Seven Minutes 'til Midnight

by Sunniva Dee

  “Troy. We good, here?”

  “Yeah, man. Let’s do this. Seven pairs, though?”

  “You exhaust seven pairs of drumsticks every night. You’ve got one pair in your hands, and Rob has another seven—to be on the safe side. Seven. Always.” Troll’s reassurance comes out like an impatient bark. He swats Troy forward. “What’s your deal tonight?”

  I hear the roars from the audience as the band members get onstage one after the other. The cheers start in the pit and travel backward, growing into a sea of sound. Troy needs to follow suit immediately. I watch the ever more frustrated Troll bicker with him.

  Waris nudges me in the shoulder. “Give him a kiss.” She keeps her voice low so I’m the only one who can hear her.

  Color crawls up my face. “What? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Just give him a kiss. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but look at him. He doesn’t want to go onstage without something from you.”

  My cheeks flame as I stare at him. Still arguing, his hands are in the air, lazily gesticulating. He’s about to cause Troll a coronary.

  “You think that’s what it is?” I ask.

  Waris shrugs. “Test it.”

  I walk up to them, interrupting Troll’s repetition of how he’s only doing the exact same thing he always does, and how the hell is Troy worried about his cymbals now when he was fine and dandy during sound check?

  “Troy?” My voice is thin with shyness, but he has no problem hearing me. He turns right away. Brave, I slide my arms around his waist. For one horrifying moment, I think he won’t receive me. But then his arms go around me too, and my heart is beating as I hug myself tighter to him than I’d planned.

  The hope in his gaze makes my heart constrict. I spread my fingers up his jaw. Tip his face downward while his eyes widen for me.

  One soft kiss. Another. I let my tongue out to play too, slipping in between his lips, until he’s cradling my face too.

  “Jesus Christ,” Troll mutters. “Okay. Time to go. They’re fucking shouting your name out there. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Sure thing.” Troy chuckles. His eyes narrow with happy tenderness before he gives me another kiss. “See you after?”

  “I’ll be watching from the sidelines.”

  His smile is magnificent as he takes a few steps backward and raises a hand in greeting. Then, he turns and jogs to the stage entrance.

  Waris and I follow at a leisurely pace. I’m still smiling.

  “What a difference, huh?” Waris says, winking at me.

  I give her a playful eye-roll as we enter from the left side of the stage and take our seats next to Nadia and Zoe.

  The audience discovers him, and the rhythmic shouts of “Troy! Troy! Troy!” dissipate in favor of a wave of cheers.

  “Glad you could make it, man,” Emil rumbles into the microphone, making us all laugh. “We were gonna be here all night anyway, so you know—whenever.”

  Troy leans over his own microphone. In a hoarse voice, he says, “Happy to be here. People…” He looks out over the sea of fans. They quiet down, waiting for his words of wisdom.

  Troy sniffles with fake emotion, and on the screens throughout the arena, the cameras zoom in on him as he sends Emil an accusatory side-glare. “Just… Don’t let anyone take you for granted.”

  Emil snorts out laughing, holding the microphone away from his face.

  When the laughter dies down, Troy murmurs, “Anyway.”

  And that’s it. Out of nowhere, he slams into the singular barrage of powerful beats introducing the Clown Irruption classic “Fuck You,” and the audience roars!

  I can’t take my eyes off him. Look at him! How could I ever see anyone else in this band? Oh my God, he’s glorious.

  “He’s really good!” Waris shouts in my ear. She bobs her head to the rhythm, eyes on Troy too, a happy grin on her mouth.

  “Isn’t he?” I shout back.

  She says something else, still nodding, but the sound is a wall around us. It’s impossible to keep up a conversation, so I cup my ear in question.

  “And hot!” she shouts.

  TROY

  That? Was the best show in ages. Everyone was on fucking fire, myself included—to the point of taking off on a drum solo until the audience was screaming and Emil was laughing his ass off.

  Now, we’re at a pizza place down the street from the hotel, courtesy of the owner, who’s one of our super-fans. Whenever we’re in one of his locations, he’ll reserve his restaurant for after-hour treatment.

  I don’t think I could feel any better than this. Drained from an hour and a half onstage, knowing the girl of my dreams was watching me the whole time. We’ve ordered pizza, there’s cold beer on the table, and I’m sitting here with my best friends, volleying jokes back and forth.

  She sits at my side, the girl who makes my heart leaden with guilt. But she smiles at my jokes, and her eyes are on me. She hasn’t wanted me to kiss her again, but there’s color in her cheeks and a gleam in her eyes.

  “Pepperoni?” the server asks.

  “Yonder.” Emil juts two fingers toward Waris and Elias.

  “And the mushroom-and-pineapple combo?”

  “Those crazy people over there.” Bo and Nadia. It’s a new kick they’re on.

  “The rest of us are sharing the two normal pizzas,” Emil proclaims.

  “Right, so two Safari Horror Quadruple Meat with extra cheese on this side?” the waiter says.

  “That’s correct.”

  A server jingles with keys at the front door, opening for our crew.

  “Just in time, kids,” Elias calls out.

  The drum tech, the two guitar techs, a sound guy, and our lighting girl all scoot together on the u-shaped bench at the table behind us. The merch girl slides in last. She’s too busy examining our table. I haven’t noticed it before, but Hailey doesn’t have the friendliest of faces. Especially not now while she’s staring at Aishe.

  She sees me watching her, and her expression switches to angelic in the blink of an eye. It’s so fast, it’s hilarious. I squint, scanning her closer. Thanks to my seven sisters, four of whom are hairdressers, it’s ingrained in me to study people.

  Hailey’s white cheerleader looks are far from Aishe’s exotic beauty. Which makes me wonder why she decided to copy Aishe’s hair. Hailey is still wearing her regular skintight jeans. No long Gypsy clothes or dramatic jewelry in sight—unless you count her weird handcuff-bangle—but isn’t that a lot of makeup?

  I’ve had a long day. That’s for sure. Because right now, I’m sitting here like a douche with my mind blown at how two girls wearing the same makeup can look so different. My sisters, Fatemah in particular, would’ve loved to discuss this at length.

  A glance at Aishe reveals black lining around her eyes. The kohl makes them sparkle. I’ve seen her without makeup, and she’s stunning no matter what, but the way she paints herself makes her a goddamn knockout. Bronze and green eyeshadow, and a dark lipstick. Same thing on Hailey tonight, except in Aishe’s case, the colors blend naturally with her own colors, while Hailey looks like she’s gored herself up for a burlesque show.

  “Such an amazing concert!” Hailey says, pressing her hands to her chest. “Oh my God—I was holding down the fort at the merch stand on my own, you know, but once I’d wrapped up the lines, I got to go watch. Wow, Troy, that drum solo was something else.”

  “Huh?” Emil arches his brows at Aishe in mild surprise. “I thought it was slow or something since you came backstage.”

  “Yeah. Uhm. I’ll tell you about it later,” she murmurs.

  “Oh. Pshh.” Hailey swats at us. “It was, like, no big deal. She just wasn’t up for the heckling, you know, and left.”

  “Heckling? What happened, Aishe?” I turn toward her, and both tables go sti
ll. Aishe shrinks under my stare.

  “I was going to tell you but didn’t want to say anything until after the show.”

  “Now’s after the show,” I say, sounding sharper than I mean to.

  “I know. I just didn’t want to interrupt while you were all so stoked.”

  “People were calling her a whore and a slut!” Hailey bursts out. “Like, this one guy wanted to buy her for a night, and other people were saying how she was misbehaving in that video, and all that.”

  “They recognized you?” I ask.

  “Thanks a lot, Hailey,” Aishe grinds out, face hot with mortification. “I was going to talk with the band about this on my own watch. There really was no need to involve the whole restaurant.”

  “Oh but it wasn’t your fault,” Hailey says. “I totally get that you stormed off without a word. People are so mean sometimes. Not everybody can take rude comments. Plus, it was probably more fun to watch the concert, am I right?” She lets out a bright giggle in one of the most bizarre endorsements I’ve ever heard.

  “Hailey. Why don’t you have some pizza?” I snap.

  “What? I’m just saying—” Her eyes arch with realization. “Oh no, I spoke out of turn, didn’t I? I just wanted to help. Gah. I’m so sorry, Troy.”

  With a hand on Aishe’s arm, I swing fully toward Hailey. I know my face is a stone mask when I stare right at her. I’m not who she should be apologizing to.

  “It’s okay,” Emil says before I can continue. “Do us a favor, though, and get started on the grind, okay? We gotta get going soon, the man says.” He claps down on Troll’s shoulder.

  She blinks. “I’m really sorry. I just thought I’d mention it, because it’s not cool how people are sometimes.”

  We keep the elephant in the room under wraps during the rest of the meal. It’s a tacit agreement that’s easy to come to, with Aishe blinking back tears the whole time. Nadia pats her thigh in comfort, murmuring something to her, but it only makes Aishe hunker deeper over her pizza.

  In the van back to the hotel, the questions explode, though. Zoe’s arm goes around Aishe on one side, and I need a hand on her too. It’s my fault, after all, and I wish to God I hadn’t put her in this situation.

  “So it took people, like, thirty minutes to realize who you were?” Bo asks, facing us from the front row.

  “Right.”

  “That’s so weird, isn’t it? You’d think that if they recognized you by the clothes—because you never even turned your face to the cameras in the video—someone would’ve caught on from the start, right?” Emil voices what we’re all thinking.

  “It only takes that one person,” I interject. “It’s got to be someone starting it, someone with a good eye for clothes, I guess?”

  “A fashion freak like Aishe.” Emil grins and sends her a thumbs-up.

  “Fashion freak? Oh my God, that’s, like, the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.” Zoe smacks him, and he playfully covers his head.

  At the hotel, I linger behind in the garage, waiting for Aishe to catch up. She’s acting like she doesn’t want company, but I have questions I didn’t want to ask in the van.

  “You want to go for a walk?” The muscles in my arms ache with the night’s abuse, and I’m tired to the bone. But if I go to sleep right away, I’ll probably have my typical nightmares starring Aishe, with some obsessive-repetitive to-do-list that could never mend the damage I’ve caused.

  “I don’t know. It’s late.” Dipping her head down, the wild lengths of her hair droop over her face.

  “You don’t want to chat a little? There’s a park behind here. I doubt we’ll run into anyone at this hour.”

  She lowers her bags to the ground and lets out a sigh. “I got all this stuff.”

  “I’ve got stuff too,” I point out, holding up my drumsticks, and feel better when I draw a small smile from her. “We’ll take our things to the lobby. The front desk can watch them until we’re back. No pressure, though.”

  “Don’t say that, Troy.”

  I send her a smile as I lead the way to the elevator. “You don’t think I’ve earned the right to that expression? Pretty sure I have another thousand or so to go before you can start complaining.”

  She rolls her eyes but follows me without any more objections. In the elevator, I take her bags. I’ve got my backpack on and have a free arm. She doesn’t let go at once, so we stand through half a floor with me playfully shaking her bags in a tug-of-war. It makes her smirk. She lets go as the doors open to the lobby and we step out.

  “Troy! There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” Hailey huffs, scurrying toward us. “Can we please talk?”

  Aishe stills beside me. The animosity sieving from her is so thick I can taste it.

  “Hailey. You guys just arrived?”

  “Yeah!” She’s out of breath, pointing to the front entrance. “They’re about to park, but—I really need to talk to you. It’s super-important.”

  Aishe’s voice is quiet but steady when she murmurs, “I’ll take you up on that walk, Troy. You ready?”

  Hailey lets out an anxious breath. “Please, can I see you for just one minute, though?”

  For a second, I hesitate. Aishe does not.

  “Want me to take that?” She snaps her fingers to her stuff.

  “No. Hold on.” I stride to the front desk and hand them our belongings. When I turn back to the girls, Aishe is quietly seething as she half-sits, half-leans against an armchair, skirts flowing over her ankles like an oversized rose.

  Hailey’s right behind me in her signature tight-tight jeans and T-shirt. She’s full-on wringing her hands. “Do you have time?”

  I was brought up by parents who valued good behavior and mercy, and I don’t have it in me to say “no” to a direct plea like this.

  “Aishe, one minute?” I ask the empress of the East. “I’ll be right back.”

  Instead of an answer, she tips her head higher, the lengths of her hair reaching for her waist. The last thing I see before Hailey steps in front of me, is the light thrown back at me from her bangles.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Not here. Can we go somewhere else?” Hailey pleads, pleads again.

  I look around and see nowhere I’d rather be than with Aishe. “I’m about to head out, so…” I trail off, leaving my meaning clear.

  Hailey points at some armchairs around a small coffee table by the windows. I flick a glance at Aishe. I’ll be able to keep an eye on her from the chairs, so I accept.

  Hailey sits down, eyes imploring. They’re hard painted, like she just added another layer in the van.

  I remain standing. Arms crossed, I stare down at her. “What’s up, Hailey. It’s late.”

  “I just wanted to explain what happened. Please, can you sit down for a second?” She pats the chair beside her.

  I sigh but do as she asks. “Hailey, I’m going to be honest with you; you were right at the restaurant. It wasn’t your place to tell Aishe’s story. She’d held off to not disturb our preshow routines, and that was really nice of her, okay? If there’s anything else you want to discuss, that’s fine.”

  Hailey lifts her palms, wiggling them toward me. “No, no. I completely get that, and I do apologize, so much. Just, like, people see things differently. That’s why I figured you’d want to hear what I saw since I was right there at the stand. I only want the best for you and for Clown Irruption.” There’s a dark glint in her eyes. It lasts for the briefest of moments, but it was there.

  “What did you see, Hailey? What’s so important we need to talk about it in the middle of the night?”

  A flicker of insecurity. Then her resolve hardens.

  “Troy, I know this might be difficult to hear— Believe me, it’s difficult to say too, but…” She lets out a sigh. “Aishe was flaunting it. I swear it, Troy. She
wanted people to see her. I saw her open her neckline so people could see her boobs, and she was swaying around up there, tossing her hair and stuff.”

  “What are you talking about?” I start to rise from my chair, but she puts a hand on my arm, and pleads again, for me to stay.

  “Oh no, don’t get mad! I’m only telling you what I saw. I swear I’m not kidding. You can ask the other two girls working there. I’m sure they saw it too. It was really obvious.”

  “So what if it was? It doesn’t matter to me or anyone else. Aishe is a beautiful woman, and any man with a pulse can see her whether she flaunts shit or not.”

  For a second, Hailey’s pupils enlarge. If I didn’t know better, I’d deem what I see jealousy, until her gaze returns to its original state of earnestness.

  “Of course, Troy. You’re completely right. We’re all used to people staring at us and stuff. But I’m telling you this because if someone spends more time trying to make sure people see her instead of the band she’s supposed to sell merchandise for, then there’s a problem. And that’s what she was doing. Then she just took off—she didn’t even say a word about it. She just left. You know, I just thought it was odd and that it was my duty to tell you is all.”

  I push myself up from the chair. “You felt it was important to expose the shitty character of one of my friends?”

  All kinds of emotions float over her face as she rises too. “She’s your friend?”

  “Of course, she’s my friend, and nothing is going to change that.”

  “No?” I don’t know why Hailey slides into the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen on her. It’s becoming.

  “No, and you’ll want to watch your tongue, Hailey. Don’t let your impulses run off with you.”

  “But why is she on your bus instead of on the crew bus?”

  I have no idea where she wants this cross-examination to end. All I know is even seven sisters can’t take me to the core of this chick. She’s young and immature, though. Hailey Pawter has a lot to learn about life, I guess.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s on our bus because she’s our friend and we have room. That answer your question?”