by Carrie Pack
Diane beams at me. “Of course I do, honey. You take care.” She pats me on the arm and I turn to leave. When I get off the bus, I wave at her and watch her face get smaller and smaller in the window as the bus pulls away.
Chapter 19
The venue in Champaign is easy enough to find. The Stray Cat is right next to the Illinois campus in a brightly colored building with Shut Up’s name on the marquee. Unfortunately, it doesn’t open for another ten hours. I wait at the Burger King across the street, but, after a while, the staff regards me with frequent glances and I’m worried they might call the cops. As disheveled as I am, I must look homeless. I’ve got some cash on me, so I figure I can splurge on some new clothes, especially since I’ve already worn most of what I brought with me.
Up the street from the venue I find a thrift store, where I buy a new shirt and a pair of sunglasses, since I stupidly forgot mine, and then I go to a coffee shop where I’ll look less out of place if I’m loitering.
In the back, sitting on a green pleather couch with her feet up on a low table is Jackie, flanked by Venus and Cherie. My heart flutters because I must have the best luck of anyone in the entire state of Illinois.
I take two steps in their direction when I hear someone shriek my name. I turn to face my assailant and come face to face with Marty. She has a new piercing in her left nostril and a tattoo of the band’s name at her collarbone. Her hair is platinum blonde, which makes her look like an entirely different person, but there’s no mistaking it, she’s still Marty.
“Fucking A, Tabitha, that is some purple hair.” She pulls me into a tight hug. “I didn’t know you were coming on tour with us! Jacks said you had to work.”
“I got fired,” I say. Then I add, “For the hair.”
She pulls back from her death grip and gives me a wide-eyed look of admiration. “That’s so punk rock! I knew you had it in you,” she says, grinning broadly. “Jackie is going to be so happy to see you. She’s been talking about you nonstop.” My face flushes as Marty throws her arm over my shoulders and leads me to the group.
Jackie practically leaps from the couch and throws her arms around me. I lift her off the ground and spin her.
“Oh my God, you two are disgustingly cute.” Cherie presses her hands to her cheeks.
Venus looks a little tired—I have a feeling Marty may be on her worst behavior—but she smiles anyway. Her hair is different too, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Jackie and I finally release each other but remain standing close. “How did you get here?” Jackie asks.
“The bus,” I say. “I tried to make it to Peoria last night but there was an accident that closed down the highway so I got in too late. Then I had to wait until the next morning for a bus to Champaign.”
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Jackie gushes.
“I can hardly believe it myself,” I admit. “Can we talk?” I whisper into Jackie’s ear. Her eyes narrow, but she nods.
“Oh, no,” Marty says. “You are not running off to make out or whatever. We were just getting ready to talk band business and plan our next issue of the zine.”
“We can spare Jackie,” Venus says.
“She’s in charge of the zine,” Marty says. “How can we plan it if she’s not here?”
“It’s all right,” I say. “Jackie and I can talk later. It’s nothing major.”
Jackie glances in my direction, and I smile to reassure her. Marty gives Venus a smug smile and plops down in a cushy chair facing the green couch. Cherie moves to the other chair to give me the spot on the couch next to Jackie. I twine my fingers with hers, and she rests her ankle against mine. Her skin is warm and soft, and simply being next to her is a comfort. I feel like myself again.
“So Kate wants to write something for the zine about guitar picks or something. I don’t know.” Marty taps her pen on her notebook and looks to Jackie for her opinion.
“If she thinks it’s relevant, I don’t see why not,” Jackie says.
Marty presses her lips together and makes a note of something.
I nudge Jackie with my elbow.
“Where is Kate?” I whisper.
“Sore subject. I’ll tell you later.” Jackie’s breath is hot on my ear and it makes me squirm in my seat. I can’t wait until this meeting is over and we can be alone. Jackie licks her lips as if she’s thinking the same thing.
When we’re finally alone, in what can only be described as a skeezy fleabag motel, Jackie and I can’t keep our hands off each other. Her hands explore parts of my body we’ve never considered before. Okay, maybe I considered it, but we had always stopped short of… well, sex.
And that’s the only word for what we’re doing on an unmade bed in a random motel somewhere in Champaign, Illinois.
Her fingers are deft and nimble as they make my body come alive with desire. When she brings me over the edge, she kisses “I love you” into my skin. I fumble through mimicking her actions until they feel natural, and she moans my name into the afternoon haze of the room.
Blissed out and sleepy, we finally get a chance to talk.
“Did I hear you tell Marty you got fired?” Jackie’s voice is a husky tenor, a sign she’s on the verge of sleep.
I close my eyes and giggle as I nod. “My hair was a violation of the company dress code.”
“Rebel girl.” Jackie presses a soft kiss into my shoulder.
“That’s me,” I say with a laugh. “I dye my hair and skip town.”
Jackie lifts her head. “You didn’t tell your mom?”
“I left a note,” I say, “and then called her last night.”
“Was she pissed?”
“At first, but then she was cool with it. I kind of feel bad about not telling her before I left, you know? She sounded pretty worried about me.”
Jackie bites her lip but doesn’t say anything. She’s probably as tired as I am.
“So what’s up with Kate?” I ask, my eyes drifting closed even as I try to compel them to stay open.
Jackie sighs and curls into me. I quietly thrill at her warm breast touching the skin of my arm.
“Kate is seeing a guy in Donkey Kart that Marty has a crush on. When Marty caught them making out, it caused a fight, and now the two won’t hang out unless it’s for rehearsal or a show.”
“Let me guess, this is mostly Marty’s fault?”
“Got it in one,” Jackie says with a yawn.
I try to think of something else to say, but my brain has finally shut down. I drift off in the comfort of Jackie’s arms.
We wake in the late afternoon to a pounding at the door.
“Wake up, bitches!” Marty shouts. “It’s showtime.”
Jackie rolls to her stomach and pulls a pillow over her head.
“We could stay here if you want.” I pull the sheet from her legs and run my hand up the back of her thigh.
Marty knocks again. “You guys better be decent, because I’m coming in.”
The key jiggles in the lock more than is necessary. I take the opportunity to pull the sheet over us.
“Come in,” I tell her.
Jackie is still buried under her pillow. I nudge her with my foot, and she groans. “Five more minutes.”
“Marty’s here,” I say.
“And we’re leaving in ten,” Marty adds. “Or you losers could stay in Champaign for the rest of your lives.”
I give Marty my most threatening glare. “We’re coming. Just give us a minute.”
When she’s gone, I roll toward Jackie and kiss her neck. “Come on. As nice as the last few hours have been, I don’t want to live here.”
Jackie chuckles and tosses her pillow at me.
Chapter 20
Shut Up has definitely improved since their first show at Decker Spring Fest. I can’t believe it’s the same group. Cherie h
as lost most of her stage fright and screams into the microphone with abandon. Kate and Venus seemed to be in complete sync, and Marty’s riffs seem more polished, less rushed. I realize how much I’ve actually changed, too. I’m not the same person I was even a few months ago, and then again, I sort of am. It’s a strange sensation.
Jackie winds her arm around my waist and presses her lips to my ear. “You’re thinking too hard,” she says. “Relax and enjoy the show.” She kisses my cheek and trails her hand down my arm before taking my hand. She tugs gently and dances around me. She keeps tugging until I join her.
Dancing with abandon has always been my favorite way to relieve stress, and tonight is no exception. The last remnants of my unease over getting fired and my worry that Mom would be pissed about me taking off escape through my fingertips as I thrash.
At first it doesn’t register because we’re all moshing pretty hard. But after the fourth hit, I turn to look at the person who keeps ramming into my left shoulder. A guy with Billy Idol-blond hair towers over me; his slashed shirt and jeans expose strips of pale, white skin. He slams into me again, knocking me into Jackie. She stumbles and grabs my arm to steady herself.
“Watch it,” I tell our Billy Idol wannabe.
“You watch it, lard-ass.” He sneers and slams into me again.
This time the force of it knocks Jackie to the floor. She jumps to her feet and confronts the guy as best she can at half his size.
“What’s your problem?” she shouts over the music.
I don’t hear his answer over Marty shouting into the mic, “Down front some asshole is harassing our fellow Riot Grrrls. Everyone come forward and get this guy out of here. Blond hair, black Ramones shirt!”
The bouncer shoves forward with the crush of bodies on the dance floor and grabs the guy by the shoulders. As tall as Billy Idol Light is, the bouncer is bigger and more muscular and easily drags the guy off. Even so, he flails and spits and yells profanities at us. But the word he shouts at Jackie makes everything else seem like a loving endearment.
I’ve never heard someone called that in real life before. I know it happens, and I’ve heard it—movies, TV, music—but this is different altogether. I can’t move and I can’t read Jackie’s reaction.
“Yeah, that’s right! You’re out of here,” Marty yells. Then the band transitions into their next song as if nothing has happened.
Jackie tugs my arm until I start dancing again. But I can’t get into it the way I had before. That guy shook me up.
Later, Jackie doesn’t bring up the incident. So I do.
“What would you think about skipping the show tonight?” I ask her on the way to Terre Haute. We’re in the back of the van. Kate’s driving and the other girls are all asleep. “We could go to a movie or something. I think I have enough money left for that.” I reach for my backpack.
“Why? Don’t you want to go to the show?” She narrows her eyes and studies my face.
“Well, it’s eighteen and up,” I say, rooting through my backpack for my wallet. “So I figured you’d want to spend the evening with me.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Marty’s got a fake ID you can use.”
“That’s great,” I say, but I don’t mean it. I wanted to keep Jackie away from the concert tonight in case that jerk from the night before decides to show up again. Terre Haute’s only about an hour and a half from Champaign. It’s not unreasonable, especially since he got kicked out. What if he’s looking for revenge? “Actually, I’m not comfortable with using a fake ID. What if I get caught?”
Jackie rolls her eyes. “You won’t get caught.”
I bite my lip. Maybe I’ll have to go with the truth. I pretend to count the money in my wallet and try to sound as nonchalant as possible. “What if that guy shows up?”
“What guy?”
“The one from last night. The one who called you a—”
“Stop right there,” Jackie interrupts. “We are not running scared. And besides, I doubt that guy is going to follow us all the way to Indiana.”
“It’s not that far,” I say. The wildflower-covered median goes by in a multicolored blur. We’re already more than halfway to our destination.
“Okay, so he shows up. We’ll get security to throw him out again.”
“And if he waits for us after the show?”
Jackie lets out a frustrated breath. “Tabitha, I can’t run away scared every time some jerk is a racist asshole. I’d hardly ever leave the house.”
“But—” She presses a single finger to my lips.
“I’ve been dealing with idiots like him my whole life. Trust me.”
I nod solemnly. Maybe she’s right. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re not safe.
As the time for the show approaches, my anxiety kicks into overdrive. I don’t know why Jackie is fighting me on this. Maybe I’m being unreasonable; maybe I’m overreacting, but it’s only one show.
“Jackie, please let’s do something else tonight,” I beg. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed in the motel room we’re sharing with Venus and Kate. Neither of them wanted to room with Marty, so Cherie gets her own bed. She seemed pretty happy about it. I wish I could be as carefree as the rest of them.
“Tabitha, you’re being ridiculous.” Jackie chuckles as she checks her teeth in the mirror, but I can tell she’s frustrated with me. She picks up her toothbrush, and I hear the faucet spring to life.
“Why is it so important for you to go to this show? There are a dozen more just like it. You won’t miss anything.”
“It’s the principle,” she says around a mouth full of toothpaste. “I made a commitment and I’m sticking to it. Vee wants me there, and I agreed to work the merch table tonight. So you can go with me or you can stay here and mope. But I’m going.” She spits into the sink and rinses, then slams her toothbrush on the counter. Without another word, she leaves the room and me.
I want to go after her, but I also need some time to figure out what’s actually going on with me. Why am I so scared of one guy?
I try to remember the feeling from last night when we got shoved. My pulse quickens and my breathing becomes more shallow as I feel the memory: Jackie’s face as she staggered backward and the guy’s anger when Jackie yelled back. I’ve never seen that kind of look on someone’s face before. It was pure hate. And he didn’t even know us. Has she been faced with that kind of hostility her whole life?
I try to imagine Jackie as a little girl, or her little sister Janae, getting harassed by our low-rent Billy Idol and I can’t. What would possess someone to treat a child like that? Just because of their skin color? It doesn’t make any sense.
It may sound foolish, but for the first time in my life I realize what a sheltered life I’ve lived. Jackie has experienced the world in a completely different way than I have, and that’s only now occurring to me. I’ve always known intellectually that this kind of thing happened, but I never gave it much thought. No wonder she was angry with me. I would be too. I’ve been a complete moron. How could I have been so blind? Now our fight before she left Decker makes sense.
I search wildly for my shoes. I need to talk to Jackie.
I find Kate hanging with the Donkey Kart guys and Cherie is with Mark. Marty is sitting on the hood of the van, working on a new song. Her guitar is across her lap, and she periodically leans forward to jot something in her notebook. Venus tells me she saw Jackie head in the direction of the front desk, but when I get there I find a greasy-looking man behind the desk eating a sandwich. Where did she go?
After several more minutes of frantic searching, I find a dazed Jackie sitting on the curb near a pay phone. She’s drinking a Pepsi and staring off into the distance. She looks like she’s been crying.
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I wanted to apologize. I didn’t realize…” Jackie smiles at me but
a tear rolls down her cheek. “What’s wrong? Is there something else?”
“I’m leaving,” she says. “I’m going back to Decker.”
My stomach drops out. She’s breaking up with me. “What? Why?” I plop down beside her on the curb.
“I talked to my mom,” she says. Her voice is thick and watery.
“Is everything okay? Janae… is she all right?”
“Everything’s fine, Tabitha.” Jackie smiles broadly and looks me square in the eye. “Mom wants me to come home. To stay.”
I throw my arms around her. “Jackie, that’s great!”
“When I stormed off, I called home. I don’t know why. I had this overwhelming urge to talk to my mom. I’d been thinking about her a lot—ever since you told me about your mom’s reaction when you called her.” Jackie looks off into the distance, and her eyes fill with tears. “When I took off, I didn’t tell her where I was going. She didn’t know where I was for about a week until she ran into Vee’s mom at the grocery store.” She sniffs. “She told me she loved me and said she was glad I was safe.”
“And the gay thing?”
Jackie shrugs. “She’s still not happy about it, but she’s willing to work on it if I come home.”
“Jackie, that’s wonderful.”
“So I’m heading out tonight.”
“Oh.” I stare at my feet and try to hide my disappointment. I know this is the right thing for her, but I just got here and I wanted to spend the next couple of weeks with her.
She shoves my shoulder playfully. “I want you to come with me, silly.”
“Really?”
She kisses me instead of responding.
When she pulls away my mind is already racing. “I need to call my mom and get us bus tickets. And we need to tell the girls. What about the zine? Marty’s going to be pissed.”
“I’ll let Vee handle Marty. You call your mom, and I’ll get packed.”
She gives me another soft kiss and then she’s gone. My fingers fumble as I dial my home number.