Jane's Harmony (Jane's Melody #2)

by Ryan Winfield

  As an artist, he had always been interested in love. As a man, he had always been fearful of it. But when he thought of Jane, he knew what true love was, and he knew beyond any doubt that it had the power to see anything and everything through.

  When the FASTEN SEAT BELTS sign turned off, he stood and excused himself, and retrieved his pad and pen from his duffel in the overhead bin. Then he returned to his seat and settled in for the long flight. And when he finally heard the melody he was listening for, he opened to a blank page and began to write. Two voices composing in harmony, words that flowed straight from his heart. It was a song he had always wanted to write but had never had a reason or even the courage to start.

  Caleb set his guitar on the floor, tossed his bag on the bed, and looked around the room. Same hotel, same floor, but everything was different. A queen bed instead of two doubles. No dirty socks on the floor. No crazy roommate to possibly barge in. He considered jumping on the bed for a photo to send to Jane, but he didn’t feel up to it. He sent a text message instead to say that he had arrived and that he missed her.

  He decided to unpack this time, and as he opened his duffel and laid his clothes out on the bed, he found a package from Jane. A thin box with a piece of paper wrapped around it secured with a rubber band. He pulled the note off and saw that it was eyeliner. The note read: Just don’t let Jordyn borrow it!

  He took the eyeliner into the bathroom and practiced putting it on. It was more difficult than he might have guessed and by the time he gave it up, his eyes were red rimmed and watering and he looked like some crazy crying clown. He knew Sean would never let him live it down if he were there, and the thought made him miss his roommate. He pulled out his phone and composed a text to him.

  Back in Tinseltown, but not the same without you, dude. I hope you’re still making music and painting and raising hell and all that stuff. Don’t get lost in all those Iowa cornfields. And don’t have sex with any cows.

  Almost immediately after he sent it, there was a response.

  Dude, I’m pissed. Been watching the show and apparently you’ve been having a thing with Jordyn right under my nose. Ha-ha. JK. I know they’re full of shit. She only has eyes for me. You’re gonna kill it, man. I’m playing a coffee shop tonight. Love my life. :-)

  He was working on song lyrics later that evening when a knock came at the door. It was a production assistant with a welcome basket and instructions for the following day. As they spoke in the doorway, she kept staring at Caleb strangely. When he said good-bye and closed the door, he caught his reflection in the mirror and realized why. He went to the bathroom and washed his face, two passes with soap and water, until the eyeliner was gone. Then he settled in to eat the goodies from his welcome basket and watch some TV.

  Later, he tried to sleep. But it was two hours earlier, Austin time, and he had a lot on his mind. He tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling. There seemed to be tiny lights everywhere in the dark room. A red dot on the TV, the green glow of the alarm clock, a blinking LED on the wall smoke alarm. And they all seemed to be eyes staring at him from the dark—watching him, judging him, tormenting him.

  He sat up in the bed and reached for the phone, then called down to the front desk and asked if they had any electrical tape. The man spoke broken English and seemed to be confused. He said he could send up maintenance if there was an electrical problem. Caleb gave up and hung up, then pulled on his jeans and his shirt.

  He was halfway to the elevator when he saw her and stopped. She was sitting on the carpet next to a room door with her back against the wall. There were covered room service plates on the floor next to her, as if she had been banished to the hallway to eat her supper alone.

  “Hi, Panda. You all right?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes red, as if she’d been crying. “Oh, hi,” she said. “What’s up, Caleb?”

  “I couldn’t sleep so I’m heading to find some tape.”

  “Find some tape?”

  “Lights are bothering me,” he said. Then he nodded to the room service tray. “What are you doing out in the hall, having a little party?”

  She pointed a thumb at the door behind her. “My dad and stepmom are fighting.”

  “What about?”

  “Same thing they always fight about. Money.”

  “Oh. That sucks. I think there’s a vending machine down the hall. You want to get a soda or something?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she said, standing. “That sounds cool.”

  They walked down the hall to the nook with vending machines, and Caleb pulled bills from his pocket and fed them into the machine to buy them each a soda—she chose a Pepsi, he chose an Orange Crush—then they stood in the deserted hotel hallway and drank them. It was strangely quiet for so many people being so near. Like a hallway between worlds.

  “That caffeine’ll keep you up,” Caleb said.

  She looked at the can of Pepsi in her hand and shrugged. “I can sleep anywhere.”

  “You can?”

  “Yeah. I can even sleep standing up.”

  “I don’t believe you,” he said.

  She set her soda on the ground. Then she stood perfectly still and closed her eyes. Several seconds passed and nothing happened until she just tipped over. Caleb lurched to catch her with his free arm, balancing his soda in the other. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Then she started laughing.

  “You little sucker,” he said. “You got me.”

  She pulled herself upright, using his arm, then retrieved her Pepsi and stood beside him sipping on it. A minute passed before she looked at him again.

  “Do you really like Jordyn?”

  “You’ve been watching the shows, huh?”

  She nodded that she had.

  “No, I don’t like Jordyn. Not like they showed. They’re just doing that because it makes for interesting TV.”

  “Good,” she said. “Because she’s not right for you.”

  “She’s not?”

  She shook her head. “No way.”

  “Well, then, who is right for me?”

  She blushed and looked at her feet. “I dunno. Maybe someone more like me.”

  “Well, that’s very sweet,” Caleb replied. “And I think you’re right because I’m engaged to be married to an amazing woman, and in some ways you remind me of her.”

  She somehow managed to look happy yet defeated at the same time. They stood quietly for a few moments. Then a door opened down the hall and a man’s head popped out and looked around. He spotted them and called out in a hushed voice.

  “Amanda. You get back in here right now.”

  She looked up at Caleb and rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the soda.”

  “You bet,” he replied. “Thanks for the talk. It was just what I needed.”

  Her father watched as she trotted down the hall toward the room. But she stopped short of the door and turned back.

  “What’s her name?” she asked.

  “Her name’s Jane, and I hope you get to meet her.”

  She smiled. “I hope so too.”

  She disappeared into the room, and the father cast him a long look before pulling his head in and closing the door.

  Caleb stood in the quiet hall and finished his Orange Crush.

  Caleb woke to someone knocking on his room door.

  He sat up and looked around, but the room was pitch-black. He reached for the lamp and turned it on. Then he peeled the tape off the alarm clock and looked at the time.

  “Oh shit!”

  He pulled on his jeans and went to answer the door. The production assistant took one look at him and shook her head.

  “I overslept,” he said. “I’ll be right down. I promise.”

  “Fine,” she answered. “But don’t bother doing your makeup, there’s no time.”

  “V
ery cute,” he replied, closing the door.

  They were all down in the banquet-hall-turned-rehearsal-room, drinking coffee and snacking on fruit and baked goods from a continental spread on a table against the wall. He saw Panda and her parents. He saw the production assistant talking to members of the stage crew. He saw the other artists sitting together at a table, eating and chatting. And he saw Jordyn. She was standing by herself looking at her phone. He was torn between going to greet her and going to get something to eat. Each choice seemed equally awkward. He decided to get it over with, since they were going to be partners.

  “Counting all your fans?” he asked.

  Jordyn looked up at him. There was a moment when he couldn’t read her expression, an uncomfortable silence when he wished he’d gone for a bagel instead. But then she smiled and leaned in to hug him with her free arm.

  “Good morning, partner. I was actually just reading a Twitter thread about what a cute couple we make.”

  “Well, I’m glad I’m not on there to read that shit,” he said.

  “Oh yes, you are. I even tweeted at your handle last night, and you’ve already got three thousand followers.”

  “I don’t have a Twitter account.”

  “Yes, you do. You’ve got a Facebook page now too.”

  “This is bullshit, Jordyn. I didn’t give you permission to put me out on social media like some kind of stooge you can use to get more fans.”

  “Relax, Caleb. I didn’t do it. The producers made accounts for you. Read the paperwork. You gave them permission to manage your social media during the show. Don’t worry, though, you’ll get it back when it’s over.”

  “Well, I don’t want it.”

  “You might.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Hey, my album on iTunes has been selling like crazy since the first episodes aired. And now all my fans want to know about the hottie I fell in love with on the show.”

  Caleb looked at her for a moment—a cunning mind and a pretty face, a very dangerous combination.

  “I hope you didn’t have anything to do with the way they’re portraying us on TV, Jordyn, because I don’t know if I could forgive you if you did.”

  She shrugged his comment off. “I’m only playing around. I was as surprised as you were. But whatever gets us America’s votes. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “I’m sure,” he said, believing that part at least.

  Then her eyes lit up as she saw someone enter the room. She grabbed Caleb’s arm and spun him around. “I want you to meet someone, Caleb.”

  She was a fair-skinned and dark-haired girl about their age, maybe a little older, and she looked to be all business in a pencil skirt and white blouse. She wore black-rimmed glasses and carried an iPad and an enormous purse. Ignoring Caleb, she went straight into talking to Jordyn about downloads and post conversion rates. But Jordyn cut her off and turned to Caleb, who was standing at her side.

  “Caleb, meet Paige, my social media manager.”

  Paige opened her huge purse and dropped the iPad inside. When she looked up, she ignored Caleb and addressed Jordyn with something bordering on contempt in her voice.

  “Social media manager? Is that what I am now?”

  “Well, I had to give you a title.”

  “Nice to meet you, Paige. I’m Caleb.”

  Paige looked at his extended hand but didn’t move to shake it, saying instead, “Yeah, I know who you are.” Then she looked back to Jordyn. “I’ll be working in the room.”

  Caleb watched her walk away, her big bag bouncing as she strode toward the exit. “She’s friendly,” he said.

  “Don’t worry, you two will hit it off, I’m sure.”

  Caleb doubted that very much, but he didn’t bother saying so. He excused himself to go and get something to eat.

  “Will you grab me a scone, honey?” Jordyn called after him. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us and I need my energy.”

  The bus took them to the same studio lot as before. The exterior looked unchanged, but inside everything was different. Bigger, better, flashier. There were more lights and more backdrops and more seats for a larger audience. There was even a phony red-carpet staging area, complete with fake paparazzi snapping their photos as they entered.

  They were led to a fitting room, where stylists began working on each of them for the shoot. Caleb’s stylist liked his jeans and his boots but picked out a different shirt for him and made him lose the leather cuff.

  “We want you more American Bandstand and less Back to the Future for this shoot,” the stylist said, standing back and looking at Caleb. “Besides, the eighties are so over.”

  “I like the eighties,” Caleb replied.

  The stylist pretended to bite his fist, saying, “I can tell.”

  When they had all had a turn in the makeup chair, they were herded onstage for a photo shoot. The photographer was mounted on a platform at the end of a large boom, suspended out above the stage, and he barked down directions to his lighting crew from behind his enormous camera lens like some kind of crazed, one-eyed photography god riding on a cloud.

  When they took a break to adjust the lights, Caleb looked at his competition. Panda, the shy punk rock flower child who seemed to surprise even herself with her talent each time she sang. Jasmine, an African-American woman with a voice that could bring down the house and a smile that could put it back together again. Carrie Ann, who was as country as they came, her blond hair curled just so, her skirt cut just above her knees, her boots covered in rhinestones and glitter. And Erica, the young, sad-eyed folk artist who looked to Caleb like every Sunday afternoon singer he’d ever seen in Seattle coffeehouses, her hair a little messy, her posture slightly slouched as if her natural position were cradling a guitar.

  And then there was Jordyn. Jordyn and him. The indie rock couple, he presumed. The edgy artists filled with angst who sang about heartbreak and love. The mix was almost too perfect, as if they had each been handpicked by a casting director to play a part. And Caleb guessed that in a way, each of them had. He wondered if they already knew who would win, if the whole thing was rigged, or if at least the live show would be real.

  A production assistant stepped in front of him and Jordyn and looked them over. Then she reached down and put their hands together, stepped back, and looked at them again.

  “That’s much better,” she said.

  Caleb dropped Jordyn’s hand.

  “She won’t bite you. Just hold hands long enough for a few shots, okay? Since you two are one act.”

  Caleb relented and took Jordyn’s hand again. Then he thought about the photo, about where it might be printed or shown on TV, and that made him think of Jane seeing it. She had said she didn’t care. And maybe she didn’t. But he did.

  The photographer called for everyone to smile, but just before he took his first shot, Caleb pulled his hand away.

  Caleb waited for Jordyn in the hotel rehearsal room but she didn’t come. When he finally went up to her room, he heard arguing inside and decided not to knock. He was walking away when the door opened and Paige rushed out and stormed past him toward the elevators. Jordyn was standing in the open doorway, and Caleb couldn’t decide if she looked more furious or more frightened as she watched Paige leave. Then Jordyn noticed him and her disposition completely changed, softening into her usual easy charm.

  “Hello, Caleb. I didn’t see you there. Do you mind if we rehearse in my room? I don’t feel like facing cameras today.”

  Caleb paused and looked back toward the elevator. Paige scowled at him as the door slid shut. He turned to Jordyn.

  “I left my guitar in the rehearsal room.”

  “That’s fine,” she said. “I have plenty. Come on in.”

  It looked like a bomb had gone off inside her room. Clothes and costumes hanging everywhere, cosmetic
s taking up every inch of the dresser top, tangles of power strips and computer cords hanging from the laptops and phones that were set up on the small desk, and two acoustic guitars and one electric on stands against the wall next to a keyboard.

  She handed him a guitar.

  “There isn’t anywhere to sit,” Caleb said.

  “Sure there is,” she replied, taking up her guitar from its stand and sitting on the bed. Then she reached over and picked up the clothes off of the bed next to her and flung them away.

  “You’re not going to play standing up, are you?”

  Caleb sat next to her and the soft hotel mattress sank beneath his weight, and she exaggerated its effect and leaned in to him and laughed. He ignored her and lifted his guitar into place but quickly realized that the way they were sitting wouldn’t work. His guitar was hitting hers, so he flipped it the other way.

  “You grew up poor, didn’t you?”

  “That’s an awfully odd thing to ask,” he said. “Rude too.”

  “Maybe. But who plays a guitar that way?”

  “Yeah, so what? I’m left-handed. I play both.”

  “But who taught you to play upside down?”

  “I learned myself.”

  “By ear and wrong side up on a right-handed guitar?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “Wow,” she said, appearing impressed. “I have southpaw friends, but their parents bought them left-handed guitars.”

  “Maybe they’re all left-handed guitars,” he said. “Did you ever consider that you’re the one playing upside down?”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “You know what, Caleb? You make me smile.”

  Jordyn held his stare for several quiet seconds, and he thought he saw something hidden there in her eyes, something she wanted to confess. But then she softly shook her head and took her hand away and began to play. He joined in and they sang their lines back and forth to each other, first him, then her. She played on for several bars after Caleb had quit. She seemed to be lost in the song. When he didn’t come in with her for the chorus, she stopped playing and opened her eyes.