I went down to the pool after Olivia fell asleep that night, the deck deserted except for the singing of cicadas and the quiet hum of the filters. I pulled my shirt over my head and slipped into the cool, placid water. I had a bathing suit now, an expensive one from Neiman Marcus that I’d thrown onto the pile as an afterthought a couple of weeks ago when Charla and I were out shopping. I hadn’t even looked at the price tag.
I kicked up in the center of the pool and spread my arms out, floating on my back across the deep end in complete, heavy solitude. With my ears underwater and my eyes on the velvety black sky above, I felt like the only person for miles, like I could shut the whole world out. I remembered what Alex had told me at the beginning of the summer, about how performing filed all the sharp edges off everything for him, made his mind clear and focused. When I thought about it now, that day felt like forever ago, like I’d been an entirely different person. Like I hadn’t known anything at all.
I didn’t hear Alex turn up so much as I sensed him; I righted myself and there he was, standing on the edge of the deep end with his hands in the pockets of his dark-blue swim trunks, smiling at me. “Creep,” I teased, tucking my wet hair behind my ears. “How long you been standing there?”
“While,” Alex said, then shrugged. “You looked peaceful.”
I smirked, raised my eyebrows. “Oh, is that how I looked?”
Alex tilted his head to the side, like I’d caught him. “I mean, among other things.” He pulled his T-shirt off in one smooth motion, slipped into the water without making a splash.
I laughed, arms out again and floating a little bit away from him. A warm breeze rustled the fronds of the palm trees; somebody had forgotten to close one of the patio umbrellas, and it made a whipping sound. I spotted one or two stars as the clouds passed by, just faint. “How were your interviews?” I asked. The boys had a bunch of pre-tour publicity to do, chatting with reporters all up and down the coast.
“Weird,” Alex said. Then, nodding at my bathing suit like he was noticing it for the first time, “That’s pretty.”
“Pretty?” I asked him, scrunching my nose up. “That’s the best you got?”
Alex scrunched his up in return. “More than pretty.”
“How much more?”
“A lot more,” he said, moving in to kiss me, but I feinted away again.
“That’s better,” I said, moving my fingers through the cool, bleachy water. “So, wait, tell me more about the interviews.”
Alex shrugged again. “They were good,” he said. “They were fine. I don’t know why they all cared so much about my favorite color, but I got to talk a lot about my musical influences and stuff, so that was cool.”
“Nobody asks me about my musical influences!” I said, frowning.
“Who are your musical influences?”
That made me smile. “I don’t know, actually,” I admitted. I thought about it for a moment. “You are,” I told him. “You’re my musical influence.”
That stopped him, surprise and then pleasure flicking across his expression, a slow grin spreading over his face like that had been the exact right thing to say. “Are you flirting with me?” he asked.
“I dunno,” I said, smiling back. “Is it working?”
“It is,” Alex said.
“Good. I’m serious, though,” I told him. He had influenced me, since the very first night I’d met him: with his easygoing patience and constant encouragement, with the way he looked at me. As the weeks had gone by, without even realizing I was doing it I’d started to see myself the way Alex saw me: as someone who had something to offer. As someone whose future wasn’t fixed. I’d meant it when I’d said I didn’t need him to unlock my secret potential. But it was possible he’d unlocked something else just the same. “You’ve made me work harder. This whole summer you have. Like, technical stuff, sure, but also your attitude or whatever. How much this means to you and how you always act like it’s important. I’ve learned a whole lot, watching you.”
“You are flirting with me,” Alex said, grin wide.
“This is, like, music nerd dirty talk for you, huh?” I teased, winding my arms around his neck, and Alex nodded.
“I’m into it, Cartwright,” he told me. “I will not lie.”
THIRTY-SIX
The boys invited us over to the Model UN the next night, lukewarm beers and a greasy Domino’s delivery that I didn’t think there was any way Olivia would actually eat. Still, when I glanced over at her, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, she held up her slice of pizza as if to say, see?
“We don’t have to go,” I’d told her earlier tonight, the two of us side by side at the mirror in the bathroom. “I don’t want there to be Alex-related awkwardness, or for you to feel like—”
“It’s fine,” she’d assured me for the millionth time. “First of all, it’s abundantly clear to me that you like him more than I ever, ever did. And second of all, even if it was weird, I’d better get used to it if we’re both going on tour, right?”
Now I grinned at her across the room as she chatted animatedly with Austin; Olivia stuck her tongue out at me, then grinned back. Mikey flipped through the movie channels on cable; Austin and Mario lit up a joint and passed it around, the smoke sweet and heavy in the air. Trevor wanted to get a round of Flip Cup going, but the boys were out of plastic cups, so instead we played Seven Up, which I hadn’t even thought about since middle school. It should have felt ridiculous—and it did, kind of, all of us with our heads down and our thumbs in the air, tiptoeing around the living room and trying to stifle our laughter—but it was also strangely fun.
I tried to relax and enjoy it—the sound of Olivia’s giggles, Alex’s warm arm around my waist—but the truth was, I felt edgy and out of sorts tonight, like I couldn’t settle into the moment. I wanted to imagine us all on tour like this—in buses and hotel rooms, goofing our way across the world—but there was another part of me that couldn’t help seeing tonight as some kind of last hurrah. I couldn’t picture the future, not clearly. Whenever I tried, it reminded me of a corny, old-fashioned sitcom—the dialogue stilted, the colors too bright. Something clearly fake and invented, with no correlation to real life.
I slipped out onto the balcony when I thought nobody was looking, stared out at the boulevard feeling absurdly homesick for a place I hadn’t even left yet. Over the last couple of months this dumpy complex had turned into my whole world. The idea of losing it filled me with a dark, heavy dread.
“You know,” Alex said behind me, a slice of chilly air cutting through the humidity as he opened the sliding glass door, “if you wanted to be alone with me, you should have just said so.”
I snorted. “Dork.”
“Mikey’s practicing his breakdancing inside,” he said as he came to stand beside me, hands wrapped around the railing and his bare arm warm and solid against mine. “You’re missing a real show.”
“Oh God.” I laughed at that; I couldn’t help it. “Did somebody put a blanket over the TV so he doesn’t put his foot through the screen?”
“Good thinking,” Alex said. “We probably should have moved the lamps, too.”
“Probably,” I agreed. Then, unable to hold it in any longer: “Do you realize this could be the last time we do this?” I asked.
Alex grinned. “Leave the room when Mikey is putting on a one-man talent show?”
I frowned. “You know what I mean,” I said. “The tour starts in two weeks. Guy’s going to make his decision any minute, and then”—I waved my arms vaguely—“poof.”
“Poof, what?” Alex asked, eyes narrowing. “He’s going to pick you.”
I shook my head. “We need to convince him to pick us both.”
“Okay,” Alex said slowly. “Well, then, that’s what you’ll do.”
“And if we can’t?”
“You will.”
“Based on what?” I asked sharply, then immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry,” I said, digging the heels of my
hands into my eyes. “I don’t mean to snap at you, I’m just—”
“You’re freaking out,” Alex said. “I get it. And I know you don’t like when I say this—I know you think I don’t understand how the real world works. But you’ve come too far for things to fall apart now, you know? You and I both have.”
He tipped his chin down to kiss me then, fingers splayed across my backbone and his broad, solid chest against mine. I closed my eyes tightly, tried to relax. Normally the press of Alex’s mouth was steadying, but my brain was spiraling out in a million different directions—Guy and Olivia and the glittering prize of a cross-country tour with Tulsa, the blankness of my life back in Jessell if I got sent home. What Alex and I had felt fragile and temporary, like it might blow away forever in a hot gust of tropical wind.
There was a part of me that wanted to end things now, I thought, even as he kissed me: to have this much, at least, be my choice instead of throwing myself on the mercy of the universe. I hated how powerless I felt all of a sudden. I’d come to Orlando in the first place to try to get some control over my future. But even after everything, my fate wasn’t mine to decide.
Alex could tell I wasn’t with him. “Hey,” he said, pulling away and reaching for both my hands, lacing our fingers together and looking at me urgently. “It’s me, remember? Don’t go where I can’t find you.”
I shook my head, let him pull me closer again. “I’m right here,” I promised, which wasn’t entirely true.
“I love you,” he reminded me. “Whatever else happens, that’s going to stay true.”
I nodded, tried to believe him. “I love you, too,” I said.
Alex kissed me again and I tried to surrender to it, to what was happening in front of me right here and right now. One perfect moment—that’s what I’d told him “Tangerine” was about, wasn’t it? Something rare and amazing—and something that couldn’t possibly last. I pushed the thought out of my head, held on tight.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The next afternoon was Saturday, and the boys were splashing around in the pool, but I took Olivia’s car to the studio, wanting to spend some time rehearsing on my own. It was funny, I thought as I pulled into the parking lot—when I first got here and desperately needed the practice, the last thing I would have wanted was to come here on my day off to put extra time in. Now, though, when I was arguably as good I was going to get before Guy made his decision, I actually wanted to work.
I thought I’d be alone in the cool, dark space, but when I let myself inside I could hear music coming from Guy’s office, the fifties and sixties rock ’n’ roll he liked best. “It’s Dana,” I called, poking my head in on my way to the voice room. Guy was sitting at his desk with a stack of papers in one hand and a pen in the other, reading glasses perched on his nose. He always looked older when he had them on.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” he said, setting his papers down on the desktop instead of just waving me on like I’d expected. “Come in for a minute.” He dug through the stacks in front of him and presented me with a thick three-ring binder. “Take that,” he said, holding it out unceremoniously. “For you.”
“What’s this?” I asked, my arm sagging a bit under its unexpected heft.
“It’s your tour schedule,” he told me. “I was going to have Juliet drop it off later, but since you’re here. Learn it, live it, love it.”
“My tour schedule?” I gaped at him. “You mean—” I broke off.
Guy looked at me coolly. “Close your mouth, kiddo. Something’s going to fly in there.”
I snapped my jaw shut abruptly, only to have it fall right open again. It felt like we’d skipped a million steps here. This wasn’t what I’d been expecting at all. “It’s me?” I squeaked.
“It’s you,” Guy said, taking off his glasses and tossing them onto the desk, then sitting back in his chair and folding his hands on his stomach. “Come on, kiddo. You know that. It’s always been you. It’s been you since I picked you out of that waiting room at the beginning of the summer.” He looked pleased with himself. “I told you, I don’t make mistakes.”
I blinked silently, speechless. I honestly didn’t know what to say. I was shocked—not so much by the fact of Guy picking me but by the way it was happening, a chance encounter on a quiet afternoon. This wasn’t how I’d pictured it at all. I’d thought it would be like the morning he’d cut Ashley and Kristin, a formal meeting with me and Olivia both—not just him handing down the news with no fanfare, no time for me to prepare. It threw me off my guard entirely.
I wondered if that was exactly the point.
“I think the words you’re looking for are thank you,” Guy said now, gazing at me across the desk with a dry kind of amusement. Then, when I still didn’t say anything, he prompted, “Thank you, Guy.”
“Thank you,” I echoed finally, coming back to myself enough to understand what he was holding out to me, enough to picture it. For the first time I let myself imagine what it would be like in full Technicolor: traveling around the country with Alex, sleeping with my head on his shoulder on a tour bus, fields and mountains stretching out on every side. Performing at arenas that held tens of thousands of people, feeling the floor shake underneath me as they clapped their hands and stomped their feet. Never having to worry about money again. Yes, I almost said, my grip gone tense around the binder, my sweaty fingertips slipping on the plastic and the edges of it digging into my arms as I held it to my chest for dear life. Yes, I want this, I’ve earned this, it’s mine.
Then I remembered the promise I’d made to Olivia.
“I—can I think about it?” I heard myself ask.
Guy looked surprised. “What the hell is there to think about?” he asked, thick brows crawling toward his hairline.
“A lot of things!” I blurted before I could stop myself. “This is my whole life we’re talking about, I just—”
“Are you kidding me?” Guy looked at me like I’d lost my mind entirely. It was the same look he’d given me at the studios on the very first day we’d met, when I’d told him I wasn’t there to audition: I’m giving you a chance, and only an idiot wouldn’t take it. “I’d be very careful what you say next, kiddo,” he told me, and his voice sounded very, very calm. “Because what it sounds like right now is that you’ve been wasting my time all fucking summer. And I know that’s not what you’re actually trying to say.”
“It’s not.” I felt my face flame. “I haven’t been,” I told him, struggling to keep my spine straight, not to wither under the force of his annoyance and disbelief. “Or at least, I wasn’t trying to. I want this more than anything. But Olivia and I made a deal. That it was going to be both of us, or neither.”
“You and Olivia?” Guy looked at me blankly. “What, on the tour?”
I nodded meekly.
“What the hell made you think that would fly?”
“I—” I didn’t have an answer for that. It seemed abruptly ridiculous now, like a plan we would have come up with when we were little girls to get Olivia’s mom to agree to a sleepover on a school night. “I don’t know,” I had to admit. “We just thought that since you’d been training us both, and we’re both good, it might make more sense to—”
“Why don’t you let me worry about what makes sense, all right?” Guy interrupted. “I gotta tell you, kiddo, you’re scaring me right now. Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said all summer? Look, if you’re going to do this, you gotta want it more than anything. You gotta want it with claws and teeth. You can’t be worrying about bringing your friend along for a twofer for fairness’s sake.” He looked at me across the desk for a moment. “So,” he asked. “Do you want it or not?”
I did want it, was the worst part. Of course I wanted to say yes. This tour was my only real chance to get out of Jessell, for a future full of hills and valleys instead of just flat gray nothingness. It was my only chance to be with Alex for longer than just right now.
But we’d made a pact.
&nbs
p; Olivia’s friendship was the most important thing to me. It was the thread that had run through my whole life. It was what had brought me here to Orlando to begin with, the only reason I was even here. If I broke my promise now, what did that make me? It had to be both of us, or neither. A package deal.
“I can’t,” I told Guy finally. “I’m sorry. I can’t go without her. You don’t understand, we made a deal, and I—”
“Stop,” Guy said, holding a hand up to silence me. “You know what, just stop it.” He stood up. “I gotta tell you, kiddo, I’m disappointed. I thought I saw something in you. I thought you had what it takes.”
“I do have what it takes,” I argued. My heart was slamming against my rib cage, fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins. I was losing this, I knew it. I could feel it slipping away. “I just don’t want it without her.”
Guy shook his head. “I’ll have Juliet book you a flight out of here tomorrow, then,” he told me, sitting back down in his chair and lifting his hands like, what can you do? “Good luck out there, kiddo. I’ll tell you, you’re going to need it.”
“That’s it?” I asked. “After all that, you’re just kicking me out?”
“Like I told you,” Guy said, and just like that he was completely emotionless. “I don’t make mistakes.”
That was it, then. It was over.
So I handed Guy the binder back, and everything that went with it. I walked on shaking legs through the darkened studio and into the bright blinding light outside.
THIRTY-EIGHT
I drove myself back to the complex, a numb kind of buzzing in my ears like the humming of ten thousand wasps. Either that was the bravest thing I’d ever done, or the stupidest. More likely than not, it was both.
I stumbled up the stairs to the apartment, let myself in with two shaking hands: “Liv?” I called into the darkened living room. “Olivia, are you here?” I banged into her empty bedroom, heart pounding with urgency. I wanted to be the one to tell her what had happened, before Guy got to her, so that we could make a plan. I’d been caught off guard, I told myself. That was all that had happened. If we went back to him together, calm and ready, there was a chance we could still convince him to keep us both.
Fireworks Page 21