Katie Cox vs. the Boy Band

by Marianne Levy

  So Dominic Preston was now officially off the radar. But that was all right. That still left lots of other people who liked the real normal me.

  People like… People like…

  People like the people on the Internet. Who thought I was stupid and gross and ugly and wrong. People who wanted me wiped off the face of the earth. On my phone and in my laptop and serving at the Harvester and in my class and going on a date, and I’d never be safe, never get to be just me ever again.

  A sob tore at my throat.

  In my head, Mom’s voice: “Calm down, Katie. Calm down.”

  I’d been too ambitious. That was all. Obviously it would take longer than a couple of days to undo everything that had happened. The new normal Katie would come. I was just going to have to work a little harder. Harder on…what exactly?

  What would normal Katie Cox do?

  Watch TV. Do some messaging. Cleaning my room was pretty much a full-time job. I could do that. And let my thoughts flit away. There was really no need to capture them in my lyric book anymore. It wouldn’t help.

  The music though. Just talking about the White Album back there had made my ears thirst for “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.”

  And Billy Joel! How would I live without Billy Joel? Or Jimi Hendrix? Or Dolly Parton or Amy Winehouse or Miles Davis? If there was ever a walk that needed the soundtrack of Kind of Blue, it was this one.

  It was only now that I began to wonder. I could just about live without music for a day, even two. But those voices, the voices of my deepest feelings, the voices—even though I’d never meet them—of my friends…I’d have to live without them forever.

  When I had pictured Jaz’s house, it was pretty much exactly like the castle in Dracula. High on a hill, with turrets and bats, and in the center of a red, red room, a coffin, and in that coffin, Jaz.

  Not a semidetached house with a porch and a stained-glass front door, opened by a smiling, plumpish woman with dyed blonde hair who said, “Jasmine’s in her bedroom, upstairs, second door on the right.”

  “Okay,” I said, putting my head down and heading for the stairs.

  “It’s great to meet you, Katie. Jasmine’s always talking about you. She’s really changed since the two of you’ve been friends, you know. Come out of her shell. We’re so glad she found you.”

  “Er, yeah,” I said.

  I hadn’t been expecting that, either. Or a beige carpet and a mishmash of framed pictures going up the stairs: baby Jaz; Jaz on a tricycle; Jaz in a bridesmaid’s dress, smiling with gapped teeth.

  Luckily, I opened her bedroom door onto what was basically a shrine to Marilyn Manson and saw Jaz scowling from somewhere in the middle of a black lace hooded dress thing covered in sequined grim reapers.

  Phew.

  “I’ve ruined my life,” I informed her. “And now I’m paying for it, and I deserve it, I know I do, but I don’t think I can take much more.”

  “You do deserve it,” said Jaz.

  “Oh, Jaz. I should never have accused you of selling that story. It’s not your style.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  “I mean,” I said, wanting her to understand, “you are truly out there. But—”

  “I don’t lie,” said Jaz. “I don’t lie about what I believe.”

  “No,” I said. “And from now on, I’m not going to, either.”

  She didn’t seem convinced.

  “Jaz, please. I’ll give up Lacey and Karamel. But I cannot lose you too. You’re amazing. I wish I could be more like you.”

  And were those tears I saw in her eyes?

  “Enough melodrama.” She pushed back her hair, and I realized I must have been mistaken. Eyes like Jaz’s couldn’t possibly cry. If nothing else, they were clearly too blocked up with eyeliner. “Drippy Lacey will come sliming back. And you love Karamel.”

  “I do not love them. I mean, I love their music. Loved it. But…Kurt sold me out. He said he forgave me and then he went to the press.”

  Jaz chewed, maybe a piece of gum, maybe just a complicated thought. “Maybe not,” she said. “Did you at least consider that it was someone else?”

  “No! It was him. Of course it was him.”

  “Then let’s start by doing that. Who else was there? Who saw you? At the concert?”

  “Um. That journalist, Chris.”

  “It’s a good story. He would have reported it with his name. So it’s not him.”

  “There were tons of backstage people. It could have been any of them.”

  “They would have signed stuff saying they wouldn’t talk to the press. It’s not going to be one of them.”

  “It has to be. Because the only other person is Dad, and it’s not him.”

  “Why not?” asked Jaz.

  “Because Dad wouldn’t do that! He’s not…he just wouldn’t. Okay?” I wasn’t convincing her. “He’s my dad.”

  “Kurt from Karamel’s dad sold stories about him,” said Jaz. “There’s lots of stuff floating around out there. Some people say that’s what their second album’s all about.”

  “How did you know that?” I asked. “And since when have you been into Karamel?”

  “Couple of weeks,” said Jaz. “But we’re talking about you. And your dad.”

  “Look,” I said. “Dad’s had a few…issues. But we’re talking about a man who gave Mom over two thousand dollars a few days ago. And it’s not like he can exactly afford it.”

  Jaz leaned forward. “If he can’t afford it, then where did he get two grand? From Pop Trash?”

  “No! From Catriona. His ex-girlfriend. He loaned her some money. We had a talk. He got it back and gave it to Mom.”

  Jaz nodded at my phone. “Easy enough way to check,” she said.

  “I trust him,” I said. “I am not calling Catriona.”

  Jaz didn’t reply. And I looked at my phone, pictured Dad’s face, and felt his arms around my shoulders, and I knew—100 percent knew—that he hadn’t…this was Dad we were talking about…

  I also knew what Amanda would say. Exactly what Amanda would say.

  And that Amanda was wrong.

  “If you know it wasn’t him, if that’s genuinely what you believe, then fine,” said Jaz, and she looked as serious as I’ve ever seen her. “But if any part of you believes that it might have been him, then…you said you were going to tell the truth from now on, Katie. You just told me that.”

  “I…I don’t have her number,” I said. “She could be anywhere. Her and Dad split up, and I can’t ask him, can I?”

  “What do you know about her?”

  “Nothing helpful. That she runs a Pilates studio in California. That her last name is something like Fernando or Ferdinand or—”

  “Catriona Fernandez,” said Jaz, looking triumphantly up from her phone. “Here’s the number for her studio.”

  “But what if it’s the middle of the night over there? What if she doesn’t want to speak to me? Or she’s in the middle of teaching a class. What if—” And then I had to stop talking because Jaz was shoving her phone to my ear, and I could hear ringing.

  And then: “Poise Pilates, can I help you?”

  “Um. Hi. I was just wondering if I could speak to Catriona, only she’s probably not there, so never mind, I’ll just—”

  “Speaking. How may I help you?” She sounded very American. Like she was in a movie or something. I thought, not for the first time recently, that my life didn’t seem real anymore.

  “Oh. This is…um…Katie. Katie Cox. Benjamin Cox’s daughter. Sorry.”

  “You Brits, always apologizing. Hi there, Katie! Great to finally speak to you. How is Benji?”

  “He’s, er, okay.”

  “I’m so glad! He’s a good guy, you know? Of course you do. He’s your dad! And how can I help you, Katie?”
r />   Jaz was looking at me, very, very hard, as I said, “Sorry. I mean, not sorry. But this is a little…” Jaz tilted her head. “Did Dad lend you some money?”

  “He sure did, honey. I never asked. You know that? But he saw I needed a little help, and when the studio lease came up, there he was with the down payment. He’s a generous guy.”

  I began to smile. It was all going to be okay. “He is generous, isn’t he?”

  “Didn’t even ask for it back when we split.”

  “No?” My stomach began to turn.

  “Nope! Not a single dollar. But I’m going to return every dime. The second we start turning a profit, I’m going to start paying him back. My mamma told me, Catriona, you don’t ever stay in debt. Especially not to a man.”

  “Huh,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m so glad to be able to talk to you, Katie. Your dad, he was always so proud of you. Showing everyone your photo, telling anyone who’d listen about his baby girl. He loves you so much.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Um, I have to go now, Catriona.”

  “Send him my love, will you?”

  “I will.”

  “Bye bye, honey pie.”

  I let the phone drop onto Jaz’s bed.

  “That doesn’t mean he did it,” I said. “He could have gotten the money anywhere. Maybe it was from work. An old job! He’s always saying how they take forever to pay up. Maybe…maybe…oh no…no, no, no…”

  “Stay there,” said Jaz. “I’ll get Mom to drive you home.”

  • • •

  It doesn’t mean…

  Just because he didn’t…

  He’s not…

  The house was empty. Everyone was out. Everyone except—

  “Dad?”

  He had the fridge open, and when he heard my voice, he turned, his face bathed with a sickly yellow light. “Katie!” My eyes must have given away some of what I was feeling because he peered at me and said, “What?”

  “Dad. That story about me at the Karamel concert. That’s…everywhere. Did it…did it come from you?”

  Please. Please say no. Please say something. Please.

  “D-Dad?”

  His silence said it all.

  “How could you, Dad? How could you?”

  “I was out of cash. You were saying your mother needed rent.”

  “So, couldn’t you, I don’t know, get a job or something?”

  “It’s not…my phone has not been ringing much recently. Haven’t had a dry spell like this in a while.” He looked up. “Have you had a chance to speak to Tony?”

  Dad’s never been especially good at reading a situation. This, though, this took things to a whole new level.

  “A few days in the studio would work things out. See if you can’t get me in, okay?”

  “Dad, you sold a story about me!”

  “They only wanted a quick chat, about you and what you were up to. It was such a great evening. What’s wrong with that?”

  “What’s wrong with that? Don’t you even…I mean, it was a Karamel concert…I wasn’t supposed to be having a good time.”

  “Weren’t you? Then why were we there?”

  “Dad, do you have any idea what’s been going on these last few days? With my life? Any idea at all?”

  “Don’t you like your new guitar?”

  “Of course, but I…”

  “Because I remembered,” he said, like some kitten I was kicking in the face. “You said that was the guitar you wanted.”

  “That’s what you took from the concert? You knew what I had to say about Karamel, and you went and sold me out, and you think you can make it okay with a stupid new guitar? Didn’t…didn’t you even hear my song?”

  “Of course I did! I loved it! I’m so proud of you.”

  And, oh, a part of me still thrilled to hear him say it. “You shouldn’t have done it, Dad.”

  “I couldn’t live off that man’s charity.”

  “But why didn’t you ask for the money back from Catriona?”

  He looked away. “Allow a man some dignity, Katie.” Then, in a single beat, I hated him.

  “And you let me blame poor Kurt,” I said. “You let me go online and tell the whole world it was him, when all the time it was you?”

  He was laughing now. “Poor Kurt? I’m not going to feel too sorry for him, thank you very much!”

  I thought I might…I don’t even know. Punch a wall or be sick. Because Amanda was right. She’d been right from the start.

  “Katie? Katie!”

  “I thought you cared about me,” I said. “I thought I mattered. But you only care about you.”

  My voice must have cracked or something because he stopped laughing.

  “These past few weeks, I’ve been defending you! To Mom, to Amanda… It’s like, you destroyed the family once, and now you’re coming back to do it all over again.” I thought he’d deny it. Instead, he bowed his head.

  “That’s fair,” he said. “I let you all down. I know that.”

  “If you know that, then why did you…?”

  “I let you all down,” he repeated. “If I could go back and do things differently, then I would. But I can’t.”

  I was backing away from him now, knowing I couldn’t breathe even a molecule of air that had passed through his lungs.

  “Katie, how do you think it feels, to have to go begging to your daughter? Can we not just…”

  “No,” I said. “In fact…” I got out my phone.

  Hi, Tony

  It’s Katie.

  So, I lied to you, about Dad being unreliable because I didn’t want him to go away. But if there’s still a job on that Papaya album, you should give it to him. I think you owe me that.

  I won’t bother you again.

  Katie

  “There,” I said. “I’ll get you some work. With Tony.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say.”

  I did. “Go to America. And this time, don’t come back.”

  Mands found me sitting on the floor. I don’t know what time it was, but it must have been late. It was dark outside, and when she came past me, I could smell the night air in her hair.

  I say “found.” What I mean is that she tripped over my right arm and went flying.

  “What on earth are you doing there?”

  “Sorry. I was just…sorry.” I rubbed my elbow. “Where were you?”

  “Since when do you care?”

  She snapped the light on, and I had to shield my eyes. “Wuh?”

  She took her jacket off angrily and sat down on her bed. “You’re the one who’s completely wrapped up in her own little world. ‘Oh, I’m a pop star. I’m dating. I’m hanging out with Super Dad…’ What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “It was Dad,” I said. “Not Kurt. It was Dad. He sold me out. For money. It was always Dad.”

  She tensed. Then she said, “Of course it was. Oh, Katie.”

  Then she held me while I cried. It was a long time.

  She didn’t say, “I told you so.” She didn’t remind me how Dad had ducked out of coming to see me sing solo at the school Christmas concert when I was nine because he got a last-minute spot on a TV show. She didn’t mention that, three years ago, he’d set his heart on a vintage guitar, a handmade Benedetto Fratello and, in order to buy it, had sold our car. And she didn’t say anything about how he’d been too much of a wuss to tell Mom he was coming back, how he’d left it to me, and then sold me out and ruined everything.

  Or maybe it was already ruined, and I just hadn’t noticed.

  Funny how it takes being pressed face-first into a denim jacket to get some perspective on things.

  Finally, Amanda spoke. “I’ve got a chocolate bar in my bag.”

  “A r
aisin one?” My voice sounded weird. Croaky and soft. Like someone else’s.

  “A raisin one, yes. You never change, you know that, Katie?”

  We shared it, and I felt, not better, exactly, but at least stable.

  “Everyone hates me,” I said.

  “You’re being absurd.”

  “I’m not. Dominic Preston just told me to get lost. Kurt blocked me. Lacey called me a liar.” I picked up the charm bracelet, then let the cold metal slip between my fingers, back onto my bedside table. “I am a liar.”

  “Okay, but…”

  “And the only people who hate me more than Karamel fans are the Katie Cox fans. Ex-fans.” I put my head in my hands. “Maybe I need a new identity. Do you think I qualify for a witness protection program? Or a new face?”

  For a second, I thought how, actually, a new face might be really nice, how I could maybe get a smaller nose, one of those ski-slope ones like Savannah has, and really white teeth.

  I could ask them to make my eyes not look quite so much like Dad’s too.

  “What I don’t understand is where all this hate came from in the first place,” said Amanda.

  Wasn’t it obvious?

  “It’s music,” I said. “Music keeps people apart. It divides people. That’s what it does.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “It does! That’s what I’ve realized. That’s where everything started. If it hadn’t been for music, I’d still be friends with Lacey, I wouldn’t have the entire population of the universe wanting to kill me, and Mom and Dad would probably still be together!”

  Amanda shook her head. “That is the biggest pile of garbage I’ve ever heard.”

  What?

  “What?”

  “Of course it’s not music’s fault. Music is”—her face worked as she struggled to get her feelings into words—“music is the best thing. It’s the only thing. It’s everything.”

  “No.”

  She went to the stereo and put on Irma Thomas’s “Good Things Don’t Come Easy.” Irma’s voice filled the room and filled up my heart. For a long time, we just listened.

  “I thought, if I just stopped playing, that would be enough,” I said into the thick silence that followed. “It’s over. So why isn’t it over?”