by Anne McClane
Scott and Hans treated Lacey with a little more deference when she told them she was going to pop backstage for a few minutes.
“You know the band?” Scott asked. If California had an accent, Scott had it.
“Yep.”
“Dude, you should’ve mentioned it!” Scott chimed in. “Who do you know?”
“Um. All of them?” Once she’d had enough of playing coy, she answered, “Jimmy Campo is my brother.”
They both tried an angle to get backstage. Lacey told them she’d need to check first.
She strode confidently away. She intended to disappear long enough so that she wouldn’t have to hassle with getting them backstage.
She poked her head around a corridor and saw Dave Guidry talking to venue security. She was relieved. Her brother’s best friend from childhood, she’d known Guidry for as long as she could remember.
“Lacey,” he said with a slight tilt of his head. He nodded at the security guard, giving Lacey tacit approval.
Dave Guidry had never been an effusive type.
“Hey, Guidry. Is Jimmy back there?”
He nodded.
“Okay, then. See you later. Good luck.”
Lacey prayed she would only find her brother, and she felt tremendously guilty for that.
You’re an adult, for God’s sake. People have flings all the time, and flings end. Handle yourself.
Her prayers were answered when she found her brother, bent over his guitar, looking like he was performing surgery. He pushed his reading glasses up to his forehead and said, “Budgie! You came to see me!”
She gave her brother a hug, laughing. There was just something funny about the reading glasses, his long hair, and his lanky 6'2" frame.
“Is Monica here? I’d rather hang out with her than the Jabronies I came with.”
“Who talks like that?” he said. “And I knew this would happen. As soon as I introduced you to Monica, it would be all about her, and you’d have no more love for your brother.”
“Exactly. I’ve been looking to ditch you like a bad penny.”
Jimmy returned his glasses to his face and resumed work on his guitar. “Nah, she has a work thing tonight, she couldn’t make it.”
“Pity.”
Lacey couldn’t help herself. She tried to disguise it, but her head kept pivoting, looking around for signs of Trevor.
“Watch you don’t get whiplash there, Budge.” He looked up at her and smiled.
Lacey huffed. “This is your fault, you know. If you and Monica hadn’t left me with him.”
“Last I checked, you were a grown ass adult. With supernatural powers, even. How could I suggest She-Hulk do anything she didn’t want to do?”
“Stop. And I can’t even talk to you about him, because he’s your bandmate and I don’t want to screw up your mojo.”
Jimmy laughed. “This is squarely your fault, anyway. How long have I been telling you to lighten up and just have fun? You probably quit having fun as soon as you started thinking too seriously about it.”
“Ugh. I don’t want to talk about this with you. There’s other, bigger shit going on.”
“Did you have another gamma ray exposure?”
Lacey laughed. Thank God my brother can make me laugh about this stuff. He’s probably the only person who can.
“No. Maybe. Sorta. Eli—Professor X—has been trying to show me some stuff, and it’s got me freaked out. And some other stuff, stuff back home, has me freaked out, too.”
Jimmy stopped messing with his guitar and gave his full attention to Lacey.
“Geesh, I’m sorry, you’re about to go on and I’m dumping on you.”
“I have a few minutes. Is there stuff back home I need to worry about?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Lacey began to pace. “There’s stuff that happened in the past—well, may or may not have happened in the past—and it might have something to do with . . . my gamma exposure.”
Jimmy leaned back in his chair and laid his guitar across his lap. “You’re not making any sense, Budge.”
“I’m sorry.” She stopped pacing. “I guess I’m not really ready to talk about any of it. Like you said, I’m a grown ass adult. I’ll figure it out.”
Jimmy bent over his guitar again. “Do I need to come bust up on Professor X?”
“God, no. That’s about the last thing I need, for you to go up against Eli. He’s just . . . he’s just a really weird guy. And I’m learning it would be a terrible thing to be on his bad side.”
“Sounds like treacherous waters. Can you do long-distance-learning with him?”
“Yeah. Maybe. I’ll figure it out.”
“You keep saying that.”
As if on cue, she heard Trevor’s voice, emerging from a back room. He was laughing and talking to someone.
Lacey couldn’t help herself from going rigid when she saw him. The someone he was talking to was tiny, doll-like, with overdone makeup. The look on her face was vacant like a doll’s, too. Her hand was on his arm, and she was leaning so far into him, she looked like she might topple over if he wasn’t there.
Get a grip, Lacey. People flirt all the time.
She looked his way and gave him what she thought was a coy smile. And then turned back to her brother.
“What was I saying?”
“That you’ll figure it out.” Jimmy couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
Trevor and Doll-Woman had gone their separate ways. He approached Jimmy and Lacey. She tried to relax her posture, to little avail.
“Figure what out, love?”
“Oh, just work stuff.”
“Hmmm.” He moved right past her comment. He bounced on his heels, like Tigger. “Are you ready to hear our work? We’re debuting a new one tonight. It’s nothing short of inspired. Right, James?”
This is a different Trevor. A getting-psyched-to-perform Trevor. I’m not so sure I like this Trevor. Too hyper.
“This isn’t work, Seamus. This is a calling. You might like the name of our new song, Lace,” Jimmy said.
Lacey smirked. She loved most of the music her brother made. But the song titles, album titles, even his band names were questionable, at best. “Please, do tell.”
“‘Starving Hysterical Naked,’” he answered.
“Inspired by someone you know?” Is he writing about my ‘gamma ray exposure’?
“Relax, Budge, it’s from a poem.”
“By Allen Ginsberg,” a voice said from the direction of the stage. Dave Guidry.
“It’s time,” he called out. “Get your asses up here.”
Jimmy picked up Lacey in a bear hug. “Stick around, Budge. You can invite the Jabronies to hang out after.”
“Careful, Chump! Don’t pull something before I get a chance to hear ‘Hysterical Useless Naked.’”
He set Lacey down. “That’s Radiohead. We’re LeViticum.”
Trevor gave her a quick peck on the cheek, like a child might offer his grandmother.
“Later, love.”
Try as she might, the best she could offer was a forced smile.
Lacey, Scott, and Hans didn’t stay long after the show. There was a quick meet-and-greet. Scott and Hans were starstruck—quiet, respectful, but not a whole lot of fun. That was likely one of the reasons everyone dispersed after less than half an hour.
She was peeved at Jimmy for disappearing, but it wasn’t so unusual for him. She wasn’t sure what she felt about Trevor. After all, he had asked her to come. Hadn’t he? So why did she feel like the jilted fool?
On the drive back, she received a text from Jimmy.
Sorry about the Houdini, Budge.
Yeah Chump, what gives?
Story for another time.
Lacey sighed. Whatever, she thought to herself, o
pting to not respond to her brother’s text.
In her head, Trevor was hooking up with Doll-Woman. And Jimmy was sparing her having to be witness to any of it. Or maybe they just wanted to get high and watch movies. Or play video games. (She suspected that’s what Scott and Hans had on their agenda as soon as they arrived back in SLO).
Even if it was something legitimately mundane, she was pissed at Trevor. Or more precisely, pissed at herself for having expectations. And she usually loved getting to see her brother perform, and now Trevor had ruined that, too.
Thinking back on their new song, she hadn’t been that impressed. She wasn’t sure whether she should blame the song or her state of mind for that, though.
27
Lacey was back in the rental in SLO. After a few intensely busy days up at Sycamore Mineral Springs, Eli told her to pack up her stuff (and Ambrose) and get ready to work out of the studio again. She was immensely grateful for the flurry of activity on the production, because it had kept her mind occupied.
And Eli had been a different person these past few days. Almost warm, even. Lacey hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask him about anything of a supernatural nature. Or on whether his banishment was enough of a price for Allison. What would stop her from using her Superfoe powers again?
On the one hand, there hadn’t been time to ask about any of the supernatural things. On the other hand, Lacey had “compartmentalized” them. She still felt a chill down her spine when she remembered the Birdie vision, but it had taken on a dream-like quality. After learning what Allison did, and what Eli did to her, Lacey wasn’t sure how to talk to him about what now felt like a bad dream. And she hadn’t had the opportunity, with Eli acting like any other boss working on a deadline. Maybe just a little less harried than normal people might be.
And Kandace had returned! Lacey couldn’t believe she was actually excited about that, but she was. Hunter, who was prone to belittling outbursts, was about one thousand times worse than Kandace had ever been. Though Lacey wasn’t sure what Kandace was supposed to be doing. She was still on the payroll as A.D.; Hunter, who was still around, was listed as a producer. Kandace seemed to dislike Hunter as much as Lacey (and the rest of the crew) did. Somehow, having someone to unite against made her feel closer to Kandace.
All the turmoil on the set—for the entire production—made Lacey long for it to all end. And the end would come soon, if the production schedule was to be believed. Lacey was glad to return to San Luis Obispo and the rental. And the soundstage. As beautiful as Sycamore Mineral Springs was, too much had happened there. Too much stuff that wasn’t good. Between herself and Trevor. Between herself and Eli. And between herself and . . . herself. The Birdie vision on the ridgeline was a silent constant, just below her surface. It didn’t help that every time she turned her head in that particular direction, it was there, defining the western horizon.
She was ready for a pause. Where the only things that would happen would be mundane stuff.
And she did get a mundane pause that lasted precisely thirty-six hours.
She was at her desk at the soundstage, reassembled to an almost exact replica to what it had been at the start of the production. Looking over the schedule, there were only two more shoots. She had been calculating when was the soonest she and Ambrose might be home.
She had been online, looking into admissions into Delgado’s EMT training program. The community college was only blocks from her house on Florida Boulevard. She would be able to walk to classes.
She was wondering how much class work there would be, before she could get out to practical training, when her phone lit up. It was Angele calling, not texting—that was unusual.
She picked it up, a little worried about what Kandace or Hunter might say about her taking a personal call.
“Hey. What’s up?” Lacey answered.
“Yeah. I wanted to let you know that my dad’s funeral is scheduled for this Friday. You don’t have to come if you can’t make it. But I figured you’d want to know.”
“Jesus, what? Did you say your dad’s funeral?” Lacey inhaled sharply. “Where are you right now?”
How long has it been since we last talked?
“I’m in New Orleans,” Angele answered.
Lacey realized she hadn’t talked to Angele since Kevin’s funeral. There had been a few sporadic, “check-in” texts between them. The last she’d heard from Angele, her Dad was doing okay, and she had expected to return to California in a few days’ time. How long ago had that been?
“What happened? Are you okay? How’s your mom?”
“I don’t have time to give you all the details. I’m okay; Mom’s really sad. I’ve been having to take the lead on all the arrangements.”
“Okay. Is there anything I can do?” Lacey wanted to ask why the hell she waited to call until the funeral was already arranged. But now wasn’t the time for that question.
“No. But let me know if you’re able to make it into town.”
“Yes. I can.” Lacey quickly realized she would have to ask several people first. “I will try. I will let you know. Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?”
“No. Thanks. I have to go.”
Angele ended the call before Lacey had a chance to say anything else.
Lacey stared at her computer screen, stunned. She knew Angele’s dad had surgery. Complications can happen after surgery. She felt a tremendous burden of guilt for not knowing about whatever had happened. Maybe it had all happened so quickly that Angele didn’t have a chance to reach out.
Yet, Lacey hadn’t even thought to reach out to Angele about any of the stuff that had transpired at Sycamore Mineral Springs.
Why was that?
On the surface, Lacey had told herself that she didn’t want to bother Angele while she was dealing with family matters.
But Angele had been the first person she went to after Fox died. She was the first person she told about her newfound “mutant power” just a few short months ago. But that was the thing, if she was honest, that had opened a rift between them it seemed they were unable to breach.
Lacey had been prepared to quit the production in order to return home. She had said she wanted to be there for the funeral, but she knew she had other reasons, too. She kept those to herself.
She didn’t have to quit. She would only miss two days, and she had two days to prepare for them. She would fly home to New Orleans late Thursday, and return late Sunday. Sunday was a scheduled non-work day.
Eli would look after Ambrose while she was gone. She’d had to ask him via text, because he’d been off site. On Wednesday, he was supposed to be at the studio, and Lacey steeled herself to talk to him. About more than just watching her dog. But finding a quiet moment was a challenge. He spent most of his time in the edit bays, always surrounded by a bevy of crewmembers. Around lunchtime, when a line began to form at the craft table, she thought she might be able to find him alone.
She never got the chance.
When she turned in the direction of the edit bays, she saw Kandace making a beeline toward her, mug in hand.
“I need to replenish,” she said, holding up the apparently empty mug. “Come with me?”
So now we’re best friends?
“Sure,” Lacey said, trying to hide her disappointment. She might need Kandace to cover for her while she was out, so it was not only out of the goodness of her heart that she accompanied her to the vending machines.
They were tucked away in one of the back corridors of the cavernous studio. Lacey never liked going there alone. It was too secluded. She suspected Kandace felt the same way.
“How’s your friend Angele doing?”
Lacey had a well-rehearsed lie for the people on the set. While she was certain she would never see any of these people again, the nature of Angele’s business meant she could be working with any of them for
weeks, possibly months at a time.
“Oh, she’s managing. I think she’s relieved her father isn’t suffering anymore.”
The truth of the matter is that Lacey still hadn’t talked to Angele, so she hadn’t the slightest notion how she was doing.
“I’m not ready to lose a parent,” Kandace said. “I don’t know what I’d do. I nearly lost it when Roger wound up in the hospital with appendicitis.”
That’s interesting. “Oh . . . ?” Lacey said.
“That’s why I was out,” she continued. “I freaked out, thought he was dying, and tried to take some time off, but that’s just when they got Jason Booker to finish the shoot. So that’s why Hunter came on.”
So Roger is real. With a real appendix. Huh.
“So, you and Roger are good?” Lacey asked. “Did anything happen with . . . ?”
Kandace flushed red at the reference to “the other guy.” “No, that was nothing. I found out he was . . . he wasn’t available. And I don’t even want to think about not being there for Roger when he needed me.”
Yep, the other guy was married. In this instance, I hate knowing I was right.
“You know, Hunter wanted to fire you,” Kandace said, and looked pointedly at Lacey.
It was Lacey’s turn to flush red. But her reaction was from anger, not embarrassment. I’m remembering why I don’t like you, Kandy.
“He wanted to fire me? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no. Not that.” She turned all her attention to the vending machine. Lacey swore she was doing it for the effect.
Lacey pursed her lips. I wish he had fired me.
“No, just for taking the two days off. Since we’re so near the end, he wanted to try to trim the payroll.
“It was Eli who talked him out of it.”
“Oh. I guess I should thank Eli,” Lacey said. Yeah, thanks a lot.
“Yeah, probably. I’m still trying to think of an appropriate way to thank Mr. Savin. That’s why I pulled you over here, I wanted to run a few ideas by you.”
