Anya and the Shy Guy (Backstage Pass)

by Suze Winegardner

  Not that she’d lied to them, but she certainly hadn’t disabused them of the notion that she was in her twenties. Like, far in her twenties. And that she’d written for other publications.

  And the crowd was still deafening. It took every inch of self-control not to curl up into a ball under the van. Or to run and hide—anywhere away from the heaving masses. But she stood and, as if her insides weren’t rioting, walked down the corridor the police had made for them.

  Inside, the familiar setup of tables and cots brought back memories. Anyone was allowed to stay there for three nights in a row, but after that, Father Howard felt duty bound to call social services. He called it a three day sanctuary. After that, all bets were off. He said he answered to God and his conscience. She hadn’t been there at all since the previous winter. When it was warm enough she tried to stay on the street. It was actually easier to blend in with the drunk college students and fly under the police’s radar.

  Will nodded her over. “If you write about this, will you mention this place by name please? Any publicity it can get, the more donations they’ll receive. You can say I personally asked fans to donate clothes, food, and supplies. That should keep them stocked until the new year.”

  Yeah right. “The new year? That’s six months away. Do you know how many people come through here each week? How many meals they have to cook?”

  He frowned. “I do, actually. The priest just told me. We toured a place like this in Atlanta, asked for donations, and they had to find somewhere to store all the things that turned up. Their shelter was twice the size of this one, and they had to re-donate the items to other shelters.”

  “Oh. I…” She suddenly felt embarrassed for assuming to know more than he did about it. “I didn’t realize…”

  “It’s okay. I had no idea what we could achieve until we started on this tour. Our fans are amazing. I know we dig at them, and call some of them psychos, but the vast majority of the ones who don’t scare the pants off us are awesome.”

  She looked around and saw the rest of the band members sitting on cots and at tables chatting to the people who were staying there. Tears threatened to bubble out of her eyes. She sniffed and looked away. How many young guys would do this? Would care enough to do more than send a check? How many would actually sit with people like her and talk to them about their lives? Hell. She’d kind of assumed they were all flash and no substance.

  “Are you going to cry?” Will asked, grinning.

  “No. What? No way.” Anya opened her eyes wide to try to dry the film of water just hovering there.

  “Awww, you’re so cute. Don’t worry. We’re complete dicks, too. Does that help?” His arm slipped around her shoulders, and she shrugged it off.

  “Too right you’re a dick. I’m not crying.” She turned away and saw Father Howard looking directly at her over his half-rim glasses. He nodded to indicate his office, and she gave a small nod back. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay, I’ll be here trying to think of ways to show you what a dick I am.” He grinned.

  “Don’t worry on my account. You’re already doing a great job,” she replied as she turned away.

  Father Howard was in his office, sitting behind his small desk and peering at his old computer. As she walked in, he motioned to her to close the door. She did.

  “Anya. It’s a pleasure to see you. Do I have to be worried about you arriving with this boy band?” He shifted back into his chair and crossed his arms over his cassock.

  Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean, worried?”

  “I mean, the last time I saw you, you were living down by the river. And you know I don’t mean in those penthouse apartments. And now you’re arriving with boys who are in town for only a few days. I’m asking if you’re all right.”

  “Oh. Oh. No, nothing like that. You know the article I wrote for that online magazine last month? They asked me to cover the band on this leg of their tour. That’s all.” She sat in a small armchair under an even smaller window.

  “They asked a sixteen-year-old to follow a band and write an article?” His expression clearly said he didn’t believe her.

  “Not…exactly. Firstly, I had a birthday last month. I’m seventeen now. And while they might think I’m older, I never actually told them I was older. I’ve never met anyone who works at the magazine, I’ve only dealt with them over email. I just…thought it would maybe help me get”—she sniffed—“back on my feet?”

  “Oh. Okay, fair enough. Keep your head down, Anya. We don’t want your mother finding you again.”

  She blew air out of her cheeks as she thought about what he said. Her mother wouldn’t ever try to find her again. But she’d never told Father Howard that, in case he thought their non-existent relationship was Anya’s fault. In some way it had to be, because why else would her mom have left her in the middle of the night without arranging for care or anything? But she hadn’t wanted him thinking badly of her, thinking she’d done something wrong. “I don’t want that. She’s probably left town. Probably back in California by now.”

  “Let’s hope. Listen. There’s nothing, and I mean nothing, I want to see more than you making a success of your life. You’re due, you know? So be careful of those boys. They’re here, and God knows I appreciate that. But they are still teenage boys.” He gave her a stern look, although he couldn’t stop his eyes from twinkling.

  “Yes, Father,” she said, trying not to smile.

  “Okay. Good then.” He made a slightly sloppy sign of the cross in her direction and said, “May God grant you his favor in your endeavors.”

  “Amen,” she replied as obediently as she had been taught at her Catholic school, before they’d turned her in to child services.

  “I’m going to be reading your tour article, young lady,” he warned.

  “Father. Can I ask? Have you seen Jude around at all?” Her voice cracked on the last work.

  “Oh Anya.” He removed his glasses and placed them carefully on the table in front of him as if he was wondering what to say. “I haven’t seen him since last November. I’m hoping the VA is looking after him at last.”

  Her heart took a dive. “I don’t think they are. I think if he was better, or safe, he would have come looking for me. I keep going back to his spot under the bridge, but he hasn’t been there, and no one’s seen him.”

  “Well don’t worry about Jude. He wouldn’t want you to be concerned about him, would he? Now go out there and write a great article about this shelter.” His eyes twinkled as he put his glasses back on.

  “Yes, Father. Thank you,” she said jumping up. “I’d better go before I miss my ride.”

  He just nodded and went back to his computer. He still looked at it like it was likely to bite him at any moment. Some things never changed.

  When she got back into the shelter, only Will was left. “What happened? What did I miss?”

  “The bus, for one thing.” He didn’t look too happy about it.

  “They left without us? Without you?” she asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s Miles’s party trick. Once he gets on the bus, he tells the guys onboard that one of us is asleep in the back, or in the john or something, and she’s usually so distracted that she just tells the driver to leave.”

  “What do we do now?”

  He produced a pair of scratched sunglasses and what can only be described as a flowerpot rain hat with “The Bruins” on the front. “This is my disguise. The lady in the kitchen gave them to me.”

  “It’s a good one. No one is going to come near us with you looking like that,” Anya said, biting back a smile.

  “We’re leaving through the back. If the navigation on my phone is correct, it looks easy enough to just walk. It’ll take a while, but I don’t get much freedom to walk around anymore.”

  “Sure.” She spent her whole life walking, so it didn’t bother her at all. Maybe it would be a good time to ask some questions. “Sounds like fun.”

&n
bsp; “Let’s hit the road.” He held out his elbow in a gentlemanly gesture, and she slid her arm through it.

  “After you. The big bad world awaits your presence,” she said. “What could possibly go wrong with this?” Rolling her eyes at his fake frown, she continued. “You know, if anyone does recognize you, we might not get out alive.” She looked him up and down. “Or at least clothed.”

  He hesitated for a minute as if he was contemplating having his clothes ripped off in downtown Tulsa. Hah! She’d rattled him. He bit his lip as he stared at the door they were about to go through.

  “Nah. That’s not going to happen. Anyway, if you’re not living life on the edge, you’re taking up too much room.”

  “I’m going to remind you that you said that.”

  Chapter Seven

  Anya seemed really tense as they left the shelter. Her head swiveled constantly from side to side, and he wondered if she’d ever been to this part of town before. She seemed scared. He felt an irresistible urge to wrap his arm around her and protect her.

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be out of the neighborhood soon. I won’t let anyone harass you.” At his words, she frowned and her step faltered.

  “I’m not scared. I’ve spent a lot of time here.”

  Urgh. I’m such an ass.

  Of course she’d spent a lot of time here—she’d written that long piece about the homeless problem in Tulsa. “I’m sorry. I forgot that. It was a great article. It felt like you’d known those people for years.”

  She took her arm out of his. What had he said now?

  Charm her, Matt. Dammit.

  Weirdly, a slice of him really wanted her to like him. Wanted to penetrate the puzzle, to have her eyes warm over as she looked at him. Jaysus. What the actual fuck? Could he be turning into his own freaking brother? All moonlight and effing roses? What was wrong with him?

  “So are you from around here?” he asked, realizing he didn’t really know anything about her beyond her extreme love of food.

  “Not too far from here,” she replied in a low voice.

  He wondered how she could be so animated sometimes when talking about stupid things like dancing and propositions on posters, but so restrained when he asked her about herself. “Do you have a big family?”

  If possible her voice got even smaller. “Not really.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “It’s really just been me since I left school.”

  He was overwhelmed with a weird sensation in his stomach. Was she really alone? Was he supposed to leave it there? Ask more? He opted for the latter. Surely no one got into trouble for taking too much interest in a girl. You know, unless stalkering.

  “So no brothers or sisters?” Then he stopped. He didn’t want her asking the same question of him. So he didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Okay, forget that, what is your second favorite breakfast food?”

  She smiled at last. “Leftover pizza. Cold if possible.”

  He faked a gag. “Bleugh. That’s horrible. And unnatural. Pizza is made to burn the roof of your mouth. Cold it’s just…” He searched for the right description. “…a damp towel with chilly, wet vegetables on it.” He gave an exaggerated shiver.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Will.” She stopped and held out her hand to shake his.

  Instinctively he put his hand in hers, only to have her continue.

  “We can no longer be friends. Your position on cold pizza is frankly nothing short of…” she paused, “…un-American. We will have to part ways here.”

  She shook his hand, and he snatched it away, laughing. “You can’t leave me now, you don’t have a story yet!” Oh God, why had he said that?

  “That is also true. Okay, I’ll stay. But only until I find out your deepest, darkest secrets. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he choked.

  Silence fell briefly as he tried to think of something to say. It was a warm day and walking in the midday sun probably wasn’t the best of ideas. In truth, he could have easily hailed a taxi, or called LJ-the-Devil, or just asked some obliging passerby for a ride. But he hadn’t.

  “Can I get some proper questions in while we’re walking?” she asked, breaking the weird tension between them.

  “Sure. You have me alone for about an hour right now; it would be a shame to miss the opportunity of stellar one-on-one time, right?”

  “An hour you figure? I think it will be a lot less time. I have three dollars that you’ll be mobbed by the time we get halfway back.”

  He was about to reply when he noticed that as she was walking, she was absently sticking her fingers into the cash return dishes of all the parking meters as she went along. “Is the three dollars you have in quarters?”

  She looked at him and then at her hand. Snatching her hand away from the meter she was molesting, she shrugged. “It’s all money. I have dollar bills, too.” She really looked offended. So weird.

  “I’ll take that bet. Anyway, do you have questions for me?” Three dollars? Totally random.

  “Sure. Let’s start with some easy ones. What are you afraid of the most?”

  Easy one. His brother was on record all over the place as saying he hated needles. “Needles. I can’t have them anywhere near me without passing out. My pediatrician hated me.”

  “Where do you think that phobia came from?” she asked.

  “I have zero idea. I prefer to think of it as a totally normal reaction to a stabby thing.”

  “You faint when you see a knife?”

  “No, but then knives have other uses, like cutting up a delicious steak. Needles are just stabby things.”

  “Fair enough. Who was your first girlfriend?”

  “Easy peasy.” He’d ripped the crap out of his brother for dating when he was eleven. “Alice Singleton, ninth grade. She was blonde and wore glasses.” A pang of nostalgia twanged at his stomach as he remembered how innocent and happy they’d both been until Will had discovered that he could sing and got himself on that damned TV show.

  “Would you date her if you saw her again? I mean, she must know you’re famous now.” Anya smiled.

  “I don’t think Alice would be impressed. She definitely wasn’t impressed with me back then. She was definitely more into the athletic guys. And that was never me.”

  “If you weren’t a jock at school, who were you?”

  He thought about the hours Will spent in his room making up songs after Alice had left him for a football player. “I was the misunderstood poet.” He grimaced. Could he sound any more pretentious?

  Oh well. It’d be Will who looked stupid, not him. Hah. He could have had much more fun with this if Will was better. Under normal circumstances, Matt would stitch him up on these interviews with stuff that Will’d have to deal with when he got back. Maybe when he was a little better. Maybe then he could claim Will had started learning Japanese, or the clarinet or something. He grinned to himself. He should start making a list.

  “A poet? Do you think the stuff you write now is poetry?”

  “I don’t write much stuff now. But no. My poetry is strictly personal.”

  “Who was your first serious girlfriend then?”

  “I haven’t found my first serious girlfriend. Yet.” Time to create a diversion before she got too close a look at his answers. And—hell—because, like it or not, he really wanted to know more about her. “I have a question for you.”

  “I’m not sure that’s how this is supposed to work. But okay.”

  “Are you coming with us on our next tour stop?”

  “I guess so. I’m with you for two weeks. The next stop is New Orleans, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It’s a crazy place, though, and we’re staying in the buses again. No hotel would put us up exclusively, so we’re all up close and personal at the arena. Not sure if you’d want to go through that again.”

  “My bus is pretty empty except for Natasha and her clothes. So, yeah, I guess it’s actually pretty full. But I don’t have much stuff, so I’m fine in
my bunk. You have to have hotels close, just so you can stay in them?”

  “Yeah. One time we stayed in a hotel, it got crazy. There were girls everywhere, jumping from balcony to balcony, stealing room service uniforms. Management was really unprepared for the frenzy the show brought. A thirteen-year-old fell from one of the balconies and broke her leg. It was horrible.” Will had called home obviously upset about it and almost crying. Only Matt knew that the sniffs on the end of the phone was Will trying not to cry. The whole thing had been too overwhelming for him. He had no idea how the others managed, or hadn’t. “So ever since then, we try to stay behind security at the arena, or at secret hotels where we can prearrange to be the only guests.”

  She didn’t say anything, and he figured that she was maybe mentally writing her next blog post. A hot wind blew up the street, rustling litter and pushing Anya’s black hair out of its clips. He walked half a step back. Her hair looked long, but she always seemed to pin it up, and he wondered what it would feel like down. Look like down. Not feel.

  He grabbed his phone and started scrolling through the alerts he had for the band news. The pictures from the shelter had already hit the news feeds. They needed to get back to the arena. It was only a few blocks away, so hopefully no one would make the connection between what he was wearing at the shelter and what he was wearing now, but damn him for putting on a one-of-a-kind T-shirt with a line drawing of a whale on it. It was pretty distinctive.

  “Will Fray?” a voice yelled from a shop.

  Oh shit.

  …

  So she’d made three bucks today already; she was rolling in the green. Will grabbed her hand and yanked her along the road. She had to run to keep up with him. What the hell?

  She was about to complain at being manhandled but they’d only gone half a block before people were staring and pointing and yelling. Wow. It felt like a full-blown media storm.

  By the time she looked at where they were going, people were running alongside them with their cell phones thrust out.

  “Watch out!” she shouted at a man who wasn’t looking where he was going. Too late, he ran right into a parking meter and rebounded, falling into the gutter. She pulled her hand from Will’s and was about to help him up when she saw the size of the throng following them. “Sorry,” she gasped and kept on running. Her heart pounded but, instead of feeling terrified, a little euphoria cloaked the fear. She took another look at the crowd and couldn’t help but giggle. At least she thought she’d giggled. She hadn’t really giggled in about five years. The crowd was so loud now that she couldn’t hear anything above the screaming and shouting of his fans.