Best Of Everything (24 page)

“You barely wear anything as it is.”

She nods. “The secret is having a lot of barely anything to wear.”

When we arrive at the motel her face falls. “Are you kidding me?”

“What do you expect? I’m a struggling artist.”

“Dude, you’re like the biggest thing going, and you’re at a roach motel? I should have just stayed home.”

“It’s not that bad. Although we’re sharing the room with Amber, my tour manager.”

“No way.”

“Actually, that’s what I’ve been doing, but I convinced Terry to spring for my own digs just while you’re here. Trust me, you dodged a bullet on that one. She’s got the sense of humor of a pit viper.”

We move into the room and Melody wrinkles her nose. “It smells like a dumpster.”

“No extra charge for that.”

“I’m afraid to put my bag down anywhere. Did they give you a hazmat suit with the key?”

I look around the squalid room. “It does have a lived-in quality, I’ll give you that.”

She inspects the bathroom and comes out with an expression of disbelief. “The mold has mold.”

“This actually isn’t the worst place I’ve stayed. The one in Fresno – now that was grim.”

“Just Fresno scares me.”

“This is all about the journey, not the destination.”

“If you have to shower wearing waders, you’re having a crappy journey, Sage.”

We return to the stadium at 7:00 and eat backstage – it’s one of the perks of being on tour I’m used to. Tonight’s feature is pasta in a red sauce that’s thick as mortar, but it tastes pretty good. I note that Melody’s appetite hasn’t shrunk since I last saw her.

“So what’s the word on Sebastian?” I ask as we munch on spaghetti in a corner of the dressing room.

“He’s always working. It’s kind of a big drag.”

“You kind of knew that going in.”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, that’s all fine. I just wish we could see each other more.”

“Tell me about it,” I say ruefully, thinking about Derek.

“I’m hoping that he can get away for a little while and visit me. And I’m seriously thinking about moving to L.A. once school’s over.”

I try to keep my voice even. “What does he think about that?”

“I brought it up, and he seems up for it. But he does that distant thing sometimes too, you know?”

“Having second thoughts,” I say, remembering Melody’s last trip.

“I need to be around him more so he doesn’t confuse himself.”

I stare at Melody in wonder. Here she is, seventeen, completely assured that she knows what’s going on in the mind of a producer who’s ten years older. Not a moment of doubt about her judgment or the wisdom of trying to have anything more than a fling with a guy who lives hundreds of miles away and who circulates in a completely different world.

“It’s possible that he’s thinking more about your age than you are,” I point out.

“I’ll be eighteen soon.”

“Save it, Melody. I know you, remember? It’s not soon.”

“Soon enough.” She sets her plastic plate aside, wiped clean. “Besides, time flies, right?”

I think about how long it’s been since my time with Derek and shake my head. “It can seem pretty draggy to me. It feels like forever since I was in New York.”

The show goes over well. Our timing is now as tight as I could wish for, our demeanors relaxed as we play. The hometown crowd goes crazy, of course, and we score two encores, one of which is with Bruno – he’s taken to doing an acoustic number with me on our encores if he’s in the mood, and I return the favor during his set, as I did in L.A. It’s a fun way to keep fresh, and we don’t spend a lot of time agonizing over the songs, preferring to choose an oldie, run through it a couple of times backstage, and then wing it. Crazy as it seems, on a long tour, boredom is one of the big problems, and anything that mixes it up is a good thing.

I come off stage trailed by Bruno, who gives Melody the up and down checkout that’s obligatory from anyone with a Y chromosome. He gives me a quick hug and mutters a hello to Melody, who’s practically vibrating in his presence, and then darts back into the dressing room area, focused on the coming show.

Melody grabs my arm and whispers to me. “Oh, my God. He’s so totally into you.”

I frown. “Not really. I don’t get that at all.”

“What, are you blind? He’s practically following you around like a puppy. What are you going to name your first kid?”

I can’t help but laugh. Good old Melody.

“I don’t think he’s that interested, and besides, I’m a one-man woman, remember?”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. I don’t mean more than one guy at a time…” She pauses, thinking about it. “Although that could be fun. More like you can be a one-man woman, but change the dude occasionally.”

“I’m with Derek, Melody.”

She’s obviously frustrated with the idea of Bruno Sears being within pawing distance of me, and me not going for it. I can see a range of emotions play across her face, settling into one of shocked surprise as she looks over my shoulder.

“What?” I say, and turn to see what she’s staring at. My jaw about hits the ground when I see Ashton approach, his crooked grin in place and a backstage pass clipped to his shirt.

“Hey. Great show. You should stick with this singing thing. Might go somewhere,” he says as he nears.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Had some promo appearances and decided to spend the night, check out my favorite crooner.” He smiles. “I had Sebastian pull some strings and get me a pass.”

“That’s convenient,” I say.

“You bet. I’m way too cheap to buy a ticket. You see what they’re charging?” He turns to Melody and smirks. “Hi, Melody. Sebastian says hello.”

“Cool. How is he?”

“You know. All work and no play. He sent me to chaperone you two, make sure you stay out of trouble.”

“Like throwing gas on a fire,” Melody mutters, but Ashton chooses not to hear.

We watch the second band set up and play their set, and after the first few tunes decide that the quieter dressing room might be a welcome break from all the amplified thumping and grinding.

We file backstage, where the guys are enjoying celebratory beers as they chat with the road crew. Amber’s nowhere in evidence, no doubt dealing with inventorying our gear before it’s loaded onto the truck for the next show, and I wave at the tubs of beer and soda.

“Help yourself. You can leave money in the hat on the way out.”

Ashton fishes a couple of beers out for himself and Melody while I content myself with a bottle of water. He makes idle conversation with the band, and they ask him questions about his show – while pro in music, we’ve got no exposure to making a TV drama, which turns out to be a completely different world.

Amber appears at the dressing room door with my dad, who of course wouldn’t miss a show in our hometown, and I welcome him in with a hug. I introduce him to Ashton, and catch his disapproving look at the beer in Melody’s hand. What Melody does is her business, but I can see it bugs him, and I steer him to the far corner so we can have some alone time.

Before I know it, Bruno’s set is starting, and we all go up to the stage area to watch him knock it out. I never tire of watching him: he makes subtle changes every night, always trying to improve the performance. He confessed to me once that he’s always worried about slipping off the charts, losing his position in the spotlight, and I wonder at that insecurity in a household name performer. Maybe that’s what it takes to stay on top. I know with my own music, it doesn’t matter to me how many people tell me it’s great, I’m always trying to get it just a little better.

Halfway through the show I look over at my dad and see his foot tapping, and suddenly the broad gulf between us is reduced and we’re just two people enjoying some music. I’ve spent so much time reading my mother’s diary and interpreting her spin on things that it’s too easy to forget that there were two people in that relationship, one of whom has stepped up for me, even if it’s late in the game. I know I’m not supposed to judge, but right now my dad seems like a knight in shining armor compared to my mom.

When I’ve done the encore with Bruno and the show’s finished, I hug my father – he has to work in the morning and begs off staying any longer. I see in his face that he feels uncomfortable – this isn’t his world. I don’t know if it’s mine yet either.

I dart back into the dressing room to get my backpack and phone, which has messages on it from Jeremy and Derek. I call Derek, and when he answers he sounds out of breath.

“Hey. How did it go?” he asks.

“Good. San Francisco seems to like us.”

“Everyone likes you. Did you see
Rolling Stone
?”

“No…”

“You’re on the cover. I just got it from my manager. And tomorrow…”

That’s right. It’s his first concert tomorrow. I totally blanked on it and feel as guilty as a bad dog. And that means his record releases tomorrow as well.

“You’ll do great. Where is it again? Meadowlands?”

“Right. Beautiful New Jersey. It’s not the same as being on the cover of
Rolling Stone
, but it’s a start.”

“How was the record release party?” I ask.

“It’s still going on. I’m actually in the bathroom. It’s at a nice hotel, and everyone from the label’s here, getting drunk.”

“You must be excited about the first video going live.”

“Yeah, the label says it’ll go into rotation on the music channels tomorrow. They gave it to MTV exclusively for twenty-four hours, but so far it hasn’t aired.”

The difference between his launch and mine couldn’t be starker, and I don’t say anything. There’s an uncomfortable silence, and then he clears his throat.

“I should get back. Oh, and congratulations on breaking the top ten in your first week. Next stop, number one!”

“You’ll be right there beside me,” I say, but we both know it’ll be tough to crack that nut without a massive push like the one Saul provided.

“It’s cool either way. This is way further than I ever thought I’d get, so I can’t complain.”

He sounds accepting, but I know him well enough to question how much is an act for my benefit. The bottom line is that I got the plum gig and he got the consolation prize. I don’t think any less of him for it, and over time I believe he’ll be as big, or even bigger, than I will; but it’s got to suck to watch your girlfriend knock one out of the park while you’re still struggling to get noticed.

I nod to myself. “Yeah. Long way from playing the Haight. Which I did this morning.”

“I know. You’re all over Twitter.”

“I thought you were a technophobe. Now you’re on Twitter?”

“It’s addictive. First the phone, then Twitter, and pretty soon I’m posting selfies on Facebook.”

“Just make sure they’re only you in the selfies.”

“And that I’m wearing pants.”

Someone yells Derek’s name in the background, making some sort of request. “I gotta go.”

“Sleep well. You can call me later if you want. Melody’s spending a few nights with me.”

“That sounds fun. Whatever she suggests, don’t do it.”

I laugh. “I know.”

Chapter 31

When I catch up to Melody, she’s talking with Ashton and Bruno near his dressing room. I notice that even next to Bruno, who’s a good-looking guy, Ashton radiates celebrity – he’s just got that natural star quality that’s so obvious when you see it. Derek has it too, as does Sebastian – like a halo of specialness.

“There she is,” Ashton says as I return, toting my backpack.

“Had to grab my stuff,” I say, thumbing through Jeremy’s message, which is typically chatty and missing any material information other than a “call me whenever you can” teaser. I set a reminder for tomorrow and glance over at Melody, who looks like she’s gone to heaven with two hunks bookending her.

“Take a picture, Sage. Come on,” Melody begs, and I roll my eyes but hold up my phone. Everyone squeezes together, and I take two just in case. “Now do one with you, too,” she says, and I move next to her, uncomfortably aware of how close Ashton is as I broaden the view to include all four of us. I snap the shot and we study it.

“I look like I just woke up,” Bruno says.

“You always look like that. It’s part of your charm,” I say with a smile.

“Yeah, well, you’re not going to be fifteen forever, girl. You’ll see what it’s like.”

“Seventeen. And I turn eighteen in just a few more weeks. New Year’s Day!”

Ashton’s grin is ear to ear. “Wow. Legal on New Year’s. Might be more fun if it was New Year’s Eve.”

Melody chimes in. “I’ve never had any problem having fun on New Year’s Eve, and I’m Sage’s age.”

Bruno and Ashton exchange a knowing glance. Ashton, ever diplomatically, nods to her. “Yes, but you’re a woman mature beyond her years. That’s rare, Melody.” He turns to me. “So your friend Melody here has agreed to let me take you guys out on the town. I know a few places where they won’t check IDs.”

My eyes widen. “Oh, I can’t. I’ve got another show tomorrow…”

Bruno grins. “Come on. So do I. We’ll be fine. I mean, you are inviting me too, right?”

Ashton nods. “I wouldn’t try to keep these two all to myself. Although the idea’s certainly tempting.”

I see another look flash across Melody’s face and don’t want to even consider what’s going on behind her eyes.

Melody frowns at me. “Sage, it’s San Francisco. You’ve returned home a winner. That calls for a celebration.”

“I don’t know. We’re in Concord tomorrow, and I’ve got a radio interview in the afternoon…”

“You can do that standing on your head. Girl, let’s hit the town. Ashton’s buying. Sky’s the limit is what he was saying,” Bruno insists.

Ashton shifts from foot to foot. “It’ll be fun. And we don’t have to stay out too late. Just an hour or two, so we can say we did it.”

Melody nods as though it’s decided. “Choice B being an early night in the Buttplug Motel. Let’s see…hitting nightspots with Bruno and Ashton, or watching reruns and listening to water pipes groan. That’s a toughie, for sure.”

I can see I’m not going to win this round. No way Melody’s going to let the chance of being escorted around like a princess slip by her, and anything I say will just be waved away. “Okay, I don’t want to be accused of being a party pooper.” I pat my backpack. “But I have to deal with my stuff…”