Under the Spotlight

by Angie Stanton

  “That’ll be fine,” her mother said stiffly.

  “Mom, now will you tell us what your news is?” Britta pleaded.

  “All right.” She wiped her mouth with a paper towel.

  Matt glanced at Britta and rolled his eyes. They’d been down this road before. Mom’s surprises were never really good news.

  “You guys are not going to believe this, but . . .” She paused for effect. “I got a new job!”

  Matt continued shoveling eggs in his mouth.

  “That’s great, Mom, but what about your job at the nail salon?” Riley asked.

  “My supervisor was a real witch. Plus the fumes from all the acrylic nails gave me headaches. It’s a good thing I got out when I could.”

  Most likely she’d been let go, but Riley didn’t say it. “So where’s the new job?”

  “I’ll be working as a receptionist at a hotel.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t look so surprised.”

  “It’s just a lot different than your other jobs.” Her mom usually took jobs as a cocktail waitress, a hostess at a diner, or maybe a grocery store checker. “You’ve never worked in a clerical job before, have you?”

  “For your information, when I was in high school I worked in the office of a furniture store. It’s where I met your dad.” She aimed a pointed look at Riley.

  And that worked out real well. Her dad, just out of high school, was hired to deliver furniture. He hooked up with her mom and got her pregnant. “Has he sent you any child support recently?”

  “Why do you always have to be so negative? This is a party.” Her mom frowned.

  Britta begged with her eyes for Riley to stop.

  Riley took a drink of water and set her glass down. “I’m sorry. It’s great that you got a new job. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thank you. I can’t wait to start. There’s so much to do. I need to get some new clothes.”

  “Does this mean we get to go to Disney now that you have a new job?” Britta asked.

  “Not right away, but maybe after a few months. Before that, I need to get a new car.”

  “What do you need a new car for?” Matt asked.

  “My car is officially dead. Okay, not totally, but I can’t afford to fix it, and something else is going to break on it any minute. I stopped by the used car lot yesterday and there is a great little Mazda. It’s only six years old.”

  “How are you going to pay for a car? You can’t even make rent!” Riley’s stomach turned sour.

  “I’m doing the best I can. It’s not easy being a single mom,” she snapped.

  “You guys, don’t fight,” Britta pleaded, her worried eyes watering with emotion.

  “I’m sorry, Britta,” Riley said. “But Mom, I don’t see how you can possibly get a car loan right now.” She took a bite of sausage and willed herself not to say more.

  “Actually, I need your help with that.” Her mom’s voice turned soft and friendly again. Too friendly.

  Riley froze. A sense of dread crept over her. She forced herself to swallow the food.

  “All you have to do is sign the loan papers,” her mom said in a rush.

  “Why does Riley have to sign them?” Britta asked.

  “Because Mom’s credit is crap,” Matt answered.

  “Matt. Language!” her mom snapped.

  Riley wanted to cry. Why couldn’t her mother behave like a normal grown-up? Couldn’t she be responsible? Ever?

  “Riley, you don’t have to pay a thing. I’ll make the car payments once I start my new job. I just need the loan and you’re eighteen now. You have perfect credit and a steady job. They won’t turn you down.”

  “Why can’t you take the ‘L’ like everyone else?” Riley desperately grasped for a way out of this.

  “Because the hotel isn’t on the ‘L’ route, or the train, or bus. And this job pays two dollars more an hour than my old job. It’s the luckiest break I’ve had in a long time.”

  “Please, Riley. Sign the paper for Mom,” Britta begged, hating the confrontation.

  Riley’s gut twisted and a heavy weight descended over her. She looked at her mom and felt all the agony and hurt her mom had inflicted throughout the years. Riley did not want to be dragged back into her messed-up world.

  “It’s only a formality, honey. I’ll make all the payments. I promise.”

  “What will you use for a down payment?”

  “They’ll take my old car. They’re knocking five hundred dollars off the price.” Her mom hopped up and brought over a large envelope. “Here’s the paperwork. You just need to fill in your employment info and sign it. The dealership will take it from there.”

  At that moment Riley loathed her mother. “Fine,” she said flatly, and took the envelope.

  “Oh thank you!” Her mom leaned over for a hug.

  “Don’t!” Riley pushed back her chair. Her mom’s face fell.

  “I only wanted to thank you,” she said softly.

  Riley stood. “I have to go.”

  She grabbed her bag on the way out, slamming the door behind her. When she reached the street, she leaned against the scratchy brick wall and closed her eyes.

  She hated her mother.

  20

  Garrett knocked back another beer, but no amount of alcohol would wash away the memory of walking onto Wrigley Field by himself and trying to pull off the national anthem. He should have run, not that he had the chance.

  His phone rang. His brother Peter’s number popped up. Shit.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going solo? I would have flown in for your debut.”

  “Screw you.”

  “You’re all over the internet. Nice save after you forgot the words.” Peter cracked up on the other end.

  Garrett tore at the paper label on his bottle. “You done yet?”

  “Heck, no. I think I’ll get some posters made of you standing there all alone holding the mic. I’ve never seen someone look so uncomfortable.”

  And Garrett had never been so uncomfortable. He didn’t do solo. None of this would have happened if his brothers hadn’t crapped out on the band.

  “What were you doing singing at a Cubs game anyway? I thought you wanted to try producing.”

  “I am. Let’s say it was a bit of a misfire.” He hadn’t spoken to Peter since his mother’s birthday dinner, and he didn’t really want to now either. Garrett would never forgive his brothers for throwing in the towel. Still, alcohol had loosened his tongue and he couldn’t help but share his troubles.

  “There’s this girl that works at Sound Sync. Her voice is crazy brilliant, but she’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

  “Sounds like she’s your twin.”

  “She’s a pain in the ass. Doesn’t listen to a damn thing I say.”

  “Are you playing nice with her?”

  “I always play nice,” he said, raising his bottle to his lips, but Peter responded with silence.

  “What?” Garrett said.

  “Let’s just say not everyone on the planet is willing to put up with your methods of persuasion like I did.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh come on, Garrett. You’re not happy unless you’re calling all the shots. Admit it.”

  “You’re talking out of your ass.”

  “Oh really? How long have you been in Chicago? A couple weeks? And you’ve already pissed this girl off so much you got stuck singing solo on national TV?”

  The door of the condo opened. Brad entered, back from his concert in Reno. He nodded his greeting and set down his bags.

  “You don’t know Jack about what’s going on here.”

  “No, but I have a pretty good idea. You sleep with her already? Is that why she hates you?”

  “On that note, go to hell.” Garrett ended the call and tossed his phone on the table.

  Brad took a look at the empty bottles. “Having a good day,
I see.”

  “It’s one for the record books. I’m working on wiping clean the memory banks.”

  “I’m good at that. I’ll take one.” Brad snatched a beer from the fridge and collapsed on the couch.

  Several hours later they were on the patio, high above the city, surrounded by empty bottles and a half-eaten pizza. Garrett looked out at the city lights.

  “You’d think that reaching the kind of success we’ve had would eliminate all the bullshit in life. I mean, aren’t we supposed to be happy?”

  “I’m happy,” Brad said.

  “Well, congratulations on living the dream.”

  “When I’m onstage, when I’m in the studio, and when I get to meet fans. Unless, that is, I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in a week. Or there’s a power outage during a concert. Or the label has booked me to do twelve radio interviews every day during the morning drive.”

  “Or your band goes behind your back and decides they don’t like world tours or sold-out concerts anymore,” Garrett said.

  “Or your publicist thinks it’s a good idea to appear on Sesame Street and sing to a puppet.” Brad frowned.

  “Or the one person you’re trying to help refuses to let you.”

  “Or you fall off the stage and need two pins in your ankle.” Brad lifted his leg in the air.

  “Or the most aggravating girl on the planet has fiery red hair and stubborn blue eyes that call you out on all your shit.”

  “Women. Don’t get me started.”

  “I need a new life.” Garrett stood and moved to the railing.

  “I thought you were getting a new life. You’re not going to jump, are you?”

  “Not at this moment, but my life is a mess. I want to be someone new.”

  “Who do you want to be?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a superhero.”

  Brad joined him at the railing. “I always wanted special powers, like Spider-Man.”

  “I could be Spider-Man,” Garrett said.

  “We could scale tall buildings.”

  They looked at the crescent-shaped balconies all protruding around the octagon-shaped building like orange wedges.

  “You ever thought about climbing down the side of the tower? I mean, the balconies are so close together and the slats on the railings would be easy to grab.”

  Brad grinned. “I’ve always wanted to try it.”

  Garrett looked out at the distant street and the Chicago River bridge. “It would be a nasty fall from fifty-two stories up.”

  “Even if you went in the river, you probably wouldn’t survive.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “A hundred bucks says you won’t do it,” Brad taunted.

  Garrett looked at his friend and grinned. “You’re on!”

  21

  Garrett dangled from the lower railing of the fifty-second floor. His foot flailed until it hit the edge of the balcony railing below. Once he had his footing, he held his breath until he found his nerve. Then he released the railing above, and slid to the balcony below.

  “Woohoo!” he called to Brad. Looking around the patio, he saw a couple of white plastic lawn chairs and a small gas grill. No lights shone from the condo.

  Brad’s legs dropped into view, swinging erratically in the evening breeze until he too found his footing and popped down next to Garrett.

  “That’s freakin’ dope!” He high-fived Garrett and they looked out over the lights of the Chicago skyline. “Okay, I’m going first this time.”

  Brad climbed over the railing, clinging to the outside of the balcony. “See you on the dark side.” He grinned and lowered himself until he hung only by the metal slats. His hands were all Garrett could see and then suddenly they disappeared.

  Garrett looked for Brad over the edge.

  “Houston, we have landed,” Brad called from below.

  Garrett laughed and followed over the edge. Once his feet were secure, standing on the next railing, he let go and jumped onto the patio below. “And he sticks the landing!” Garrett held up his arms like an Olympic gymnast.

  “You know what would be really cool?” Brad asked, sitting on the floor of the bare patio.

  “A beer?”

  “No. Filming a music video about climbing the tower.”

  “I like how you think. Might have trouble getting your label to sign off on it, though. Okay, my turn.”

  Garrett grabbed the railing and swung first one, then his other leg over, careful to slide his feet under the railing as he moved his hands to grip the slats from the outside.

  “See ya!” He was really getting the hang of this. He lowered one leg and then the other, hanging in the air for a few seconds, enjoying the sensation of hanging free and being in charge of his own destiny.

  His feet found the rail below. As he secured his footing, something caught on his shoe. Something on the railing kept him from getting a sure grip, and his other foot was having the same problem.

  He couldn’t really pull himself up, so he gingerly released the upper railing, one hand and then the other, placing his hand on the wall of the building. He leaned into the wall for dear life and then slid his way onto the railing below.

  “Umph.” He landed on something and fell to the balcony floor.

  “What’s the matter?” Brad called.

  Garrett sat up amidst a large potted plant that he’d upended and a balcony chair he tipped over. He discovered twinkle lights wrapped around the rail.

  “There’s lights on the railing, I couldn’t get very good footing, and then I landed on top of a pot of flowers.”

  He heard Brad laughing.

  “Ready or not, here I come!” Brad yelled.

  Garrett scrambled up to help guide Brad. As soon as his legs touched the railing, Garrett reached around and grabbed him mid-thigh. “I’ve got you.”

  “Gee, Garrett, I don’t really like you that way.” Brad laughed.

  “Dude, I’m trying to save your life.”

  Brad reached for the wall and Garrett tried to step back to lower Brad, but he tripped on the flowerpot.

  “Hang on!”

  Garrett fell backward, pulling his friend to safety. Brad kneed him in the gut on impact.

  “Ugh.” Garrett pushed Brad off of him and rolled to his side, holding his aching stomach.

  “Sorry, man. I had it. You didn’t need to play Superman.” Brad crawled to a sitting position and leaned against the balcony railing.

  Garrett grabbed one of the loose plants and threw it at Brad. “Nice thanks I get for saving your life.”

  Brad spat dirt from his mouth and tossed the plant over the railing.

  “Litter bug.”

  Brad looked over the side at the falling plant. “Look, there’s something going on down there.”

  Garrett crawled to the edge and looked out. Sure enough, three cop cars, with lights flashing, were parked at the base of the tower. A small crowd of people had gathered, and they all seemed to be looking up.

  Garrett waved at them. From fifty stories up, the people looked like tiny toy figures. “You don’t think the cops are here for us, do you?”

  Brad looked at him. “Busted!”

  They laughed.

  “The cops can’t possibly be here for us. We’re too high up for anyone to even notice,” Garrett said.

  “I don’t know.” Brad pointed to the sky. “Do you think that helicopter is a coincidence, too?”

  Garrett looked up. A news helicopter hovered in the distance with a spotlight roaming the building looking for something or someone.

  “We’ve gotta get outta here.” Garrett scanned the patio, suddenly feeling like a caged animal.

  “We sure do, ’cause I’ve got to take a leak,” Brad said.

  Garrett tried the balcony door to the dark condo. “Locked.”

  “Now what? Keep going down?”

  Garrett looked at the balcony straight across and below. He didn’t relish the idea of trying to make it across no
w that he’d taken a moment to consider what they were doing.

  “Someone’s got to be home around here. Maybe if we make enough racket, someone will come and help us get out of here.”

  Brad leaned over the railing where it attached to the building and tried to touch the next railing over. Suddenly, they heard what sounded like a voice amplified through a megaphone from below, but it was too far away to make out the words.

  “Um, Brad. Maybe you better not. I have a feeling someone is on their way.”

  Brad started to laugh again. “Well, this ought to be good. We might as well enjoy the show. Think we’ll make TMZ?” He took a seat in one of the chairs. Garrett picked up the other one and sat next to him. “It’s looking that way.”

  “Beautiful night. Too bad there isn’t a cooler of beer here.”

  Less than five minutes later, the balcony door of the unit next to them opened and two police officers appeared, along with building security.

  “Police! Stand slowly and put your hands in the air!” said an officer with short buzzed hair and a solid frame.

  “Don’t shoot!” Brad jumped out of his lawn chair.

  “Sir, please put your hands in the air,” the cop repeated, his hand near his sidearm. His partner aimed what looked like a Taser at them.

  Brad’s hands shot up. Garrett couldn’t help himself and laughed.

  “Garrett, get your ass off that chair and put your hands up. I don’t want to die on this balcony.”

  Garrett rose. The officers remained in an aggressive stance. Garrett raised his hands high enough to show he would cooperate.

  “Sorry, officers. We didn’t mean any harm,” Brad said.

  “Stay away from the balcony railing,” the second, taller officer barked.

  Garrett laughed, but it sounded more like a giggle. “We’re not going to jump. We were just having fun.”

  “That’s good to hear. Now move slowly toward the door and reenter the building,” the first cop ordered.

  “That’s the point. We can’t get inside. We’re locked out,” Garrett explained.

  “And I’ve really gotta go. Could you get the door open for us?” Brad asked.