by Sam Kadence
Since the picture turned up of me with Kerstrande, we’d had hundreds of requests to perform a headlining show. We’d turned most down. Our manager booked us at Hard Light, the biggest indie club in the city. No opening act, just Evolution in front of a million cameras. Joel said it was standing room only. I doubted anyone really wanted to hear me sing. They just wanted to stare at the freak who had been caught with an ex-rock star.
Devon sipped lemon water and put his feet on the table, stretching out like a lazy cat. Always the predator, whether he was singing, dating, or just existing. He projected that sense of extreme confidence, much like a business shark. His shadows swirled around him tonight, live and hungry-looking. The past few weeks he’d grown worse. More critical, darker, and sometimes downright scary.
“Bad press can be turned into good press.”
“How can I turn this into something good? They don’t want me. They want some sideshow.” I pulled on black leather pants and a white wife beater. All the lights would make me sweat like a pig, but I’d try to keep it as cool as I could. Rob had asked me to tone down the color for the night, and I promised I would. In fact, other than my hair, my blue rainbow shoes were the only color they would see on me tonight. Even my nails were painted black. I could be butch too. Well, sorta.
“Be you,” Devon told me. “I like you just fine the way you are.”
I sighed at him. “If only life were that easy.” The fact that Hard Light had about a half dozen ghosts, one of which was putting a gun in his mouth over and over again just ten feet from where Devon sat, made my anxiety rise. I really hoped the stage was clean. No need to give the guys more reasons to stare at me like I was crazy.
Joel fidgeted with a candy bar. “I’ve never seen this much press in one place. You’d think we were new recruits of the NFL or something.” Joel looked like he could have been in the NFL; he was sort of stocky, so it made sense why people didn’t bug him like they did me. He could play gay really well, lisp and limp wrist and swish his hips, but he liked girls too much to ever commit to one guy.
Rob pulled his long hair back into a ponytail. “We’re good. We deserve this break. Just remember, we’re Evolution.”
“Um, sure,” I grumbled. “Don’t you guys think getting all this attention ’cause I hit a rock star with my car is a bad thing?” Like bad Karma adding up to some catastrophe I couldn’t yet see. I’d ridden the subway tonight, hiding—hood up, dark shades covering half my face, and praying no one pointed and shouted, “Hey, it’s him!”
“Best thing that could have happened to us.” Joel handed me the candy bar. I dropped it into my bag, since chocolate made my throat funny.
The buzz of the media flowed louder from the other side of the backstage door. “Mr. Petterson. Mr. Petterson!” The blood in my head drained to my feet. He was here. He wasn’t supposed to remember I existed anymore.
Rob opened the door with a frown. Kerstrande walked in, shut the door, and leaned against it. He looked like the star he was in tan pants, white dress shirt, and a light sport coat. Even Devon looked ordinary next to him.
Devon growled at Kerstrande. I looked back at my mentor and wondered what was up. “No wonder you’re so hot for Genesis. Let me tell you now, he’s not in your league.”
“Saxon” was Kerstrande’s only acknowledgment of Devon. Did they know each other? Petterson’s glare was all for me. He took a step toward me.
I stepped back, worried by the violent promise in his eyes. Did he want to kiss me or hit me? “I didn’t tell them anything.”
“And that is the problem!” He yanked me out the door into the brigade of photographers. Within seconds, my sight was lost to pops of colorless spots from all the flashes. Questions flew from all directions. Kerstrande ignored them all and addressed the microphones. “I’d like everyone to meet my new creative project. Genesis Sage of Evolution. Evolution’s debut will be produced under the REA label by nothing but the best producers and songwriters. I think you’ll find that though they have a different sound than Triple Flight, they are just as talented.”
I felt like a gaping fish in the spotlight. How could REA produce us if we hadn’t signed anything? Kerstrande had never even heard us play. We had a handful of live shows up on YouTube, but nothing of good quality.
He breezed through a couple dozen questions with cool finesse. I couldn’t remember most of them since my mind was too busy trying to keep up with the endless tide of my own. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies and gentlemen, Evolution will be performing now.”
Kerstrande had to drag me to the edge of the stage where Rob and Joel waited. They both stood openmouthed with shock, but otherwise ready to play.
“You better be good, punk, or your career is over.”
He pushed me toward my friends and disappeared into the darkness behind the stage. Tonight, the idea of performing brought a strong sense of dread and terror. Damn. I’d been singing in public since I could stand. No one was getting the better of me. Not when it came to music. Was I, or was I not, a pro?
I took a deep breath and stepped up to the florescent marker tape on the floor. Someone hooked a replay-phone in my ear so I could hear myself sing, and I wished I’d had more time to practice. Shake it off, Genesis, I scolded myself. You can do this.
The lights came up. Joel began the keyboard melody and synthesized drumbeat that rolled us flawlessly into a heavy rock-pop sound. Rob and I stared in mutual horror at the crowd. A few cameras were actually a couple thousand, including several large TV stations. People crammed into rows all the way up into the rarely used balcony.
Rob shrugged and poured himself into the guitar opening right on Joel’s cue. Seven seconds later, my turn came, and surprisingly, my voice worked well enough to get the upbeat song going. In thirty seconds the nervousness wore off and all that mattered was the music. My voice carried the passion I had for singing and the many hours a day I practiced. I sank into the rhythm, using the deep sound to wrap the words in emotion and change the crowd’s energy. Their auras changed colors from apprehensive red/brown to gleeful white, gold, and orange, a fall rainbow that lifted my spirit too.
Nearly two hours I sang without more than a few seconds break. Onstage, I wasn’t much of a talker. But I laughed with the crowd at Joel and Rob’s antics, danced to our crazy music, and sang with everything I had. When we finally stepped off the stage, we’d played three encores and every original song we’d ever practiced. I was so tired I nearly had to crawl to the dressing room.
The white top had been lost onstage halfway through. The sweat dripped from my hair, sending a shiver down my shoulders. Hard Light didn’t have personal dressing rooms with showers like some of the larger venues Devon played. Sadly, he stayed around anyway. And from the shadows that lingered in the hall outside the room, something bothered him in a big way.
“The crowd warmed up to you fairly quickly.” He still sat in the chair, his silhouette outlined by the light from the doorway. The lights were off and the room felt like a meat locker, cold enough to see my breath. This side of Devon I didn’t want to confront, mostly because I wasn’t sure it was Devon at all. “You’ll find yourself well received by the press now.”
I stared in his direction, feeling his anger and jealousy from across the room. I didn’t know what emotion worked best at that moment. Returning his irritation would be easiest, but not if I wanted us to remain friends. My friend, rival, mentor, and tormentor needed help. But I was pretty sure he wouldn’t let me help him. There was a time when he was the big brother of my heart. I told him everything, and his easy smile had helped me get through some of the hardest things in my life, like dropping out of school and finding my way on my own. Only in the past few months had he really begun to change. Now he rarely smiled, and I didn’t feel like I could tell him anything. Had the darkness within him pushed us so far apart?
“You’ll have a good chance with REA. They’ll market you right.”
The label meant nothing to me. He knew th
at. “What’s wrong, Devon? Why are you so dark tonight?” The few years he had on me felt like a million at that moment.
Without my even seeing him move, he suddenly stood before me, his hand on my face feeling like ice. My breathing was shallow, fear etching a strong presence in my head. Even my peculiarities were child’s play next to Devon’s.
“Please tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.”
He stepped away, his body shaking. The cold rolled off him in waves. “You can’t help. Sorry, Gene.” He left, taking the oppressive feeling of the shadows with him. I frowned at his back, watching him step out of my life again. The two years I’d known him felt so short when he kept vanishing into the darkness. He’d been doing that a lot lately.
Kerstrande entered the room while I was drying my hair. He shut the door firmly behind him and leaned against it. Rob and Joel were packing up their instruments and would be back soon. The dim cast of the digital clock was the only light in the room. “You write those songs?”
“Yeah.”
“Gibberish. That voice is wasted by your lack of polish.”
Had there been a compliment in there? “You like my voice?”
He flicked on the light, ignoring my question. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“I’m just drying my hair. I don’t need light for that.” If I’d been able to get the pants off I’d probably have been naked when he walked in, but I didn’t share that.
“Do you always strip on stage or was that just for the billion cameras?”
“I was hot!”
“And ten more minutes and the pants would have come off.” He sounded jealous.
I blinked at him—could he read minds or something? “They’re stuck. I can’t get them off.” That’s why I normally wore jeans and left the leather to Devon, but he’d insisted I wear them tonight.
Color flushed Kerstrande’s cheeks. He stared at me for a few seconds before yanking his sport coat off and putting it around my shoulders. “Let’s go. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“My home or yours?” The way he leaned toward me and touched my shoulders made me wonder if he liked me, or was I really just his creative project like he told the reporters? Unlike Devon, Kerstrande’s emotions were buried deep. His darkness was more internal, a wall to protect himself against others. How hard would it be to breach that barrier? The more important question was: would he push me away if I tried?
I stepped in close, letting my fingers caress his arm. He stared at them, a mix of hope and fear on his face. “The press have found my place. But we can sneak around them if you’d like to come home with me for a while.” The innuendo was clear, and by the look on his face, Kerstrande wanted to take me up on it. A moment later he shook it off and his expression was neutral again. He towered over me, eyes still shadow-free. Maybe the darkness only chased Devon tonight.
“I told you my singing helped. You have no shadows.” I touched his face, loving the feel of him beneath my hands. He didn’t flinch away either. Instead, he raised his hand; fingers lightly brushed my neck, lingering on the spot that was slowly healing since it’d appeared after being in his house.
“I think you imagined them the other night.”
“Hmm.”
Someone knocked on the door before entering a second later. Rob looked shocked and irritated to see Kerstrande touching me and me touching him. “What’s going on?”
I stepped away, irritated that I felt guilty, and Kerstrande dropped his hand. He moved toward the doorway. “I’m going to give your pop prince a ride home.”
Rob wasn’t ready to let it go. “You did all this. We haven’t signed anything with you. The media is after us because of you. Then you put Gene out there with no support other than his band. It’s like you wanted him to fail. What the hell is your problem?”
“The only support you’ll ever get is what your band provides. Everyone else is just out to screw you. Learn the hard lessons now and it won’t hurt so much later.” Kerstrande took my hand and yanked me toward the door.
Rob grabbed my free arm. “You’re not a dog, Gene. You don’t have to follow when he says so or put up with his insults. I’ll give you a ride home. I’m surprised Devon didn’t stick around to take you home.”
I didn’t want to go with Rob or Devon. Kerstrande made my heart pound; his expression said he didn’t care, but his body was turned in my direction, stance saying it was ready to defend. He wanted me to come with him, even if he wasn’t ready to shout it to the world yet, even if he didn’t understand what that meant.
“It’s okay, Rob. It’s just a ride. We’ll be talking shop.” Whatever made it easier for Rob to accept. I worried that someday I’d cross the line, and we’d end the delicate balance that allowed us to be friends. But not tonight.
Joel appeared in the doorway. He stuffed chips into my bag as Kerstrande and I passed. “Night, kiddo. Don’t forget the safeword.” He winked at us. Kerstrande’s grip on my hand tightened.
The parking lot echoed with crickets, but no press, thankfully. Kerstrande’s Mercedes put Joel’s Mustang to shame. I got in and sucked in the scent of new leather, smoke, and Kerstrande.
“Your place,” he said.
“Okay.” I gave him the address. His frown grew. Was he worried about my neighborhood?
He reached over and snapped the seat belt into place. I studied my hands to keep from looking at him and acting like a fool. “Thanks, sorry.”
He said nothing, just started the car and then off we went. The car drove like a dream, smooth, fast, but silent. Why didn’t he listen to music? The Honda’s radio was broken, but in a car this nice the speaker system could probably rival something from a movie theater. I imagined Michael Shuon, lead singer of Triple Flight, singing “Red Rose,” his voice streaming in surround sound, guitar all moody behind him.
Neither of us said anything for the whole ride. Kerstrande kept a neutral expression while we made our way upstairs. I knew it wasn’t the glamorous place like he had. He had closets bigger than my studio. But he didn’t say or do anything to indicate it bothered him.
“Sorry,” I told him once we were inside. “I don’t come from money like Rob or Joel. So I just get by on the money I make at Down Low.” I went behind the screen, kept just for occasions my sister came over, and wriggled out of the pants to pull on a pair of loose-fitting boxers. When I came back out, Kerstrande was staring at a picture of my mom and my sister and I. “Mom sends me a little each month to help, and Uo makes me food all the time.”
“Uo?”
“My sister.”
“Who names their kid Uo?”
“Grandpa named us both. He teaches at a temple in northern New York.”
“Jewish?”
“Buddhist.”
He just seemed to absorb the knowledge. At least he wasn’t griping about my religion yet. “How’d you get Genesis and she got Uo?”
Because I’d changed my name years ago to something I felt fit me better. “Guess I just got the luck of the draw.”
He glanced out the single window, which was a great view of the brick building two feet away. “So why didn’t you just stay with your family? You’re a kid, no one would care.”
“I dropped out. Just couldn’t handle all the noise and trouble of school. I passed the GED, but just barely. Mom couldn’t afford to keep supporting me, and I didn’t want to burden Uo or Grandpa.” Not to mention my coming out had kind of alienated me from my old neighborhood. “I do all right on my own.”
He nosed through cupboards, most of which were empty. “On ramen noodles and the junk food your friend gives you?” He opened the fridge and stared at the barren shelves. I had lots of condiments, but that was about it. “No beer?”
“I’m underage.” Not like I had money for booze anyway. Water was free. “I’ll be eighteen in a few months, though. Are you legal?” He didn’t look a day older than eighteen, but maybe the rich and famous didn’t care about the law.
He swore si
lently, then shut the fridge and plopped down heavily on the futon. The old metal frame groaned in response to his added weight. When was the last time I’d brought someone home? Never, probably; that took trust.
I sat down beside him, wrapped my arms around my legs, and waited for him to decide which direction the evening was going to go. More shop? Or something else? He slid closer and brushed the hair out of my eyes with his fingers. He seemed so lost in the moment. I just waited until his lips touched mine and opened for him. When his tongue slipped in to duel with mine, I pressed back, tasting him further. I let my mind clear of everything but thoughts of him—none of which were G-rated.
He tickled my hip, caressing the skin with the pads of his fingers, swirling his thumb just below the top of my shorts. I sucked on his lower lip, he moved to recapture mine, and it became a fierce game. It didn’t matter that I was turned on, and he likely was too. What mattered was the time we spent locked together like that, just enjoying the taste of each other, the quiet companionship and acceptance.
Finally, he let the kisses fall away and rested his forehead against mine. With those amber eyes so close, lashes thick and full shading them, he looked beautiful and so terribly young. In that moment, we could have been peers in so many more ways, even though he had money and power and I was just a dropout from nowhere. I touched his face, stroked his cheek, and just breathed his breath for a while. We probably could have stared for hours.
Unfortunately, the paper-thin door brought the sounds of voices in the hall. Reporters. Someone probably opened the downstairs door for them.
Kerstrande’s personal wall came back up like it’d been resurrected with instant concrete. He growled at the door before turning back to me. His lips brushed mine again for a few seconds before he swept himself away. “Another time, brat.”
