by Sarah Price
“Come on,” Randy says and starts walking across the now-empty room.
Brooke waves to us to follow him. Somehow I manage to get up and walk, my legs moving on their own because I know that my brain isn’t functioning. I’m numb, in shock, and trembling.
Is this actually happening?
My heart is pounding and my palms are sweating. I hope he doesn’t try to shake my hand. Sweating palms are so yucky. That would be a total downer for my first meeting with Aiden. I know I need to make a great impression!
“Are you breathing?” Jamie whispers to me.
“I don’t think so,” I respond.
And then it happens. An arm comes out of nowhere and blocks our path. Attached to the arm? A big security guard. “Whoa, girls. Show’s over. You gotta leave.”
I look over his shoulder and try to find Brooke. She’s ahead of us, walking beside Randy and not paying attention. I try to call out for them, but the security guard is holding my arm and guiding me toward the exit.
“W-w-wait!” I lean backwards and dig my heels into the floor, making myself dead weight. “We’re supposed to go with them!” I point over my shoulder toward Randy and Brooke. “He’s with the ...”
“Nice try,” he says, pushing us toward the door. “Get going.”
Luckily, Brooke notices we are no longer with them. Randy calls out as he jogs toward us. “Hey, wait!” He blocks the guard’s path. “They’re with me.” He takes my arm and I’m suddenly being pulled in two directions. I look up at Randy and see him give the guard the old stink eye. Way to go, Randy Quinn!
Reluctantly, the guard releases me, but he’s not happy about it. Not. At. All.
We approach the barricade and Randy is just about to help us around the side when another security guard steps up.
“Can’t go back there,” the guard says.
Randy remains calm. He must be used to this. “I’m with the talent.” He shows his gold backstage access band that hangs around his neck.
“They’re not.” He jerks his thumb at us.
Two simple words stand between me and my dream.
Randy rolls his eyes and turns to Brooke. “Just stay here for a second.” He runs behind the barricade and disappears through the curtain. The guard is shaking his head, another unhappy man. Clearly security takes their job seriously ... or they’re tired and just want to go home.
The curtain separates and Randy comes back. Alone.
“I’m sorry, girls,” he says. He glances at Brooke, and I already know what he’s going to say next. No Aiden. I have been so intent on the security guards and how they’re trying to lasso us out of the venue that my excitement over meeting Aiden has taken a backseat. “Aiden left already. He had a headache earlier.”
From the backseat right out the sunroof.
I’m on the verge of collapsing. The emotions flowing through me are, without a doubt, like a roller-coaster ride. Being in the same room with Aiden and breathing the same air was simply not enough. Catching glimpses of him only made it worse. Feeling hope when, for some dreamlike reason, Brooke met his brother had been the icing on the cupcake. And now, it’s as if someone stole my dream.
I feel as if my life might literally end at this moment. This. Very. Moment.
And I’ll be glad if it does.
The curtain moves again and the older guy we saw earlier, Gary Green, comes out followed by two boys. Jamie catches her breath and Cassie gasps out loud. It takes me a second or two to stop focusing on ways to die from disappointment, the gravest disappointment of my entire life. But when I do, I suddenly stop breathing.
Brent and Andy are following Gary. Brent is bouncing as he walks and making funny noises with his lips. Like the noises little babies make. He’s perky and raring to go. Andy, however, looks tired but, regardless, gives us a big smile.
Cassie jumps right into action and whips out her phone. “Can I have a picture?”
Andy opens his arms and leans over to give her a hug while Cassie positions the camera for a selfie. Jamie doesn’t hesitate to photo bomb it, which makes Andy laugh. When Brent puts bunny ears behind Andy’s head, all four of them crack up.
As for me, I can’t move. I’m immobile, gawking at them. It’s them. Andy and Brent. Right in front of me. Two of Aiden’s best friends. The guys that travel with him, that make funny videos with him, that are super adorable in their own right. And I’m frozen like a statue.
Brent starts making that noise again and looks up at Gary, who is talking to Randy. With a sigh, he frowns and turns around. He sees me standing there and makes a funny face. “Hey!”
Not only can’t I move, but I can’t speak.
“Uh ...” He squints as he studies me. “So yeah, um ... you want a photo or something?”
Is he really talking to me?
Jamie elbows me. “Say something!”
I open my mouth and take a reluctant step forward. Instead of words, I wind up making tiny noises. “Uh ... eh ... ah ... uh.”
Brent laughs. “What’re you? A monkey?”
That’s right. I’m Cat Lansing and I’m a monkey. A friggin’ sock monkey! And I’m getting laughed at by Brent as he puts his arm around me and both Jamie and Cassie take pictures. I don’t know whether to smile or die of embarrassment.
I finally smile. A weird, scared type of smile as if I’m afraid of him. He grins and salutes us before doing a half turn and marching like a soldier back through the curtain. Andy turns around and gives us a friendly wave as he follows.
The conflict of emotions sends me into a tailspin. I’m not even certain what to feel. My heart is pounding again and I think I’m holding my breath. Security is really annoyed now, but I don’t care anymore. Aiden left already and I just met Brent. Enormous disappointment versus tremendous elation. It’s like putting one hand in a pot of hot water and the other hand in cold. My brain simply cannot process what to feel.
Gary glances at us and gives Randy a look. I don’t even care that we’re being escorted out, or that the security guard looks a little too victorious for my taste. But I can’t speak. I’m still dealing with the hot versus cold conflict. It’s only when he practically shoves us out the door and slams it behind us that I realize what just happened.
My head feels light and I stop walking, then stare at nothing. The conflict is decided for me. Enormous disappointment wins and I lean against the wall, crying and not caring that there are still girls lingering on the walkway who stop and gape at me.
Brooke’s words of comfort don’t help. Jamie rubbing my arm doesn’t help. Cassie’s soft “I’m so sorry, Cat” doesn’t do it either. My shoulders hunch forward and I sob with my hands covering my face.
How on earth could I have been so close to meeting Aiden then fail? Am I being punished for the credit card scandal? Is this a karma-type retaliation? Whatever it is, I’ve learned my lesson. My missed opportunity has left a gaping hole in my heart.
We walk out of the building, Brooke’s arm around me, and I cry the entire ride home.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Betrayal
It’s been a week since the disastrous fiasco at the Rodeo Rage event. The tears may have stopped, but my heart still feels heavy. How is it possible that, not only was I in the same room as Aiden (forget about the other nineteen-hundred plus girls), but Brooke met Randy, Aiden’s brother! Then when he invited us to meet Aiden, I had to find out that he had a headache and left early?
Why, God? I sobbed into my pillow that night. Why?
It doesn’t help that the next several days are filled with one tragedy after another.
First, on Monday, Leslie and her little posse literally seek me out during lunch break. The smug look on her face is enough to make me want to punch her. Clearly Leslie Murphy knows all about my not-meeting-Aiden event.
“So, Miss Future-Aiden-Quinn’s wife,” she immediately begins taunting me. Obviously, she is monitoring my social media accounts. “Did he swoon and fall for you when you met him?�
�
The only thing worse than having your words quoted back to you is having Leslie Murphy do it.
I just glare at her.
Despite being a social media stalker, she either didn’t see or simply wasn’t impressed that I met Brent! Of course, I neglected to post online that I made weird monkey noises when I did meet him. Still, meeting Brent should count for something, shouldn’t it?
She starts to turn around, but pauses. With a flip of her hair, she leans forward and studies my face, totally invading my personal space. “You know, you’d be a lot prettier if you wore makeup,” she says, just loud enough for the people standing around me to hear.
They laugh.
I can’t hold back anymore. While I don’t punch her, I do shoot back the only zinger I can think of at this moment: “Yeah, well, at least I don’t need makeup to be pretty!” before I walk away and leave her standing in the cafeteria.
Things only got better from there. Not only did I not meet Aiden and was forced to listen to Leslie humiliate me, but on Wednesday, my mom discovered a strange charge on her credit card. The discussion comes up while I’m sitting on the sofa, watching television while doing my homework. It’s almost dinnertime and Marcus is in his usual spot, at the head of the table waiting to be served (as if he were some sort of king or something!). Of course, his standard mug of coffee is in front of him. On any given day of the week, I bet that man drinks twenty cups of coffee. It’s amazing he can sleep at night.
“Marcus, did you charge anything to my credit card?” she asks as she stands over the stove stirring a pot of chili.
Oh, no! Immediately, I look up and stare at her. Good thing she doesn’t notice, because I’m fairly certain that guilt is written all over my face.
“Of course not!”
I don’t know if it’s his weathered face or his deep voice with the heavy French accent, but he always sounds angry.
“A MG Talent Enterprises or something like that?” she asks again.
“I would nev-ah use your cah-rd,” he shoots back, this time definitely getting defensive. It isn’t as if she is accusing him; he just always seems ready for a surprise attack. Luckily, Mom knows how to handle him and merely frowns, shrugging her shoulders, then turns her attention back to dinner.
Phew! Dodged that bullet!
Now it’s Friday evening and we’re getting ready for dinner, and I get the feeling that something is missing. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s not a thing but a who.
“I thought Brooke was coming home tonight,” I say as I slide into my usual spot at the table. I always wonder why we sit in the same seats every night. It isn’t like my mom assigned me the spot next to her. I just always sit there, at least since Marcus became my stepfather. He, of course, gets to sit at the head of the table, a fact that grates on my nerves because, technically, it’s my mom’s house.
Alex walks behind me. I sense his presence before I feel him flick the back of my head. Even though we had that rare and unusual bonding moment over his stealth use of Mom’s credit card a few weeks ago, everything has returned back to normal: he’s still torturing me, and I’m still trying to get him in trouble.
“Ow!” I scream it loud enough so that my mom hears. “Mom!”
She sighs as she sets a potholder on the table and places a bowl of pasta in the center of the table. “Alex, please,” she says, her exasperation clearly evident in those two words. “Just for one night, okay?”
He sits opposite me, oblivious to the fact that he just got yelled at. I give him the meanest look I can muster, but it only makes him laugh out loud.
“And where’s Marcus?” I ask as Mom sits down next to me. We never eat without Marcus unless he’s not coming home.
“Marcus is meeting with the zoning officer at the other farm, and Brooke is at some event in New York. Radio Age tour or something like that.”
Radio Age tour? I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she just said. Radios? Why on earth would Brooke be interested in radios? Even more importantly, why would there be a tour about radios? Everyone knows that Spotify is the end-all music app. No one listens to radios anymore. “Radio Age tour?” I frown as I repeat the words. Clearly she has no idea what she’s talking about ... unless ...
My mouth falls open and I feel my heart skip a beat. It can’t be true, I tell myself. She would never betray me like this! Or would she?
Somehow, I muster the ability to form words into a cohesive sentence and ask, “Do you mean the Rodeo Rage Tour?” I cannot believe I manage to say the words with complete calm in my voice. Under the table, I clench my fist, my eyes staring directly at my mother. If I look at Alex and he smirks, I swear I will lunge across the table and stab him with my fork.
“That’s a horrible name for a concert,” Mom says as she reaches for the serving spoon. She starts to heap a mound of spaghetti onto my plate, but I cover my plate with my hands. “Cat? What’s wrong? You love spaghetti.”
I try to remain calm but I’m fuming inside. “Are you telling me that Brooke is at the Rodeo Rage Tour, Mom?”
She’s starting to look annoyed. “That’s what I said.”
I feel like she’s speaking a foreign language. It just can’t be possible. “The one in Lake Luzerne?” Just for clarification, I add, “Lake Luzerne, New York?”
Suddenly a lightbulb goes off in my brother’s head, because Alex bursts out laughing and leans across the table. “Oh, man, this is rich!” He points at me, his finger in my face, the grin on his face so wide that I think I can see his tonsils. “Ha ha ha! Brooke didn’t even tell you, Cat!”
The tears well up in my eyes. Two things are important to me at this moment. The first is that my brother cannot, absolutely CANNOT, see me cry. The second is that I have to figure out where to hide Brooke’s body when she comes home because, without a doubt, I’m going to kill her.
“Well,” Mom says, completely oblivious to the fact that she just ruined my life. “That doesn’t sound like a nice event. What is a rodeo rage anyway?”
Alex glows, his happiness is the yin to my misery. “I do believe that Aiden Quinn performs there.”
And there it is.
I should have known better. He never keeps his mouth shut. And he has me trapped. If I tell on him about having Mom’s credit card information, he’ll tell on me about the previous weekend and I’ll be in the hole for nine hundred dollars. Mom will absolutely ground me forever, take away my phone, and probably my laptop too. So I remain silent, glaring at him and wishing a meteor would just burst through the roof and fall onto his head. A small meteor.
Mom rolls her eyes as she takes a deep breath. “This Aiden Quinn thing again?” When she exhales, I know I’m in trouble. “Seriously, Cat, I thought we were over this ... this infatuation.”
Now she has gone too far. I slap my hands on the table and jump to my feet. “It’s not an infatuation! I’m going to marry him, Mom!”
Alex snickers but I just glare at him.
“Cat, you really need to calm down.”
“No!” I shout. “You don’t understand! This isn’t like your infatuation with that weird singer from Asia! You didn’t even have the Internet back then!”
She straightens her back and narrows her eyes as she glares at me. “John Wetton was not weird.”
“He was fat!”
“Cat!”
I shove the chair backwards and carry my empty plate to the cabinet, making sure to shove it back with a loud clang. “Aiden Quinn understands me! He gets me! And one day ...” I lift my finger into the air, knowing that the dramatic effect will help them get the point. “One day I will meet him and he will be mine!”
Mom doesn’t even blink; she just points to the doorway. “To your room, young lady. And don’t come down until you’re ready to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For being hysterical and completely ...”
I can see her searching for the word. She doesn’t want to say crazy, insane, fan
atical, or anything else that I can later use against her when I’m destined for therapy.
“Unreasonable!” she settles on, which, in my opinion, is not very effective. What’s the big deal about being unreasonable? What’s unreasonable is Brooke sneaking off to Rodeo Rage without me! She wouldn’t even have known about them if it wasn’t for me.
“Fine!” I stomp my feet as I head toward the stairs, hoping that the noise will express how angry I feel.
Upstairs, I slam my door shut, just in case the feet stomping didn’t drive my point home, and flop onto my bed. Betrayed. By my own sister. How could she do this to me?
I glance at the clock. It’s seven. Most likely the pre-show singers, the ones that don’t have followers and are hoping for their big break, are already performing. They usually aren’t very good, but, I remind myself, everyone has to start somewhere.
My phone vibrates.
Reaching out for it, I roll over and prop myself against the headboard of my bed, a pillow behind my back. I glance at the screen before swiping my finger and entering my super-secret passcode. It’s Jamie. And she’s FaceTiming me. Hmm, I think, that’s strange. Jamie never does FaceTime. Her parents scream about how it gobbles up their data plan.
“Hey, there.” I answer the video call, trying to sound as if I haven’t just learned that my sister totally betrayed me. How could she go there without me?
“You okay?”
Am I that transparent that she can see through me, even though we’re separated by smart phones, crappy connections, and FaceTime? “How’d you know?”
“I saw it online,” she says, a sad look on her face. “What’re you gonna do?”
That is the real question. “Never speak to her again. Spit on her toothbrush. I don’t know. I’m open for suggestions.”
Jamie kinda laughs, but she still has this odd look on her face. “Wow. I’m really impressed with how well you’re taking this, Cat. I thought you’d be freaking out!”
