Evolution

by Sam Kadence

  “Close. The. Door.”

  I swung the door shut, feeling it slam on the weight that bound us together. The fuzziness vanished, but the need to be near him didn’t. Why wouldn’t he let me help? What was he afraid of? He had obviously wanted to bite me. I guess I was okay with that as long as he stayed with me, talked to me, and gave me a reason to be a part of his life.

  After retrieving a blanket from the bed, I curled up on the floor beside the door and watched the room for more ghosts. He’d have to come out eventually. No reason either of us had to be alone until then.

  I fell asleep waiting.

  Chapter 18

  THE doorbell rang at twenty to eight. I was gonna be late for work, but only because Mr. Tokie hadn’t arrived yet. I really needed to talk to KC about having my Honda somewhere closer than the studio. It was a half hour drive just to get to the train.

  When I opened the door, I expected it to be my manager, but it was Hane. “Hey, what’s up?” Did he hear confusion in my voice?

  His smile was strained. “Seen the paper yet? Or watched the news?”

  “No. I overslept. So I haven’t had time for TV, and Kerstrande doesn’t get the paper.” Not to mention how much blood I’d mopped up in the bathroom. The washer had already run twice. The white towels were still pink.

  “You ready to go?” He remained in the doorway, darker than usual, hollow. Almost a shade of what Kerstrande looked like last night. “I have some news to deliver. Walk with me?”

  “Has something happened to Rob?” I thought of Joel, who still hadn’t returned my calls. “Or Joel?”

  “No. This is more Triple Flight related than Evolution.”

  I glanced toward the bedroom where KC slept deeply, having stumbled from the bathroom just before dawn. He’d slammed the window shut and fallen into an unmovable heap on the bed. “Should I wake Kerstrande?”

  “He already knows. If you’re ready, I’m your ride to work.”

  “Okay.” I scooped up my coat and the edited music for “Midnight Rain” and slid into my shoes before hurrying into the hallway.

  Hane pulled his hood up, snapping on a pair of large dark sunglasses before stepping outside into the barely lit morning. “Never can be too careful. The press can surprise you anywhere.”

  “Right.” I mimicked him by putting on my shades. “So what’s up?” I crawled into his car, an Audi something, and strapped on the seat belt, a habit KC had forced on me.

  Hane revved the engine and took off like a bullet down the street, up the ramp, and onto the highway. Due to the heavily tinted windows, the car interior was bathed in darkness. How did he drive this thing at night?

  “There is going to be a lot of press around today.”

  Okay. I waited. There had to be more.

  “Michael Shuon was attacked last night. The police are asking questions.”

  Attacked? Like mugged? Who would mug Michael Shuon? That was like robbing the Beatles. How bad was he hurt? Sure the guy scared me, but KC seemed to care a lot for him. “Is he gonna be okay?”

  “He’s dead, kid. Can’t get more okay than that, I guess. Preservation Group is taking the credit for his death. They claim he was a vampire.”

  My mind spun from his sudden words. In fact, it hurt to breathe. Not my pain, but for KC. I wanted to go home. “Can you take me home, please?”

  “Sorry, kid. Kerstrande needs some time to digest this. It’s better if you stay away for a bit.”

  But he was my boyfriend. Crap, that sounded so high school. I just wanted to be sure he was okay. The wounds, the blood—had he done those things to himself when he found out? My eyes blurred, and I had to fight myself from begging Hane to take me home.

  “A tribute will be held tonight in Michael’s honor. Evolution will be playing.”

  “What?” How could they expect us to play now?

  “Covers of ‘Red Rose’, ‘Spin Crash’, and ‘Roller’.”

  “But Joel’s sick.” And those songs weren’t written for me. Funny how KC’s words came back to torment me.

  Hane shrugged. “I guess if you’re really against it we could cancel and disappoint all those grieving fans. Millions will be tuning in on TV worldwide to mourn.”

  Crap.

  “I’ll be backing you up on the board. Rob on guitar as always.”

  Something was so wrong with everything. My brain circled in dizzying thoughts. “How could something like this happen?”

  “Don’t know, kid. He was left in pieces.”

  PG, Preservation Group, the people who torched vampires and witches for fun. How had they known? Sure, Michael did some odd things and had been scary at times, but what made him a vampire? Even worse, did they suspect KC? My stomach churned. Thankfully, the studio emerged before us. We parked and Rob appeared beside the car, security towering around him. Endless flashes from cameras greeted us, but we ignored them and made our way inside.

  Hane left us in the Green room. Mr. Tokie only appeared to hand us a stack of Triple Flight songs to practice. I kept checking on Kerstrande, calling every half an hour or so. He never picked up, so I left voice mails.

  “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Rob was telling me for the hundredth time.

  “I agree.”

  “I mean, pulling off some sort of publicity stunt just because someone died? How low is that?”

  “Low,” I replied, which was likely why Hane hadn’t used the publicity angle with me.

  “It’s like telling them to think of you as the next Michael Shuon.” He paused and glanced back at me like he’d just heard me for the first time since we arrived. “Huh?”

  “I agree. It’s terrible. I don’t wanna do it either.” Any of it. Since when had wanting to sing come to this?

  “Then why are we?”

  ’Cause we had the contract he and Joel had dreamt of. ’Cause people had a right to grieve and hear those songs one last time. ’Cause I’d do the right thing no matter how much I didn’t want to. “He’s gone. Forever gone. That’s important to a lot more people than us.”

  Rob hugged me. He seemed to be trying not to cry. I hugged him back, not sure how to comfort something that I didn’t understand. “I just keep thinking, what if it had been you?” His grip tightened.

  “Then I’d move on to whatever the next life has for me. Hopefully a few would remember me and miss me a little, but I’d want them to be happy either way.”

  He finally let go, mopping at his face with his sleeve. “You say such grown-up things sometimes.”

  I raised a brow at him, daring him to continue that thought. He didn’t.

  “So you’re okay with this?”

  “No, but I can do it. Being okay is not necessary. I’m a professional.” No matter what anyone else thought, the music came first.

  Rob and I headed to the practice room. Hane met us, we practiced awhile, then we were all escorted to the arena. TV cameras and reporters lined the halls, all saying the same things, just out of sync enough to make the buzz sound like multiple stereos going at once. Thankfully security kept our area free. This would be a million times bigger than our debut at Hard Light.

  Voices floated through the empty back halls from the filled seating area of the stadium. Standing room only. Jumbo cloth screens had been hung outside to cater to the thousands who didn’t fit inside.

  KC hadn’t returned any of my calls. I just kept hearing the word “tragedy” over and over again. “Cut down so young.” The whole world thought it was the greatest tragedy, those left behind to grieve him, like KC would hurt the most.

  The dressing room had my name on the outside of it. The heaps of flower baskets, candies, and other random things left a hard rock in my gut. Was this stardom? How did Michael Shuon’s death warrant all these good things for us? It all just felt like bad Karma piling up. I so needed to get to the temple and light some incense to cleanse all the bad away.

  Hane vanished into his room for some quiet before the show. His shadows
flickered around him, black and white fuzz, making it hard for me to focus on him. Did Rob sense it at all?

  We lingered in the hall, too nervous to really find comfort in the elaborate rooms gifted to us. Rob kept pacing. His movement lulled me into a peaceful calm. I probably dozed off leaning against the wall until a voice called my name.

  “Genesis.” KC stepped out of my dressing room, a new long, black trench flowing around him. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. He must have snuck into my room while we were practicing and got tired of waiting for me to return. “Come here.”

  I turned toward him. Rob whispered, “Woof, woof,” behind me, which set my ears burning.

  “KC?” Was he upset? Should I hug him? Did he need to rage? He was always so cold to everyone, but I knew he hurt by the set of his shoulders. Not just the physical, but something put tension in his brow and a squint to his eyes. Would he let me help him through this?

  He dragged me into the dressing room, closed the door, and kissed me so hard I could barely think. We stayed that way for a while, lips locked together, bodies so close nothing could come between us. His fingers played with my hair, and his breath tasted like mints. I didn’t care that when he finally stopped kissing me, he just let his cheek rest on mine. My calm seemed to extend to him, since the last of his shadows faded as he held me. He looked normal and so beautiful, but sad.

  “You loved him, didn’t you?” Not as a lover, I realized, since KC never talked about him. They’d been in a band together for years. That meant something. I cared for Rob and Joel in much the same way.

  “Not loved, love, present tense verb,” he muttered. “Michael loved me. Wanted more than I could offer him.”

  “Like what we have?” I whispered quietly.

  He nodded but wouldn’t look at me. “When I turned him down, he did things that changed him….”

  Things that made him the dark thing he’d become. I understood that without KC needing to tell me. Heartbreak could do terrible things to anyone. “It’s not your fault.”

  His sigh was heavy.

  “It’s not. We all make our own choices, good or bad, and we have to keep moving forward with them.” I ran my hands down his back, stroking it beneath the fabric of his new duster, finding a rhythm that seemed to give him a bit of peace.

  A pounding on the door and a shouted reminder that I had to be on stage in five didn’t move either of us for another minute or two. When KC pulled away, he wouldn’t look at me. Instead, he headed toward the parking lot when he left the room, not toward the stage.

  I had some songs to sing, but I’d follow him soon enough.

  Chapter 19

  I STEPPED into the spotlight feeling energized, confident, and calm. This was for the fans, not for me, but for the millions of flickering lights in the darkness. The teary-eyed listeners—who had no other way to express their disbelief that an era had ended—cried and cheered, wanting me to give them a bit of peace.

  When I opened my mouth to sing Shuon’s songs, I mirrored his style, swinging the octaves above my normal range to provide the proper eulogy in his tenor tone. Four Triple Flight songs, ending with “Red Rose” which I sang as my own, giving the emotion to the words that Michael never could have, ended our part with a reminder of love and loss. Everyone sang along to the last one.

  The music died, and silence stretched throughout the arena while everyone cried. Rob and I left the stage, allowing Hane time to speak before the crowd. In the dark recesses of the halls behind the stage, men with flashlights led us to our dressing rooms.

  Rob looked baffled, dazed, and tired. He stopped just before mine. “What the hell was that?”

  “What?”

  “You! Every note, the flow, the control, the range! You’ve always had a great voice, but I’ve never known you to use it that well.”

  Wow, that stung. “Thanks for being so supportive.”

  “I wasn’t insulting you.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “I’m not the one acting like an asshole tonight.”

  How was I any different from usual? “I’m an asshole?” Really? After busting my balls to make this whole music thing work for him, I was the asshole? “You know, I’m so done with all this. The only reason I did this stupid contract was because you and Joel were begging for it. The only reason I’m here right now instead of with my grieving boyfriend is because of that damn piece of paper.” I shook my head and decided I didn’t want any of what this awful thing called “fame” was bringing. “I’m tired of you pushing me around, insulting me, telling me what to do, and shoving girls at me. I’m gay—get over it. And tonight I sang Michael’s style, so apparently when I’m just me I’m not good enough for you. Well, fuck you.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Could have fooled me.” I headed for the door, hoping I could find a ride back to my car and then to find KC. Just some time in his arms could wipe away the troubles for a while. Damn, did he know he was so powerful?

  “Stop running away and talk to me!” Rob demanded.

  “I’m not running away. I’m being real. I wish for once you’d be real. Like the way you always promised to be there, protect me, be my friend no matter what. But you left me first. And don’t think I didn’t see you that day Grant Ross nearly drowned me in the pool. ’Cause I saw you there. I saw you turn your back. And I’m tired of trying to pretend that didn’t affect me, that you didn’t ignore me that day because I’m different. Don’t tell me you didn’t rejoice when I dropped out so you could stop pretending to not like the queer kid. So yeah, I really wish you’d just be real for once.”

  His shocked expression barely registered on me as I opened the outside door and flagged down a taxi to take me back to the studio. Before I realized where I was going, the Park appeared before me. The pain of the day had stirred up a lot of memories I’d thought dead and buried. Crap. I so needed a break from life. Why hadn’t I just gone home?

  The answer was sitting on the bench I’d come to think of as ours. Smoke curled around KC’s head from a lit cigarette, one of many, obviously, since the ground was covered in butts. I’d have to clean that up before we left. He stared at me, eyes hidden in the dark, but shadow-free. My heart pounded like a hip-hop beat while I remembered our time together in my dressing room. I think I really got it now, his comment about the songs not being written for me. They had been penned for a very different man, with a very distinct voice and personality. Shuon could never have sung “Midnight Rain.” And just because I could sing his songs didn’t mean I was supposed to. In a way, KC writing for him had been a never-ending apology for not being able to give him more.

  I dropped to my knees at KC’s feet and gripped the soft cotton fabric of his jeans as though it could keep me from falling out of myself. Did he know yet just how important he was to me? Did he get it? “KC, I—”

  He put out his cigarette, flicking the butt away before wrapping his strong fingers in my hair. The other hand caressed my lips like he knew what I wanted to say. “Not yet.”

  He would freak, wouldn’t he? That L-word did a lot of funny things to people. Not saying it wouldn’t stop it from being fact, and I could wait a little longer to tell him.

  “Don’t sing like that again. Be you, not Michael Shuon.” KC’s clear amber eyes glistened down at me. He grieved, but he had me to hold him together. I gathered him into my arms. His head rested on my shoulder. I ignored the racking sobs that came from him while I stroked his back. Sometimes letting go was harder than holding on.

  Chapter 20

  ANOTHER week passed without shadows. The recording became a job: I showed up, sang my best, and returned home. Rob and I were at odds, my irritation with him still pulsing, his at me seemed to be growing. KC often spent nights at home with me watching TV, or he’d read while I jotted down a new song or drew on the new shoes he’d given me.

  When he’d gifted me with three boxes, each holding a different color canvas shoe—one red,
one blue, and one purple—he’d looked a lot like a little kid seeking approval. And when he’d pulled out a jumbo box of bright colored, fine-tipped Sharpies for me to color on the shoes, I gave him a bone-crushing hug he’d grumbled about for hours. Every once in a while, I’d catch him smiling just a little and looking at my feet.

  He still wouldn’t touch me further than a hug or a kiss. Why he was so afraid of intimacy, I didn’t know, but I let him have his space and took the hesitant affection he was willing to give.

  I tried Joel’s phone for the fifth time with no success. Three weeks and no word. Everyone assured me he was fine, resting at home—even his girlfriend Sarah said so. We’d never been all that close. Sort of a status separation. He came from an upper-class family; I hadn’t. We didn’t go to dinner with our families. We didn’t hang at the movies or go to sport shows. But I missed his sense of humor, kindness, and acceptance of me and all the weird things I was.

  The fact that the record label didn’t care really bothered me. They talked about hiring a permanent replacement for him, as though he’d died or something. And Mr. Tokie shrugged it off, saying sometimes it happened. The fame got to people and then they vanished, simply because they didn’t want to deal with all the pressure. But Joel wasn’t like that. No one seemed to agree with me, and it was driving me nuts. Most days I felt like I lived in some sort of alternate reality than the rest of the world.

  KC listened to me vent but didn’t offer a solution. Cris suggested I visit Joel, but I’d tried that several times. The whole building had gone ghost town, without the ghosts, and downright creepy. No doorman, no one in the halls, no food smells, or sounds of life in general. I wondered if I called the police, would they arrest me for the call if everyone turned out to be okay? Maybe the place just had really good insulation.

  Hane practiced with us almost every day, mediating conversations. Even he had grown darker, like Devon, who I hadn’t seen in weeks. Was it something about me that made my friends prone to the darkness? Rob didn’t have shadows, but his aura was a wash of rejection, anger, and pain.