Spin

by Colleen Nelson

  “I toured with Georgia. I was her sax man and a whole lot more.” I gave him a knowing wink. His eyes got round and he fell back against the wall, clutching his chest.

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “I am not. Hand to God.”

  He stared at me. “Whooo, I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe this,” I said and pulled the ticket out of my pocket, didn’t even think about it. “See here, Georgia Waters.”

  Leroy’s eyes flickered to me, to the ticket, and back to me. It was like the ticket had been a lead weight sitting in that pocket. Soon as I pulled it out, the weight was lifted. I didn’t need it, and Dizzy sure as hell didn’t need it. Going to the concert would only lead to more bitterness, maybe worse. I’d tried to put all the hurt behind us. And that was where it needed to stay.

  “Now listen. Some things came up and I can’t make it to her show anymore. It’s on Friday.” He nodded his head. “I wanted to give it to someone who’s a real fan. Someone who’ll appreciate it.” I held it out to him. “That’s you, Leroy.” It was real good of Barney to help Dizzy out, but he’d understand what I was doing and why.

  Leroy’s face got this look on it, like I was the second coming of Christ or something. Tears welled up in his eyes and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish. No words came out. “Go on, take it, Leroy.” He shook his head. “Yeah, you can. If you don’t, it’s going to waste. I can’t go.”

  “I can’t let her see me like this,” he muttered. “I need to get ready.” He looked at his space, the layers of blankets and the garbage bag full of his belongings.

  “You’ve got time. The concert’s not for a couple of days.”

  “I’ve got time,” he repeated.

  “Yeah, man. Lots of time.” I was still holding the ticket out for him. “What do you say? You gonna take it off my hands, or what?”

  He reached out his grubby fingers and took it. He held it close to his face and scanned the name, then brought it to his lips, closed his eyes, and gave it a kiss. I stood up; my knees cracked after crouching for so long. “Have a good time,” I said.

  “You are all right, Music Man. Better than all right!”

  “Yeah, thanks, man.” I raised my hand in a wave. “Oh, almost forgot.” Pulled out the cash people had dropped in my case, must have been almost sixty dollars, and stuffed it in his coffee can. “Little pocket money for you.”

  I whistled as I left the station. It was dark now and the wind had died down. Or maybe it had changed directions; the cold didn’t get to me the way it had before. Everything felt different as I walked back to the store. I felt different, freer, somehow, like Georgia’s grip on me had loosened.

  - 33 -

  Lou

  The Basement, a university hangout, was packed with people any night of the week. Dim lighting, loud music, and cheap beer made it the go-to place. I knew it wasn’t Olivia’s scene, but one of the store’s regulars was in the band playing tonight. I’d been meaning to check him out, but I could tell Olivia was uncomfortable. She twisted the bangle on her wrist nervously, as I yelled in her ear, asking her what she wanted to drink. “Just a Diet Coke,” she shouted back, her nose accidentally bumping into my cheek.

  I’d been waiting a few minutes in line at the bar when Jeremy came in. I waved at him and he walked over to where I was standing. “You want something?” I asked.

  “Where’s Olivia?” Jeremy asked. He scanned the crowd.

  “Over there.” I pointed to the table we’d snagged. One of the tall ones with stools.

  “The blonde?”

  “Yeah.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “She’s cute.”

  “Why do you sound surprised?” I asked with a laugh. She was on her phone, and I felt guilty for being gone so long. She’d never been here before and probably would have been happier to meet in a coffee shop than a bar to listen to a band. “You mind getting a Diet Coke and a beer for me?” I asked and stuffed a bill in his hand. “I’m going to sit down.” I moved through the crowd toward our table, glad we’d gotten there early. I slid onto the stool and grinned at Olivia. “Jeremy’s here. He’s getting the drinks.” Olivia put her phone away, but she had one of those faces that showed everything she was feeling, so I knew something was bothering her. “Everything okay?”

  “My mom,” she said with a sigh. “I told her I applied to Waverley.”

  I waited for her to tell me more, angling my stool closer to her so she wouldn’t have to shout. I put my ear right beside her. Strands of her hair brushed against my cheek. I knew I was supposed to be paying attention to what she was saying, but all I could concentrate on was how close I was to her and how easy it would be to kiss her.

  “She just texted to tell me she doesn’t know why I’m wasting my time. And that if I did get in, how would I pay for it?”

  I pulled back to look at her. “She texted all that to you?”

  Olivia nodded. “Yeah and more.” She leaned toward me again.

  I hadn’t met Olivia’s mom yet and I didn’t really want to. She sounded bitter. A dream crusher.

  “I don’t know why I told her. I must be masochistic or something. I keep hoping she’ll be different, like one day, she’ll become someone else. Someone supportive.”

  I squeezed her shoulders, wishing that some of how much I believed in her could seep into her. “Who cares what she thinks? I know you can do it.”

  A glass of pop and two beers clinked down on the table in front of us.

  “Hey!” Jeremy said and stuck his hand out to Olivia.

  “Olivia.” She smiled at him, but her mind was elsewhere, thinking about her mom, probably.

  “Did you hear Dizzy’s song?” Jeremy asked. “Erika played it. She was guest hosting on the radio.”

  I looked at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “She sent you a text. About an hour ago.”

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket. A text, filled with lots of exclamation points, had come from her. “Which song was it?”

  “Miss Georgia,” Jeremy said.

  I groaned. So much for keeping her music quiet. Dad would lose it if he found out the song had been played. What if Georgia’s people heard it? I pushed those thoughts away. The chances of someone from her camp listening to the radio at the exact moment the song came on and then putting it together that it was an old recording of Georgia’s and then figuring out it was her abandoned daughter who had created it were slim. It sounded like a crazy soap opera plot.

  “She must have been so excited!” Olivia said, oblivious to the potential maelstrom that Dizzy’s song could have on us.

  Jeremy took a sip of his beer and grinned. “Yeah, she was pretty pumped. Crazy, having her song played like that.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

  I was proud of Dizzy for going after what she wanted. It was who she was. A guy sidled up to Jeremy and pulled him away from our conversation. The band was taking the stage. “See that guy on the bass?” I pointed him out to her. “He’s the one I know from the store.” She looked at me and smiled.

  “You don’t have to babysit me,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “But, I would like to meet your sister.”

  “Okay,” I said with a laugh. “I can’t wait to see her face when I tell her I have a girlfriend.”

  Olivia grinned and traced a finger down the curve of her glass of Coke. “Am I your girlfriend?”

  How surreal to have this conversation in a bar, with a hundred sweaty bodies pressed around us. I thought it would be different. Quieter.

  “I hope so,” I whispered in her ear. Our eyes met and I got that melting feeling again. A little voice in my head also said, Oh shit. You are done for. I took her hand, the one that was on the glass, and brought it to my lips and kissed it. The lights went dark, and even though there were lots of people around, it may as well have been just me and Olivia.

  Dizzy was at the turntables when I came home.
“Hey,” I said, hanging up my jacket and stamping the cold out of my feet. “Congrats —” But she held up her finger to indicate that she needed a minute. Bobbing to the beat of whatever song was spinning into her headphones, I walked closer and waited until she was done. With a flourish, she gave the record a final spin. Clicking a few keys on her computer, the song was saved.

  “Did you hear it? Where were you?” she asked, glancing at the time on her phone.

  “At a show.” My ears had been ringing from the noise when we’d left. Olivia and I were probably shouting at each other on our way to the subway. Now, I just had the buzz of seeing a good band and of officially having Olivia as my girlfriend. “Jer said it sounded great. Amazing was his exact word. I can’t believe Erika played it.”

  She gave a gleeful grin. “I know! My Mixcloud numbers doubled.” I wanted to remind her that she wasn’t supposed to be putting music with Georgia’s voice out into the soundscape, but she looked so pleased with herself, I didn’t have the heart. Let her enjoy the moment for a day or so, I thought. As soon as Dad figured out what was going on, everything would come crashing down anyway.

  “What’s that?” I asked, noticing a photo half-hidden by the turntable. I leaned forward to get a better look. It was cracked a little across the top and the photo quality was poor, sort of grainy. It took one glance to recognize the woman was Georgia. I guessed from the pink sleeper and fuzzy cap of red hair that the baby was Dizzy. “Where’d you get that?”

  She made no move to hide it. “Dad gave it to me. There’s this one, too.” It was me, Dad, and Georgia. I’d never seen the photo before.

  “Dad looks so young.” Georgia looked the same, though. She was pregnant with Dizzy, so I must have been about three. I tossed the photo back on the table.

  “Don’t you feel anything when you look at her?”

  “No.”

  She frowned.

  “Do you?”

  “I asked Barney for a ticket,” she said. “But he hasn’t gotten back to me.”

  With an exhalation, I pulled up a stool. “You’re not giving up on this, are you?” Dizzy looked at me hopefully. “Dizz,” I said as gently as I could. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. “She’s not coming.”

  “Why do you think that? You don’t know. She came the last time.”

  “Only so Dad would sign those papers.”

  She set her mouth in an angry scowl. “Why do you and Dad think the worst of her? Maybe she does want to see us. What if someone forced her to sign that contract?”

  I shook my head. “She hasn’t tried to get in touch with us all this time. It’s not going to happen now —”

  “I’m not giving up on her,” she interrupted.

  There was nothing I could say, so I gave her a “suit yourself” shrug and stood up. Guess she had to learn this lesson the hard way.

  - 34 -

  Dizzy

  The day after my song had been played on the radio, my phone was still blowing up with congratulatory messages. But so far I hadn’t gotten anything from Barney, the person I most wanted to hear from.

  I waited under the overhang of the store’s awning for Maya. The dreary, grey sky matched my mood. From down the street, her distinctive Muppet coat made its appearance. “Hey,” she called out, breathless and wearing the most impractical wedge boots. I had no idea how she could walk in them. I looked down at my Cons, which were actually an old pair of Lou’s. A small hole had formed on one side. “I have news.” She gripped my sleeves and gave me an intense stare.

  “Good or bad?” I asked, not sure I could take any more bad.

  “Good!” she answered emphatically. “We’re going to go to Georgia Waters.”

  I gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re going!” she squealed. “Me and you!”

  “Maya,” I said warningly. “Don’t joke about this.” It was Thursday and I’d pretty much given up on going.

  “I’m not. My grounding is over tomorrow, so I told Mom I’d babysit for her on Saturday if she let me sleep over at your place. That’s step one. Step two is to buy the tickets online, and step three is to go into the city, probably by bus because it’s the cheapest, but we could also call a cab or Uber.”

  “Maya, that’s not a plan! I already told you, tickets cost a fortune. There’s no way we can afford them.”

  “That’s what I thought until I did a little internet sleuthing.” She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Do you remember the Thierry Mugler blazer I found at a flea market last year? The black one?”

  I didn’t, but I nodded anyway.

  “I can get two hundred and fifty dollars for it on consignment at Vintage Village. And this coat?” She fingered the Muppet. “Another three hundred, easy. Plus, there are those gold lamé shoes that I’ve never worn. They’re from the forties, so they’re worth something.” She looked at me like all our problems were solved.

  “But —” I stammered an argument. Maya loved her clothes. She felt about them the same way some people adore their pets. Each item was special to her. For her, deciding what to wear in the morning was an event, unlike me, who threw on whatever wasn’t dirty.

  “They’re just clothes,” Maya said, but I heard the hesitation in her voice. “Seeing your mom is a big deal. When I heard your song on the radio, ‘Miss Georgia’ …” She shook her head. “Oh my god, Dizzy! It was amazing! I had tears in my eyes. It just made everything else going on, like that contract, seem so stupid. You need to see her. As much as my mom drives me crazy, I don’t know what I’d do without her. You deserve to know who your mom is, even if it’s surrounded by twenty thousand people.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  Maya gave a firm nod of her head. “Positive. We’ll go to Vintage Village after school today and see how much we can get. Hopefully, it’ll buy us two tickets.”

  “This might actually work,” I muttered as we started walking to school.

  Maya shopped at Vintage Village often enough that Debbie, the owner, knew her by name. As soon as we walked in with a bag full of Maya’s treasures, Debbie came over. I watched as Maya took a deep breath and pulled out the Muppet coat and lay it on the counter. Under the glass were rhinestone earrings and gaudy necklaces with golf-ball-sized baubles on them. All the Vintage Villageness of the store was a lot to take in at once. It was only someone with style, like Maya, who could pick pieces and make them work.

  “DVF,” she said and pointed to the tag. “Original buttons, no rips or tears.”

  Debbie fingered the fur pile lovingly, narrowing her eyes as she inspected the cuffs and hem. I’d seen Maya do the same thing when she was shopping.

  “I’ve also got this.” Maya pulled out the blazer. Debbie gave a sharp intake of breath.

  “Mugler?”

  “Yes. Size two.” Maya pushed it toward Debbie, carefully folding one sleeve across the body.

  “Finally, there’s these. Size seven and purchased from the original owner’s daughter at the flea market. Circa 1940s.” The gold lamé shoes had little bows on the top and a curvy heel. They looked like golden versions of Dorothy’s ruby slippers. I’d never seen Maya wear them, but I knew they were one of her favourite finds. Bought for ten dollars, she knew they’d be worth ten times that amount online or at Vintage Village.

  Debbie practically rubbed her hands together in glee. “Are these consignment pieces?”

  Maya’s eyes flickered to me, but I shrugged. I couldn’t give her advice on what to do; the clothes were hers. “How much will you give if I sell them to you?”

  “For the coat, blazer, and shoes” — she blinked a few times, thinking — “four hundred dollars.”

  For a bunch of old clothes? I wanted to ask, but I kept quiet. Maya’s closet was a gold mine! “Five hundred,” I piped up, surprising myself. If Maya was going to sacrifice her most beloved possessions for me, the least I could do was get her as much as possible.

  “Four twenty-five.”
r />   “Five hundred.”

  Debbie gave a disgruntled sigh. “Four fifty.”

  I nodded at Maya. “Sold!”

  Debbie swept the clothes off the counter and grabbed hangers off a rack for them. “If you have anything else you want to bring in, please do. You have excellent taste.”

  Maya blushed with pride. I walked around the store while Debbie sent Maya an etransfer. Some of the prices shocked me, and I knew that Maya’s pieces would be on display by the end of the day with a price tag double what Maya had been paid. My heart lurched for her. “Never again will I complain when you ask me to go shopping with you,” I swore as we left the store.

  “Step two, complete!” Maya grinned triumphantly and buttoned up the navy peacoat she’d dug up from her closet. It looked very un-Maya compared to the Muppet coat, and I swallowed back a lump of guilt. Please, please make this concert worth it, I prayed.

  - 35 -

  Lou

  The podcast of the show was cued up on my phone. The little ticking bar was still at the beginning, just before Dizzy’s song came on. I leaned back on the couch in Dad’s office. I wished Olivia were here with me, soaking up what it meant to be a Doucette. She knew everything now. All about who I was. I think she knew how much it mattered that I’d told her, too.

  I was nowhere near as mature as Dizzy when I was fifteen. Even on her worst days, she still had more on the ball than I did at her age. I mean, she still wore pyjama pants with unicorns on them, but to be her age and get a song played on the radio. Man! That was something. I wondered if Georgia was like that, too. Dad had said she was a go-getter. Was she smart, too? Confident like Dizzy?

  I turned the volume up when Erika introduced Dizzy’s song, holding the earbuds in tight. I hadn’t known she’d given the song a title until Erika said it. “Miss Georgia.” “Clever,” I muttered, thinking how miss meant two things. Would Georgia ever hear it? Probably not. Dizzy wanted her to. In her head, the song was like a bridge, closing the gap between us. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it wouldn’t work. The chasm was too deep. Georgia had had ten years to close it and one song wasn’t going to do it.