Dead End Road

by Lori Whitwam

  “Where were you that night?” asked a girl wearing short-shorts and cowboy boots. Abby recognized her as the tall blonde girl from the park. She was still wearing the autographed tank top. Her friend was also nearby, with a husband or boyfriend.

  “Out behind the 4-H barn, after we played some dance. Anyway, Deputy Gilbert or Gilbertson was this tall, skinny guy, maybe in his fifties, and he was trying to be all wise. He goes, ‘Boys, I know you think this is hot stuff right now, but you gotta grow up. You think you’re gonna be big rock stars or something? Well, you ain’t. You need to put your mind to school and finding real jobs, ’cause if you keep this up, you’re just heading down a dead end road.’” Seth waited for the fans’ chuckles and comments to die down. “And that was it. Right then we named ourselves Dead End Road to remind ourselves there were a lot of people who didn’t believe we’d ever amount to anything. Every time we release a CD, I have my mom send him one.”

  His story complete, he collected Abby, one arm around her waist. She received a few curious looks and a couple of dirty ones, particularly from Blondie McTank-Top. Seth thanked the fans for coming to the show, and they slipped inside.

  * * *

  They made their way through the narrow, dimly lit hall leading to the backstage area, Abby’s heels echoing on the ancient, abused hardwood. She suspected her face was still flushed from his kiss as Seth went to join the rest of the band to make a final check of the setup.

  She heard heavy footsteps and looked up to see Dash Hendricks, the club’s owner, lumbering in her direction. “Hey, Abby, good to see ya. Thinking about being a groupie?” The not-funny comment and the accompanying guffaw were Dash’s idea of humor.

  “Well, a girl likes to explore all her options before she’s too old.”

  “Sugar, you ain’t never too old. Just in a few more years you might be hangin’ out here for Thursday night karaoke and followin’ around the fella in the black sequined jacket, does all them Neil Diamond songs.” Dash found this idea hilarious and wheezed himself halfway to an asthma attack, his gut undulating gelatinously over his saucer-sized pewter belt buckle.

  “Guess I’d better start shopping for spandex pedal pushers, then, huh? Maybe zebra print?” Abby pretended to look for something in her purse, hoping to signal an end to this conversation.

  “And you’d look right fine in them too, sugar.” Dash patted her ass for emphasis.

  Ew. Ew. Ewwww. She’d graduated from high school with his daughter. Thoroughly infested with both the heebies and the jeebies, she turned on her heel and hurried off in search of the restroom.

  Moments later, she stood at a small mirror with its backing showing through at its chipped edges, touching up her lipstick in the barely adequate light. Hmm. Wonder how that got so smudgy? She smiled at the recollection. She turned at the sound of the door opening, and recognized Joey’s wife, Caroline.

  Abby wondered if someone could “perk” into a room, because Caroline was probably the perkiest person she’d ever encountered.

  “Good, I found you,” the petite redhead said. “It’s always crazy after the show, and I wanted to talk to you before we leave.”

  Abby remembered Pete, Joey, and their wives were heading out as soon as the concert ended to start a short vacation. “I ran in here to escape Dash’s lecherous clutches,” she said, grimacing.

  “He’s a piece of work, isn’t he?”

  “If there’s such a thing as a north woods lounge lizard, he’s it. If he touches me again, I swear we’re going to find out exactly which body parts a lizard can grow back.”

  “He’s an old friend of Joey’s dad, which is why they always play here when they’re up this way.” Caroline took a brush from her handbag and fluffed her short hair.

  “I figured there had to be some reason. This isn’t exactly the Hard Rock.”

  “The guys like it up here. Except for the time Dash took them fishing. He never shut up, and they all had massive hangovers. Not pretty,” she said with a knowing shake of her head.

  Abby smiled, thinking that had definitely been one ill-fated excursion. “Why were you looking for me? Please don’t ask about the guitar thing. I’m trying to pretend it never happened.”

  “We’ve been forbidden to mention Cujo. It’s like in some cultures where they’re not allowed to speak the names of the dead.”

  “It’s dead, all right.”

  “No, I wanted to talk to you about Seth.”

  “Okay.” Abby wondered where this was headed. Caroline seemed friendly enough, but Dead End Road was a close-knit bunch. Maybe she planned to warn her away. If that were the case, this conversation was guaranteed not to turn out well.

  “Oh, no, you look worried! It’s nothing bad, I promise. Well, it’s bad, but not about him.” Caroline tucked her brush into her purse, fidgeting with the straps. Returning her attention to Abby, she said, “Look, I know this is all going to sound weird coming from someone you just met, but I think it’s important.”

  Abby’s palms dampened as her anxiety spiked. What kind of information could follow an introduction like that? “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  Caroline hoisted her tiny frame onto the narrow counter surrounding the sink. Apparently this wasn’t the world’s shortest story. “A while back, about a year and a half ago, I guess, Seth went through a really bad time.”

  “Bad, how?” Abby asked.

  “He’d been seeing this girl. Stacy Ballantyne. One afternoon she borrowed his phone and forgot to give it back. He noticed about an hour before the show, and went to find her.” Her jaw was noticeably tighter as she continued. “He found her in bed with some guy from the opening band, sharing a pipe. Crack, I think, or maybe it was something else.”

  Abby felt her jaw drop in disbelief. “Oh, hell, no.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, we all knew her drug use was getting bad, but she was pretty good at keeping it away from us. I wasn’t there, but Joey said Seth slammed out of the room and shut himself in the bus. She went ballistic, beating on the door, screaming and crying, but he wouldn’t come out.”

  “Her own damned fault.”

  “You got that right. The cops came, Joey told them what was going on, and she left. No way she wanted to deal with the cops as messed up as she was.” Caroline took out a tissue and dabbed at her eyeliner. “Seth had to change his cell number, and Trent made sure security at the next few shows knew she wasn’t allowed in. But, thank goodness, none of us ever saw her again.”

  Abby felt a strong need for a road trip to find her. She’d thank Stacy for staying gone, and then rip her hair out by the roots for putting Seth through such an ugly scene. She realized, belatedly, her filter was on the fritz again. “Uh-oh. That was out loud, wasn’t it?” she asked.

  Caroline laughed. “Yeah, but it’s okay. I like that about you.” She leaned against the rust-stained sink. “Seth’s kind of the same way.”

  “Really?” Somehow Abby couldn’t imagine Seth blurting out random vigilante thoughts.

  “Well, not exactly. I mean he’s the real deal, and he speaks his mind. He’s not a player, not anymore. The situation with Stacy changed him, made him think about what was important.” She ran her hand through her hair, undoing her earlier tidying job. “But the problem is he’s been closed off ever since. I just wanted to tell you if Seth says something, he means it from deep down, and if he’s feeling something, you can tell a mile away.”

  Abby thought a moment. “I think I know what you mean.”

  “Seth’s like a big brother to me. I saw how he looked when he talked about you, and how he was with you tonight. Joey noticed it right away. I know you just met, but he has a spark we haven’t seen in a long time. I thought you needed to know why he might act confused, and I couldn’t leave without telling you.”

  “I appreciate it, Caroline, I really do.”

  “We love Seth, and want him to be happy. Tonight, he looked like he could be happy again.”

  “He’s lucky to have friends l
ike all of you.” She opened the bathroom door, but turned back to Caroline. “Look, I don’t know what’s happening yet. It’s kind of crazy. We’re not kids, but it almost feels like that, like when you’re a teenager and the cute guy asks you to dance or sits by you at a basketball game. But…” She trailed off, having run out of adolescent analogies.

  Caroline smile softly and she looked past Abby, seeming to drift into a memory. “Yeah, that’s exactly how it was when I met Joey at my dad’s company’s Fourth of July picnic.” She gave a quiet laugh and turned her attention back to Abby. “Of course, we were teenagers at the time, but still. It was like we recognized each other on some deeper level, even as kids. I don’t think it happens that way for everybody, but if it does, you’re the lucky ones.”

  It was a lot to think about, and Abby figured she’d sort it all out later…if there even was a “later.” She returned to Caroline’s original concern. “One thing I can tell you is I’m nothing like Stacy. You don’t have to worry about that, I promise.” Abby gave a little wave as the bathroom door closed behind her, a bit unsettled by the emotional, intimate information just dropped on her out of the blue.

  She found Seth off by himself in the backstage area. He appeared to be deep in concentration, but a smile softened his features when he saw her. He reached out and took her hand, seating himself on a tall equipment crate and positioned her, facing him, between his knees. “I was wondering where you were.”

  “I bumped into Dash and felt a sudden need to escape. The only place I thought he might not follow me was the ladies’ room. I had a chat with Caroline.”

  “Caroline? I hope she talked me up a little,” he said with a wink.

  “Mmmm hmmm.” Abby figured if Caroline was right in her assessment of Seth, that was fine with her.

  “Almost show time,” Seth said. He slid his arms around her waist, and she leaned against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. She could get very used to this. She was a little afraid she already had.

  Their privacy was interrupted when the rest of the band began gathering. Roberto bustled around, fussing over “his” guitars, strumming a few notes to make sure they were properly tuned, and carefully placing the instruments on their stands. Abby felt the adrenaline zinging through the air around them. The crowd, impatient for the show to start, could be heard over the music playing on the club’s PA system.

  “Don’t forget the change in the set list, guys,” said Trent.

  “Already printed and posted,” Joey assured him. “We’re good to go.”

  Seth slid off the crate and said to Abby, “I thought you could sit over at the sound board with Mouse. It’s above floor level, stage right.” He indicated the position of the board with a nod of his head.

  “Uh-uh. No can do,” Abby replied.

  “What do you mean, ‘no can do’?”

  “Sit? Are you out of your mind? I mean, maybe you are, but you’re so cute most people don’t point it out.”

  “Where do you think would be appropriate, then, and not involve any sitting?”

  Rats. He was even cuter when he was amused. “Front and center at the stage, of course.”

  “In the crowd?”

  “Yeah. That’s half the fun.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  Seth led Abby around the black backdrop curtains and down the side of the stage. The crowd murmured and parted, not daring to complain when the headliner edged them out of their carefully guarded positions, especially with Trent’s imposing form shadowing him. A few seemed poised to approach him, but one look from Trent made them reconsider the notion.

  Once in place, Seth brushed his lips along her jaw and whispered, “This is going to be the longest damned concert of my life.”

  “Better get to it, then,” Abby whispered back, using his proximity to bestow a nibble on his earlobe, becoming uncharacteristically daring and giving his earring a flirtatious flick with her tongue.

  “For future reference, that is not a good way to get me to leave.”

  “Noted. Now, go.” She still couldn’t believe she’d just behaved so brazenly. In public.

  “Going.” Seth hopped onto the stage and disappeared.

  Abby kicked off her sandals and pushed them and her handbag between her and the stage. This was typical preconcert preparation, so she could dance without the risk of snapping an ankle or perforating the feet of anybody nearby with her heels. She looked around and was surprised to find the blonde fangirl elbowing her way through the crowd. She came to a stop right beside Abby, glaring furiously.

  Abby gave her a faint nod of recognition and started to turn away when the girl grabbed her arm and demanded, “Who are you, anyway? I saw you with Seth in the park and getting off his bus. Are you his girlfriend?”

  Abby jerked her arm from the girl’s grasp and sputtered, “No. I don’t know. Maybe.” Could you be somebody’s girlfriend the same day you met him?

  “Hey, don’t act like you’re anybody special. You’re nowhere near good enough for Seth.”

  Oh, so that’s how it was going to be? Great. Abby was ready for it now. “You don’t know me, and you sure as hell don’t know Seth.”

  “I’ve been to twenty-nine concerts in seven states. I’m his most loyal fan, and he knows it. He sings to me all the time.” The girl’s face became flushed, and it dawned on Abby this girl wasn’t even in the same time zone as reality.

  “Oh, really?” Abby made a show of studying the autograph on the girl’s shirt. “Well, listen—Pam, is it? I bet you wish your name was longer, huh?—go away and keep your little button nose out of my business.” Abby stepped aside and refused to be further engaged. Pam opened her mouth as if she might be inclined to escalate things, but just then the lights dimmed and the band took the stage.

  Dead End Road, in all its energy-intensive glory, launched into a fast-paced fan favorite, “Should Have Known Better.” The crowd was swept into the show, and Abby put the surly fan from her mind.

  By the time they were three songs into the set, she experienced a serious bout of cognitive dissonance. On one hand, she was enjoying a fantastic concert, loving every minute. On the other hand, it felt surreal. Had she really been kissing Seth in the bus a while ago? Taking inventory, she found her lips were still tingly, and a faint taste of him remained on her tongue. Okay, she hadn’t completely lost her mind. What a relief.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off Seth, which was par for the course when she saw him perform. His presence enveloped the crowd, and he poured everything he had into the music. The hair around his face was soon damp with perspiration, and a dark patch formed around the neck of his shirt. From time to time their eyes met, accompanied by a quirk of his mouth, but he seemed to be making a serious effort to give the entire crowd the show they were expecting.

  The band reached about the two-thirds mark in the set list by Abby’s calculation, and played “Every Man’s Darkest Night.” In the haunting piece, each band member played an extended solo. During the solos, the rest of the band disappeared from the stage for a quick break, before returning for their segments. This time, though, Seth deviated from the routine.

  He introduced Pete, and as the bass player laid into his solo, Seth approached the front of the stage. He shook a few hands, and seated himself directly in front of Abby, his elbows on his knees. “I thought I could get through the whole show, but it turns out I can’t.”

  “I hope you’re not waiting for an argument.”

  “Nope. Waiting for a kiss.” Abby stepped closer, and he enfolded her in his arms and kissed her as if they were the only ones in the room.

  “Wow.” Abby had to almost shout to be heard over Pete’s guitar. “If you’d do more of that, your attendance would go through the roof.”

  Grinning, Seth said, “Only for you, darlin’.”

  “You’re going to get me beaten to a pulp, you know.” Abby glanced around, noting her earlier nemesis seemed about to reach the boiling point. Pam’s face was f
lushed again, and her jaw hung open. If she exploded and spewed gory groupie bits all over her, Abby was going to be extremely pissed.

  “Nah, Trent’s watching, and so is Dash’s staff.”

  “Good thing.”

  Seth placed his forehead against hers. “Time to get back to work. Another half hour, okay?”

  “Go do your thing,” she said, giving him a light pat on the thigh.

  The set finally wound toward its conclusion. As the band came out for their encore, she heard the opening bars of “Make or Break.” She felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach, and her entire focus narrowed until all she could see was Seth. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then, his fingers playing over the strings of his guitar, he said to the crowd, “This has always been a real special song for me, and now more than ever. She knows why.”

  Abby had a lump in her throat as Pete and Marshall faded to the back of the stage. Joey’s percussion was light and nonintrusive while Seth played the song that had first captured Abby’s attention.

  The blank page bleeds, the words won’t come

  You’ve been left high and dry by your muse

  Time to burn it all down and throw it away

  Tell yourself you’ve got nothing to lose

  As he sang, his smooth, smoky voice filled the room. He glanced frequently in her direction, but he mostly let his focus linger somewhere beyond the rear of the hall. She’d been anticipating the end of the show, but as she watched him standing in the wash of a blue spotlight subtly shifting to purple, flowing into the chorus of the song, she almost wished it would never end.

  Sometime in life you’re gonna make or break