“As shit?” Michael asked.
Carolyn chuckled. “That, too. But why Derek? Why now?”
Rebecca closed her eyes and held their hands. “He wants me to tell you.”
Carolyn pulled away. “This is too much.”
Rebecca sighed. “If you don’t want to, I—”
Carolyn grabbed her hand. “Go on.”
“He wants you to know that he’s been trying to reach you for years.” Rebecca looked to her right. “You have?”
Carolyn and Michael glanced at each other.
“He says that, while it’s not an excuse,” Rebecca said, eyes closed, “the pressure to be something other than what he was—a straight football jock…star quarterback—was too much.” Rebecca turned back to the apparition she apparently saw. “You’re gay?” She put a hand on her hip, eyes still trained at the empty space beside her. “Don’t give me shit. If you want to move on, admit—”
“He did,” Michael said. “Derek…I mean, Derek as Seth told me.” Rebecca clasped their hands again, and Michael continued, eyeing the spot where Rebecca had, “Seth, I didn’t love you.”
“He wants to know if you have feelings for him.” Rebecca chuckled. “Geez, a supernatural lover’s quarrel.”
“Oh, God.” Michael scratched his head. “Well…”
“Remember,” Rebecca leaned in, “we’re dealing with a seventeen-year-old here.”
“Well,” Carolyn said, “I—” She shrugged a shoulder. She needed to admit it. “I liked him.”
“You did?” Michael and Rebecca said.
Carolyn faced Michael. “I used to cut pictures of him out of the school newspaper. I thought he was…handsome. I was sort of jealous of you two.”
“Wow, I never knew.”
Carolyn laughed. “It’s kind of silly to think back on now.”
Rebecca sat up. “Oh, he’s honored.” She smiled. “He likes that both of you found him attractive when he was in form. But he’s saddened that he’s hurt you.” She looked over Carolyn’s right shoulder, smiled, and the witch’s eyes watered. “Bernie?”
Carolyn and Michael’s chairs squeaked as they turned around. Had Carolyn not grown fond of the witches, she’d have thought Rebecca, staring into space and talking to apparitions, warranted her being locked up in a psych ward, but it all felt natural.
“Bernie, I miss you.” Rebecca’s voice choked as she rose. “I won’t…I’m good… What do you mean?”
Carolyn found it more than coincidental that Rebecca knew nearly everything about Rudy’s death; she was there, somehow. Rebecca’d told her about Rudy’s last words channeling Seth’s apology. There was no logical explanation, yet watching her now, talk to the dead, somehow it made sense.
Rebecca looked to Michael and Carolyn. “Berniece is here to take Seth. He’s made his peace. He hopes.” She spun around to face the apparitions again and held out her hand. “Wait! One more thing. Derek. How? Why?” She listened. “Hmm. The Tobin? The bridge? The Tobin Bridge?”
“What about the Tobin Bridge?” Michael asked.
“That was where Seth killed himself,” Carolyn said.
“I know.” Rebecca held a hand to her face. “And Derek worked on the construction site that dug up tunnels underneath the harbor nearby.” She tilted her head, listening more. “No, he hasn’t gone off in his pants since—” Her face reddened, as she glanced at Carolyn and Michael and scratched the back of her neck.
“I know all about it.” Michael smiled. “Don’t worry.”
Carolyn furrowed her brow.
“It’s a guy thing.” Michael waved a hand at her.
Rebecca folded her arms across her chest. “Derek was going to come. Um, he was going to be here tonight, but he’s a little scared of spooks. I’ll let him know you won’t be needing him anymore. Thanks.”
“Hold on!” Carolyn rose. “Before they go, I’d like to say something.” She looked to Michael, who nodded. “First off, Bernie.” Carolyn looked to where she thought the woman appeared.
“She’s over here now.” Rebecca hugged herself and rubbed her hand over her right bicep, as if Berniece comforted her.
“Oh.” Carolyn looked toward the back of the room, where presumably the woman stood. “Bernie, thank you for helping me that night at Barry’s concert. And for everything.” She sniffled. “If it wasn’t for you…” She shook her head.
“She says you’re welcome, but don’t do that stupid movie sequel.” Rebecca put her hands on her hips and looked to her right. “Really? I thought you wanted it to be a cult classic like…oh…okay.” She looked back at Carolyn. “She says a sequel will ruin it. Better off as a one-time thing. It’ll find its clique in time. Sort of like The Wizard of Oz being a flop at first, though it won’t be that big.”
Carolyn chuckled. “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Ah, secondly…” She scratched her head and to Rebecca asked, “Where’s Seth?”
Rebecca pointed to the actress’s side.
Slowly, Carolyn looked over her left shoulder. “Um, I just wanted to say…”
Michael rose and hugged her at her waist.
“I just want to say that…that you really hurt me.”
“Us,” Michael added.
After a few moments, Carolyn summoned the courage with a huff. “But I’ve let it go.”
“We won’t forget, but…” Michael said.
“But…” Carolyn clutched Michael’s hand. They looked into each other’s eyes and nodded. “We forgive you, Seth Stevenson.” She was going to add something about not forgiving for his sake but for their healing process, but it didn’t matter.
“Oh,” Rebecca said. “I’ve never seen an apparition cry.”
“What?” Michael asked.
A puddle of water appeared by Carolyn’s feet. For a moment, she thought she’d soiled herself and stepped aside. “Oh my God. Those aren’t…his tears…are they?”
A sudden clap of thunder and a burst of light shook the store. Rain pounded the roof.
“Bernie?” Rebecca’s eyes watered. “They’re gone.” She crumpled.
Michael rushed to her side and eased her onto the chair. “Are you all right?”
Rebecca’s head wobbled. “I’m-I’m…fine.”
“Get her some water,” Michael said to Carolyn.
She dashed to the front of the store, where a darkened refrigerated case stood, grabbed a bottle of warm water from it, and as she headed to the back room, the sight of the Felix-the-Cat figurine caught her attention. She swore Michael had spun its head back—the right way—but the toy’s tail jutted out in front of it, like an oversized, erect phallus.
Another clap of thunder, and the rain intensified.
“Carolyn,” Michael said, “the water.”
Ball and Chain
The taste of SweeTARTS puckered Carolyn’s lips. Bouquets of roses, irises, lilacs, and orchids lined the walls of her dressing room at the Grand Venetian in Boston. She pulled a spaghetti-strapped gown from its hanger in the back of the room. When she brought the dress to her face, the flowers’ fragrances had scented it. The horn section on stage bellowed, and she slipped into the dress.
As she walked, alone, down the concrete-blocked hallway toward the stage, her gown’s swoosh mixed with the musical interlude in the latter half of its run.
The audience cheered. “Carolyn. Carolyn. Carolyn.”
God, I hope they like me. Since her launch at the Barry Manilow concert, the Leather Queen, her moniker, had never gone out on stage without the requisite hide apparel, teased hair, and thick layers of makeup—concealing Carolyn Sohier behind it all. Yet, as she walked closer to the stage, being stripped of those accoutrements freed her. She just didn’t want to disappoint her fans.
“There you are.” Peggy looked elegant, even simply dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting sweater. “Michael’s waiting.” Her friend pointed her toward the stage. “You’re beautiful!”
Emilio, her guitarist, neared the end of his s
olo, a cue for her to get on mark.
Michael held out his arms, as she approached the wing. “You look gorgeous…radiant,” he whispered. A lull in the guitar riff offered a breath of silence.
She smiled and kissed his cheek.
“Go get ’em, baby. You’re the best,” he said.
A crescendo of music, and then her heels clacked assuredly onto the darkened stage.
The one-time concert had originally been planned for a much smaller, intimate venue. But the fans and the media clamored for more. She felt obliged to give them what they wanted. With Rudy’s death behind her, the hype about the movie, and the album continuing to climb the charts, everyone yearned for her attention. Since spreading Berniece’s ashes and forgiving Seth, she felt lighter and more confident than she ever had. But, tonight would be a different show. It would be the one she’d always wanted to do. If they like it, great. If they don’t…She released a spot of tension with a shake of her hands and a deep breath.
Yellow glow tape marked her spot, and she edged her open-toed rhinestone shoes to its edge.
Another deep breath.
Emilio’s five-note lead into the song thundered. The audience expected hard rock. That’s what made her famous. She’d give it to them and then some.
Something different. She relaxed her clenched fist.
The guitar’s pregnant pause received several hoots from the audience. They loved Emilio. Carolyn felt lucky to have signed him.
Silence deafened the hall. The intention to whet the audience’s appetite on a blackened stage worked. Then, the calm broke. “Carolyn! Carolyn!” Foot stomps throbbed.
The lights slowly grew. Perfect, she thought, in the dark. Managing a production gave her much more creative control. She relished it.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the deep, full-voiced announcer said, “Carolyn Sohier and the Sixth Sense.”
The crowd erupted. A spot lit only Emilio. He lifted his guitar, leapt into the air, and slammed down on the strings, beginning Big Mama Thornton and Janis Joplin’s “Ball and Chain.”
Nearly a minute later, when the introduction’s downbeat dropped in, another spotlight flooded her mike stand. Carolyn remained unlit. The audience’s ovation shot hot-and-cold intensity through her core. You can do it. You can do it.
In the dark, she removed the tambourine from a stool beside her and tapped the instrument against her palm, keeping in time with the band’s percussion.
The second guitarist tore into the final seconds of his bit, and her spot illuminated.
With outstretched arms, she embraced the catcalls and hollering.
Cheers and Tears
In the wings, a mix of emotion filled Michael. Seeing Carolyn sing, and the audience’s overwhelming reception, brought him joy, but the more popular she’d become, the less he’d seen his best friend.
Beside him, Terrence hooked a finger through the loop of his jeans. “Don’t worry,” he whispered in his ear. “She’ll be fine.”
Michael forced a smile and kissed his partner’s nose. “I know.” He wasn’t concerned that Carolyn would be overrun with fear, as he suspected Terrence thought he was. Instead, Michael’s heart ached for a friend he saw himself losing to stardom.
When she sang, it was different—not only from other female singers in the industry but also from her prior performances. Perhaps it was the dress and her hair tied up neatly with little sprigs of blonde tresses hanging down in front of her face and her ears, or maybe it was the confidence she exuded. Love and jealousy caused a hitch in the back of his throat as he hooted and hollered along with the audience.
She sang with such a force, such a dynamic. He shook his head in disbelief. “My God. She’s doing it.” He watched her portray what she’d always wanted to.
Peggy edged in between the stage’s wall and him. “Holy shit! What the hell happened to her? She sounds…amazing!”
From what would later be billed the performance of her career, Carolyn took the audience through the “torch song gone rock,” as stated in the Boston Globe. With each beat of the music, she sprang up and nearly out of her shoes. Her full-length dress sparkled in the lights, and the slit that rose up her thigh revealed a strong, soft, sleek leg that kicked out with the song’s rhythm. Her vocals filled the hall, as would be indicated in another article, “like a siren of pain with years of torment melting away.”
With both hands to the microphone, she stomped as if it helped her reach the high notes, but Michael knew differently. She let the song consume her.
When the band slowed the tempo, she wiped her face and licked her lips. “You know, the first time I heard this song, I thought, as you probably have, that it was about someone…” She huffed, catching her breath. “I thought it was about someone longing for…for a lost lover.”
The audience applauded.
“But as I grow older, this song has taken on…” She glanced into the wings, breathing heavily. “It’s taking on a new meaning. I now put into the song what…what”—she closed her eyes—“what I’m feeling at this moment.”
Peggy folded her arms across her chest. “Unbelievable. Was this rehearsed?”
“Nuh-uh.”
Carolyn put a hand to the mike. “Maybe it’s about losing a friend or maybe…maybe it’s about having lost yourself.” She chuckled and smiled at Michael. “It’s funny the sort of things that bounce around in your head when you sing a song as powerful as this one…”
She nodded to the band, and it kicked in again. She went into the last verse and led the piece into its crescendo—caressing a long, soft note to complete it. The gold bangle she wore around her ankle dipped as she eased herself down off the tips of her toes and the song ended.
The audience shouted and clamored.
She turned her back to them, pivoted the microphone stand, and motioned to the drummer. They timed a beat of his snare with her wail—a bit of the Leather Queen’s legacy.
Cheers, stomping, and clapping burst from the audience. “More! More!”
Carolyn whisked strands of hair from her sweaty brow. Michael could see the tears in her eyes. She knows she’s doing it.
She walked out onto the stage’s apron. “Thank you! Oh, thank you!” A woman in the front row handed her a bouquet of red roses. She took them and handed them to a stagehand who had rushed out from the wings.
Carolyn returned to the microphone. “Wow, man…this is amazing.” She held a hand to her brow. “Can we turn up the house lights?”
Michael furrowed his brow. “She didn’t plan that, either.” He’d helped her through rehearsals. He ticked the first song off a sheet on his clipboard and tapped his pencil to the second.
The audience hollered. A man in the light booth nodded, and the lights came on.
“I want to get a better view, so I can see all your pretty little faces.”
They cheered.
“You know sometimes…sometimes people say to me, ‘Carolyn…’?”
“Carolyn!” the audience replied.
She chuckled. “They ask me ‘what inspires you?’ You know what I tell them?”
“What?” they shouted.
“You know what I tell them?”
“What!” they echoed louder.
Michael loved the way she fueled the audience’s reaction.
“I tell them love does.” She pointed the mike toward the audience, who roared. “I tell them love makes the world go around. It’s not always…” She paused, waiting for the crowd to calm some. “It’s not always romantic love. It’s the love of friends.” Carolyn glanced into the wings. “It’s the love of family.” She splayed her hands to her chest. “It’s the love I have for you.”
The next song began, and Michael checked it off the list.
The Final Turn
Exhausted from pumping out several rock songs, Carolyn welcomed the chance for the show’s upcoming, more casual atmosphere. It would be something new for her fans.
She dragged a stool out from stage rig
ht. She needed to give the orchestra behind the curtain time to assemble. “I hope you like this next set.” She sat, a hand splayed on her lap. “This upcoming section is a little different than some of the things you’ve seen me do before.”
“We love you!” shouted someone from the balcony.
“Oh, thank you.” She mocked a shiver. “Y’all give me the goose bumps.”
They laughed along with her.
“In this piece…” She scratched her temple. “How should I say it? Let’s call it Carolyn Sohier Unplugged.” She chuckled, and they did the same. “We’re going to class things up a bit. Oh…by the way”—she stood, twirled around, and leaned into the microphone—“what do you think of my new look?”
The audience cheered.
“I dressed especially for you.” She pulled the dress’s slit up along the side, stuck out her leg, and shook her foot. “Revealing enough?”
Catcalls whistled out from the boxed seating.
“God,” she sat, “I’m going to be arrested for soliciting myself.” In the wings, she caught Michael and her mother laughing.
She hooked her hands onto her waist. “I was sitting at the mall the other day.” She paused and lifted an eyebrow, mocking anticipation—part of the act. “I said, ‘sitting!’ I was sitting at the mall, not shitting!” The idea of her illness at Radio City being a publicity stunt—something Rudy had perpetuated—still got a mention now and again.
They laughed.
“Good God, you guys have a terrible, terrible mind.” She rose and sauntered stage left. A teenager held out a teddy bear to her. “So sweet.” She took the stuffed animal and kissed the fan on the head.
The orchestra rumbled behind the curtain.
“As I was saying, I was sitting at the mall.” She walked to center stage. “You know, on one of those little bench things by the food court, and this girl and her friend…guy friend, came running out of Nordstrom.” Carolyn placed the teddy bear by the stool and, with a palm up, held back a stagehand bent on retrieving it.
Summerwind Magick: Making Witches of Salem Page 34
