Backstage

by A. m Madden

  There’s nothing printed on the envelope. My mother’s letter is still fresh in my mind. This time I impatiently tear into the fucking thing like it’s on fire. Inside is one simple sheet of paper with eight words printed off a printer in bold font.

  SO YOU LIKE BLONDES? DO YOU MISS HER?

  What the fuck is this? Do I miss who? Taylor? This could also be referring to Tara. Besides my circle, no one knows about Tara. A sick feeling takes hold. Worse, I feel the familiar rage that I haven’t felt in a long time.

  This has to be my uncle sending me a message. This is a warning. It can’t be some random psycho. If I ignore it, waiting for his next move could be fatal.

  First I call Tara, worried when it goes straight to voicemail.

  Maybe the Rappaports know something. I quickly dial their number next and wait.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Rappaport. It’s Trestan.”

  “Son, are you ok?”

  “Not really. Sir, I changed my identity when I left Utah. One other person knows who I’ve become.” I fill him in over the phone, giving him some details of my mom’s letter, and now this note. I debate on telling him the next part, but I need a connection back home to who I am, to who I’ve become. “My name is Trey Taylor. I am the bass player for Devil’s Lair.”

  I can hear his audible gasp over the phone. “Trey TAYLOR?”

  “Yes, Sir. Taylor’s nickname for me was Trey. I took her name as my own. I settled in L.A. after I left. Unfortunately, I didn’t stay long. I left ten years ago and came to New York. I’ve been here ever since.”

  “You boys came through here a few years ago. My son wanted to see you in Salt Lake.”

  “That’s us.”

  “Trestan, I’m very happy for you. I’m so glad you found happiness.”

  I can’t bear to tell him I really haven’t. Instead I confirm his statement. He proceeds to tell me that my uncle is bragging that justice will finally be served. He is ranting to his congregation that retribution requires patience. He said that all sinners would eventually have their day to be judged.

  “Sir, you still have the discs I left with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think I need to protect myself. I’ll call you one week from today. If you don’t hear from me, it means something happened to me. Please take those discs to the police. All you should say is they were found on your doorstep in a plain, manila envelope.”

  “Trestan, please be careful.”

  “I will.”

  The relief that courses through me from telling someone, not all but at least part of my many secrets, is overwhelming. I can’t handle this alone. My cell buzzes immediately after I hang up with Mr. Rappaport.

  “Jack,” I mutter into the phone.

  “Dude, where are you?”

  Fuck, the meeting.

  “On my way. Sorry.”

  I shove the note into my pocket. My drive to the studio takes ten minutes. During the course of that time, I decide I need to talk to my band. It’s time. I can’t keep kidding myself. I need to introduce them to Trestan Barton. I can’t imagine how they will react.

  When I walk in all eyes turn to me.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  “What the hell, Dude?” Hunter asks, throwing up his hands.

  “Long story.”

  Leila watches me from across the table. When I meet her gaze, she asks, “You okay? You don’t look good.”

  “Let’s do this,” I suggest half-heartedly. “Once we’re done, I’ll fill you in.”

  Jack nods and begins discussing our next album and the track order we need to agree to. During the next hour, everyone around me throws suggestions and ideas out on the table. I, instead, sit wondering how I’m going to tell this group of my closest friends I’ve been lying to them for the past ten years. How do you break news like that?

  So, you guys want to hear something funny? Trey Taylor is a fictional character.

  Fuck.

  Every so often, someone will ask me a question. I’ll respond and then retreat back into the dialogue I’m preparing in my head. Once Jack announces we’re all done, all eyes turn to me.

  “Trey, you’re worrying me. You look like you’re about to throw up,” Leila says with concern etched on her beautiful face. I think it would be easier if I only had to tell the guys. Dudes are different. Leila’s presence is bringing more emotion to this mess than I’m prepared for.

  “Spill it. Did ya’ finally get a chick preggo?” Hunter asks. I wish it were that simple.

  Ignoring him, I take a deep breath. “I hope you guys don’t have somewhere to be, this is gonna take a while.”

  It took me three hours to detail every fucking event that occurred in the past ten years…from the day I convinced Taylor to run away with me, to stealing my dad’s money and files, to yesterday's cryptic letter. I even went as far as explaining that for the first time since Taylor, I felt something for Tara.

  I feel shredded. I feel like someone took a box cutter and repeatedly sliced at my chest. Leila cried during most of it. The guys all sat around with shocked expressions on their faces. My last sentence to them was, “I’m sorry.”

  “Trey, you have nothing to be sorry about. You did what you had to do to survive that awful man and what he put you through,” Leila says through her tears.

  “She’s right, Man. We don’t fault you for what you did or what you lied about. You’re our brother, Trey,” Jack reaches over and clasps my shoulder.

  Scott clasps my other shoulder and says, “Trey, we got your back.”

  “Thanks. I’ve never had anyone in my corner. Support is not something I understand. I don’t know how to respond to that.”

  “You take it and shut the fuck up,” Hunter says. “So does that mean I can start calling you Trestan?”

  “Not if you wanna live,” I threaten.

  Leila giggles before standing and coming over to my side of the table. She motions for me to stand and immediately throws her arms around me when I do. “Trey, you’ll never have to face anything alone again.” She squeezes me tightly in her embrace.

  “Thanks, Little Lair. Normally I’d tell you a crude joke, but I don’t have it in me right now.”

  She pulls away and looks up at my face. “I’m sure you’ll make up for it very soon.”

  When she returns to her seat, Jack asks, “So does Tara know all this?”

  “No. I can’t tell her. She needs to stay away from me.”

  “No, she doesn’t Trey!” Leila barks at me.

  “Yes, she does.”

  “Trey, you need each other to get through it, whether you believe so or not. Jack and I wouldn’t have survived our crap if we didn’t do it together.”

  “I have no idea what this is about.” I pick up the note and throw it across the table. “This could mean her. I just don’t know yet. She’s safer away from me.”

  “Babe, let him do this his way,” Jack interrupts. “Just like when you broke up with me because of Jessa. What you did was necessary.”

  She shakes her head stubbornly. “I was an idiot. Don’t use me as an example.”

  “He’s right. You did what you had to do, and so do I. Besides, once she hears all this, she may not want to be with me anymore. I’d rather it end now than later.” My words cause my chest to squeeze tightly in pain. I may have decided she’s better off without me, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  “Of course she wants to be with you,” Leila throws back stubbornly.

  I shake my head in denial. Leila watches as I retrieve an old, worn picture from my wallet. I hand her the picture and say very quietly, “That’s Taylor.”

  Leila gasps before her eyes fly back to mine. “They could be twins.”

  “Yeah.”

  Leila passes the picture to Jack, and it makes its rounds.

  “Holy shit,” Hunter bursts out. “Sorry, Dude,” he adds when Leila shoots him a dirty look.

  They’re all right in thei
r reactions. They could be sisters. The resemblance is what drew me to Tara. That first meeting I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. It was because of how much she reminded me of my Taylor. She’ll never understand that I’m with her because I care for her, because of who she is. She’ll never get that I no longer connect her to my Taylor.

  “She’ll think I’m with her for the wrong reasons. If she heard all this, if she saw that picture, if she knew she was in danger, she’d realize I’m not worth it.”

  “Trey, you can’t shut off feelings at will. It doesn’t work like that. She’s told me how she feels about you. Trey, we’ve become very close and I’m sure she’s devastated right now.” Leila takes my hand and pleads, “You need to let her in. You need to let her make this decision on her own. You can’t decide you aren’t good for her. That’s her decision to make. Do you love her?”

  I literally have to suppress a groan. I knew this pain in my ass would ask me that. “I don’t know.”

  She lets me get away with that temporarily, but adds, “But you do care for her.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Then you owe it to her to know the truth.”

  Jack puts his arm around his wife, beaming like a fool. “Listen to her, Man. She knows what she’s talking about.”

  Leila smiles at him and says, “Of course I do. You idiots would be wandering the streets aimlessly if it weren’t for me.”

  “Would not,” Hunter responds like a three year old.

  “Ok, whatever.” She turns to me and says, “I’m really worried about her. I haven’t seen or heard from her since the party. She hasn’t returned any of my calls or my texts.”

  A shiver runs down my spine.

  “Not even a text?”

  Leila shakes her head, “I don’t like the look on your face.”

  I pull out my phone and dial Tara’s number again. When it goes to voicemail, I tell her to call me immediately, saying it’s an emergency...I then text the same message.

  “I’m sure she’s fine, Man,” Hunter is the first to say anything.

  No. Something is wrong. For her not to respond to Leila is not like Tara. I stand so abruptly that I knock over my chair. “I need to go to her place,” I announce, practically running out the door.

  “Trey, wait up. I’ll come with you,” Jack calls after me.

  “No! Stay here.”

  Someone grabs my shoulder and stops me in my tracks. “Knock it off,” Jack says behind me. “There’s no way I’m letting you go over there alone.”

  My shoulders slump from all the stress I’m holding on them. I can’t have my best friend endanger himself. “Jack, I can’t have Leila worry about you.”

  “I’ll go,” Hunter says when he joins us in the reception area. Scott and Leila are behind him.

  “We’ll all go.” Jack turns to Leila and kisses her chastely. “I’ll call you as soon as we know something.”

  She nods, emotion clouding her normal happy features. “Please be careful,” she whispers to him.

  “We will.”

  “Tara!” I pound on the door for the tenth time. “Fuck!” Goddamn, if something happened to her I will not survive it again.

  “I’ll go see if there’s a manager or super who could let us in,” Scott says before walking away.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I admit. I feel like I’m drowning. That moment when you desperately try to pull in a breath but only water fills your lungs. I can only guess that’s what drowning feels like. This is as close to it as it can get.

  Jack and Hunter stand awkwardly, clearly not knowing what to do. It feels like an eternity before Scott returns with an older man.

  “What’s the problem?” he asks suspiciously. Why would he trust four dudes standing outside one of his apartments?

  “My girlfriend lives here,” I say. The words sound foreign even to my own ears.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Tara Rodston, petite blonde.”

  “I know Tara,” he says, narrowing his eyes into mere slits. “What do you want with her?”

  “I…um…We.” What do I tell this man?

  Jack extends his hand, “Jack Lair. This here is Trey Taylor. He hasn’t been able to reach her and he’s very worried.”

  “How long has it been?” This man isn’t going to make this easy for me. Why the fuck should he make this easy for me?

  I’m about to lose it on his ass when Jack adds, “They broke up Saturday. That was the last day.”

  His suspicions with me suddenly go into overdrive. “I don’t want trouble here. How do I know you didn’t hurt her, or want to?”

  “We understand. If you need to call the police, then by all means please do. We just need to see if she’s ok. Maybe there will be something in there that can fill us in to where she is.” He pulls out his wallet and tips the guy a fifty.

  Thank God for fucking Jack.

  The manager continues to measure us up, landing his beady little eyes on me. “Okay, you got five minutes.”

  Miraculously, he opens the door. I rush into the apartment to find it empty. Nothing looks out of place.

  “See, all is well. Whatever it is you did, you need to give her space. She’s probably just mad at you and trying to scare you. Or she’s probably at work or out with a friend ragging on you.” He stands at the door with his phone in his hand as if it’s a gun and he’s waiting for the call to draw.

  Jack and I exchange a glance. Something feels off. I walk into her bedroom. Her laptop bag sits on the floor in the corner. There is no way she would be working without it. From where I stand, I can hear Jack answering his phone and assuring Leila we are ok.

  In that moment, it occurs to me I need to tell Tara everything. Leila’s right. She needs to be told, if for nothing else but her own safety. What kind of hypocrite does it make me? My motto is to plan and prepare for whatever comes my way, yet here I am letting someone I care about deeply possibly get hurt because I kept her in the dark.

  Once she knows, I can protect her better. She can choose whether she wants to be with me or not. It needs to be her decision, not mine.

  When I walk back into the living room, I say, “Let’s go.”

  “You sure, Dude?” Scott asks.

  “Yeah.”

  The manager locks up her place. Before he lets us go, he makes us all give him our names.

  “Now what?” Hunter asks on our way out of the building.

  “Her laptop was up there. She wouldn’t have left it if she was at her office today.”

  Scott crumples his forehead like he’s deep in thought. “Could she have gone away for a few days? To get away from things?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Let’s go to my place. Maybe Leila heard from her.”

  As Scott drives us back to Jack’s place, I say, “Scott, stop at my place first. I need to get something.”

  “Sure, dude.”

  “What is it you need?” Jack asks, turning around in his seat to look at me in the back.

  “I need those files.” I drag my hand over my face in frustration. I am so out of my

  element. “I need to go to the police. Even if she turns out okay, even if this is all a big misunderstanding, I need to protect her. I can’t do it alone. I can’t do it without protecting myself first.”

  “Okay,” he nods. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  The rest of our ride is in silence. Scott sits at my curb, waiting for me to go in to retrieve the insurance policy I’ve been carrying around for years. If this has nothing to do with Abe, handing over those files will stop him from coming after me. I’ve waited, hoping it wouldn’t happen, but he’s coming. I have enough information to know that reality is about to occur.

  Plan my moves.

  It’s my only line of defense.

  The ounce of confidence I feel dissipates at the sight of an envelope that is taped to my door. I tear it off and inside there’s a picture of Tara holding a newspaper. Her face is tearstaine
d, her eyes wide in fear.

  Scribbled beneath it, DO YOU MISS HER?

  “Motherfucker!” My door becomes my victim. When kicking it repeatedly does nothing to calm my rage, I go into my apartment and start throwing things.

  My original plan to go to the police is no longer a good one. How can I go to the police now? What if he knows if I do? He can kill her before I get her back. I need to save her. Whatever he wants, he can have. Whatever it takes to get her back. My cell buzzes in my pocket, the screen showing Jack’s number.

  “What’s taking so long?”

  “He has her,” is all I say into the phone.

  “We’ll be right up.”

  Jack and Hunter find me sitting on the couch, staring at the photo. “I can’t go to the police now. He’ll know. He’ll kill her.”

  Jack takes the paper from my hand, “Ah fuck.” He says before handing it back.

  “Dude, you need to go to the police now more than ever.”

  “I can’t. I fucking can’t.” He gawks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Hunter doesn’t look any different from where he stands across the room. “My mom’s letter said he’s been looking for me. How do I know he hasn’t been watching me for weeks? He must have known Tara and I were together. He could also know other things. He could know if I go to the police. He’d kill her. I don’t have a doubt in my mind he’d kill her.” I throw the paper on my table and start pacing. “He wants money. He’s broke. He knows besides the fact I stole money from my dad, I’m now worth a lot more than I was. He’ll contact me again. I need to see what he wants.”

  “Trey, every day you wait could cause more problems for Tara.”

  He’s right. “What should I fucking do? I don’t know what to do!”

  “Listen, if its money he wants, he won’t kill her. Not before he gets what he wants. The cops will call in the FBI. They’ll know how to handle this. You have no clue what to do. Let them handle it.”

  “Jack, if she dies because of me, I won’t…” I won’t survive. I finish the thought in my head. I don’t have to finish my sentence. Jack nods, knowing what I didn’t say. My pacing increases in intensity. I pace right over to the wall and punch a hole right through it.