by Jae Dawson
“You get laid and I get kissed. Unfair.”
Andy ran up to me and jumped so that his legs wrapped around my waist, squealing like the rabid teenage girls who frequented our shows. I slapped his ass and he humorously kissed my cheek before pushing off me to his feet.
“Come here, sexy,” he said to Dev, curling his finger at him in a flirty, come-hither gesture.
While Andy folded Devon into a hug, Bale sidled up to my side and we watched our crazy bandmate with matching grins.
“Nice sign,” I said to Bale.
He inspected his work, jerking a lock of brown hair from his eyes. “I used pink glitter. In Devon’s room.”
I laughed again. Devon was going to kill him.
“All right, my bro-hoes, what’s the plan?” Andy’s white-blond hair looked like icicles under the neon lavender light.
“Waffles.”
Everyone turned toward Dev.
“You put down two cinnamon rolls and a chocolate croissant on the plane,” I pointed out.
“And?” Dev batted his eyes at Andy. “You’ll get me waffles, right?”
“Damn straight I will.” Andy flashed a flirty grin at the gathering crowd. “Let’s go. Car’s waiting outside.” He slid me an even flirtier grin. “I’ve been dying to run into your arms, Cade Owens.”
“Missed your smart ass.”
Andy shook his head. “Be honest Cade. You just missed my ass.”
In answer, I kicked him in the ass and Andy laughed, flipping me off with both hands.
People started giggling around me and I sobered, halting my steps. I had almost forgotten I was at LAX. And, for a few blissful moments since leaving Hartwood Falls, I had almost forgotten the dread and anxiety pooling in my stomach. These guys were my brothers. My upside-down world always changed direction when around them. This lightness, this completeness? . . . felt normal. Right.
“Coming?” Dev called out over his shoulder.
“Yeah.” I dragged my suitcase behind me once more. “Let’s get you midnight waffles.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Bella
Breaking Cade’s departure to the kids had been hard . . .
Paloma and her friend posse surrounded me as soon as I had set foot in the auditorium for Thursday’s rehearsal, Paloma waving her phone in my face. It had taken all my acting skills to suppress my dismay as my eyes had roved over a two-dimensional image of baseball-cap wearing Cade striding through the airport arrival gate, even as my body reminded me of the very 3D feeling of Cade’s hard body pressed against mine. The next image had showed Cade laughing with one of his bandmates wrapped around his waist in an over-the-top reunion. He looked so happy. Finally back where he belonged.
I had hopped up onto the edge of the stage to announce Cade’s departure. “Cade flew back to L.A. Burning Umbrage will be headlining HBO’s Halloween Spooktactular show, and he couldn’t miss studio rehearsal this week.”
“Will he be back for opening night?” Marcus had asked.
I shook my head no.
“What about the other performances?” Marcus asked again.
“No, I’m sorry.”
Amie had cried, “But, like, everyone I invited is coming because they hoped to grab a pic of him after the show.”
I had pursed my lips. “I’m sure not everyone was coming just because Cade was involved—”
“No, they definitely are,” Paloma chimed in. “Why do you think we sold out six shows?”
“Little Shop is a popular musical—” I offered, but Amie cut me off.
“Ms. Pagano, it’s about a talking plant. It’s weird.”
“It’s a classic!” I had protested. I’d held up my hands against further discussion. “Listen guys. Cade’s show is Halloween, same as ours. He’s not going to be able to be here. I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed. He was bummed about the timing too. But you’ve all worked really hard to put together a show to be proud of. You’ve come so far, and not because of Cade. No, because of how hard each of you have been working. Maybe a few people bought tickets because of Cade. But when they come to the show, you’ll be the ones that wow them, okay?”
I felt for them, I did. It was their first show-biz disappointment. If they stuck with the arts—especially musical theater—it would be the first disappointment of many. You needed a thick skin in this industry.
* * *
I shook away the memory. Tech week had gone decently, but the students’ dimmed enthusiasm ate at me. I needed to get them excited. “All right guys, show’s almost here! Are we ready for our final dress rehearsal?”
A few grumbled yeses rounded the room.
I shook my head and hopped up onto the stage. “That was the sorriest cheer I’ve ever heard. Let’s try that again.”
My students rallied some more energy a second time. By the third, there was almost some real liveliness. As they trotted off to get their costumes and makeup on, I let my false smile slip. It was even worse than I feared. Cade was more than a name to spur ticket sales. He had become an integral part of our team. It was like losing a key coach the night before the big game. Of course, the players would be affected.
I was affected.
God, I was pissed at him. But dammit, I missed him too. But I needed to focus.
Ready to work, I pulled my hair into a ponytail. I would just have to be coach enough for both of us.
The dress rehearsal was not going well. It’s like the kids had devolved to week two of practice—forgetting lines, bumping into each other, costumes falling apart. And what was worse, Jeremy was nowhere to be found. He had been running our audio-visuals the whole time and I had no one who knew the cues and song order as well as he did. I put Charlie in charge, instead, but the poor kid didn’t know a fade from a spotlight.
I stood in the AV booth coaching him, when a group entered in the back right corner of the auditorium. I recognized Principal Kelley’s bald head—I’d have to give him a piece of my mind about Jeremy. But who was with him?
The number ended and I called a halt. “Hey everyone, let’s take five and regroup.”
I jogged over to meet Principal Kelley and my mind stuttered. It was Carrie MacMillan, from the school board. Together with two other school board members.
Shit.
“Mrs. MacMillan.” I shook her offered hand. “What an unexpected surprise.”
“You know Mike Donahue and Theresa Nguyen, right?” Principal Kelley said. “This is Bella Pagano, our choir and drama teacher.”
I shook their hands, holding the plastic smile on my face. “Mrs. MacMillan, I emailed you to let you know that Cade wouldn’t be here today.” So why are you here? The last thing I needed was the school board breathing down my neck during this disaster of an afternoon.
“I know, but we were in the neighborhood, so we thought we’d just pop by. The set is really extraordinary,” she said encouragingly.
“Thank you. The students designed and executed the entire thing. Including Audrey II, our man-eating plant. Two students operate it.”
“How delightful. Maybe we could just lurk here in the back, while the students rehearse one of their numbers?” Mrs. MacMillan smiled. I knew she was trying to help me, but her timing could not have been worse.
“Of course, make yourselves at home. Principal Kelley, could I have a quick word?”
We walked a ways down the aisle before I turned to him. “Jeremy is a no show today. The entire AV component of our show is dependent on him. I need him here.”
“Has he missed before?”
“Never. But I think Cade leaving kinda threw him.”
“I’ll call his sister.”
“Thank you.”
He leaned in. “Now are we going to wow them with this or what?”
I ground my teeth. “Let’s just say, if you’re a religious man, Principal Kelley, now’s the time to pray.”
I left him with his bushy eyebrows raised and jogged back to the booth and slowed beside Char
lie. “Let’s do Lean Green Mother,” I called out to the students. The song was a standoff between the man-eating plant and Seymour, the male lead, and involved a lot of choreography and special effects.
Time to say my own prayers.
The music started and my heart leapt to my throat. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. I started to relax as the first verse unfolded. Bryce, the senior singing for Audrey II, sounded good.
Now the fighting began—Seymour and Audrey II battling around the plant shop, little plant tendrils snaking out and striking it. The students doing the special effects were killing it, their timing was down. A genuine smile broke across my face. They were doing great.
One of Audrey II’s vines shot out, and Charlie hit the sound effect for the breaking glass. But the vine went wide and tangled around Marcus’s feet. He stumbled backward into the half-wall lined with two one-window panes.
And one of the windows actually shattered, showering glass on him.
Ohmygod!
I was running down the aisle before my brain fully registered what had happened. “Marcus!” I cried as I took the stairs up to the stage in two giant steps. “Are you all right?”
He sat up, dazed. I began to brush broken glass from his shirt. “Be careful, don’t move. I don’t want you to get cut.”
Marcus held up his hand, and I saw it was too late. He was already bleeding from a gash on the heel of his hand.
“Can someone get the first aid kit?” I shouted. “And a broom. We need to clean this up. No one come any closer.”
“I’m okay,” Marcus said, and I helped him up, using his elbow to maneuver him to a stand. A shower of glass fell from his clothing and hit the floor with a tinkling melody.
I examined his hand, willing my thundering heart to slow.
“It’s not too bad. Mrs. Pagano, I’m okay,” he insisted.
My flood of relief swirled furiously with a rising tide of dread. I looked back at where three dark figures stood in the back of the auditorium. Marcus was okay, thank God. But I wasn’t, not at all. I was pretty sure I had inadvertently fired the shot that would kill arts funding in Hartwood Falls.
Chapter Twenty-five
Cade
Andy’s drumsticks tapped over his head in a 4/4 lead-in beat. Then Devon’s fingers began his rhythmic magic on the bass, a complement to the melodic roar of Andy’s tom drums. The sound was seductive, almost tribal. A couple measures later, Bale eased in an airy, otherworldly synth patch, his head hanging over the keys, his body swaying.
My heart just wasn’t into practice. We had been playing through our fan-favorites for the past hour and I was done. Hell, I was done before practice even started. I tried not to be too mopey. Though I could never fool Dev. He kept side-eyeing me through practice and would mouth “brooding.”
But this song . . . Wilted grabbed my pulse and made it gallop.
Especially as the music swelled . . . growing . . . growing . . . ultimately crescendoing to a dramatic three beat pause.
Silence filled the practice studio save the gentle, soft click of a single stick tapping the rim of a snare drum. On the fourth beat, all instruments—including vocals—jumped into our latest hit single.
“Sunshine pink rain
Golden black hail
My heart has withered
Wilted and no more
Ash blue autumn
Red winter sky
My soul has withered
Wilted and no more”
My fingers danced across Bob’s strings in a passion-filled prayer for relief while notes wrapped around the ache thrumming in my chest. Lyrics had always come easy to me. But they weren’t always personal. Wilted was just another song in an ocean of many about heartbreak and longing. This moment, however? Every word pierced me. Every image. And my building angst poured into my fingers. I drew in a breath and closed my eyes, wishing Bella were before me as I cried out the chorus.
“Nothing makes sense without you
My world has wilted, wilted
Nothing matters without you
My life has wilted—“
Andy stopped playing. “Cade,” he hollered over the fading notes as we turned toward him in unison. “Your meter is broken.”
“What?” I blinked through the fog in my head.
“Your vocals are a quarter beat too slow. And your guitar’s a half beat too fast.”
I nodded. “Sorry. Got distracted.”
“Yeah. For the last hour.” Andy smirked. “Who’s made our Cade out of sync?”
An evil glint twinkled in Devon’s eyes and I glared in silent warning.
But, like usual, Andy didn’t miss a beat. “So, there is—”
“She’s a high school teacher,” Devon volunteered.
“A normie?” Andy asked in disbelief. “You’re out of sync for a normie?”
The evil glint in Dev’s eyes curled his lips into smug mischief.
“You’re dead,” I said to my life-long best friend, who just laughed. “No more midnight waffles for you. Ever.”
“Are you going to deny me a midnight banana too, Cade?”
“You don’t like bananas,” Bale said to Devon.
“But Cade has banana kink in dressing rooms.”
Andy rested his arms on the snare drum. “The hell did you two do up in Seattle?”
“DEAD.”
Devon snickered again.
Bale leaned against the back wall and crossed tattoo-sleeved arms over his chest. “What does she teach?”
Ever thoughtful. At least I could count on Bale to give a shit. “Vocal ensemble, dance, and theater.” Bale just nodded his head, as if that made all the sense in the world.
“Well, shit.” Andy grinned and ran a hand through his platinum strands. “I’m crushed that the extra sexy smolder in your voice just now wasn’t for me.”
Dev rolled his eyes. “His sexy smolder has never been for you, asshole.”
Andy traced a heart in the air, then mouthed the words, “I love you.”
I threw a pleading look Bale’s way.
Bale shifted his position on the wall, a humored smile softening the typical serious expression he wore. Out of the four of us, Bale Michaels looked the bad boy. All tatts, a couple of piercings, edgy style. A prodigy on the piano with an equally brilliant mind. I appreciated his quieter, more observant presence. He brought balance to the chaotic force that was Andy Quinn.
Bella would love Bale.
Hell, she would love Andy too.
Bella . . .
Shit.
“Should we take it from the top?” I asked, hoping to redirect attention. But my voice cracked, giving me away.
The studio door opened—saving me—and Kenzie waltzed in, a young intern hurrying behind her with coffee.
Shiiiiit. Coffee meant she had deadline questions.
My stomach leapt to my throat.
The college girl looked like she was about to faint. Andy bit his lip at her and winked. And that did it. Her face and neck flushed rosy pink and she fought back a nervous giggle. Normally I’d be humored. Instead, I eyed Andy intently, a clear message to behave. Bale smiled to himself again, per usual. But Dev . . . he looked like he was about to chastise me for suddenly becoming an old, grumpy man and ruining Andy’s fun. Then he mouthed “brooding banana” and I flipped him off, choking back a laugh.
“The band is back together again, I see,” Kenzie cooed before raking her eyes up and down the length of me. “Darling, tell me you have a B-side single ready? Corinth is rabid for Moonlight’s pre-launch buzz.”
The deadline question. I knew it.
“Yeah, I do—”
“Do you see this wrinkle?” Kenzie asked me, tapping a perfectly manicured finger to the smooth, unwrinkled corner of her eye. “I’ve named this monstrosity Cade Owens.”
“Is that caramel and chocolate?” Devon sniffed the air, like a hound on the hunt. “Tell me those are caramel mochas.”
Kenzie sighed, then snap
ped her fingers at the intern. “Well, hurry up, girl.”
Dev slid me a you-owe-me look.
I slid him a you’re-still-not-forgiven glare.
“So, this song,” Kenzie continued. The intern offered me a Starbucks cup. “Not him,” she snapped. The girl flinched. “Hold his coffee right there. No, a little more to the left. Now three steps backward—too far. My God, these are simple instructions, girl.”
I almost felt sorry for the intern. But her hazing was nothing like what the musicians in the industry go through. She would figure it out soon. Or drown beneath the current of Kenzie’s hot and cold moods.
I tuned my guitar to drop D, then strummed a minor chord. The rich sound moved through me. Kenzie and my bandmates were talking while I tuned down, but all I heard was Bella’s piano and her beautiful soprano.
Falling in my dark, it was you I found.
Moon touched angel, you brought the light crashing down.
The room quieted, all eyes riveted on me. But I ignored them all. This moment, I was singing to Bella and only Bella. First verse. Chorus. Second verse. This was our song and I was charged, my voice aching with longing. My heart aching even harder. Then I softened, as though whispering the lyrics across her body. Each word a kiss, a sigh.
I want you to touch me
To see me
Kiss my soul
I need you to want me
To feel me
Love me whole
I paused a beat then launched back into the chorus, changing up to a new emotive key.
A minute later, the song slowly faded, growing quieter until I plucked the last note.
I didn’t want to open my eyes and let go of the vision before me.
I didn’t want to be here or play the Halloween show.
And I didn’t know what to do.
“That is no B-side, hun.” Kenzie began typing furiously on her phone.
I could feel my bandmates staring holes into my back. Even the air around me shivered with goosebumps. I’m not sure any song I had written was forged from my heart like this one.
