Rocked

by Maya Hughes

  “Would you keep your voice down!”

  “Apparently, Eric’s dad was, well is a junkie. He started using again shortly before Eric turned nine. His mom gave him a choice, get clean or get out and he didn’t choose to get clean. Once Eric started to make a name for himself, his dad started sniffing around again and his mom intercepted him. She’d been paying him money to stay away from Eric. She doesn’t want him to negatively influence Eric and she doesn’t want his dad to try to drag him down.”

  “But Eric has to know.”

  “I have to know what?” Keira jumped, her heart pounding, as Eric came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He let her go and strode over to Smithy.

  “What are you doing here, man? I didn’t know you were coming,” he said, giving Smithy a hearty hug and pat on the back. “And what do I have to know?”

  “Eric—,” she started.

  “What’s that?” Eric gestured to the magazine and Smithy snatched it back.

  “It’s nothing,” Smithy said, trying to put it in his back pocket. Eric glanced between the two of them, his brow furrowed.

  “Come on, what is it?” he said, catching Smithy’s hand and grabbing the magazine out of it. “Something else about Talia? That’s long over.” He glanced back at Keira and smiled. She moved in closer to his side. That smile wouldn’t stay on his face for long. She placed a hand on his.

  “Eric, don’t look at it, please,” she pleaded. He glanced up at her, a look of determination on his face. He opened the magazine and immediately sunk against the wall of the bus. He ripped through the pages of the magazine searching for the story that accompanied the headlines. He paged through it, his page flipping become more and more furious, so furious that he ripped the last page clean out of the magazine.

  “What is this?” he said, glancing between the two of them. Keira opened and closed her mouth, unable to form words. “What is this?” he shouted, shaking the magazine at them.

  “Eric, we don’t know yet. We don’t know how they found him and we don’t know why he would go to the tabloids about this.” Smithy moved his hands in front of him like he was trying to calm a wild animal. Eric shot up from his slumped position and raced into the bedroom. His voice filtered in from there.

  “Mom, what is this shit I’m reading about Dad?”

  A long pause followed, then crashing as some things were broken back there. Keira jumped with each crash, glancing to Smithy whose eyes were wide as he gingerly stepped toward the back of the bus. Before he made it more than two steps, Eric came barreling out of the back and stood pointing the phone at her.

  “You knew,” he shouted. “You knew that my dad was out there looking for me?”

  “Eric, please. Your mom told me and begged me not to tell you,” she pleaded.

  “You knew how much I needed to talk to him. To get the whole story and you lied to me!” His eyes were watery as his chest heaved, his breath coming out in shudders.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “And you accused me of keeping secrets. You left me because you said you couldn’t deal with lies about a chick I used to bang and you kept something like this from me?” he said, his jaw clenched.

  “I know. I know that. But it wasn’t my place to tell you.”

  “It was your place to tell me! It was my right to know and you just let this go on without the decency to tell me and now it’s splashed all over the fucking headlines of some tabloid,” he raged, shaking the magazine in her face.

  “I’m sorry, Eric. I’m so sorry.”

  “Get out!”

  “Please, just listen to me.”

  “GET OUT!” He shouted so loud it rang in her ears. Keira jumped up and ran out of the bus, tears streaming down her face. Her heart raced as she pressed her back against the cold metal of the outside of the bus. Suddenly aware that she wore nothing more than a tank top and pajama shorts, Keira hustled between the two buses where she crouched down and sobbed. The tears seemed never ending and they clogged her throat to the point that she thought she might drown.

  She could hear the crashing and banging coming from inside the bus and she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. How had this happened? His mom had assured her that all he wanted was money. He didn’t really care, so why the big sob story for the tabloids? Why hadn’t she told him? Because she was a coward. She was afraid that he would walk out on her like she’d walked out on him when his lies came out. She’d been wrong about that, he hadn’t walked out on her, he’d kicked her out.

  Leaning against the bus, she shook and bit her fist to keep the noise of her cries from traveling. A gentle hand touched her shoulder and she startled, causing her to fall over. The hands helped her stand and she wiped her face. Smithy stood in front of her, his eyes downcast and he handed her a t-shirt. She wiped at her eyes against the soft cotton and attempted a smile to thank him. She didn’t trust her voice just then. Throwing the shirt on over her head, Keira saw her suitcase next to Smithy and the tears welled in her eyes again.

  “Smithy, just let me talk to him.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Keira. He’s a bit raw right now. He’s not in a good place. It’s probably best if you go right now and try to talk to him another time.”

  If not now, then when? What would she do now? He didn’t want to talk to her. Would he ever trust her again?

  29

  The achy pounding in his chest had returned with a vengeance. The scene with Keira kept replaying in his mind. That she’d just walk out on him, then lie to him about something so important. He hadn’t thought she would do something like that, especially after everything he’d shared with her. She knew how much it had hurt when his dad walked out on their family. For her to keep that from him. It seemed like his taste in women hadn’t gotten any better. First, Talia the opportunist and then Keira.

  The ache of betrayal pounded in his chest. How could she have done this to him? Let it come out in the news like that? He’d stopped accepting calls from his mom. She’d called him at least twenty times a day, every day since the story broke. He couldn’t believe she’d lied to him all these years and to bring Keira into it. Keira had given up with the calls after the first week.

  There was a knock on the tour bus door and he strode down the aisle wrenching the door open. He stumbled backward as he came face to face with his mom. The retreating figure of Smithy off in the distance. Traitor.

  “Now’s not a really good time mom,” he grumbled.

  “Don’t give me that shit,” she said, barging in past him. She climbed the steps and he followed her. “You’re going to talk to me whether you want to or not. Eric Yancy Newcastle.”

  “Really, all the names, mom? Fine, talk. I don’t know what you can say to explain away the fact that you kept Dad away for years,” he said, leaning against the counter.

  “Eric, you need to understand. I wasn’t keeping your dad away. I was keeping away the drug addict who’s taken over your dad’s body from you. He’s not who you remember. He’s not someone you can trust. Trust me. I know. I’ve tried. I’ve given him so many chances over the years. So many.”

  “But you didn’t give me that chance to see for myself,” he said, jabbing a finger into his chest. She hung her head, shaking it.

  “I know, sweetheart. I know. I was trying to protect you. I was trying to preserve any good memories you had of him. I didn’t want you to know he chose drugs over us. I had to go buy your guitar back from the pawn shop downtown the night I put him out for good. That was the last straw. He knew how much you loved that guitar. He knew it, but he pawned it for some quick cash,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. The cracks were back now, deeper and more painful than ever. He closed his eyes.

  “Mom—”

  “I’m sorry, Eric. More sorry than you could know, but I did it to protect you.”

  “Keira knew. You told Keira and
not me,” he said, remembering the way the bile raced up his throat when he realized she’d been a part of the lie.

  “It wasn’t her fault, honey. It wasn’t. I made her promise me. She overheard me arguing with your dad that night you came to visit. I made her promise she wouldn’t say a word and told her I’d tell you soon. She was just trying to protect you too. She knew you needed to hear it from me,” his mom said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He grabbed some napkins off the counter and put them in her hand. She wrapped hers around his, pulling him down to her. She cupped his face in her hands.

  “My sweet, sweet boy. Please don’t let my mistakes or the mistakes of your father get in the way of your happiness. I know how much she cares about you. I know you can’t see it right now, but I put her in an unfair position. And I’ll apologize to her when I get the chance, but please don’t give up what you have with her because of what I did. She loves you, Eric and wanted to protect you. Don’t take that for granted, sweetie.”

  As much as he wanted to rage against his mother and tell her she had no right, he’d already come to the same conclusion about his dad’s motivations. He’d called the tabloids to get his dad’s contact information. To try to get in touch, but he hadn’t even left a phone number with them. He’d taken the money and ran, never even cared about meeting him. His dad only cared about getting more cash to feed his habit. He didn’t know what hurt more, knowing his mom had lied to him or knowing that she’d probably done the right thing to protect him from whatever shit his father would have rained down on him.

  Now to figure out what to do about Keira. He didn’t think a simple ‘sorry’ would cut it. He’d have to go big on this one.

  Her camera hung around her neck, Keira nearly forgot to take pictures as the dancing sharks made their way across the stage. After less than a week on the tour, the sheer number of people involved in the production made the roadies that worked with Uncharted and the handful on tour with Eric seem like a high school musical production. The pyrotechnics almost singed her eyebrows off the first night, when she thought she’d found the perfect spot on the edge of the stage to get some shots.

  With over twenty dancers, a few personal trainers, assistants and even more production staff, she needed a homing beacon to find her way around. The laminate around her neck was essential to not be kicked out on her butt at any given moment. With so many people involved she didn’t even think that a quarter of the people on tour knew she’d been added to the roster. Their tour busses rolled from city to city like a moving battalion.

  Her roommate, a dancer, showed her the ropes and made sure that she knew where to pick up the daily itinerary, daily laminates and had a full list of the shuttle schedule from the hotel to the venue. There were hourly shuttles back and forth. The well-oiled machine could easily chew you up and spit you out, if you weren’t careful. But the opportunity that this photo tour book could give her had her running through data cards like a madwoman. The sheer magnitude of the production meant there were always chances for great candid shots. Whether it was Segway races behind the venue, whipped cream fights or the nightly all team huddle and dance break before a show that always devolved into laughter and catcalls. With over eight thousand pictures taken in under a week, it was going to be intense to pick the best ones to include in the book.

  With her mini book from Eric’s tour, she’d already been contacted by three other artists interested in having her travel with them on their upcoming tours. The overwhelming pressure of what this could become sometimes stopped her in her tracks. She’d lean against the nearest surface and take deep breaths until her heart rate and the uncontrollable sweating slowed. Eric hadn’t attempted to call her once since she left. That yawning abyss of sadness that opened whenever she thought about him could be temporarily closed when she kept busy running around from backstage to onstage to the tour buses. But in the quiet moments, lying in bed, her roommate gently snoring, she couldn’t help but think about him and how she’d screwed it all up. She’d stopped calling after the first week. If he wanted to, he knew where to find her, but her fear was that he didn’t want to and it was over between them. One secret and it all blew up in her face.

  30

  The knock on the dressing room door startled him, he’d been so lost in thought. Zoning out before a performance didn’t bode well for his abilities out there. The first song went well, the single that had come out over the summer and climbed the charts as the label predicted. But this second song, he’d fought tooth and nail to have the studio okay it for the performance tonight. He needed her to hear it. He needed her to know.

  Following the production assistant in the headset through the twists and turns back to the stage, he took a deep breath. Singing the most personal song he’d ever written for the first time, standing in front of an audience full of people and even more at home had his palms sweating. Wiping them on his jeans, he climbed the stairs to the stage.

  He stood up on the stage, cameras all trained on him. He hoped she was watching. In her texts, before she stopped sending them, she told him where she’d be. Told him about joining the new tour and being in New York that night. This was the performance of a lifetime, not only because musicians would kill to be able to perform on this late-night show, but because he needed Keira to see this. He needed her to know that she was the one for him and he wasn’t going to back down. After nearly a notebook of pages shredded and burned, he’d come up with what he needed to say to her. What he needed the world to know about her.

  The crowd chanted for another encore, the second of the evening. All the dancers were wiping themselves with towels and chugging bottles of water, some dumping them over their heads. The poor dudes in the shark costumes had it the worst. They shook their heads flinging water all over everyone backstage.

  Standing backstage at Madison Square Garden, in the shadow of one of the biggest pop performers in the world, Keira lifted her camera to take more shots of the entire moving organism that made up Matty’s production team. This should have been the most amazing experience of her life, but everything glowed less, shined less and dulled without Eric by her side.

  “Come on,” came cries from everyone in the vicinity. Some dancers ran back to the dressing rooms, finished for the night, but others would be back on the stage in under a minute. The choreography of leaving the stage only to return for another energetic song still made her smile. The fans ate it up and although she knew there were, in fact three planned encores, if the fans chanted loud enough, the planned spontaneity was a testament to the acting and energy of the entire crew who put this thing on.

  Knowing where everyone would be, also meant that she got great shots night after night because she knew exactly where to be. Perched on the edge of the stage, practically on top of one of the amplifiers, she lifted her leg up to get the right angle to capture Matty, her dancers and some of the fans in the front few rows. They’d love that shot. Scrambling off the amplifier and around behind the drum kit, she took an over the drummer’s shoulder picture to get as much of the crowd as possible into the shot, spotlights shining, looking out over everyone’s shoulders. They’d feel like they had been up on stage with Matty throughout the show.

  Capturing that magic is what made Eric’s photobook so successful. She hoped she’d be able to replicate it here and with other tours. Proving to everyone, herself included, that it wasn’t a fluke, just because she was involved with him. Because she was in love with him. Is still in love with him. Leaving his tour hadn’t meant that she’d left him behind. As much as she may have wanted to make that pain go away, he stuck with her every second of the day. If that was the only way she could be close to him, she’d take it. Even in that moment, after finishing with her shots for the night and walking to the dressing rooms, his melody and rhythm rang in her ears.

  Opening one of the many dressing room doors, there were several dancers who’d finished earlier staring up at one of the flat screen TVs mounted on the wall. The man who haunted
her dreams up on the stage, playing his heart out as he always did. The door slammed shut behind her and the dancers watching the tv turned, her roommate spotted her, screamed, and ran over to her grabbing her arm, pulling her to the TV.

  “Didn’t you say you were on tour with Eric Newcastle before you came here?” Jenna asked, practically bouncing.

  “Yes, just a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Pause it!” she shouted. “Someone get the remote and rewind it. Oh, my god, I can’t believe it.” A flurry of bodies, still in costume, shot across the dressing room, all searching for the remote.

  “Believe what? What is going on?”

  “You’re not going to believe it!”

  “Got it!” someone called from the far end. The song that had been playing stopped abruptly and the picture zipped backward. They stopped when he stood in the middle of the stage with the lights down. The lights came up, shining across the camera and he stared directly into the camera.

  “I wrote this for Keira because I didn’t have the right words to tell her how I felt.”

  He’d written her a song. A sinking pit formed in her stomach. What had he said about writing a song about someone? Once he wrote it, it exorcised that person from his life. He could put things behind him. She’d left him and that was the deal breaker for him. Somehow, she’d hoped that they would be able to find their way back to one another sometime later, once the pain and hurt of what she’d done had worn off. But now it seemed he’d moved on from her. Hanging her head, the beat of the song filtered through her heartbreak and tears welled in her eyes.

  “Keira, honey, listen to what he’s saying,” Jenna placed a hand on her knee, squeezing it. She looked up at him playing.

  …You have my heart and soul..

  …My eyes only search for yours…

  …I’ll hold your hair back until we’re old and gray… She laughed at that lyric. The tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. His love for her shined through in the song and it welled up in her chest. She still loved him, but was this a song he needed to write to get her out of his head? Out of his heart? Were these feelings he had felt for her before. Did he still feel the same way? Or once that last chord played would he walk away from her like he’d been able to walk away from his ex.