Frustrated, I took three long steps across the room and snatched the photograph off the table beside Bo’s chair. The move took him by surprise; it angered him. Dropping his bottle, he tried to snatch it back. But I held it out of his reach. I looked at it, I studied it. Boy, did I scan it inch by inch.
Finally, I saw something odd.
Cynthia had always been somewhat of a distant person. She was smart and extremely organized. She’d worked full-time as an accountant in Balen—she actually made more money than Bo—and still managed to keep a tidy home. She wasn’t greedy; she splurged on her daughter. Whatever Janet wanted her mom bought her. No one would have said the woman was cold. At the same time, no one would have said she was overly affectionate.
Cynthia was definitely not the type to smother her daughter in kisses, not like Janet’s dad. That’s why it hadn’t surprised me when I’d first looked at the picture that it was Bo who had his arm wrapped around Janet’s waist, while her mother had an arm on Bo’s shoulder but wasn’t touching Janet. Nothing about the positioning was unusual, at least given my memories of Cynthia.
But what was strange was the hint of uneasiness in Janet’s expression. She was smiling for the camera; her bright teeth sparkled in the old-fashioned flash. Yet there was a darkness in her eyes, a tension buried in her body, that told me she disliked her father holding her. Going more by my gut than my eyesight, it almost looked as if she was trying to pull away from him even as he struggled to pull her closer.
In that instant a thousand pieces of a puzzle I hadn’t known existed fit together in my mind and I understood everything.
Why Janet had left Bo when her mother had left.
Why, to this day, Janet jumped at every excuse to leave home.
Why Janet was uncomfortable accepting a car from Bo.
Why Bo was no longer affectionate with Janet.
Why Janet never went out on dates.
Why Janet had spoken to Aja and then fled to New York.
And why Janet was so desperate to find peace of mind.
I dropped the photograph, hearing the glass frame shatter on the wooden floor, and cocked my fist back. All I could think about was breaking every bone in his face.
“You bastard!” I swore. “You molested her!”
“No! I never touched her!”
“Liar!”
“It was nothing!”
I reached out and grabbed him by the throat, yanked him to his feet. “You filthy sonofabitch!” I yelled. “Admit it!”
“No!” he moaned, choking under the pressure of my clenched fingers.
“Admit it or I’ll break your goddamn neck!”
His face began to turn blue. “I can’t . . . Fred, I can’t breathe.”
I released him but didn’t back away. “The truth! Tell me the truth!”
He gasped for breath as tears streamed down his face.
“It was a long time ago! I made a mistake! I didn’t mean to hurt her! I love her!” His head dropped as sobs shook his body. “I’m sorry!”
I left the house. I made myself leave.
I was afraid if I stayed I would have killed him.
• • •
When I reached Aja’s house she told me she had good news. She said Mr. Richard Gratter from Paradise Records had called and wanted to fly me out to LA to meet with him Wednesday morning. I was horrified.
“That’s two days from now,” I said, my heart still pounding from my encounter with Bo. “I’m not done fixing my demo. I can’t go.”
“The demo doesn’t matter. They’re flying you out to LA to hear you sing. That’s what Aunt Clara set up for you. A live audition.” She paused. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re breathing rapidly.”
“I’m fine.” Like I was going to spoil her happy mood by telling her I’d almost just killed a man I’d looked up to my whole life. I spoke quickly to hide what I was really feeling. “A personal audition doesn’t make sense. These guys are professionals. They see a hundred guys like me a week. I’m a nobody.”
“You must be somebody. They’ve seen Casey Morall’s recording of you and Half Life playing at the Roadhouse. They told me you have what it takes to front a band.”
“You really talked to them?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s nonsense. Casey only posted the part where you stopped the riot and healed the soldier Mike hit on the head.”
“You forget. Casey showed you singing for at least a minute before the riot started.”
“Oh, wow. One whole minute,” I said.
“A star is born in a second.” She smiled as she put her palm on my chest. “You’re excited, admit it.”
“A part of me’s excited. A bigger part of me is scared shitless.” I stopped and shook my head. “This isn’t the time to try to score a record deal. Too much is going on. There’s a lot we have to talk about. Tonight’s meeting. The reason Janet flew to New York. I’m worried—”
“Shh,” Aja interrupted, kissing me briefly with her incredible lips. “Forget all that. Tomorrow we’re flying to LA. We’ll stay overnight in a big hotel with a big hot tub and order room service. The next day you’ll meet with the record company and knock their socks off.” She kissed me again. “You’ve dreamed about this all your life. Now it’s time to live your dream.”
The very idea of chasing after a fantasy when I knew Janet was struggling and needed my help should have stopped me cold. Somehow, though, holding Aja in my arms, I no longer felt a compulsion to fix the situation. A peace settled over me as she hugged me. We had our clothes on. We were not making love. Yet I felt so close to her right then I could have been inside her. A gentle voice seemed to speak inside my head.
The world will turn just fine without your help.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE TRIP TO LA was difficult. After checking plane reservations, we realized the best route was to take Sioux Falls to Denver to LAX. A pity Sioux Falls was a four-hour drive from Elder. And with the security measures in place, which demanded we get to the airport two hours before our flight, we ended up leaving Elder at three in the morning. Aja didn’t mind. While I drove, she slept the whole way across half the state.
Our layover in Denver was three hours. I was exhausted by the time we got to LA. But Sleeping Beauty was full of energy. After we checked into the Century Plaza, the hotel Paradise Records had booked for us, Aja wanted to go to Disneyland.
“The sun sets in two hours,” I said after calling my parents to tell them that we had arrived safely. They already knew about the audition and were beyond excited. I continued. “We can go tomorrow, after the meeting with Richard Gratter. If you want.”
Aja was walking around our two-room suite, checking out all the nice touches. She’d already eaten the heart-shaped chocolates the maids had left on our pillows and raided the minibar for a ginger ale.
“I want what you want,” she said.
“Gimme a break. You may have the Big Person in your head but I think I know you pretty well by now. You have your likes and dislikes like everyone else.”
Aja stopped to stare at me. “I like what you like. That’s it.”
“Are you saying you honestly don’t have any personal desires?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not true. Those chocolates you just ate—you liked them.”
“I did. They were wonderful.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That I enjoy everything.”
“Every minute of every day?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“But you’re with me. You chose to be with me. Surely you must get at least a little extra pleasure being with me than, say, Mike or Dale.”
“I love being with you. I love you.”
She had never told me that before. It was silly how much the three little words meant to me. Or maybe it wasn’t so silly. Every poet, every songwriter in history, was forever trying to convey how magi
cal those words could be. I shouldn’t have been surprised when my heart beat faster.
But I was surprised I’d never said the words to her.
“I love you,” I said.
She smiled. “That makes me happy.”
I should have quit while I was ahead.
“But my question remains—do I make you happier than you usually are?”
Aja shook her head. “I can’t answer that question. It has no meaning to me. I . . .” She struggled for words. “There is no Aja. How can there be when I don’t have an ‘I’?”
“You have no individuality at all?”
“Not as you understand it.”
“But you’ve said that at certain times, like when you healed Mike, you acted as an individual. That’s why you got sick.”
“For moments, especially when I’m with you, I’m not just the Big Person. But even if a glimpse of what it means to be ‘Fred’s girlfriend’ comes, the Big Person still dominates.” She stopped. “I’m sorry. I’ve upset you.”
“No,” I lied. She loved me, great, but she didn’t exist, not as a human being. How was I supposed to take that? “It’s just hard to imagine what it’s like being you. Can you describe your moment-to-moment state? In a way a Little Person like me can understand?”
She considered before switching to a wicked smile. She pointed to the suite’s bathtub. It wasn’t technically a Jacuzzi but it was big enough to fit several couples and it had water jets.
“Later,” she said. “I’m having one of those ‘Fred’s girlfriend’ moments. Let’s take advantage of it.”
• • •
Hours later, after we’d made love, ordered room service, eaten more than our fill, we lay in bed watching a movie neither of us cared about. It was then my cell rang. It was Janet; I wasn’t surprised. I’d called earlier and left a message on her voice mail: “I know what Bo did.”
“So Aja couldn’t keep her mouth shut,” Janet said. “I should have known she’d talk.”
“Aja never said a word. I figured it out on my own.”
“Right. After all these years you suddenly had a flash of inspiration.”
“Talk to Bo if you don’t believe me.”
Janet snickered. “That ain’t going to happen.”
I sat up in bed, Aja watching me.
“Are you saying you’re not coming back?” I asked.
Janet was a long time answering. “I can’t.”
“That’s crazy. You’ve got to finish out the school year. You can stay at my house. My parents would love to have you.”
Again, she took forever to respond. “No. Then everyone would know. And that’s the last thing . . .” She struggled to speak. “I hate that you know. I hate how you must see me now.”
“Janet, you did nothing wrong.”
“Didn’t I?”
“Janet . . .”
“I have to go. I’ll call you.”
“Wait!”
She hung up. Feeling sad, I tossed my cell aside. “I know you have a strict privacy policy when it comes to those who come to you for help. But since I already know what’s hurting Janet I was wondering if we could talk about it.”
Aja took my hand. “You feel for her.”
“What I feel like is a fool. That Bo sexually molested her and I didn’t know. Especially when all the signs were right in front of me.”
“It happened when she was young.”
I felt awkward. “Do you know exactly what happened?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you or do you . . . just know?”
“I just know.”
I shook my head. “Damn that Bo. Walking around like he’s the greatest dad in the world. Like nothing in the world means more to him than his daughter. I can’t believe I fell for his act.”
“It wasn’t an act. He loves her.”
“How can you say that? Do you know what that kind of abuse can do? It can wreck a person for life.” I stopped. “I feel like killing him. I’m not joking—I’ve been thinking about it. Sneaking into his house at night, knocking him out, driving him out to the country, burying him alive. Pretty sick, huh?”
“You’re not a violent person.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.”
“Hurting Bo won’t help Janet.”
I looked at her. “Can you help her?”
“Not now.”
“Why not?”
“She doesn’t want my help.”
“I thought that’s why she spoke to you about her father.”
“It was.”
“Oh, I get it. Janet was too proud to ask for your help. That’s no surprise.”
“No. She asked.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Aja squeezed my hand. “Words cannot heal Janet.”
“Can the Big Person?”
Naturally, I waited for Aja to say yes. Hadn’t she told us again and again the Big Person could do anything? But she remained silent.
• • •
Paradise Records sent a limo to pick us up. Their headquarters were in Beverly Hills, fifteen minutes from the hotel. A pretty blonde met us at the entrance and escorted us to Richard Gratter’s office—a corner suite with floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a clear day and we could see the ocean.
The boss kept us waiting. But he sent along two VPs to keep us from bolting: Marc Kroff, who was in charge of marketing; and Jimmy Hurt, who focused on finding new talent. Jimmy told me at the start he’d loved my demo and the footage of Half Life playing at the Roadhouse.
“The sound quality wasn’t very good on the video,” I said.
“Who gives a damn about that?” Jimmy said. “You had the audience eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“Thanks. Our band is pretty tight.”
“Your band is okay and they’ll always be only okay,” Marc said. “It’s important you understand that up front. You have the voice, you have the looks. And it’s our understanding you write all the original material you play?”
So much for Paradise signing the whole band.
“That’s true.” I fiddled nervously with the jump drive in my hands. “I brought a new demo. I improved the first three songs and added a fourth.”
“Save it for when Richard gets here,” Jimmy said.
“Did he hear the original demo?” I asked lamely.
Marc smiled. “I can say yes if that will help you relax.”
Richard—Mr. Gratter—walked in half an hour later. Because he’d been close to Clara and her husband, I’d assumed he’d be old. But he appeared to be an incredibly fit fifty. His brown hair was long and stringy with streaks of gray. He wore his shirt open to show off his Hollywood tan; it looked like he’d gotten it during a partial eclipse. He had a friendly smile but his gray eyes were as cold as coins. He said all the right things but I could tell he was a bottom-line kind of guy. If I signed a deal with his company and didn’t make money on my first record there wouldn’t be a second one.
“I hear you have a demo,” Richard said finally, settling into a seat behind a huge desk. “How long is it?”
I stood and handed it over. “Sixteen minutes, four songs. The last one might be the strongest.”
“Why didn’t you put it first?” Jimmy asked.
“Because I’m from South Dakota,” I said.
The three of them thought that was funny and laughed. Richard slipped the jump drive into his computer and turned up the volume. The demo started with “Rose,” which had always been a favorite with our audiences. It was a basic love song about a guy who’s getting rejected. As it played, none of the executives looked too impressed.
The next two numbers were rock ballads. They started with me on acoustic guitar before the drums and electric guitars upped the amps. By the time song number three was done I knew I was finished. Richard was staring out the window and Jimmy and Marc were looking anywhere but at me. It didn’t matter if the
two VPs liked the demo. If their boss didn’t, I was out the door. The only ammunition I had left was “Strange Girl.” I closed my eyes as it started to play. I felt sick to my stomach.
Strange girl
Where did you come from?
Where have you been?
Strange one
You’re so full of secrets
I can’t see within
Strange girl
You move so softly
Across the stage
My eyes can’t leave you
I’m hiding backstage
You’re a closed book
I can’t read a page
Strange girl
Where did you come from?
Where have you been?
Strange one
You’re so full of secrets
I can’t see within
Girl, it’s okay
If I can’t solve your riddle
As long as you stay
My heart feels troubled
You’re slipping away
Strange girl
I’m just your lover
Who’ll never discover
What you keep covered
Hidden inside . . .
The song ended and the room was silent. Aja nudged me and I opened my eyes. Jimmy and Marc were smiling. Richard was still staring at the sea but slowly he turned his chair in my direction and I saw he was laughing.
“Shit! That was brilliant,” Richard said.
I shrugged. “I like to think so.”
Richard leaped from his chair. He began to pace. “I want to get that song out before Christmas season. I can put you with a young producer Jimmy found. The guy’s a genius—he’ll get what you’re doing. Name’s—what’s his name?”
“Ralph Varanda,” Jimmy said.
“Yeah, Ralph,” Richard said. “He’ll rework your song a million different ways but don’t let that scare you. The guy’s obsessed with having tons of shit to mix. It’s just a process he goes through.” He paused. “You got an agent? A lawyer?”
“No.” I patted Aja’s arm. “But I’ve got a cool girlfriend.”
Richard liked that. For the first time he checked Aja out. “I bet you’re the one who inspired that song.”
Aja smiled but didn’t reply.
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