LOUDER: A Contemporary Romance

by Jorja Tabu

  Gabby was suddenly looking forward to the rest of the tour. It took her a second, as she bowed and waved, to realize that Echo was gone.

  -----

  Echo had gotten used to sneaking into shows. He’d never been a big fan of having his picture taken, anyway, but when it was necessary--when it became necessary, according to his latest publicist--he made sure he was always half hidden behind something more interesting to the average consumer of his albums. Something like, say, a pair of beautiful women, or some smoking pistols, or some photoshopped skulls. Whatever. He didn’t really give a fuck. But his fans certainly did, and he gave a fuck about them, and this was the best he could do.

  So how had she seen him? He’d worn his hood low, put his glasses on, wrapped a scarf around his neck, taken all his jewelry off. That last was usually enough to get him past anyone who was looking. He’d known it was a risk in a crowd of his own fans, and several had looked his way; no one had stopped him. The mob Darris always worried about never came.

  But she’d seen him. Almost as if he’d been wearing a sign around his neck; he’d stayed seated in the corner of the bar with the least light for the entire show, and then, out of nowhere, when he thinks it’s safe...She saw him.

  Was it weird, him being in the crowd? Had she seen him grinning while she tore that fucker apart in front of his boys? Did she know...

  Did she know what? He asked himself, slowly latching his necklaces, pulling on the bracelet his daughter gave him for Christmas last year. His face in the mirror was imperious, inscrutable, even to himself; it’d looked that way for over twenty years, since he was a boy facing what looked to be a short, cruel life. Don’t let anybody know you give a fuck--his older brother’s advice, before he’d vanished. Better still--just don’t give a fuck. No one knew what had happened to him, and Echo never forgot him. Eaten by the World--his first EP.

  But no one but Darris knew all that. Because Echo had carefully, deliberately made himself as illusory as he could; he had erased himself, knowing it was the key to survival.

  But he’d laughed, he’d felt the unused muscles stretch in unexpected delight as she’d flexed on stage. Something about her almost reminded him of himself--those first glorious triumphs back in the day. The way she put that crazy-ass fake mask on before she spoke--it was what Echo did every day when he woke up.

  Did she know...that when he watched her perform, when he saw her and listened to her...He wasn’t wearing it?

  Echo took himself in, knowing the crowd would be restless by now. They’d be expecting a lot of different things; his old school fans would want bullshit about drugs and bitches, and the people drawn to the small venue would want some intimate bullshit, some front-row bullshit, and his own entourage would want him to top the shit out of Ghost Diva’s opener. He was used to being pulled apart, and not looking like he gave a shit.

  And right now, he had his mask on. Solid. Secure.

  She better not be in the crowd, a voice whispered inside his head, and to his amazement the corner of his lip lifted in a half smile.

  He shook it off, pulled his hat low, and walked out of the trailer.

  -----

  Gabby curled up that night in the back of her van and half-heartedly wondered whether she could beg a spot in Echo’s tour bus. It was freezing cold out, and she could hardly let the van run for eight hours strait. But she’d rather die, honestly, than ask a favor of the man in the giant black bus currently parked next to her at the truck stop. She realized at some point that they could probably look right into her windows from behind their own tinted ones up above, and started her van up, rubbing her hands together and breathing on them. It didn’t do any good. The van’s engine thankfully turned over--she’d splurged on a tune-up, and was ever so grateful she had--but the air blowing out of the vents remained cold. She used the time to choose a new parking spot, where her beauty sleep wouldn’t be observed by idiots.

  Instead, a rapid knock on her window almost gave her a heart attack. “Hey girl,” a voice said, sounding friendly; it didn’t make her feel better, and Gabby hit the lock button. “Calm down,” it said, now sounding annoyed, and she peered into the down-swathed face looking back at her. “It’s Trajilla,” he said, pulling his hood back. “Echo said you was from Cali, and prolly freezing your ass off. You wanna sleep in the bus?”

  Yes, Gabby thought. Yes I absolutely do. “No, thank you,” she said, and it took her a second for her mind to pick up the details of what he said. Echo knew she was from California? How? Or, more importantly, why? “Wait--can I come in and get a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure,” Trajilla said, backing up to give her enough room to open her door before leading her to the bus. A quick glance in her direction told her he’d realized she didn’t have a thick coat like his; she’d never needed one before, and it’s not exactly the kind of thing she’d think of for that reason.

  Her mom would’ve; her manager should’ve. She bit her lip and followed Trajilla up the steep stairs into the tour bus. In spite of herself, the luxury inside took her aback, and she knew it showed on her face. Gleaming chrome accents on everything, padded leather cushions, a small kitchen, compartments everywhere. It was like a penthouse apartment on wheels. The other three men were in the back, sitting around a table, playing cards.

  “How you doing?” The question came from Darris, a man whose raps usually centered on his past as a low level thug. But he was being kind right now, and Gabby remembered her prejudgment of the crowd at the show; if anything she had been acting like more of an ass than any of them since they’d first met. She put on her mother’s favorite smile, trying to make sure she was flattering them appropriately, and gestured towards the kitchen.

  “I’m cold,” she said, and before she even realized it, her teeth were chattering. A pale hand from the only white face in the bus--even the driver wasn’t white--flashed over Darris’s head and pointed to something she couldn’t see. Darris leaned over and grabbed a blanket from a shelf and offered it to her. “Thank you,” she said, watching Echo nod his thanks to his friend on her behalf. It seemed like he barely spoke unless he was on stage.

  “Kitchen’s yours,” Darris said, watching her, and she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and moved closer to the stove. Everything she needed for a pot of coffee was there, and even full size. For some reason, she’d expected them to be in miniature; she smiled at herself as she found the filters and beans. “What are you laughing at?” Darris’s voice was quiet behind her, and when she turned in the small space to face him he gave her a little more room. Something about his expression was wary.

  “Nothing,” she said, putting the filter in. “Have you ever been on a boat?”

  “What?” Darris’s expression turned incredulous, and Trajilla laughed behind him, keeping his eyes on his cards. Gabby smiled.

  “I thought--I don’t know why--that the bus would be like a boat.” She busied her hands with the machine, finding cups. “On a ship, everything has to be very compact. It all has its place, but its place is tiny. I guess this bus is bigger than any of the boats I’ve been on.”

  “How many boats are we talking about?” Darris was now listening attentively, and also wearing a mocking smile. It was okay, she was used to it.

  “My mother’s family likes to sail,” she said. “They all live in Seattle, and they love the ocean.”

  “A black girl sailor,” Versus said, giving her a look she’d seen a thousand times.

  “That’s right,” she said. The coffee was perking, and she looked around at the men now staring at her. Echo’s half hidden face was the only one impervious to the story; maybe, being white, he didn’t think it was that strange that she’d been sailing. Maybe he just didn’t care.

  His dark eyes flashed under his hat, and she realized he’d been watching her. “Who wants a cup?” Gabby asked, looking at the four men in front of her, then over at the driver and security guards in the back. Three hands waved, and she poured.

  Ec
ho said not a word.

  “You know how to play spades?” Darris asked her as he settled back in his seat. She took her cup in her hands and sat across from the small galley where the rappers were gathered and shook her head.

  “No. You’d think I would, after all these years listening to your songs, but...” She shrugged and he chuckled. Echo kept his eyes on the cards in his hand, but she knew they weren’t really playing now.

  “Well, if you want to learn, you should ask that white boy,” Versus said, grinning at Darris. “No matter what shit Darris might say.”

  “True,” Trajilla said, nodding, and Darris sucked his teeth at his partner.

  “That white boy learned all this shit from me,” the big man said, a huge smile making clear his words were an old piece of standard banter. “He don’t know nothing Darris don’t know.”

  “Alright, old man,” Versus said. Echo showed the slightest hint of a smile on his face, and the other two men were now laughing outright. Watching them felt strangely comfortable for Gabby; she suddenly missed her brothers back in California with an ache that was palpable. Standing, she gave them her best smile once more.

  “I should get some sleep,” she said, and they looked up at her.

  “You can sleep after a cup of coffee?” Trajilla shook his head, and Darris laughed again.

  “You can sleep in that cold-ass van?” Versus looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Why don’t you just stay here, warm up a bit.”

  “It’s alright,” Gabby said, feeling her smile falter. She hadn’t expected them to be so...kind. It made her feel ashamed for judging them so harshly, and dumb that she had been so busy hating she hadn’t planned well. The freestyle she’d improvised on stage came back to haunt her; she was the jerk here. I kind of earned this, she almost said, but they weren’t really her friends, and she needed to remember that.

  “Take my room,” a voice said suddenly, and from the tone she could tell Echo wasn’t used to people refusing. He looked up at her, the hard planes of his cheekbones working with his baseball cap to create a deep shadow where his eyes glittered. The other three men looked from his face to hers, silent.

  “Just do it,” Darris said after a minute. “No point in fighting with him. None at all.”

  “I...” Gabby looked over them, one to the other, unsure. “Where are you going to sleep?” She let her eyes rest on his face, but he didn’t reply; she watched his eyes shine under his cap as he wordlessly took her in.

  “It’s alright,” Versus said reassuringly. “Go on.”

  “I’ll show you the room,” Trajilla said, rising, “if you wanna call it that.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Darris said, and they laughed again.

  They walked past a row of bunks and a bathroom to a small enclave; Trajilla waved his hand and let her walk by before he returned, softly closing the door behind him.

  There was something voyeuristic about crawling into his bed, pulling his covers up over her head; Gabby still wasn’t sure she should be doing this. A picture in a frame rested on the narrow ledge of shelving by his bed. The young girl in the photo grinned up at her, maybe nine or ten, missing two teeth. There was nothing else in the room to connote who it really belonged to, and she supposed that suited her. Gabby pulled her boots off, looking at the stacks of black t-shirts and jeans in the suitcase by her feet, and laid back, exhausted.

  Then she felt it. The presence of someone else--a man, specifically. The sheets and pillows smelled like...Pipe tobacco. Just faintly. And...Sea spray. That couldn’t be right--but it was. She knew it. And layered over all of that was just...Man.

  It was delicious.

  She realized she wasn’t thinking about Charles and felt a slow blush creep along her cheeks before reminding herself that he wasn’t her boyfriend. Hardly, in fact. She could enjoy this little moment in a superstar’s bed guilt free, he would have been happy to remind her.

  Echo’s bed.

  In spite of herself, Gabby noticed a ripple of fire in her belly as she rolled over and buried her face into one of the perfectly scented pillows. She knew other women found Echo attractive--okay, hot, sexy, whatever word they used; but past the age of sixteen she’d never remotely understood why. Yes, he was nice to look at, and yes, he was a brilliant wordsmith, and yes, there was something romantic about his lonesome and mysterious rags-to-riches story, but in the end he was just some thugalicious white rapper with big booty hos on his album covers. Wasn’t he?

  Gabby rolled over and looked at the little girl in the picture.

  She had his eyes. The same rounded almond shape, lifting at the corner, and the same mysterious dark color...Was it hazel? Or just dark blue? Gray?

  Gabby rolled over again and tried not to think about it anymore.

  Why was he being so nice to her?

  -----

  “Why you being so nice to her?” Trajilla narrowed his eyes. “You got three thousand suburban white girls standing in line waiting to take turns sucking your dick, and you gotta cop the hot black girl for yourself? You selfish, E.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Illa,” Darris said, rolling his eyes. “You think you got a chance with that college girl? Shit, you think Echo does? He’s sleeping on the couch tonight, and ain’t gonna get shit for it. Watch.”

  “Echo’s just making sure she knows he’s available for some late night sessions, if she wants,” Versus said, grinning as he shuffled the deck. “Where did she go to school? Spellman? She probably wants herself a safe little hoodrat, and what better could she get for a walk on the wild side than Mr. White Boy himself, instead of a real thug. Like me, for example.”

  Echo listened to them jibe him with a small smile on his lips. He usually allowed a handful of groupies on the bus every once in a while, but they all knew he almost never took one back to bed. Well, not any more. He’d grown out of that years ago, and for the most part, so had they; but the game moved on, and they had an image to uphold. Versus maintained that if he didn’t have a woman in his bed at least five times a week, he might die. The fact that it was usually the same woman for weeks at a time was neglected in his songs; he had one steady girlfriend whenever he wasn’t on tour. Sometimes, Bertha came with him; he loved her, but they had an understanding. They were best friends from way back.

  Darris had been married twice; he was always faithful, and usually disappointed, but his latest relationship looked promising. Even Trajilla was notoriously picky, but Echo...Echo had had one chance, as far as he knew, and he’d put his whole heart into it, and gotten sued for his trouble. From the groupies, though, he’d gotten Casey, so about every six months or so, he still hung out with one of them.

  Most days, it was enough.

  Most days.

  “Besides,” Darren was saying, “you know you wouldn’t know how to fuck a girl that smart any damn way, Illa. She’d be dropping directions on your ass, using words you never heard before--”

  “--Man, shut the fuck up, Darris,” Illa said, laughing as he dealt.

  “At our next juncture, I want you to plumb the depths of my velvetine subterrane,” Darris said in a high pitched, breathy voice. “I desire you to osculate--”

  “--She’s gonna hear you, man,” Versus said, grinning. “You’re gonna fuck up our boy’s chances.”

  “Like I need to help that motherfucker get laid,” Darris said, roughly rocking into Echo’s shoulder with his own. “Illa did have that shit right. Eight million white bitches with wet pussies, and we got one educated, fine ass black woman right here, and the white boy’s on her like she’s fucking rice. Not that your trashy ass has a chance, but...”

  “I like her style,” Echo said when their attention returned to the cards.

  “What the fuck is that, I like her style.” Darris said, flipping a card down and watching Illa’s face. “Are you a judge on some talent show now?”

  “I like her ass,” Illa said, slapping a card down.

  “I like her everything,” Versus said, doing the same, “b
ut she’s not going to trifle with us. Classy girls don’t fuck roughnecks, they lead us on, sleep in our beds, don’t put out, feel sad for us when we don’t like the fancy shit they do--sushi, or fucking movies from France, or some nonsense. Think our mamas didn’t love us enough or some bullshit.”

  “Y’all seriously think you know some shit about this girl,” Echo said, still with the small smile on his face.

  “You think we don’t?” Darris snapped a card on the table. “We been trying to fuck bitches like her since the eighth grade.”

  “And never once succeeded,” Echo said, slapping a card down and reorganizing the pile. “Walk on by...Walk on by...”

  “You don’t know shit,” Illa said, laughing. “Your dick prolly fell off by now, any damn way.”

  “I’m inviting/ three lesbians/ seven torsos/ all frenching/ still counting/ twenty more hos/ now freaking/ now peaking/ now vamos/ I’m inventing/ something sweet, clean/ just one rose/ would trade everything/ for a daydream.” The other three men had started nodding their heads half way through, and when Echo was done, they focused on the cards and mocked each other without mention of Ghost Diva. When they were finally ready to fall asleep, Darris and Echo stayed up a little later than the rest, stepping outside to share a Black and Mild.

  “You are white trash, E,” Darris said. The joke was gone from his voice. “You are rich as hell, famous as a motherfucker, smart, and good looking--for a white boy.” He smiled at his friend. “But you’re not what she’s looking for.”

  “I know,” Echo said. He didn’t need to say anything else to Darris, who knew everything before he could say it anyway; Darris had instantly known Echo was interested in the beautiful girl as more than any passing attraction, and found a way to lightly call off Trajilla and Versus so they wouldn’t get in his friend’s way. Darris was also concerned. He’d been there when things had fallen apart the last time Echo had been interested in a beautiful girl. “Why can’t I just be curious about somebody without the world fucking stopping?” Echo inhaled, rubbing his eyes. “This shit doesn’t have to be such a big deal.”