LOUDER: A Contemporary Romance

by Jorja Tabu

  “For you, the stakes are higher,” Darris reminded him. “You should have a pre-nup written for every new girl that winks at you. Get them to sign a no press agreement before you even ask their name.”

  “I’m not going to ask her name,” Echo said, tired. His voice was the same flat monotone as always, but inside of him the words echoed down through the emptiness. “I’m not going to do shit, but help her get her career off. She’s good. She deserves it. The whole fucking world deserves it too--they deserve something better, and she’s got it. She’s going to be the new, the next.” He finally looked his old friend in the face. “That’s it.”

  “I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” Darris said, knowing it was pointless, anyway. “But I love you, dummy, and I wouldn’t be any kind of friend without pointing out some uncomfortable shit nobody else is going to have the balls to say to fucking Echo, our Grammy winning white boy.” He slapped the younger man on the back. “That’s it.”

  “I know.” Even after all they’d been through, and how much support Darris had given him, Echo had never been able to say he loved him; thankfully, he didn’t need to, and Darris, as always, knew why he couldn’t. He hadn’t said those words to anyone but Casey in twenty years; it just wasn’t possible. He inhaled, felt his face harden, tried to let go of the tingle of excitement he’d had when she’d walked by him to go back and sleep in his bed. He tried to put away the way she’d made him laugh when she’d been on stage.

  But he kept his respect for her skill. And that’s all he would keep, he told himself, feeling the mask heavy on his face.

  They went back inside, shaking off the cold.

  -----

  “Thank you,” Gabby said, trying to find his eyes under the hood of his ever-present baseball cap. He nodded, but didn’t look up at her. Darris offered her a cup of coffee and she took it back to her van, clutching it in both hands to warm them.

  She felt distinctly cheerful--much more so than she should’ve, really, considering she’d be sleeping in her own ice cold van again tonight. But something about the camaraderie she’d witnessed between the men made her feel at home, and sleeping surrounded by that scent...Her stomach rippled with butterflies remembering it, and Gabby started working on a poem almost as soon as she sat down in the driver’s seat.

  Something short, and sweet. It didn’t have to be about Echo. That would be stupid, and weird, considering she didn’t know him at all.

  It could just be about how good a man could make you feel. How deeply inside your mind he could creep, if he was--

  Her phone interrupted her thoughts. Gabby felt her good mood falter when she realized it was Marvin, but she decided not to let it get to her. In fact, she told herself, she should really thank him, in light of how well things were going. She answered and heard him take a deep breath.

  “You are working my last nerve, missy,” he said, his voice rattling over the line.

  “What are you talking about?” Gabby tried not to let his tone darken her mood, but she could already tell this was going to end badly.

  “There’s a new video of you online--have you seen it? You look absolutely ridiculous doing that drama queen thing with your hands before your set. I thought I told you to stop doing that!”

  He was talking about her Ghost Diva mask. She didn’t care that it looked stupid to him; it was the last remnant of her slam poetry persona, and it’d taken her this far. “Is my whole set up this time?”

  “Yes, it’s all in pieces but yes, somebody was just sitting there in the audience videotaping you the whole time, and you didn’t notice.” He snapped at someone else in the background. “Don’t screw this up, Gabrielle,” he hissed. “This is our big break--don’t you know how hard I worked to get you on this tour?”

  She hadn’t thought he’d worked that hard at all, actually; as she remembered, someone from Echo’s record label had called him. But she didn’t say that. “It’s going pretty well, I thought,” Gabby said, reaching for the cup of coffee.

  “That bit of you with the jerk that was yelling at you is climbing up in views like crazy--can you do that some more? Rip up some more people in the audience? Don’t you people love to do that kind of thing--get all angry and crazy on stage, yelling and whatever.” He snapped at someone else behind him. You people. Gabby almost choked on her coffee. You people.

  “I...” She took a minute to calm down. “...Actually, I was hoping it would be the last time somebody pulled that.”

  “You better hope the opposite, sister,” he said, and Gabby almost hung up on him. “This is it. The big time. I hope that ridiculous wanna-be rapper doesn’t--”

  “--He’s really nice,” Gabby cut in. For some reason, she didn’t want to listen to Marvin bash Echo. For obvious reasons, she didn’t want to hear any more of his cultured observations. “I have to go. Sound check.” And with that, she begged off and hung up.

  The poem was gone. Completely faded away by the awful conversation with her manager. She could practically feel her mom’s warm fingers on her shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze; it was a thought that almost brought her to tears, full of pain and bittersweet memories.

  She’d never get another one of those squeezes ever again.

  Stop it, she told herself. Now is not the time...She wiped her eye and decided to call Charles. It would be nice to talk to someone who was actually happy to hear from her. As she dialed his number, she tried to calm herself down and remember what he’d said: Just friends. We’ll talk about this when you get back. You know I love you though, right? You’re so beautiful, Gabrielle. Just friends. Nothing too serious.

  A woman answered his phone. Gabby sucked in her breath, but pride made her push forward. “Is Charles there?” The woman tittered in answer.

  “Who, Chuck?” She laughed again and the phone made a muffled sound as if she were covering the mouthpiece. “Sure, he’s here.” He was laughing when he came to the phone.

  “Hi,” Gabby said, glad just to hear his voice. Just friends. Well, she needed a friend right now.

  “Hi, Gabs,” he said, using the baby name for her. They’d only recently come back into contact, after years apart going to college. Gabrielle had grown up in California but spent summers in Seattle with her mother’s family, and Charles had been her neighbor there. He had beautiful chocolate skin and a perfect laugh. Big, confident, successful. Black. Wonderful. And an amazing kisser.

  Her first crush, larger than life.

  Just friends.

  “I was thinking about you,” Gabby said, and instinctively checked her reflection in the rear-view mirror. She looked a mess--no make-up, no smiles. She wondered if he could tell somehow. He’d asked her to re-apply her lipstick after he kissed her, the last time they were together, and she’d felt foolish doing as he asked. But she had. He was worth it.

  “Oh yeah?” Charles’s voice was naturally seductive, deep and resonant. “I hope you were thinking something good.” The woman’s laughter in the background rippled through the phone.

  “Who’s your friend?” Gabby had to ask. She’d begun to feel like she was intruding on something.

  “Just a friend,” Charles said, casually. The woman laughed again, too close to the phone. “An old friend.”

  “You’ve got a lot of those,” Gabby said, trying to hold on to the smile in her voice.

  “No more than most,” Charles said, sounding a little irritated. “I hope you’re not jealous, Gabs.”

  “No, I just--”

  “--Good. So what were you thinking about me?

  “I...I was missing my mom,” she blurted out. “That’s all.”

  “Wow, you got deep real quick,” Charles said, brushing over the upset in her voice. “Hang on.” The phone was muffled again, and then he was back. “Are you doing alright?”

  “I’m okay,” Gabby said. “My manager is a dick, and I didn’t bring any cold weather gear and it’s so cold my hair is falling out, but I’m okay.”

  “But y
ou’re on tour.” He grinned through the phone. “Fighting off groupies and chilling with Echo. That’s got to be amazing.”

  “It is,” she admitted, but a tear she hadn’t known was there slid down her cheek. “But lonely. It’s tough without support.”

  “You should call your brothers,” Charles said matter-of-factly. He seemed oblivious to the fact that she’d called him for support. “Someone who can cheer you up.”

  “It’s nothing,” Gabby said, wiping the tear away and feeling embarrassed. She remembered their kiss and felt another blush creep over her collarbones. “I’m good. I don’t need any cheering up, really.”

  “Okay,” Charles said, sounding perfectly happy to believe it. “Well, if you’re alright, I’m going to hang out with my friend here. You call me if you need anything.”

  I just needed a friend, Gabby thought, and the embarrassment cancelled out the pain. She knew she’d never call Charles again. “Sure. Take care.”

  “Bye,” he said, and the line went dead.

  Gabby didn’t give herself any pity; she railed inwardly about taking a kiss so seriously. She’d thought just because they’d known each other years ago that it really meant something? It was just dinner, and a kiss. And a lot of compliments that he clearly handed out as freely as he handed out the term ‘old friend.’ She felt like an idiot.

  A soft knock on the window almost made her jump.

  “Sorry,” he said, as soon as she’d rolled the window down, clearly noticing he’d frightened her. “I tried waving, but...” Echo would try to get her attention without speaking, she thought, and her bemusement cracked the wall of misery in her head. She took him in, but the bright morning light made his eyes just as mysterious as always, hiding under his hat. “I brought you some more coffee.” He was holding the pot out to her.

  “Thanks,” Gabby said, and opened the door to step outside. “Wow,” she muttered, putting her coffee down on the hood of her car and reaching back inside to grab the warm blanket she’d wrapped around herself. “It’s still freezing,” she said, looking up at him.

  “Yeah,” he said, the part of his face available to her inscrutably blank. He refilled her cup and then stood for a minute, remote and still in the sunlight. She wondered if he’d somehow forgotten she was there.

  Men are all the same, she thought bitterly, and then tried to shake it off. Really Gabby? Are your brothers jerks? Was he a jerk when he let you take his bed for the night? Especially after you were such a jerk after the first time you met?

  “I thought we might do a song together,” he said suddenly, turning back towards her. His voice was monotone; she wondered if Darris had suggested it, he seemed so unenthusiastic.

  “Really? That doesn’t seem like a great deal for you,” Gabby said, gulping her coffee and giving him an easy way out. She wasn’t interested in having two misleading conversations one right after the other. “You don’t want some poet girl on one of your songs. Your sales will drop.”

  “Nah,” he said, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in that small smile he’d shown last night. “It’ll be harder for you to explain to your fans, since they all know you hate me.”

  “What?!” Gabby was shocked into laughing.

  “‘And Echo’s a no-no, collecting too many hoes after the show, banging on the door wanna star in a video,’” he sang, perfectly mimicking the sing-song tone she adopted in that song. It was just a quick line from a long rap about a lot of male rappers that treated women poorly in their lyrics. His mouth quirked again. “You got it wrong--as you can tell, unless you’re calling yourself a ho.”

  “What?!” This time Gabby screeched the word.

  “You’re the only woman banging on the door after the show,” he said softly, letting his eyes glitter down at her mischievously. “Not that we mind.”

  “See if I ever do it again,” Gabby sniffed, half hurt and half amused, let alone utterly baffled that he’d memorized a lyric from one her songs. He probably just googled himself, she thought. Echo watched her from under his cap.

  “I hope you do,” he said in that monotone voice, the softness leeched out. “Don’t want you freezing to death. The tour just started.” He quirked his mouth again and sauntered over to the bus with the coffee pot in hand, not giving her a backward glance; when he reached the door, he didn’t turn towards her. “We got pancakes inside,” he finally said, and left it hanging open.

  She wished she’d counted the words he’d said. It had been a lot, this time. The smell of the sea wafted after him.

  -----

  She’d been upset, he knew, when he’d walked towards the car, but he also knew if he’d asked whether she was alright, he’d be doing exactly the opposite of what he’d decided last night. He’d be opening more than the door to the tour bus. And Darris was right, she wasn’t going to give him the time of day if he stepped to her. She’d be flattered, probably--all women seemed to be--but that might just make it sweeter for her when she turned down the famous rapper. He didn’t want to be in another one of her songs, either.

  Watching her eat another bite of pancakes and banter with Darris, he relived the moment of surprise on her face when he’d quoted her words back to her. Perfect. There was nothing as good as making a beautiful girl squeal with horrified delight. Well...Almost nothing.

  Echo hadn’t had sex in eight months. The last time, he’d gotten drunk and fucked two groupies that arrived together; they said they were strippers, and they fucked like strippers. Before that, he couldn’t remember. Probably the same scenario, more or less. When Echo decided he was too horny to keep holding out, he got wasted and fucked whoever asked him to after the show. Didn’t matter what they looked like. Didn’t care. He could probably manage to put on a condom while he was in a coma, after Casey, so that had never been an issue. But he could always tell when it was time because the lonely ache in his guts would finally become sharper than the fear in his heart, and then he’d resolve himself and find some whiskey.

  But when he looked at this woman, the ache started in reverse: heart first, then guts...Among other things.

  She was trouble. He made himself look away from her, down towards the notebook in his lap. He was working on several songs at once, a couple slapped together lyrics he’d thought of last night; they were all about women, though, and he slowly and deliberately drew a line through them, one by one, as he made himself choose, over and over. Never again. Never again. Never again.

  Would it really be so bad, just to let these feelings loose inside of him? He’d been practicing hiding them for so long, he doubted they’d even show on his face. His voice never shook. Women usually convinced themselves how he felt about them, without any real contribution from him. He loves me, he really wants to fuck me more than her. He hates me, he never smiles when he sees me. He’d just let her decide how he felt about her outside his head, and as for inside...Darris didn’t have to know. He could have the private excitement. He didn’t have to act on it. It wouldn’t show.

  He turned to a fresh page and started a new line.

  -----

  The rest of the week passed in growing contentment for Gabby; she was momentarily sad when she noticed, on the seventh night, that Echo’s scent had faded from his bed. Why did she feel that way? Gabby sat up and rubbed her temples. She couldn’t remember where they were parked tonight; somewhere cold. Always somewhere cold.

  Would it be stupid to tell him he could sleep here, and she would take the couch for once? Just so the next time he let her take over his sanctuary, it smelled like him again?

  Over the past week, Gabby had quietly watched the men she was traveling with, and grown to like all of them. Darris was hilarious, generous, and kind; he reminded her of her older brother so much she’d had to catch herself once when she almost called him the wrong name. Versus was quieter, more calculating, but never rude or pushy. He was the one she’d most expected to have to turn down, but he never crossed the line. It was as if he wasn’t really into her,
except as a younger sister. And Trajilla was the same; funny, nice, and never inappropriate. They teased her constantly, and everyone involved knew she definitely came from a different world, but...Gabby hated to say it, but she was surprised.

  She’d misjudged them all.

  Especially Echo. He wasn’t the ringleader; he graciously and constantly deferred to Darris in everything, and he never stole the spotlight from Versus and Illa when they were mouthing off in the bars. He wasn’t a grandstander, he never lied, and he showed nothing but the utmost respect to women--to the point of being cold and aloof, to the constant disappointment of each beautiful bimbo that came panting after him. He was fierce, as everyone knew that had watched him struggle with fame in his early years, but never cruel. His stage presence was just another facet of his real life persona; he was indomitable, unknowable--Untouchable, the name of the record the tour was promoting, and his last one.

  Gabby had grown to respect him enormously. After spending so much time with them, she knew he hadn’t always been this quiet or careful; the records she had hated him for were all recorded during his rambunctious period of new fame, his ascent from nothing into the spotlight. She’d been shocked to learn he was only a year older than her; his early years stamped him as much older. Darris had been watching out for him since they were both young, and got a record deal first; back in the day, Darris gave Echo his name for sounding so much like him. They’d eventually developed their own sounds, Darris in the studio and Echo on the stage. The white rapper was once a long-shot, but when his career took off he carried Darris to the new label, even though he’d since been dropped from his original one. Echo was loyal to his friends, devoted to his daughter--who he called three times a day at the same time, no matter where they were or what they were doing--and the quiet bedrock of the group. In matters of import, he and Darris were always the deciding factors, and neither did anything the other disagreed with.