’s all flustered about it. He says you’re his good-luck charm. And I want you there, Grey. If it makes a difference, Mom won’t be there. She’s been working on a fund-raiser with Ali’s mom. Some big dinner at the LA Country Club. It’s next Saturday afternoon, so she’s staying behind.”
Adam shifts his weight. I feel his sharp eyes home in on me. I think he knows what I’m going to say before I do because a calm, satisfied expression settles over his face.
“It makes a difference,” I tell him, more sure than ever about my decision. “I’m staying. There are a few things I need to work out.”
Chapter 34
Skyler
Mia bounces around our apartment like Garrett on sugar. She stayed over so we could have a last hurrah with Beth before taking off for Virgin Gorda. And Grey was out all night with his band. He better get here soon to get his stuff together, or the plane’s going to leave without him.
It’s barely sunrise, again, and I’m trying to pack the last of my suitcases for the big trip. Figuring out what to bring for three weeks, when you’ll be in someone else’s wardrobe for eighteen hours a day, is tougher than you think. In the end, I still have two jam-packed suitcases, a carry-on, and my biggest purse, stuffed so full, I can barely zipper it. I know I’m going overboard. I’ve just never been away for so long, unless you count college, and it’s possible I’m packing more for this than I did for that.
Finally, I drag everything to the front door and turn to Beth, who’s curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and nursing a cup of tea.
“I wish you were coming.”
She shrugs. “They don’t need me.”
“I need you,” I say, and plop down beside her. “What am I g
oing to do for two and a half weeks without you?”
“You’re going to be so busy, you won’t have time to think.” She blows across the surface of the tea, making a tiny ripple. Then she takes a sip. “Besides, you’ve got your steamy love triangle to keep you hopping.”
“Gosh, you’re funny,” I say and mentally run through every item in my bedroom, trying to determine one last time if I’ve left anything behind and if it’s possible to sneak a cello onto the plane. I haven’t played in weeks, and going away without Beyonce or Christina feels like leaving a limb behind. “How did you get so funny?”
“Just born with it, I guess.”
“Too bad there’s no triangle.” I tell her. “Or much steam for that matter.”
“Now, that’s a shame.”
“Well, we all can’t be you and Titus.”
She tries to take another sip of her tea, though the ridiculously big grin on her face makes it difficult. “True that.”
“I guess I don’t have to worry about you being bored while I’m gone.”
“No,” she tells me. “I’ve actually got a call back on a TV pilot and some other stuff going on.”
“I meant because of Titus, but that’s awesome, too.” A wave of relief spreads through me—that she’s finding all these opportunities, that her small part in the movie is helping her get offers, too. I didn’t realize how much I’ve been nursing this guilt still, about taking something from her, until now.
“Yeah, it’s all good. You don’t have to worry.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Sky, please. I know you. But, seriously, things happen the way they’re meant to happen. In no way am I right for the part. Not with Garrett. But you two are magic. And I got you into it in the first place. I can hardly be mad about that.”
“I know, but I just kind of wandered in, and you’ve been studying and working at it forever.”
She shrugs. “It happens. And maybe I need to study less and loosen up more. Anyway, you didn’t just get plucked out of obscurity like some street urchin. You earned it.”
Grinning, I pull a corner of her blanket onto me. “Do they still have street urchins?”
“Yeah, I think they keep them in a big warehouse,” offers Mia, who can’t seem to stop wandering by and looking out the window every four minutes. “With the newsies and chimney sweeps.”
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“The limo.” She looks at her phone. “It should be here in a few.”
“Really? What about Grey? Should I phone him? Or is he getting another ride?”
Beth and Mia look at each other.
“What?”
“Grey’s not going,” Beth says. “How did you not know that?”
“Of course, he’s going.” I look at Mia. “He’s going, right?”
She shakes her head. “No, he’s staying behind to prep for the showcase.”
This incredible feeling of sadness plummets through me, so outsized, like a sinkhole caving in my chest. How could everyone else know he’s not coming but me? Why wouldn’t he tell me? I feel like crying, and then I feel like kicking myself in the ass for feeling that way. It’s just eighteen days. Jesus.
“I guess everyone assumed you knew,” Mia says.
I shake my head. “Somehow, I didn’t get the update.”
Or maybe I did. I’ve been feeling a little light-headed and out of it lately. Maybe Brooks told me while I was drooling over his lunch.
It’s good for Grey to stay back, to work on his music for the showcase. It occurs to me that maybe I had a hand in that—maybe the talk we had the other night swayed him a bit. Which is great and crappy all at once. Because, I realize, it’s going to be so different without him there. Without his dumb jokes and his hilarious, endless appetite and his sweet, thoughtful heart.
If he’s taking this opportunity to get it together, I should be happy for him. The same way Beth’s happy for me. That’s how friendships work, right?
“And you still have Brooks, right?” asks Beth. “I mean, that’s still a thing, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Of course.”
We were just in San Francisco a few days ago. Of course, it’s a thing. Or the start of a thing. A better, smarter thing than whatever the thing it is I have with Grey. Which, I remind myself, is a friendship thing, and that’s it.
Still, I pull out my phone to shoot him a text but just stare at the screen. Everything I want to say sounds petulant.
Finally, I settle on something.
Sky: About to head off to the airport. Will miss you. Kick some musical ass while I’m gone.
I don’t expect an answer right away. If he doesn’t have to be up at this hour, I doubt he will be. But I see the little ellipses that tell me he’s typing a reply and sit there, half holding my breath, waiting for it.
Grey: Will do. Just had to stay and take care of things.
Sky: I know. Have a good few weeks.
Grey: Shit. That’s a long time.
No kidding, I think. Then another text comes through.
Grey: Hang on. Sending you something.
An audio file comes through. His song, “Surprised by the Sky.” I’ve heard it a hundred times already on his CD.
Grey: Working on a new arrangement and new lyrics. Let me know what you think.
I smile, touched that he wants my opinion and knowing music is his way to keep us connected, even while I’m gone.
Sky: Can’t wait to listen.
Grey: Text me from the set. And send pics.
Sky: Okay.
Grey: Especially if there’s a nude beach.
I laugh and find myself wanting to hug the phone.
Sky: I really will miss you.
Grey: I know. I’ll miss you, too, Sky.
“Limo’s here,” Mia says.
I look at my phone for a second, feeling like there’s something else to say, but I can’t imagine what that is. And it really is only three weeks. It’s not like I’m taking a century ship to Mars.
Beth, Mia, and I manage to get the approximately three hundred suitcases and carry-ons down the stairs to the street, at which point the limo driver decides to get out and help us haul them the last six inches to the trunk.
We hug Beth goodbye, and I make her promise to call us every day and water my African violet a couple of times. And give us progress reports on the band. And break a leg at her auditions.
She laughs. “Anything else, Mom?”
“Just . . .” I feel like saying so many things. I don’t know why it feels like I’m never coming home again. “Just that I love you, Bets. You’re good people.”
She gives me another fierce, tight hug. “You too, Sky. I’m so proud of you, girl. I hope you know.”
“I do.”
We smile at each other. Then Mia comes in for another hug. And we do a three-way hug. Then the limo driver lays on the horn, and we break apart, laughing.
“Guess we need to go,” I say.
“I know. Go. Kill it, Sky.” She looks at Mia. “You too, okay?”
“You too. At your callback.”
“Oh, I will,” she tells us, and I don’t, for one second, doubt it’s true.
Chapter 35
Grey
Thursday afternoon, my phone lights up with a text. Beth, who’s in the studio control room with me and looking pretty swag in cordless red BEATS, grabs it off the sill, where I left it earlier.
“Grey, it’s Skyler,” she says, tossing it to me. “By the way, it’s not right that she’s texting you more than me.”
“It’s so right, Beth. So right.”
She probably can’t hear me, but she rolls her eyes anyway, and turns back to Titus, who’s in the sound booth playing the guitar solo in “Runner.”
I read Skyler’s text.
Skyler: Cali status?
This is how it starts now between us, a few times a day. Either from my end or hers. I send back a reply.
Grey: Titus is te
aring it up. Strings are red hot.
Without the long days on the film set, without Garrett to drive around and babysit, I thought I’d have a billion free hours in the day, but I’m busier than ever. To prep for the showcase, we’re in the studio every day, taking every one of our songs apart and putting it back together to make sure we’re happy with every note, every run, every instrumental solo, every harmony, every everything. It’s costing us a mint in studio fees, but we’re all in. We want to create something Vogelson won’t be able to deny. We’re spending money to make money. No. We’re spending money to go after our dreams. If that’s not a worthy investment, what the hell is?
Skyler: Is Beth there?
I snap a quick photo of Beth, who has a goofy, love-struck smile on her face as she watches Titus, and hit Send.
Skyler: OMG. Ew. What’s wrong with her?
Grey: Lots of action. Island status?
She doesn’t answer for a few moments.
Skyler: Okay. A little rainy. Jetlag is my nemesis.
She’s not telling me something. I don’t know what it is. I’ve got a nagging feeling, though. I start to type my reply, when Emilio, Shane, and Rez walk in with a late lunch. Or early dinner. Whatever meal you have at four.
“How’s Blue Skies and Fairytales?” Emilio asks as soon as he sees the phone in my hand. For whatever reason, that’s what he calls Skyler. He sets down a bag of sandwiches and Shane hands out drinks. Food isn’t allowed in the control room but the studio owner is a guy Rez knows, and he’s not only giving us dirt-cheap rates, but letting us cut some corners on studio rules. It amazes me how many people are helping us out. One of Shane’s buddies who’s a graphic designer is doing an overhaul of our band logo for us for free. And before they left, Kaitlin and Bernadette kicked down a bunch of great gear from past jobs they’ve done. Boots, jackets, jeans. We didn’t think we’d use any of it. Everyone thought it was hilarious that we were getting designer movie crap. Poser-ish. But when we were going through it at my place, we kept everything. Even the belts and cuffs, all of it. I gotta admit, we look sharper now. Dialed in. It’s like Kaitlin and Bernadette knew what we wanted to look like as a band, and they took us there.
My phone buzzes with another text.
Bounce Page 20
