“Yeah, I hope that doesn’t make him too mad.”
“Well, you know what? I kinda hope it does make him mad. It’s like he’s gotten away with so much crud anyway. He’s hurt my mom so many times. Maybe it’s time for him to get his.”
“But you probably shouldn’t be the one to dish it out, Al.”
She grew quiet on the other end.
“Remember last week when Tony taught about how God needs to be the One to make things right in our lives?” I began slowly, not really wanting to preach at her. “He said how things get messed up when we take them into our own hands, instead of asking God to take care of them.”
“Yeah, I remember. And he’s probably right. Besides, I don’t really want to waste my energy on having some big old conflict with Dad right now. I’ve got lots better things to do.”
“That’s cool.”
After I hung up, I prayed about Allie and the situation with her dad. Even though I think he’s a total creep, I don’t want to see Allie become bitter toward him. Hopefully, she’ll handle it okay. I’m sure she will.
Speaking of parents, I then decided to search out my own. So I found them sitting comfortably in the family room. “Dad, what do you think about Willy managing us?”
Mom’s sitting on the couch next to him, her feet daintily tucked beneath her, reading a hardback novel—an Oprah pick, I think. But I can tell by her expression that she’s listening very carefully to this conversation.
My dad just smiled and said, “I think that’s a great idea, Chloe. He seems to know a lot about the music business.”
My mom marked her place and set her book aside. “But what do we really know about him?”
I was a little surprised to hear her actually say something since she acts fairly uninterested, not to mention unimpressed, by this whole thing. “Well, he’s been a good friend to us girls,” I said in Willy’s defense. “And he’s given Allie free drumming lessons, plus he’s helped arrange a bunch of my songs, and with the CD, and the Battle of the Bands, and, well, a zillion other little things.”
“Makes perfect sense to me,” said Dad. “And Ron Stephensen seemed impressed with him too.”
Mom shook her head. “I’m not so sure. A manager gets a cut, you know? How much do you think he’ll take—10, maybe 15 percent? And then I’m assuming the rest will be split three ways.”
I shrugged and looked at Dad. “I guess I haven’t really given the money side of this whole thing that much thought.” Frankly I felt surprised that Mom had. After all, she’s the one who’s been putting down the whole idea from the start.
“We’ll have to cross that bridge when we get there, Joy.” My dad folded his paper and picked up the remote. “I think having Willy along will probably be helpful when we’re in Nashville, Chloe.”
“I think the girls need a lawyer.” My mom stood and started pacing. “I know that sounds a little expensive to start with, but you’re always hearing about kids getting ripped off in the entertainment industry. We don’t want that to happen to the girls.”
I studied her furrowed brow as she paced back and forth, trying to figure this woman out. “So, Mom,” I finally said, “are you saying that you believe Redemption has a chance to make it—that we might actually get a record contract?”
She looked over at me with a slightly bewildered expression. “Oh, of course, honey. I realize you girls are pretty good…and that it could happen. I’m just not sure that it’s going to be worth all the fuss in the end.”
Okay, I tried not to take offense at her “pretty good” description, although it sounded to me as if she meant: “pretty good for a bunch of silly kids.” I glanced at my dad for some support here.
He frowned slightly. “You’re not making complete sense, Joy. If you don’t think it’s worth all the fuss, then why are you suggesting the girls might need a lawyer?”
“Well, you never know.”
Trying hard to fight off my exasperation I took in a deep breath. “So, Mom, tell me, how do you really feel about Redemption? It seems like you don’t take us very seriously. Like you don’t really believe in us or our talent.”
She stopped pacing and looked at me. “That’s not it at all, Chloe.”
I could feel her eyes on me, scrutinizing me, as she took in my hair (I recently put a magenta rinse on it, and it has this great sort of purplish brown look) and my piercings and my frayed and holey blue jeans. Even my faded T-shirt was inside out—something she really hated.
“Oh, I get it.” I nodded with realization. “You’d like to change our image.”
She smiled, as if I were actually offering to let her dress us up in cute little matching outfits—kind of like the Supremes back in the sixties. I glanced uncomfortably at Dad again and thought, “Okay, here’s your chance to back me up.” And to my amazement he did. “Hey, Joy, you need to get enlightened. Watch some of the other bands out there. Honestly, I saw a couple of groups on MTV that make Redemption look like nice little prep school girls.”
“Thanks a lot, Dad.” I sank into the couch. Why on earth had God given me parents like this?
“But it’s so—” Mom stopped herself, like she was about to say something really mean. “It’s so sort of trashy looking, Chloe. Can’t you at least wear something that isn’t so—well, so old and worn looking?”
“It’s called urban, Mom. To me it feels honest and creative, and I happen to like it. Besides, it’s comfortable.”
“But what about the recording company in Nashville?” she said. “Won’t they be expecting something more—more professional looking?”
Fortunately, this made me laugh. “Mom, maybe Dad’s right. Maybe you should watch a little MTV. You might begin to understand that the music industry probably expects us to look like this.”
Dad laughed too. “Yeah, honey, it’s like you’re stuck in some kind of time warp here. What do you think bands are supposed to look like these days?”
She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I just don’t like seeing my little girl looking like such a bum all the time.”
I nodded, then to my surprise, I went over and patted her on the back. “It’s okay, Mom,” I said in a gentle voice. Okay, I was being a little sarcastic too. “I’m sure you love me despite my less-than-tidy appearance.”
She sighed in exasperation as if she’d lost the battle. “Of course I love you, Chloe. You’re my daughter.”
“Okay, then.” I turned to Dad. “Maybe you guys should watch a little MTV. I’ve got a song I want to work on.”
And that was that. I left the room and I could still hear their voices, quietly bickering back and forth, and slowly getting louder. My dad sounded like he was standing up for me again. And even though that felt partly good, another part of me felt incredibly guilty, as if it was my fault they’re disagreeing. I mean, there they were sitting together so nice and compatible, then I came in, and, well, there you go.
Honestly, the last thing I want to do right now is to come between them and cause a stupid fight. My parents haven’t fought too much since the days when Caleb was at home. They used to fight almost constantly then. In fact, it’s still a pretty sore subject with them. And I just don’t want to be the one to do that to them all over again.
HELP
o God, help them
through this
i know i’m not an easy kid
but i am what i am
and i am theirs
like it or not
they’re stuck with me
but i don’t want to
drive them
apart help them
through this
and while You’re at it
help me too
amen
Fourteen
Monday, June 9
Allie called me this morning to let me know she got the job at the Paradiso. Mike’s letting her work a split shift, a few hours in the morning and a few in the evening, so Allie can still attend band practice in between. He said
music comes first.
I had just hung up with Allie when Cesar called me. He said he had the day off and asked if I wanted to go on a bike ride with him. I told him I had to be back by one to practice. And he said that was cool and so off we went.
Okay, now here’s what’s kind of weird—or ironic—or just plain bizarre. We’re on this bike ride, and I’m pretty much letting him lead the way because he says he has this route that he usually takes, and it’s a pretty decent workout. But guess where we end up? At the cemetery.
But not the one I usually go to. No, we end up at one on the other side of town, just outside of the city limits. And suddenly I realize that the last time I was here was for Jewel’s funeral—almost exactly a year ago. And it’s kind of eerie. Not scary exactly, but odd in a Twilight Zone kind of way—the sort of thing that gives you goose bumps.
We park our bikes, and I take a long swig from my water bottle. I feel hot and sweaty, and it was harder than I expected trying to keep up with Cesar. He’s in good shape. But after I catch my breath I ask him, “Did you know Jewel Garcia by any chance?”
He looks at me in surprise. “Yeah, she was my cousin.”
“You’re kidding? Your cousin? That is too weird.” “Why?”
I just shake my head. “Did you know her too?”
“Not really well. I met her through Caitlin. We used to go visit her in the hospital.”
“Is Caitlin that pretty blond girl who was so into religion?”
“Religion?” I look at him funny.
He smiles. “Yeah, it sounds weird to say that now, but that’s probably how it seemed to me at the time. Just the same, my aunt, Jewel’s mom, really liked her and was glad she visited so much.” He studies me now. “But you actually went with her to visit Jewel? Man, I can’t even imagine that.”
I shake my head at the strange memory. It seems like such a long time ago now—another lifetime. “Yeah, it seems pretty weird to me too, now that I think about it. I don’t even know why Caitlin invited me to go with her in the first place. I guess she thought it’d be good for me to see someone who was a lot worse off than I was.”
“You weren’t doing too good?”
And then, to my complete and utter amazement, I tell Cesar the whole embarrassing story (without mentioning the guy’s name, of course) about how I was hurt by this stupid boy (the “most popular” guy in middle school) who pretended to be my boyfriend in hopes that he could sleep with me, but then tossed me aside when I refused him. I even tell him how all my friends acted after this boy spread his vicious lies.
“It’s like I ceased to exist,” I finish my story with a wave of my hand. “Poof! Now you see her, now you don’t.”
“That guy was a total jerk.” Cesar snaps the lid back onto his water bottle, then lets a cuss word fly. “I’m sorry, Chloe.” He shakes his head. “Just when I think I’ve used my last foul word another one slips out.”
“Hey, it’s okay. We’re not perfect, you know. And under the circumstances I don’t really mind.” I smile at him. “In fact, I used to call him every bad name in the book. I think I even made up a few too. I guess that’s when I started turning into a pretty tough chick.” I laugh.
“Sometimes people act tough so they don’t get hurt.”
I nod. “Yeah. I know.”
Cesar glances over to where a big oak tree is casting its giant shadow over the grass. “I came up here just last week—exactly one year since Jewel died.”
“I’d like to see her grave.”
“Let’s go.”
So we silently walk over there, and now I’m thinking about those visits with Jewel in the hospital. I’m remembering how childlike she was with the brain injury from the bullet, and how she loved to sing “Jesus Loves Me.” And to my surprise I’m starting to cry, but I’m hoping Cesar won’t notice. I don’t want to make him feel any worse. I wipe my cheeks with my palms then shove my hands into my pockets as we stand by her grave. The stone is small and square with only her name and the dates. But as I read the stone I’m reminded afresh of how she was only seventeen.
I take in a deep breath then slowly exhale. “What a sad waste—to end it all at seventeen.”
“Yeah. I’ll be seventeen next fall. It’s like life is just beginning.”
“I really believe she’s in heaven now, but I wonder if she might regret what she did—you know, looking back.”
“She was always this really happy person too.” Cesar sighed. “She loved to play practical jokes and sing along to the radio. Her favorite drink was Dr Pepper with a lemon wedge. I didn’t even believe it when my mom told me what had happened. I really thought she must’ve gotten Jewel confused with someone else. It didn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe not to you. But at the time I thought I kind of understood how Jewel might have felt. I guess it sounds stupid now. I mean, what guy is worth killing yourself for? But hey, I’d just had my heart broken by a stupid boy—” I look at Cesar quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that all guys are like that or anything.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “You know, girls can break hearts too.”
So we stand there a little longer, just silently, thinking our own private thoughts, I suppose. And I must admit mine are turning into sort of a jumble by now. But then I realize it’s time for me to start heading back.
“I better get going. Laura and Al will kill me if I’m late, especially since I’m the one always harping on them to be on time.”
So we race back to my house, getting there just five minutes before one. “I might have time—to grab a shower,” I breathlessly tell him as I park my bike. “Thanks for inviting me today.”
“Thanks for coming.”
We wave good-bye and I dash for the shower. And while I’m showering I think, “Cesar is really special.” And if I wanted a boyfriend I couldn’t do any better than someone like him. Even now I get a warm feeling just thinking of him.
I am barely out of the shower when Laura and Allie show up. And we have a really good practice today—about four hours straight. I didn’t mention my bike ride with Cesar to them. It’s not as though it was a real date or anything. And I seriously doubt that we’ll ever be more than just friends. I think even if I wanted it to be more, and maybe I do, it still probably wouldn’t happen. Cesar seems kind of reserved, like he’s sort of holding me at arm’s length now, which is probably a good thing. And now I’m telling myself, “Cesar is cool, but I need to keep him on the back burner for now too.” Yet even as I write this, I find myself thinking about him more than ever before.
What would Caitlin think if she knew? Speaking of Caitlin, I think she was supposed to get back in town today. And Josh gets home tomorrow. Thank God I have plenty of distractions in my life—to keep me from going over the edge for Cesar.
I’M HOOKED
eyes on You
the whole way through
it’s my choice
to hear Your voice
hold my hand
help me stand
on my feet
and take the heat
for saying no
i won’t let go
to You, Lord
i can’t afford
to walk away
help mestay
hooked on You
my whole life through
amen
Thursday, June 12
Caitlin, Beanie, Jenny, and Josh watched us practice tonight. Kind of like a mini concert of sorts. But we had asked them here to critique us. Of course, Willy was here too. He’s coming to all our practices this week, but his help is primarily in the music area. We invited the others to help us with how we look—our persona and stage presence and such. To be honest, it was my mom’s idea, but then she got Josh involved, which made it a little easier for me to handle.
“You guys sound fantastic,” said Josh as we finished. “And that drum set is really cool, Allie.”
She grinned and clanged the cymbal. “Yeah, totally rad.”
>
“Okay.” Caitlin stepped forward, glancing at her notes. “You guys ready for this?”
Beanie laughed. “Leave it to Caitlin to make notes.”
“I’m just trying to be helpful.” “Go ahead,” I told her, bracing myself for criticism.
“Well, first off, you guys should smile more.”
“Smile?” I started to protest.
“Let me finish first,” she said. “I don’t mean you have to look like grinning goons, but you should look like you’re enjoying yourselves, and move around more, relax and have fun.”
I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right about that. And we usually do better on a real stage when we have more space, you know?”
“But when you audition in Nashville, it’ll be in a studio,” Willy reminded us. “So you better keep that in mind while you’re practicing now.”
“Right,” agreed Allie with a grin. “You guys move around more.”
“And you too, Allie. You can loosen up on the drums a little,” continued Caitlin. “The next thing is eye contact. You need to make more eye contact with your audience. It looks like you’re trying too hard to do the music, like you’re not enjoying yourselves.”
“You’re probably talking to me,” said Laura sheepishly. “I sometimes have a problem with this.”
“Yeah,” said Jenny. “You need to show a lot more confidence. You girls are really good, and you should play like you really believe it.”
We were all nodding and I’m sure making mental notes. “You’re right,” I said. “It’s easier in a concert when the crowd is clapping and stuff. But when we’re just in a practice room, well, it’s different.”
Willy pointed his finger in the air. “But in Nashville …
“Right.” Laura turns back to our critique group. “Anything else?”
“Well, I have some thoughts,” said Beanie. “I’m curious about what you guys plan to wear when you audition.”
I looked down at my faded gray T-shirt (my favorite one) and the torn jeans with safety pins holding them together, and I shrugged. “Probably something like this.”
Sold Out Page 11
