“God...How did you get so cynical?” I ask quietly, shaking my head, “What made you this way, Kelly?”
“I’m sure that hanging around with you all these years hasn’t exactly done wonders for my outlook on love,” she says. I can hear the hurt tugging on her vocal chords. “If anyone’s convinced me that love and affection are fictional, it’s you.”
“What the hell do I know?” I say, “I’m twenty five years old. I’ve never met anyone I could care about before Ellie.”
“Really?” Kelly says, looking at me hard, “Not anyone?”
Sudden understanding hits me smack between the eyes. I hear, for the first time, what Kelly is trying to tell me through her half-baked accusations.
“Oh...” I breathe, taking in the sight of her. Her model-caliber body is draped in a few thin layers of cotton pajamas, but not much else. I’ve always recognized the fact that Kelly is a sexy woman, but I’ve never felt anything for her in the past, she's too aggressive.
How am I supposed to tell her, after all this time, that my indifference to her stands? She’s a great manager, but I could never want anything else from her.
Especially not now.
“You really never noticed?” Kelly asks. I’m alarmed by the sultry tone of her voice.
This cannot be happening right now. It just can’t be.
“We’ve always been great friends,” I say, trying to lure her away from the subject.
But she’s advancing toward me across the cabin, her eyes fixed on mine. I run my fingers through my hair and sit back into the arm chair. How can I get out of this terribly awkward situation without offending her?
“But you can’t honestly say that you’ve never wanted anything more than that. Can you?” she asks, standing before me in her scanty clothing.
“Kelly, stop this,” I tell her, crossing my arms in front of my body, “You’re making a fool out of yourself.”
“I’ve been doing that for years,” she says with a smile.
“Aren’t you supposed to be mad at me right now?” I suggest, “I’ve just tanked my fan approval rating, right? Why don’t you go back to berating me about that?”
“How have you never noticed that I want you, Trent?” she asks, stepping in even closer to me. I can see the lust in her eyes beginning to rise.
I need to get out of here. Now.
“Kelly, this is really embarrassing,” I say, lurching up from the chair and putting distance between us, “This is not what I want. You’re the best manager I ever could have asked for. Can’t we just leave it at that?”
“I don’t think so,” she tells me, “Not anymore. You need to be with someone who understands you. Someone who gets how you think.”
“I think so too,” I say, thinking of Ellie, “But that person is not you.”
“You’ve just never given me a chance,” she whines.
“I don’t—Hey!” I say, as she closes the space between us and lays her hands on my chest.
“Forget about the little girl,” she croons in my ear, “Think of what an amazing partner I would make. I’d devote every second of my life to you. God knows, I do that already...”
“Why would you want that?” I cry, knocking her hands away.
“Because I’m crazy about you Trent. I always have been.”
“This isn’t OK. This isn’t OK for you to be doing right now.”
“Since when do you have qualms about being seduced?” she laughs, “Last time I checked, it was one of your favorite things. Now, come on. I know full well that you want this. Just give into it, Trent. We’ve waited long enough. This whole stunt with that girl was just you acting out. But I can soothe you. Really I—Trent!”
I shove her roughly away, a surging anger rising inside of me. This is the last thing in the world I need right now. All I want to do is sort things out with Ellie before she gets the wrong idea. How am I supposed to do that while my insane manager is in heat?
A knock on the bus door disrupts our standoff. I turn away from Kelly and march to the door, yanking it open none-too-gently. My mouth falls open as I see Ellie standing there in the threshold, a look of utter bewilderment on her face. The rain that’s started to fall across the plains is soaking her through and through. Her blonde hair is plastered across her forehead, and for a moment the downpour obscures her own tears.
“Ellie,” I breathe, stepping down to meet her, “What is it?”
“The entire world knows. About us,” she says blankly, “It’s all over the internet. Pictures...Everyone is going to see.”
“I know,” I say, pulling her into an embrace, “It’s going to pass though. Don’t worry about it.”
“Mitch is gone,” she says into my shoulder, “He just left me here.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her, “That’s not...Ellie?” I see her eyes gazing beyond me, into the depths of the bus. With a sickening sense of dread, I follow her line of sight. Kelly has come forward into the little patch of light, her skimpy clothing and tousled hair looking far too sexy for anyone’s good.
I turn back to Ellie, panicked. “Come on...” I say, “You don’t think that anything—”
“Come back up here, babe,” Kelly drawls, “I’m still sleepy.”
“Trent...” Ellie says, pulling out of my arms, “What the hell...? How could you...?”
“You know that it’s not—Nothing’s—Ellie, you know me better than that!”
“I don’t know you at all,” she says, her chin beginning to quiver. She backs away from me into the rain, looking back and forth between Kelly and me. “I really don’t have anyone, do I? Not even you.”
“Of course you have me,” I insist, “Kelly’s just—”
“Kelly’s just one woman,” Ellie says, “But if it’s not her today, it’ll be someone else next month, won’t it? You could never be content with one person. You’re too used to getting exactly what you want.”
“What are you saying?” I demand, “That’s some other person you’re talking about, it's not me.”
“I just...I need to go,” Ellie says distractedly.
She turns from me and hurries away, but I’m not letting her go so easily. I catch her arms as she tries to move away from the bus, but her rain-soaked skin is slippery. She darts away from me, back toward her meager little camp. But instead of throwing herself back into the tent, she wrenches open the car door and slides inside. My heart twists itself into a knot as the engine roars to life. I spring forward, but the vehicle is already speeding across the uneven land. She takes off like a shot, ripping off through the rain like a loosed bullet.
I stand in the midst of her abandoned camp and watch her taillights disappear into the distance. Soon, every trace of her is obscured by the falling rain. Just as quickly as she fell into my life, she’s slipping away from me.
Chapter Twelve
I slam down the gas pedal, half expecting my foot to crash through the undercarriage of the car.
The heavy rain splashes against my windshield, outpacing my ancient wipers. I’m hurtling along the muddy road, bumping with every stray rock and grassy patch along the way.
The last thing I’d ever call myself before this week is reckless, but while my head may be begging me to slow down, my body and heart have other ideas. All I know is that right now I need to put as much distance between myself and this festival as possible, as quickly as I can.
I just need to get away.
A thick, irrepressible knot is throbbing in my throat. I can feel the hot tears welling up behind my eyes, threatening to blind me, but I don’t have time for them right now.
My thoughts are ricocheting around my skull like fireworks, and the racket they create is just as overwhelming. All I can do is keep my hands on the wheel, force my eyes to stay on the meager sham of a road before me, and keep driving, no matter what.
At this moment, it feels like my life depends on it. Keep moving, I coach myself, keep moving, don’t stop.
The front wheels
of my sedan bounce up, dragging me along onto the highway. A long, seemingly endless expanse of asphalt stretches out before me. The road looks like a black river in the rainy gloom, and I intend to ride it as far along as I can. I press my foot down hard and gasp as my car rears forward, behaving more like a bucking bronco than any sophisticated machine.
I take off down the highway, swathes of muted green flying by on either side. Forcing deep breath after deep breath down into my lungs, I do my best to staunch the flood of emotion that needs so badly to be let loose. Between that storm surge and the torrential rain outside, I might just drown if I’m not careful.
Desperate, I fumble through my CD collection for something that will clear my head, and root me back to the ground. I snatch up the first promising disk and slide it into the dusty player, waiting for the sweet release of music to cure what ails me.
The CD whirs to life, and the voice of Joni Mitchell washes through the cockpit of my car. My breath catches in my throat as she glides through the first verse of “River”, taking me along with her through this mire of heartache. Silently, the tears begin to slide down my face. I let my favorite songstress carry across the threshold of feeling, guiding me into the depths of my confusion and pain.
He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on...
I swerve over to the shoulder of the road as a throaty sob rips from my body. The twin headlights of my car illuminate the rushing rain as it pours down against the roof of my beat up ride.
Giving over to the swell within me, I let my forehead rest against the steering wheel, and I weep.
The overwhelming, disorienting events of the past few days play in my memory like a film reel, coursing along with the soundtrack of Joni’s music. I feel as though I’ve lost every point of reference grounding me to real life. It’s like I’ve been washed away into someone’s else’s story...but all I want is to return to my own.
Gazing out the windshield at the stormy road ahead, I marvel at how my life has been completely rewritten in a matter of days. Before I made this trek to Hawk and Dove, I was just Eleanor Jackson—student, daughter, sister, unknown-musician.
I had a friend and partner in Mitch, a wonderful home to return to, and hopes of sharing my music with the rest of the world. But ever since that first bit of exposure opened me up to the masses, everything’s changed.
My relationship with Mitch is destroyed, my private life is a thing of the past, and the staggering presence of Trent Parker has altered my world forever. From this point on, nothing will ever be the way it once was. I don’t know how I can possibly learn to be OK with that.
It would be one thing if I were trading in my old life for a brilliant, secure future with this amazing man I’ve found in Trent. For a moment there, I actually let myself believe that such a seamless transition, and winning bargain, would be possible. Effortless. How naive I was to let myself think, even for a moment, that Trent was mine for the taking.
I let myself forget everything I knew about Trent Parker before the festival began. For years, I’d heard about Trent the rock star—the womanizing, drunk, fuck-the-world musician with a terrible reputation. I’d read the gossip blogs about his uncountable bimbo girlfriends, his bad behavior, his addictions. But the moment I’d met him in the flesh, I let all of those impressions slip away.
I couldn’t believe that the media’s version of Trent could live in the same person that I’d fallen so hard for. And sure, most of that behavior was an act, but that’s not to say that it wasn’t also real, wasn’t also a part of him.
There’s no way that I can have Trent the man without also accepting Trent the rock star. But if there’s anything this week has taught me, it’s that a career in music comes at a much higher cost than I could have ever imagined.
Do I really want to be a musician that badly? How can I know whether Trent is worth the price I’d have to pay to have him? How do I know he’s not just going to turn back into the monster the press makes him out to be the moment my back is turned? I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust him around that bitch manager.
My stomach twists in disgust as my last glimpse of Trent comes back into my mind’s eye. I see him framed in the doorway of his tour bus, that blonde harpy lingering half-dressed just behind him. I should have known what was going on with her from the start. Why else would she have been so terrible to me this whole time? And even if nothing’s really going on between them, the fact that there are women in the world who would throw me off the nearest cliff to get closer to Trent makes my skin crawl. Can I invite that much hatred into my life without it eating me alive?
I see it clearly now. Being with Trent would mean accepting the ire of thousands and thousands of people. Being visible as a musician in my own right would be risky enough, but to enter the media frenzy on Trent’s arm would make things exponentially more hazardous. What if the world were to think that I was using him for his fame? What if his fans hated me for making him soft? What if he got sick of me in a week and cast me aside for the gossip vultures to pick clean?
I’ve seen enough of life to know that happy endings are hard to come by. Do I really think that I’m so special as to deserve one? What makes me think that I can somehow triumph over the pressures of celebrity, sustain a happy relationship with Trent despite all odds? Even just saying it in my head sounds absolutely ridiculous—childishly wrongheaded.
There’s no logical reason to think that something between Trent and I would stand even the slightest chance.
But if that’s true...then why is it so hard to believe it? Why can’t I chase away the hopeful, optimistic longing to be his? I know, rationally, that the best thing for me to do at this moment is turn away from him, and from any career in music altogether. I know that I should just go back to school, find a new path, and let my fifteen minutes of fame run out. I know what I should do...I just have no idea how to convince myself to do it. My heart won’t hear of it.
My entire life up until this point has been devoted to creative expression. The one thing in the world that’s made me happy has been putting voice to beautiful, sad, universal ideas through song. And the best way I’ve found to do that is through my music. There’s no way I can let this week destroy my relationship to songwriting. The prospect of spending the rest of my life away from music is too depressing to even consider.
No—I’ll find a way through this, somehow. I’ll deal with the question of whether Trent has any place in this new world later. Right now, I need somewhere to rest my weary head.
Joni’s voice trails off, leaving me sniffling but with a clearer mind than when I first took flight. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and straighten up, taking stock of my options.
From where I’m haphazardly parked on the side of the highway, I can go one of two ways—back to the festival, or away from it. I consider turning around, taking back my place at Hawk and Dove...but how can I do that when my band is no more? Mitch has probably hitched a ride out of the state by now. And I can’t just go latch onto Trent. Not until I’ve had some time to think. No...I can’t go back there.
Instead, I swing back onto the highway and start to drive. At first, I have no idea where I’m headed. The simple act of motion is enough to soothe my frayed nerves. I let my car glide along the highway, staving off decision-making until the last possible second. I could stay at a motel somewhere...but I don’t want to risk being seen by anyone. I just need to be somewhere safe.
Suddenly, I know what my destination has to be. A warm, familiar calm falls upon me like a blanket as I realize that I have to go home. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, as if this might make the journey go faster.
All I want in the world is to fall into my mom and sister’s arms, ask their advice, hear them tell me without a shadow of a doubt that everything is going to be OK. With them in m
ind, I settle in for the long trip home. It will be worth it once I finally arrive.
Thank god I’m not totally alone for this long, anxious trip. Joni ushers me through the first leg of it, but there are others on hand to carry me through. One by one, I bring them each along with me. Carol King, Carly Simon, James Taylor, Janis Joplin...their music fills my car and my heart. Each one of them has a piece of advice, a bit of insight I’d do well to remember. With them by my side, the journey doesn’t seem so bad. I feel like I can find the strength I need, with these faithful companions to help me.
The hours pass, one by one, as I bear down on Barton once again. I got quite the early start on my travels, and it isn’t even dusk by the time I drive across the border, back into my home state. Even after only a few days, the familiar landscape of my hometown seems aged, foreign.
That nostalgia I’ve come to know is magnified tenfold after the events of this week. Still, I know this is where I need to be right now. I speed along until my mother’s home comes, at long last, into view.
Our little Victorian house stands serenely in its place, just where I left it. As I approach, I can feel exhaustion starting to creep through my body. The adrenaline of my flight has carried me this far, but I suddenly feel as though I might collapse into a heap on the porch before I even get inside.
Just knowing that Mom and Kate are close makes me feel safe and sound. I know that they’ll be able to help me through this mad time without any agenda. All I need right now is good advice—and this is certainly the right place to get it.
I swing into the driveway of our home, elated to see Kate’s car parked on the curb. She must not be working tonight, for once. I wonder whether they’ve been following all my madness as it’s unfolded? I haven’t turned my phone on since the first wave of gossip hit, not wanting to deal with anyone’s opinions. I couldn’t even bring myself to call home before I came back, lest Mom advise me to stay at the festival and wait all the nonsense out. But it doesn’t matter. I know that this is one place I’ll always be welcome.
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