The One Thing

by Briana Gaitan

  “I’m here.” Aly squeezes past me, her small body forcefully pushing mine into an old speaker. Yup, she’s mad. There’s nothing I can do, we’ll go on stage and sing. I slip off my shoes because I have this thing about preforming barefoot on stage. It’s comfortable, and I need comfort on stage because I’m not the most outgoing guy. I still get stage fright, and I hate public speaking. Once on stage, the tension gets better. Aly takes her place behind the keyboards and gives me a small nod.

  “Hey everyone. I’m Caspian and we’re a band called Aly. How is Florida doing tonight?”

  The entire place begins cheering. There’s no more than one hundred people out there.

  “This first song is called Home.” I begin playing and let all of the backstage drama disappear.

  We play the songs I wrote about Aly, I know she hates it. Singing with me, singing about me and her, but she gets through it by refusing to look at me the entire time. The stage is filled with tension. I feel it, the other guys feel it, and I’m almost positive the fans feel it as well. The whole set goes rather quick, and by the time we finish, things are feeling a little bit better.

  Aly and Booker are going to be handling the interviews after the show. After the show, I grab a bottle of water and spend a few minutes alone in the bathroom. We got through our first show with no issues. Maybe this will all be okay.

  Backstage, I gather up my stuff. We keep the instruments in a trailer, but I at least need my acoustic if I’m going to write tonight.

  “You not participating?”

  I look over to see the lead singer from Divine Misgivings standing beside me. A spunky barely legal blonde who looks like a scary version of Aly. She has on a long rocker tee with barely there shorts, thigh highs, and sneakers. She’s cute, but not really my type.

  “Indeed. I don’t do interviews. You waiting for someone?” I nod toward Booker and Aly who sit next to an attractive young journalist.

  “Booker, I thought.” She crosses her arms in front of her.

  Oh, so she’s hooking up with Booker. No big surprise there. This isn’t the first time our bands have played together. We first met the group last summer during the Bonnaroo Music Festival. I had sensed something between the two of them back then. I just didn’t realize it was still going on.

  “Celeste, right?” I ask.

  “That’s me.” She looks toward the reporter interviewing Booker. The two of them are flirting and huddled way to close.

  “Well good luck with that.” I motion towards Booker. “He looks to have his hands full at the moment.”

  “His loss if he decides to stand me up.”

  I finish closing my case and stand it up against the wall.

  “Celeste is here! Celeste, come meet Gigi. She’s an aspiring singer too.” Booker waves his hands in the air like a maniac and motions for Celeste to join him. I look for an opening to let them know I’m heading back to the hotel. Booker likes to know where I am at all times. I guess he’s worried I’ll wander off, get drunk, or OD somewhere. I take one last look at my phone and contemplate emailing Ginger. I don’t need to do that. I need to let her go. I stuff my phone back into my pocket just as I hear Aly yelling at Celeste.

  “Like you know anything about love or life. You’re just some slutty wannabe singer here to ruin someone else’s life. I don’t have time to sit here and watch you two fight over Booker. I’m leaving.”

  This isn’t like Aly at all. She doesn’t like physical fights, if she has an issue with someone she deals with it in a sneaky manner. I step across the room and step in between the two singers. “Aly, calm down. Celeste, please forgive my keyboard player. She’s distraught over her own love life.”

  “Lack of a love life,” Booker mumbles.

  Celeste jerks forward and grabs ahold of the strap of Aly’s messenger bag. “For your information, you stupid little bitch, I grew up rich. My parents have so much money you could swim in it. If you’re smart, you’ll keep your little mouth shut before I break your fingers and you can’t play keyboard anymore.”

  That statement causes Booker to stand up. We’re all protective of Aly, and if anyone threatens our band, our livelihood, we have each other’s back. He pushes Aly back a few steps and turns toward Celeste with her wide eyes and flaring nostrils.

  “Ladies. Ladies,” he says. “Unless you plan on tearing each other’s clothes off. How about we save the emotion for the stage. Celeste can come with me, and Aly can go back to the hotel.” He turns toward the journalist. “Sorry, Gigi. We’ll have to finish later.”

  Celeste shakes her head. “No, Booker. I’m finishing this.”

  I hate confrontations and this girl is a wild mess of confrontations. I hope Booker hasn’t gotten in too deep with her. Aly is just standing there. She’s all bark and no bite. She could never hit this little girl. I look back at Celeste just in time to see her fist go back.

  “Whoa now!” I yell and step in front of Aly to protect her. Celeste doesn’t stop and her fist collides right into my chest. It wouldn’t be as bad if she didn’t have big chunky rings decorating her fingers. She’s stronger than I anticipated. I stumble backward, tripping over Aly and grabbing her by the waist as we both fall backwards. I pull her on top of me as we knock into Gigi and hit the ground. Aly’s dark hair falls in my face as she hovers over me. We’ve been in this same positions thousands of times before, but normally with less pain radiating through my body.

  “Thanks,” she says as she straddles me and sits up. My body reacts to the familiar weight of her skin, and she gives me a knowing grin as I harden a little beneath her. Celeste is saying something to me, but I can’t hear her. I’m focused on Aly. There’s still something between us, but this isn’t what I’m looking for. I need more than comfortable attraction. I need…more. Aly never understood me, not really.

  “Aly.” My voice is hoarse, and as much as I enjoy having her on top of me, it isn’t right to give her ideas.

  “Yes?” She smiles and tucks her hair behind her ears.

  “Get off me please.”

  Her smile fades, but she does as I say. I stand up and turn to Celeste and Booker.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna get Aly outta here, Booker.”

  We shake hands, and I put an arm around Aly to lead her from the room.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel,” I tell her. We walk in silence and once we make it to the hotel, I grab her arm.

  “What’s going on? I’ve never seen you lose your cool like that.”

  “I don’t know. Didn’t you see the way she was staring at Booker? It was as if he was her property or something. I didn’t like it. He’s family, and I’m not gonna let some slutty girl play with his heart. ”

  “Well you could have gotten hurt. We need those talented fingers of yours. Next time, don’t go all motherly on him.”

  “What do you care?”

  “Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

  She doesn’t say a word to me, but gives me this look like she doesn’t believe me.

  “What can I do, Caspian? What can I do to convince you that we belong together?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but she stops me by pressing her mouth against mine. In shock, I let her kiss me for a few more seconds before pulling her off me. “No, Aly. We can’t do this. It will only make things more difficult. You need to move on.”

  Her brown eyes fill with tears as I wipe some of her smudged lipstick off of her chin. “I’m sorry I took five years away from you. Don’t pine over me.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “The band still needs you.”

  “I said I’m trying!” She spins around and walks into her room. That was sufficiently uncomfortable.

  Inside my room, I settle down for an all-nighter of writing. The guys have been on my back about getting out some fresh material. It’s been over a year since we released anything new.

  I turn on my laptop to listen to a few beats Booker laid
down for me. As I scan my inbox, the email from Ginger catches my eye. It’s been over a week, and I haven’t messaged her back. It’s been hard, ignoring her messages, but even from the short time we’ve spent together, I can tell that she needs someone to lean on. I’m not that person. I’ll break what little pieces are left of her. Just look at what I’ve done to Aly. I begin writing:

  You’re all I need.

  Don’t waste my time…

  Wasted away.

  In your toxic design.

  I hope, hope you can go.

  Haunted life.

  Can you undo my crimes?

  I hope, for one more night.

  I’m not sure who or what I’m writing about, it’s a mixture of things really. Writing helps me release the energy trapped inside my soul. It’s how I communicate. I’m not suave, and I don’t have that typical rock star bad boy sexy thing going on. This is me. I’m lost in my writing, when someone distracts me by rapping on my door.

  “Come in!” I yell out, but don’t take my eyes off my notebook.

  “Yo, Cas. Had an interesting night,” Booker calls out.

  I hear him shut the door, but continue to write.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Oh you know, same old. That group that opened for us, they are a piece of work. The lead singer Celeste is a hot lay.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, she’s totally into me.”

  “Uh huh.” I need to write about something other than love. I need some new life experience to jumpstart my brain. I can write about the city, traveling, or a fight with Aly.

  “Caspian, stop writing!”

  I stick my pencil behind my ear and look up at my bandmate. “What?”

  He knows I hate being disturbed when I write.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “That reporter from earlier talked about some pictures from Nashville.” Booker leans against the table and raises an eyebrow at me.

  “What?”

  “Yeah, apparently there was a photo of you and that redheaded girl. They think she’s some famous actress.”

  I play dumb. “That’s funny. Wonder why we never heard about it.”

  Booker slams his hands down on the desk and leans forward. “I dunno. Maybe it’s because we are middleclass nobodies.”

  “Well it wasn’t her.”

  “That’s what I said; she does look an awful lot like that girl from Nashville. Is that where you disappeared to…”

  My palms begin to sweat. “Wait, did they ask you about it in front of Aly? What did she say? Is she upset?”

  Booker flops down on my bed and puts his hands behind his head. “Not to worry. I acted like she was just some fan who was getting a backstage tour, but it’s not too hard to figure out what’s going on, Cas. We’ve known each other forever, you can tell me.”

  We stare at each other for a few moments before I give in. “Okay, It’s Ginger, but nothing is going on. We bumped into each other on the street, she came to the show, we exchanged a few emails, but I haven’t talked to her in about a week. So there’s nothing to tell, friend.”

  He shakes his head and gives me a goofy grin. “So you’re still talking to her?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Do you want to be with her?”

  I hesitate, not sure whether or not I want to tell him. “I don’t know.”

  “What then? The distance? The actress part? I know it’s not because of her looks cause she’s hot as fuck.”

  He’s so right. She stands out with her smooth red hair, model figure, creamy skin, and sparkling blue eyes. I block the image of her in that tight green dress from my mind. Her looks weren’t the only thing I noticed. She looked so helpless and alone walking down the street. Something called out to me, begging me to help her. “Just drop it, Booker. I don’t wanna talk about it tonight.”

  “It’s her red hair isn’t it? You’re scared of being with a Ginger named Ginger. God, that’s the worst thing to name your child. What? Were her parents thinking of the worst cliché in the world? I wonder if the carpet matches the drapes… If I got ahold of—”

  “Dammit, B. She’s a fuckin’ alcoholic!”

  That shuts him up quick enough. I stand and pace the room in an attempt to clear my frustrations.

  “Oh.” Booker’s mouth sets in a tight line. I’ve rendered the asshole speechless.

  “Yeah. Oh. See why I can’t pursue her, why it’s dangerous just being her friend.”

  “How do you know she’s one, did she tell you?”

  “No, I recognized the signs. When I went to pick her up, she was hung over in her hotel room. She denied it, but I could see the guilt in her eyes. I recognized it. She knows she has a problem but she won’t admit it.”

  “So…you gonna stay away from her now?”

  “Of course…I don’t know. No? I want to, but I keep thinking about her, you know. If I had someone to help me through the rough spots back then, things could have been a lot different.”

  Booker sits up, his face is a blank canvas, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Is he gonna tell me to go for it or cut ties? “You don’t need to put yourself in this situation. I was all for having fun to get you out of this writing dry spell, but if this blows up in your face it affects all of us.”

  Ah, he chose the latter. After hearing him say it, I feel like a rebellious teenager. I want her even more.

  “What if—” I begin. I can’t believe I’m making excuses. I was so gung-ho on not contacting her anymore.

  “Don’t. Our band can’t go through anything else like that again. Things are already stressful enough with you and Aly breaking up. Don’t put yourself in this situation. You deal with your own issues and let her deal with her own.”

  “But what if I’m the only one who understands what she’s going through. I could help her.”

  “She’s rich. I’m sure she can manage. She probably has a million best friends who kiss her ass. God, just erase her number and forget her name. I’m gonna go get some sleep.”

  Booker throws a pillow at me before giving me a fist bump and walking out the door. I can’t sleep though; the voices inside my head keep mocking me.

  “Hello, my name is Caspian, and I’m a recovering alcoholic. I’ve been sober for almost one year. I think I’m falling in love with an alcoholic named Ginger.”

  “Hello, Cas. You’re screwed.”

  Ginger

  “I’m gonna be an aunt!” I announce to no one in particular. I do a little victory dance across the bedroom and try to get Chase to join in on the wacky movements I’m throwing out. I haven’t been this excited in a long time.

  Quinn and Chase both look at me with a confused expression.

  “Technically,” Chase tells me in a drawn out voice, “you’re gonna have a new cousin.”

  “No, technically I think she’s gonna have a second cousin,” Quinn corrects.

  “No, that’s not right.” I shake my head and hold out a hand. Why do they have to make everything so difficult? “A second cousin is your cousin’s cousin. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The baby’s gonna call me Auntie Ginger, and I’m gonna spoil him to death!”

  Quinn makes a tight face as a contraction rolls through her body. Chase grabs her hand to reassure her. “Just breathe, my dear. The Midwife is on her way.”

  “Are you sure this is safe because it’s not too late to go to the hospital,” I say.

  Quinn’s face relaxes. “I’m not gonna risk someone tipping off the press or people trying to steal money shots of the baby. We’re doing this at home, safely.”

  I press my lips together tightly in an attempt to cover a laugh. I don’t have the heart to tell her that money shot means something entirely different than what she’s thinking. Chase must be thinking the same thing because we share a knowing glance.

  The doorbell rings throughout the house. “Can you get that?”
Chase asks me.

  “Fine…” I don’t want to leave Quinn, but I head downstairs. This is the most exciting thing in the world. A celebration not to be missed. And you know what people do when they celebrate? They pop open a bottle of bubbly and make a toast. Oooh! I wonder if Chase keeps any champagne in the house. I should chill it if we’re gonna have a toast when the baby gets here. I head to the kitchen and scan through the bottles resting on the wine rack. Merlot, Chardonnay, Rieslings….

  Who in the hell doesn’t keep champagne on hand? As I run my fingers over the bottles, my throat constricts in a greedy attempt to get me to open one of them up. No, not now. Quinn is upstairs about to give birth. The doorbell rings again. Oh, yeah. My hand goes up to my mouth, and I rush toward the front door. How could I forget to let the Midwife in? My mind is seriously lacking.

  “Sorry!” I exclaim as I open the door and step back to let her in. I’ve never met her before, but Quinn and Chase are in love with her. An older woman with grey hair steps in with a large carpetbag under her arm. Her long black dress reminds me of some sort of nanny.

  “Hello, I’m Caroline. Are they upstairs?”

  “Hi, I’m Ginger. Yep, Quinn’s lying in bed upstairs.” I shut the door and motion for her to follow me through the house.

  “Are you sure this is safe? You know, without…doctors or medical equipment?”

  “Off course! I’m a RN as well, and if we need the hospital we can take her. Not to worry Miss. Ginger, Mrs. Bardot and the baby are my number one priority.”

  “And how many babies have you delivered?” I try and hide my skepticism, but Quinn’s fear of hospitals may be leading her into making unwise decisions.

  “Over 100 babies.”

  Wow, that’s a lot of babies. We reach the top of the landing and walk into the bedroom. Quinn sits in the bed with Chase right next to her.

  “We’re here!”

  “What took you so long?” Chase snaps, he looks pale but strangely excited at the same time. I roll my eyes, but step aside as the Midwife rushes in and starts pulling things out of her bag to examine Quinn.

  “How long has it been since your water broke?”

  “One hour.” Quinn grabs Chase’s hand. I step back and lean against the wall. I’m feeling a little like an outsider now. We’re family, but maybe labor time might be a time for just the two of them.