I'm reunited with my shoe.
"Stay." She pouts, patting the other side of the flowery comforter.
I give her a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll call you later." We're due back in the studio tomorrow to work on "Sugar Rush." We still have a few kinks to work out and apparently so do I. I don't exactly remember everything that went on last night, and that's scary.
"I'll be waiting for you." She drops the top of the comforter, exposing her luscious breasts. Ooo, tempting! I've got to get out of here before I jump back in. Pieces of last night are quickly coming back to me and I'll give it to Hannah, she's a wild ride. But I'm not sure if that's what I need right now. I'm finally on track and don't want to be derailed.
"Sounds good." I smile and walk myself out.
Only after I leave do I realize that I know how she feels. That's usually me, begging the person not to go. Begging Indigo.
want to go to school today as badly as I want to get a triple root canal (do those even exist?). Cat has talked to Krista, and she promised to lay off me in exchange for an exclusive interview next Monday. So basically I've got a week to cross the Mexican border and never look back. I knew I should've taken four years of Spanish instead of French.
Eli tamed down the website, too, and changed my picture, so maybe it's not going to be that bad. I slide into spot 143 by myself. I actually wish Eli was here to walk in with me today, but he came to school way early for math tutoring-nerd. I head toward the side door by the art room, where Cat promised to meet me.
Tripp and a few of his friends are hovering around a red Hummer a few spots over from me. It has that shiny new glow to it. I haven't seen him since Saturday. I should stop and say hi, because I don't want him to think of me only as the crazy frappuccino-dumping girl.
Oh, great, Sam's there, too. I wonder if he already has me labeled as a wacko. After all, I'm sure he had to deal with Krista's whining for the rest of the night.
"Hey, Tripp." I stop and sling my backpack over my shoulder.
He walks toward me. His eyeballs do the talking, zoning in on my boobs. "We'll have to pick up where we left off on Saturday."
"Sure," I say, before I realize what he means. As long as we don't have to hang out with Krista, I'm game.
"I can pick you up tonight after practice." He winks and goes back to pet the Hummer with the rest of his buddies.
"Cool." I think. I hope the guys didn't hear that.
Cat's over by the art door waving at me. I speed up to meet her. "I saw you talking to Tripp," she says.
"Yeah, he was just making a booty call for tonight."
She laughs. "Sweet."
"Right." I nod.
"And he keeps your mind off of Adam and the whole song thing."
"True, and he's pretty yummy." I lick my lips.
She pats me on the back. "There's my little slut."
A couple of girls emerge from the art room carrying portfolio cases. They're giggling. And the paranoid freak that I am, I can't tell if it's about me or something entirely different. Surely Krista kept her mouth shut about the coffee incident. It would only make her look like a total loser. Unless she plays the part of helpless victim, but that is totally going against her strong, independent, clean, TVqueen persona. And there is still a slight chance that she might try to retaliate, although she assured Cat that if I did the interview, she'd stay away from me. I better keep an eye on her at all times.
I lean my head on Cat's shoulder. "What would I do without you?"
"Need me to walk you to class?" she asks.
The bell rings and we move toward the front of the school.
"No thanks. I'm fine."
We split and promise to meet up at lunch. I make it to first period without incident. There is no Wanted poster of me on the classroom door. No gum on my chair or people sticking pins in voodoo dolls with my likeness. I scan the class and no one is staring at me, either. So Krista hasn't turned the whole school against me over the weekend. They don't all know about my website. But I'm sure she's not going to let me off that easy-she must be planning something for the big interview. Maybe she'll rig a bucket of pig's blood to a rope and pull a string to dump it on my head. Whatever it is, I know she still wants to come out as an Emmy-awardwinning reporter.
I wade through Mr. Macintosh's sociology lesson and even manage to answer a couple of his questions on population growth and management. I know of at least one person that is not contributing to the overall goodness of peace on earth. Krista.
After class, I throw my massive history textbook into my locker and rush to English before Krista gets there. If I'm already seated, then there's less damage she can do. I swing open the door and see her and Elle standing by my desk. I look around the room. Mrs. Stead is grading papers, and half a dozen students are talking. Doesn't this scene strike anyone else as odd? Two mega bitches have put a hex on my seat, and to these people it's just another normal day. Wake up, people!
I garner my strength by repeating the word frappuccino under my breath. Maybe if I just sit down, they'll go away.
Krista strikes first, slapping a piece of paper down on my desk. "You will pay."
I open up the little folded slip. It's a receipt. "Jerry's Dry Cleaners? Thirty dollars?"
"Yes. You stained my dress."
"Thirty dollars?" I repeat. "But it was black."
"I wouldn't expect you to know much about fashion, but it's an original Marc Jacobs."
"Like, he only made one?"
Elle clicks her tongue. "Don't even bother with her, Krista."
The last bell rings.
Krista turns to me. "You're all mine next Monday, don't forget that."
And for special effects, Elle makes a slicing motion with her hand across her neck. I know it's supposed to scare me, but she's about as threatening as my grandmother when she says no sweets before dinner.
No wonder Elle didn't make callbacks for the school play this year.
I climb into Darnell and turn my phone off vibrate. No messages. It's weird that I haven't heard from Adam in a week. I wouldn't admit this to anyone, but I kind of wonder what he's up to. Is he not calling because he has moved on, which is totally a good thing? Or is he not calling because he saw the website and is really hurt? But Eli assured me that it was only up for a day before I found out about it. Not enough time for Adam to even realize that it was there. Still, it's weird.
I toss my backpack into the hall closet. It feels like more than a physical load has been lifted-I survived my first day post- frappuccino, I have a date with Tripp tonight, and Adam has left me alone for a whole week. I should celebrate.
"There's a voicemail for you," Mom says as I walk into the kitchen.
"Adam's calling the house phone now?"
Mom raises her eyebrow. "No, it's Candi Campbell."
"Ugh, again." I plop down on the barstool at the counter and reach for a cookie. "I hope you erased it."
She picks up the phone and dials the message center. "Give it a listen first."
"Why?" I shove another cookie into my mouth.
Mom doesn't answer. She just holds the phone to my ear and I reluctantly grab it. "Hi, this is Candi Campbell from Blitz News Magazine. I would really love to talk to Indigo. Call me back at your earliest convenience, my number at the station is..."
"Never." I hit end on the phone and hand it back to Mom.
"No pressure, honey. I just thought if you give them what they want, then maybe they'll go away."
"Have you been talking to Eli?"
She nods. "Your brother does have a point."
"Incredible. Since when did Eli get voted president?" Doesn't she know how celebs get hounded by paparazzi night and day?
"No one's taking sides here. We only want you to be happy." Mom picks up the plate of cookies. I grab one more. My last, I swear.
"I'm stressing out enough over the school TV interview next Monday, the last thing I want to do is talk to a gossip hound."
"Okay. Anyth
ing else bothering you?"
"No, I'm cool, thanks. I've got to be at work in fifteen minutes so I better go change." I still love my job at Rock Candy, even though some customers have started to recognize me. But for the most part, people just go there to get a candy fix. It's a one-purpose stop. And Tony is a great boss, totally chill.
I throw on my pink work tee and tie my hair up. It's unusually warm today for October, so I bet we'll get more people in than usual. Although sugar, especially chocolate, knows no weather boundaries. At Christmastime, our hot cocoa mixes draw plenty of people away from their fireplaces, and in the heat of the summer people tend to gravitate toward the fruit-themed jelly candies Tony makes from scratch.
I say good-bye to Mom and hello to Darnell. Only after I pull out of the driveway do I realize that I forgot my iPod again, so I instinctively turn on the radio for the short drive. "Oh, Indigo, I've got news for you ... "
"Darnell, you traitor," I yell. "You know I hate that song." I abruptly stop short, four houses down.
Darnell answers with a screech.
I catch my breath and switch to another station. All Oldies.
I start moving again, slowly. "Okay, so I know it wasn't your fault, Darnell, but I was thrown off guard. Out of all the songs you could've played, you had to choose that one?"
I park in the back of the store and see Tony cutting boxes and throwing them into the dumpster. I walk over to him. "Hey, need any help?"
"Indigo, sure. I cut, you toss." He hands me a flattened box.
I throw it into the dumpster. Then we repeat the process. I send one flying and it bounces off the side.
"You think this is a Frisbee contest?" He laughs.
I take another box from him. "Yeah, see if you can beat this." The box makes it to the middle of the dumpster.
Tony steps back. "Not bad. Now, let her rip." He twists his body to the right and his box goes flying. It lands at the end of the dumpster.
"Wow, good shot," I say.
"Years of being a beach bum finally comes in handy." Tony grew up on the Cape and spent all his summers at the beach. "But you're not bad." He rubs his temples. "I see plenty of Frisbee fun in your future."
"I wish I could see into the future." I toss the last box in and close the dumpster lid. "I want to know when all of this song crap will go away."
"Just give it time. Watch for the signs and you'll see it fade out. Everything does."
So maybe Darnell was trying to tell me something. I know Tony would probably think I'm crazy if I told him my car was psychic, but seriously, Darnell has never let me down before. Maybe by playing the song, he was just telling me to deal with the situation. Own up to it. I know other people were trying to tell me the same thing, but for some strange reason, it's so much easier to listen to Darnell.
Tony holds the back door open for me. "Coming inside?"
I pull out my phone. "Just give me a minute, okay?"
"You got it." He winks.
I might be crazy, but I hit Adam's number and let it ring. My heart beats in tandem with the phone. On the third ring I prepare my voicemail message. "Hi, Adam, it's Indigo. I hope you're not..."
can't believe I'm worrying about what I'm going to wear to the grand opening of a new bar, but Gina said the press is going to be there. I don't want to look like a slob in the photo or the pasty white guy flanked by sexy models. Although it will be nice to have Hannah next to me. Gina said she's great for my image, and I'm just thinking that she's great for my ego.
I flex in the mirror. Oh yeah, baby, that is THE Adam Spade. Who am I kidding? I need to go to the gym more than a couple hours a week if I ever want to buff up.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I hope it's not Hannah canceling, or then I'll have to ask Gina to come as my stand-in. I don't want to show up alone, because all the other guy are showing up with beautiful girls. There's a huge difference between enjoying being alone and being alone in public.
Indigo? My heart skips a beat. Why is she calling me? I'm about to pick up when I remember the website. Her rant. Besides, the car service Gina arranged will be here soon and Hannah is waiting. The call goes to voicemail. I shove the phone back into my pocket and grab my keys.
"Get ready, world. Adam Spade is stepping out tonight." I slap the front of the mailboxes downstairs for added effect. I've heard people say that if you repeat a positive mantra enough times, you will believe it.
My ride is already waiting outside.
"Where to, buddy?" the driver asks after I slide in. I give him directions to Hannah's pad and then pull out my phone. I stare at the little mailbox symbol. I'm content to be staring at it until I spot Hannah's apartment around the corner. I haven't seen her since yesterday, when I basked in the pinkness of her apartment. A wave of panic flows through me. What if Indigo is calling because something is wrong? Sure, it's highly unlikely, but I've never been one to take big risks. I hit the icon and dial into my voicemail.
"Hi Adam, it's Indigo. I hope you're not mad at me. Okay, you have every right to be. That's if you've seen my website. Or, ah, the website that Eli set up behind my back. I just found out about it a couple of days ago, but I made him change some things. Really embarrassing, too. I was on a ... well, you don't want to hear all that."
The driver gets out of the car and opens the door for Hannah. She leans in. I hit end on my phone. "Thought you were going to leave me out in the cold." She slides in.
She couldn't just open the door? "Good thing it's warm tonight," I chuckle.
"That's not the point." She tugs at her cleavage.
"Sorry, just got a call." So Indigo made some changes to the site? I have to check that out when I get home. Maybe she does have a heart after all. And what's up with Eli?
A sense of panic runs through Hannah's voice. "Everything still on for tonight?"
Yup.
"Great." She plants a big kiss on my lips.
Yum. For the next ten minutes, I even forget what'sher-name. Hannah's sultry lips run the course of my face, kissing me from side to side. She's like a wild cat, and she looks fine, too. She's wearing a green dress that some might call lingerie. It hugs every inch of her body perfectly.
"Okay, we're here." The driver finally breaks up the kissing fest.
I look up and wipe my face with the side of my arm. I don't want to go inside with lipstick splotches all over me. I catch the driver's eye as I'm staring into the mirror. He gives me a big smile and winks.
I wonder what he thinks of me. That I'm some guy who has hot sex on every street corner? I also realize that he's been watching us the whole time. Guess I can't blame him. It's his car, his turf.
He opens the door for us. Hannah steps out first and throws him a kiss. While I thank the guy, she quickly turns to the people mulling around outside the Blue Llama and waves. A few wave back. She is so milking this I'm-a-celebrity thing, and I think they're actually buying it. She pulls me toward her and casually slings my arm around her waist. Something tells me this is not her first grand entrance.
There are a few photographers on the blue steps leading up to the door. They all snap pics, and flashing lights blind us. "Hi, Adam," one guy says. Another one yells, "What's your name, sweetheart?" Hannah doesn't miss a beat and calls out her name, with another little wave.
I still haven't gotten used to people knowing who I am. I mostly only get noticed if I'm with the rest of the band, and I'm hardly ever addressed by name. I'm just the guy that wrote "Indigo Blues" and sometimes not even that. Then I'm just the guy from Blank Stare. There is something to be said about maintaining your anonymity; you're not constantly being watched, scrutinized.
I spot Gina standing in the hallway with a big blue drink. A touch of normalcy. I embrace her. "Good to see you, Gina."
"You too, Adam." She gives me a weird look-after all, I just saw her yesterday at the studio. But yesterday I did not have flashing lights in my face, and I was not being toted around by Hannah.
"Excuse me," Hannah butt
s in. "Adam, let's go get a drink."
I tell Gina I'll catch up with her later and let Hannah lead the way. "Did you ever have a thing with her?" Hannah asks when we hit the line for the bar.
"Gina?"
"Yeah."
"No, she's my manager. I don't mix business and plea„ sure.
"Good policy." Hannah plants a big kiss on my lips.
I peel away from her and order two Swimming Pools, apparently the drink of the night. They're served in margarita glasses, complete with gummy lifesavers as life preservers. I want to be the person who comes up with the different types of drinks and then has to sample them. That would be a low-pressure, high-cool-factor job.
Once we've got drinks in hand, I scan the crowd for my boys.
"Hey, Hannah babes," I hear someone yell.
"Ooo, Marcel," she squeals.
I look over and see a height-challenged, overly gelled guy with sausages for arms eating the olive out of his martini. Hannah runs up and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Is that all you got for me, babe?" he teases.
She pulls me forward. "Meet Adam. From Blank Stare."
"Oh, Indigo Booze," he says.
Sure, whatever.
He wipes his hand on the side of his pants and we shake. "Nice to meet you," I say.
"You take care of Hannah, you hear." He shoots hot oil at me from his frying-pan eyes. Everything about this guy is big. What's inside those leather pants?
"Sure thing." I take a sip of my Swimming Pool. Because really, what else am I supposed to say?
After we walk away, I ask Hannah, "How do you know him?"
"We met at a shoot and dated for a bit."
Nasty. "I thought he was gay."
She laughs. "No, he's very sexual."
Double nasty.
When I don't answer, she leans into me. "Too much info?"
Indigo Blues Page 10
