by Megan Crane
‘What?’ He made his voice as menacing a voice as possible, hoping Nick would take the hint.
Meanwhile, everyone else stopped staring off into space – the usual reaction to one of Duncan’s annoying speeches about band unity or whatever else he was obsessed about that week – and stared at Tommy instead.
Nick, the bastard, ignored Tommy’s tone. He even leaned in closer, putting his arms on the smooth table in front of him.
‘The secretary,’ he said, as if maybe Tommy was confused as to his meaning. ‘Since when did you start banging your groupies? You used to be against it.’
‘You’re banging the secretary?’ Duncan’s pig eyes went all cunning, and he smoothed a hand over his shiny, gelled hair. ‘Interesting.’
‘The next person who uses the word “banging” in connection to Jenna is getting my foot up their ass,’ Tommy said conversationally, though the glare he sent around the table could have cut through steel. Richie raised his eyebrows and looked down, hiding a smirk. As he did not use the word ‘banging’, Tommy ignored it.
‘Jenna is a nice girl,’ Sebastian said, in evident disapproval. He drummed his fingers against the table, scowling. ‘Are you sure she can handle the full Tommy Seer experience?’
‘I’m not a carnival ride, Sebastian,’ Tommy snapped. Sebastian’s elegant brows rose.
‘She’s not your usual type, is she?’ he asked mildly. ‘I think she might have a thought or two in her head.’ He shook his head, managing to convey his disappointment in Tommy and support of Jenna. Tommy was unreasonably furious that Sebastian thought Jenna needed his support.
‘This is my business,’ Tommy gritted out, aware that Duncan was watching his every move like some fat predator. ‘Not band business.’
‘You don’t have a private life, asshole,’ Duncan threw in then, malice in his voice. ‘Unless I tell you otherwise.’
‘Which is one more reason I’m leaving,’ Tommy threw back. He sensed more than saw his band mates shift in their seats, and ruthlessly thrust away the stab of guilt he felt. He didn’t understand why he was the only one to feel the desperation, the horror, that the idea of staying in the band raised. But he was tired of fighting about it.
‘Not quite yet, you’re not,’ Sebastian said, breaking the silence, his crisp accent calibrated to soothe. ‘And we all have a lot of work to do before then.’
Tommy could feel Duncan’s eyes on him from one side, but he turned to Nick instead.
‘What do you care anyway?’ he asked his oldest friend, hating the hard set to Nick’s jaw. Hating that he’d put it there.
‘What do I care that you’re breaking up our band?’ Nick asked, incredulously. ‘Are you insane?’
‘No.’ Tommy refused to talk about breaking up the band any more. ‘About Jenna.’
‘I don’t give a shit about Jenna, brother,’ Nick said with a short, angry laugh. ‘But I am fascinated that you’ve become such a fucking hypocrite all of a sudden.’
Tommy felt himself smirk. ‘I don’t think it’s all of a sudden,’ he drawled. ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve been astoundingly hypocritical for years now.’
Richie let out a guffaw at that, and Sebastian’s lips twitched into a smile. Nick only glared for a moment, before shaking his head.
‘I guess you got me there,’ he muttered. Not quite smiling.
It didn’t really solve anything, but it smoothed the moment over well enough. Duncan continued braying on about appearances and tour dates, and eventually the meeting was over.
Tommy caught up with Nick at the elevators.
‘What the hell was that?’ he demanded. ‘Why are you riding me?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Nick grunted, barely sparing Tommy a glance.
‘Like hell you don’t.’ Tommy ordered himself to modify the aggressive tone. Nick was a brawler. He heard aggression and responded with more of his own. ‘The last time you gave a shit about my personal life we were sixteen years old.’
‘Yeah, and the reason I cared was because you stole Ursula Freitag from me,’ Nick retorted, turning on him with anger written across his face. ‘Kind of like now, when you’re destroying my livelihood and all you care about is fucking some secretary.’
‘That’s not all I care about,’ Tommy said stiffly, and opted not to punch his best friend in the face for discussing Jenna like that.
‘Then what do you care about, Tommy?’ Nick asked in a hiss. He stepped closer. ‘You never even asked what we want in all of this.’
‘I have to get out,’ Tommy said, with a helpless shrug. Or die, he thought, but did not say. They were men. There was only so much drama allowed.
‘I get that.’ Nick shook his head. His mouth twisted. ‘And whatever you want, we’ll all fall over ourselves to make sure it happens. Because you’re Tommy Seer. You’re the fucking legend.’
Tommy hated the bleakness in Nick’s expression, but he didn’t know what to do to change it. Because he couldn’t fix it and also save himself. He had to choose.
Still.
‘Nick—’
‘Hey! Assholes!’ Richie’s voice – which he hardly used, much less raised – made both of them turn back towards Duncan’s office. Richie was running down the corridor, his face bright. ‘Duncan just got the call – “Misery Loves Company” is the top of the charts! We hit number one the first week out!’
Nick didn’t look at Tommy, he just brushed past him and headed for the conference room – as if Tommy was already gone. It made Tommy feel worse than anything that had been said. He followed Nick more slowly, clapping Richie on the back.
Inside the conference room, Duncan was popping champagne and oozing that fake bonhomie that usually made Tommy’s skin crawl.
‘Congratulations,’ Duncan said when he drew close, handing Tommy a glass of champagne even while he aimed another of his nasty glares his way. ‘The world goes to hell in a hand basket, but you know how to go out on top, don’t you?’
It was not until he was out on the street that Tommy let himself breathe easy again. How was he going to make it through an entire world tour if things were already this bad and they had yet to play a single gig? Not for the first time, it occurred to him that he could have made all this easier on himself if he’d kept his plans secret. Gone on the tour, kept everyone happy, and then just up and quit when it was done.
But no, he’d tried to be a stand-up guy for once. He’d tried to do the right thing and let everyone prepare themselves. He wasn’t sure he’d be inspired to try such a radical notion again, that was for sure. Screw the right thing.
The October night was dark and cold, and Tommy pulled the collar of his bomber jacket up to protect his neck from the chill. He loved New York. Pull a hat over his hair and keep his head down, and he could be anyone. Just another guy on the street, minding his own business. Of absolutely no interest to the millions of others doing the same.
The anonymity thrilled him.
He was aware of the shift – the irony of it. He’d have given anything at eighteen to be known. That was all he’d wanted. The music, sure, but he’d wanted adoration. He’d wanted people to know his name. He’d been so sure that he was better than the place he came from, and he’d wanted to prove it. He’d have given anything and everything – and he had. The worst part was, he hadn’t even cared what he was leaving behind. His mother, his kid sisters, his extended family. He’d shaken the chains of his childhood off without a backward glance, and that was that. Little Tommy Searcy of the shittiest part of Buffalo disappeared, and a few years later, Tommy Seer rose to take his place.
He didn’t know why he regretted it so much now that it was far too late. When Nick didn’t regret a thing. He didn’t know why his lack of freedom bothered him so acutely – because who was free? He was walking down a street in midtown Manhattan, surrounded by suits. Men and women who were chained to jobs, careers, families, and would no doubt change places with him in a heartbeat. Who wouldn’t want to be
a rock star if they could?
He thought of Jenna then, of the ever-present frown between her pretty brown eyes and the way she pressed those full lips of hers together. He felt something he hoped was as simple as longing spread through him. He didn’t know why she’d gotten to him the way she had, but he did know that he felt freer with her than he had in years. Maybe it was because she was so determined to solve the mystery he thought was mostly in her head, but how could he resist someone who thought he was at risk and wanted to save him? When was the last time that had happened? Had it ever happened? And he didn’t care what Nick or Sebastian thought about it – he couldn’t let go of that, of her concern, if he tried. He didn’t want to try.
The lights on Madison Avenue clicked over, and Tommy slowed his pace, looking over his shoulder as he approached the corner and trying to avoid being knocked in the head by a woman’s unnecessary umbrella. It was cold, but not wet, he thought. Crazy New Yorkers.
He felt only the slightest pressure near his ankle, and looked down in surprise. Even as he registered that something – a foot? – was hooking around his leg, there was a terrific shove from behind and Tommy found himself lurching forward, pitching into the street – and directly into the path of an oncoming bus.
There was no time. Tommy heard screams, and the shrill shriek of brakes.
He knew he was dead.
After all this—
He knew it, but he threw out his arms and wrenched his shoulders back as far as he could. He crashed down against the concrete, sliding face down into the gutter.
Pain exploded through him, but he couldn’t deal with that, he had to move—
The bus skidded. Tommy rolled.
His life did not flash before his eyes. There was only cold pavement, pain, and his fury that it had all come to this.
But somehow, the bus missed him.
By about a centimetre.
Tommy knew the precise measurement because his head was right there, too close, too fucking close, and he was too scared to close his eyes or even wet himself – both completely reasonable urges, he thought, as he realized over the sound of his racing heart that he would, in fact, live.
I’m still alive.
The crowd surged forward. Two suits pulled Tommy to his feet, while a woman continued to scream. Only now that his head was not a pancake could Tommy make sense of the words.
‘Pushed!’ she hollered. ‘I saw it! He was pushed!’
Tommy brushed himself off, dazed. He was man enough to admit that he was shaking ever so slightly, adrenalin and terror combining in his gut and making him feel sick.
‘Hey,’ one of the suits said, peering at him in surprise. ‘Aren’t you—?’
Tommy jerked his arm out of the other man’s hold. Not much of a thank you, but what was he supposed to do? Notify the press that once again, Tommy Seer had met with an accident on the streets of New York? He just … couldn’t do it.
‘No,’ he told the man briskly. ‘I’m not.’
Then he turned and dove into the crowd, letting his legs move him as far away from the scene as he could go. He didn’t quite break into a run, though he wanted to.
But he had the feeling that running wouldn’t help.
Because he hadn’t needed the screaming woman to tell him he’d been pushed – he’d felt the shove. He’d been thrown in front of a bus.
Someone was trying to kill him.
Future
You say your ice age hasn’t started to unwind
Your tricky cold war, cruel designs
Lucky penny, lucky penny
How can I make you mine?
The Wild Boys, ‘Lucky Penny’
Half a mind to quit this desperate dance
Am I defined by what I want or what I do?
Imprisoned in my choice and circumstance
But I still want to follow you.
Tommy Seer, unpublished song lyric
22
Jenna tried to hide her impatience as she did her best to organize Ken’s office yet again. You would think that if someone knew that he was sharing his secretary with a rock star, and that she would therefore be unable to do her job every day, he might take it upon himself to be that little bit neater in her absence.
Not Ken.
It took her hours to reorganize his files and get his calendar into shape, hours that she could have spent doing far more interesting things, like figuring out how to save the man she loved from his fast-approaching certain death, had Ken taken a few moments here and there to keep up with his own clutter.
It didn’t take much. A few minutes of straightening every day, that was all, and voilà! – a clean and neat office.
Funny, that was a whole lot like what Aunt Jen used to tell her. Had she turned into Aunt Jen? Or was it that Aunt Jen had completely taken over Jenna’s life at this point – and vice versa? Not that she’d thought about it in any great depth, but Jenna had initially felt that the very least she could do was leave the life she was using the way she’d found it. It seemed only polite. The plants still thrived, amazingly enough. And now she couldn’t bear messiness. There’s a place for everything, and everything in its place, she could hear her aunt sing-songing in her mind, as she’d done so many times throughout Jenna’s childhood.
Her new interest in tidiness probably also had a lot to do with the pages of detailed information she’d written out, all of it neatly organized into dates and times, facts and rumours – as much as she could remember of the last two months of Tommy’s life. She’d had to write it out again and again, until it was as neat and clear as it could be, so that she could reference it all with ease. Having forced herself to be so organized in that part of her life, how could she slack off everywhere else?
Jenna looked out her office window at the evening falling over the city, already so early. Too early. Summer was truly gone. Tommy had about a week left to live. Thinking about it made her feel panicky – and being trapped back at Video TV while he was out there unknowingly risking himself only made it worse.
‘You look annoyed,’ Ken said, bounding into the office, resplendent in parachute pants, a jaunty fedora, and a sparkling midnight-blue ascot. Jenna started in her chair, as much at the outfit as at his unexpected arrival.
‘Hi,’ she said brightly, as a secretary should.
‘And now you look guilty.’ Ken eyed her. ‘Is it that rock star of yours? Duncan mentioned in our phone call yesterday that you and he seemed close.’ His eyebrows rose suggestively. ‘If you know what I mean by close.’
Jenna blinked. ‘You and Duncan talk about whether or not I’m close with Tommy?’ she asked, incredulous. What she did not ask was, is this junior high school? Though it was the logical next question.
‘Oh, dear.’ Ken searched her face. ‘I thought he was kidding. Or that it was wishful thinking on his part, since he thinks everyone in the entire world is as slimy as he is.’
‘I don’t think Duncan knows anything about—’ Jenna began stiffly.
‘Jen. This is no good.’ Ken sank into the visitors’ couch, crossed his legs at the ankles, and sighed. ‘These stars, they’re not like regular people. You can’t trust the things they say when they want to get lucky. I thought you knew this by now.’
‘Why are we having this conversation?’ Jenna could feel her cheeks redden. No doubt her neck and ears, too. She was practically a beacon of shame and embarrassment.
‘This is my fault,’ Ken said in a musing voice. ‘I never should have let Duncan pull you into his stupid games. I knew better, but I really wanted to kick a little MTV butt, is that so wrong?’
‘Ken.’ She waited until he looked at her. ‘I don’t know what you think is happening, but I assure you, it’s not.’
Her boss’s elfin face twisted, so that he looked almost rueful. And very nearly wise.
‘You’re not sleeping with Tommy Seer?’ he asked. The answer must have written itself across her face, because he laughed to himself. ‘That’s what I though
t.’
‘I don’t think …’ Jenna’s mind reeled around, trying to figure out what to say. ‘It won’t affect my job, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ she managed eventually.
‘I don’t care about the job,’ Ken said with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Please. I can put up with Duncan’s crap for a little while longer, and then you’ll be back here and he owes me a serious favour no matter what you did or didn’t do for him.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s you I’m worried about, Jen. You’re not exactly the rock-star girlfriend type.’
What every girl dreamed of hearing. Truly.
Especially when she knew it was true.
Jenna felt her teeth were on edge, and ordered herself to stop it.
‘Of course I’m not,’ she said, although it cost her. ‘Don’t you think I know that better than anyone?’
Ken sighed, and his expression changed. He looked sad. Jenna wished herself a thousand miles and as many years away from this conversation.
‘Some people love power more than they’ll ever be able to love anything else,’ Ken said. ‘They might not even mean to be that way, but they can’t help it.’
Jenna nodded sagely, though she didn’t think power was the reason she and Tommy would never last. It was probably a lot more to do with, to pull a couple of reasons out at random, his fame and beauty versus her lack of same. The fact that she was only supposed to be twelve years old here in 1987, not old enough for Tommy at all.
Oh, yes, and his imminent death.
But Ken wasn’t paying attention to Jenna any more. He was looking at her, but he was focused on something far away.
‘You have to accept that they can’t help it,’ he said in that same urgent but low voice. ‘It’s that or go crazy.’
‘Ken,’ Jenna said, very softly, so as not to kill the mood, because she wanted to know what made him look so wistful. ‘Are you telling me you … ?’ She couldn’t complete the sentence. Not because she was suddenly so delicate, but because he was, no matter his confessional mood at the moment, her boss. ‘You and a rock star?’
