Cardinal

by Sara Mack

  “You taped me singing?” I try to steal his cell from him, but he’s too fast.

  “Yep,” he says and holds it close to his chest. He starts typing. “I’m sending it to everyone we know riiiiiiiight …” He draws out the word as his thumbs fly over the screen. “Now.” He sets his phone down with a smirk.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Here we are.” Our smiling waitress appears. We’re seated at a high top table at a loud bar near the arena. She sets down four shots of Fireball, then hands out our other drinks. “I’ll be back to check on y’all in a few minutes.”

  Drew and Paul waste no time reaching for the shots and passing them out. “To Jen!” Drew announces with his glass in the air. “On her first solo performance!”

  “Hear, hear!” Dean and Paul chime in.

  “You guys are dorks,” I say, but raise my glass just the same. We down the shots and slam the glasses on the table.

  “I think we should add your song to our set. At least in Detroit,” Dean says. “Isn’t your family coming to that show?”

  I nod. “I’m not sure if that makes me more or less nervous. I almost passed out tonight.” I’ve never felt a mixture of fear and excitement so strongly before.

  “The more you do it the easier it will be,” Dean rationalizes. “You did great. Even the audience thought so.”

  “They were being nice.”

  “They didn’t have to be,” Paul says. “I’ve played for a few evil crowds. Those motherfuckers can turn on you like that.” He snaps his fingers.

  I’m so glad that didn’t happen.

  “Who’s up for darts?” Drew asks, eyeing an open board.

  “I am,” Dean says. “Five bucks says you lose.”

  “Five?” Drew scowls. “At least bet me enough to buy another beer.”

  “Fine. Ten.”

  Drew looks at me and points. “You’re playing next.”

  I smile. “You’re on.” I haven’t played darts in years, but my parents used to have a board in the basement. I was decent against my brothers.

  Dean and Drew leave the table, and I take a sip of my Kamikaze. It reminds me of Latson and his party when we formally met. If I knew then what I know now, I would have jumped that man immediately and taken him up on his offer of a private tour. We would have had four more weeks together before I left. I sigh. Hindsight is always 20/20.

  “Jen.” Paul gets my attention. “I’m going to go hit on that blonde at the bar.” He looks over his shoulder. “Will you be okay here for a minute?”

  “Just a minute?” My eyebrows shoot up. “You think that’s all it will take?”

  “You know it is.” He winks at me before he stands. “I’ll be right back.”

  Sure, I think as he walks away. This isn’t the first time I’ve witnessed his moves. If she shows any interest I won’t see him until morning.

  I’m just about to get up to watch Drew and Dean when my phone buzzes against the table. I lean over and read a message from Gwen: I got Dean’s video. You go girl! So awesome!

  I smile and reply: Thanks. It was a last minute thing.

  Then, almost immediately, I get another text message from Jules: Holy shit! Are you the headliner now? Congrats! Oh, and Pete says you were lip synching. Don’t worry. I hit him for you.

  I laugh. I miss those guys.

  Just as I’m responding to Jules, a smooth voice says, “Spectacular show tonight. I’m glad I caught it.”

  A body slides next to me and into Dean’s seat. I look up and mentally groan. “Caleb.”

  “Jen.” He flashes his perfect smile and raises his hand, calling over a waitress. “I’ll take a Dewar’s straight, please.” He looks at me. “What would you like?”

  My eyes dart to my nearly full glass. “I’m all set. Thanks.”

  The waitress leaves, and Caleb turns his body and attention toward me. He’s dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans; his dirty blonde hair left natural and un-styled. Unfortunately, I like this look on him. He appears approachable, more like a regular guy.

  “I didn’t know you could sing like that,” he says.

  I raise an eyebrow. “And I didn’t know you were stalking Dean across the fifty states.”

  He laughs. “What if I am? I’m just doing my job.”

  “Really?” I skeptically glance around the bar. “I don’t see any other label execs. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone other than you since we’ve been on tour. Why is that?”

  “Snare Records is Ariel’s label.”

  “But Dean’s a free agent.”

  He smiles. “Why are you giving me such a hard time? Don’t you want Dean to get signed?”

  “Sure I do. I’m just not sure you’re the best choice.”

  Caleb loses his grin. “Because of what Gunnar told you?”

  “Um, yes,” I say sarcastically and take a drink. I may need another one of these if he’s going to hang around.

  “Look –”

  The waitress interrupts him to deliver his scotch.

  “Thanks,” he says before turning back to me. “I’m trying to right a wrong here. What happened before shouldn’t have happened, and I know that now. Gunnar isn’t performing anymore, so I can’t make it up to him. But I can try with Dean.”

  “Why the change of heart?”

  Caleb plays with his drink, turning it around with his hand. “Because time tells stories. I realize what I did wasn’t necessary.”

  I get snarky. “Well, isn’t that big of you.”

  Caleb crosses his arms and leans against the table top. “How much do you know? What did Gunnar tell you?”

  “He’s told me enough,” I say. “It’s your fault he lost his career.”

  “That’s fair,” Caleb concedes. “But did he tell you he was there the night his sister died?”

  No, I think and frown. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Because he was caught on the security camera leaving her hotel room before she overdosed. There was speculation when the footage was released; hell, his own father accused him of murder.” He moves closer to me. “I knew Gunnar didn’t put the coke up Audrey’s nose, but the bad publicity was impossible to ignore. It seemed the best thing for everyone was to let the band go.”

  I remember reading the headline about Latson’s dad, but hearing it from Caleb still shocks me. As my mind wraps around his words, I say, “So, you’re telling me Latson ended his career before you did.”

  “I’m telling you we’re both guilty.”

  The man looks sincere. I can see where he’s coming from, but it’s undeniable Latson was a victim of circumstance. There’s also the issue of Levi. “Don’t you think your brother shares part of the blame, too?”

  “That he does.” Caleb takes a long drink and swallows. “That he does.”

  I study him. Something doesn’t sit right. He flew all the way out to New Orleans for what? To see the exact same show? “Why are you really here?”

  “I told you. Dean.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “And?”

  Caleb smiles and shakes his head. “Fine.” He places both hands on the table and sits back. “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. You intrigue me.” He leans forward again. “You’re the only woman in an all-male group. Someone who’s never played professionally, but performs like she has her whole life. Someone who writes her own music and saves the day at the last minute.”

  I’m confused. “Saves the day?”

  “Roxanne told me how you stepped up for Ariel. I wasn’t expecting that. No one was.”

  Does everyone think I’m a bitch? “She needed my help. I have a heart, you know.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Caleb shakes his head. “No one was expecting your performance. It was good. Really good.”

  I don’t want to feel flattered by his compliment, but I do.

  “Have you ever considered recording a demo? I could get you into the studio once the tour’s over. We coul
d see where it goes.”

  Is he serious? “I’ve never thought about being a singer.”

  “Why? What’s your nine to five back home?”

  I laugh and pick up my drink. “It’s more like a six to two. I tend bar.”

  Caleb’s eyes light up. “Selling music would earn you more. A lot more.”

  Of course it would. The idea is tempting, especially after tonight. However, there’s no way in hell Latson would want me to work with Caleb. Plus, there’s no guarantee my songs would sell. “Thanks, but I’d rather not get my hopes up.”

  Caleb leans into my personal space. “What’s holding you back?”

  I shrug, but don’t move away. He’s doesn’t intimidate me.

  “I know it’s your boyfriend,” he says. “Are you going to let him run your life?”

  My jaw drops. “Excuse me? You don’t know anything about us.”

  “I know the chance I’m offering is one in a million. You should take it.” He pushes a loose piece of hair away from my face, his fingers lingering on my skin, before he whispers my ear. “Do you know what I mean?”

  Oh, I know what he means. My eyes narrow. “You don’t get to touch me. Ever. Is that clear?”

  He pulls away. “Jen, I …”

  “Don’t Jen me.” I stand. “This conversation is over.”

  My phone starts to buzz against the table. I reach for it, but Caleb’s faster. He holds it out of my reach and says, “Don’t go. Let me explain.”

  “Give me my phone.”

  “If you would just wait a minute –”

  “I said give me my phone.”

  “You don’t understand what I meant.”

  “No, I understand perfectly what you meant.” I try to grab my cell, but he stands and holds it hostage. “Damn it, Caleb! Give me my phone! I want to leave.”

  “What’s going on here?”

  I turn around to see Dean and Drew. Caleb answers, “Jen and I were just discussing the possibility of her starting a singing career. Weren’t we, Jen?”

  He smiles, but I can see the message lying beneath. He doesn’t want me to say anything about what just happened. Little does he know the truth will be told once Dean and I are alone.

  “Yep,” I say, clipping the word and holding my hand out for my phone again. He gives it to me, and I look at Dean and Drew. “I’m headed back to the hotel. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Drew says, giving Caleb a questioning look.

  As we leave the bar, Drew sets a protective hand against my back. I glance down at my phone to see who called and realize the call connected. Caleb must have brushed his thumb against the screen when he picked it up. My heart drops.

  It’s Latson.

  “Hello?” I put the phone to my ear. “Hello? Are you there?”

  “You’re with Caleb.”

  Shit. His words are a statement and his voice sounds flat. I say the first thing that comes to mind. “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re thinking about a singing career.”

  “No. I –”

  “I’ll let you go.”

  “No! Wait.”

  The line goes silent. “Latson?” No answer. “Latson?”

  He’s gone.

  ~~~~

  “If it makes you feel any better, he’s not taking my calls, either.”

  I shift my gaze from the ceiling of my bunk to Dean. “You tried again?”

  “Just now. I left another message.”

  My face falls. If Latson won’t answer the phone for his brother, my chances are disappearing by the second. It’s been two days.

  “He’ll come around,” Dean says. “He’s sulking right now, but he’ll snap out of it.”

  “When?” I ask. “Because this is killing me.”

  It is. I think it literally is. My stomach has been in knots ever since this whole thing happened. I have no appetite and sleeping is impossible. I keep thinking he’ll text or call, and I’ll be asleep and miss it. I’ve even been taking my phone with me into the bathroom when I shower.

  “Hopefully he’ll get his head out of his ass by the time we get to Tampa,” Dean says. “Only a few more hours to go.”

  If that happened, I would welcome it. With open arms, trumpets, and confetti cannons. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, but it feels like I did. All I want is the chance to explain what he overheard.

  Dean’s phone rings, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I get hopeful until I watch his expression twist. He sends the call to voice mail. “Caleb,” he says.

  “Asshole.” I flop back against my pillow. “Is there any way we can rid of him?”

  “I wish.” Dean pockets his phone. “You know I’m only putting up with him until the end of the tour.”

  After I told Dean that Caleb tried to hit on me, he wasn’t pleased. He confided that he never planned to sign with Snare, not with Sacred Sin’s history. He’s only tolerating Caleb to get through this tour. He said he has to be nice to him to avoid burning bridges; labels and agents talk. His main goal is to gain exposure, then shop his music.

  “Latson knows, right? You told him?”

  “In every message I’ve left.”

  I sigh. I hate that he won’t talk to me. This is exactly like the time he overreacted at the hospital. It makes my heart hurt.

  “I’ll let you know if he calls,” Dean says.

  “Okay.”

  I roll over on my side and try to settle into my bunk. It seems Beau has us traveling at warp speed to Florida; I can feel it in the shimmy of the bus. I contemplate waking Ariel to ask her if Latson acted this way when they were together, but I know she hasn’t been feeling well and she needs her sleep. There’s nothing left for me to do, other than close my eyes. Instead, I find myself staring at Oliver’s drawing. When did things get so complicated?

  I feel a tap on my shoulder. “You up?”

  I roll over and see Ariel. “Yeah. I thought you were sleeping.”

  She shakes her head. “My mind is racing.”

  “Same here.”

  “Move over,” she says and nudges me.

  I scoot to the side as Ariel sits down. She swings her legs up beside mine and lies back, so we’re lying side by side. She pulls the bunk curtain closed. “You’d think they’d make these beds bigger,” she says. “Rock stars get laid on their busses all the time.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Are you speaking from experience?”

  “Maybe.”

  I elbow her and she giggles.

  We’re quiet for a few moments before she says, “Things are stupid right now, aren’t they?”

  I nod in agreement.

  “I’m knocked up and you’re fighting with Gunnar. Neither should be happening.”

  “Amen, sister.”

  We stare at the ceiling. Although we’re both dealing with issues, hers more life-altering than mine, it’s nice to know I’m not alone. I’m sure she feels the same way.

  “You know,” she breaks the silence, “true artists would take their feelings and spill them into song.”

  I turn my head. “Like Taylor Swift?”

  “Exactly.”

  I guess I’m not a true artist. “I don’t feel like writing. All I want is a phone call.”

  “I hear you.” She sighs. “All I want is to stop puking up everything I eat.”

  “You’re having a girl,” I muse. “My mom said I was the worst pregnancy out of four. I have three older brothers.”

  “You think? I like the idea of having a girl. I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy.”

  “I think you’d figure it out. Moms are resourceful like that.”

  Ariel closes her eyes. “I still can’t wrap my mind around the idea. I mean, I can’t deny what my body is telling me, but it’s still surreal.” She looks at me. “How will I make it through nine months of this? How will I push out a baby? How?”

  “With the help of powerful drugs.”

  She rolls her ey
es and sets her hand on her belly. “That doesn’t make me feel better for subjecting an innocent child to my poor parenting. I’m not sure I should have this baby.”

  “Stop,” I chastise her. “The stork has never once delivered a baby and a handbook. If you decide to raise the little peanut, you’ll do just fine. I know it.”

  “You think?” Ariel’s expression softens. “It’s hard to be logical when I’m so emotional.”

  “I know you’ll do what’s right, whatever you decide.”

  She sighs. “Thank you. That makes me feel better.”

  I frown. “I wish Latson felt better.”

  Ariel extends her hand to me, and I take it. She squeezes my fingers. “He’ll call.”

  “Unless he doesn’t.” I can’t help but imagine something awful, like him taking PTA mom Natalie up on her carpool offer. I shudder.

  “He’ll realize he overreacted.” Ariel gives me an encouraging smile.

  “I hope you’re right,” I say.

  When we arrive in Tampa, Ariel heads to her doctor appointment in a rented Mercedes, and I head up to my room without Roxanne. My body feels drained when it shouldn’t; I just spent the last nine hours on a bus. I need to pull myself together and focus on something other than Latson. We have a show tonight, and I need to concentrate.

  When I get to my room, I open the door and fumble my way through with my suitcase, guitar, and bag. My exhausted eyes sweep the space like they always do and land on the desk opposite the two queen beds. A huge grin break across my face and relief instantly floods my body. I drop everything I’m carrying and skip over to a huge vase of roses sitting there. I bury my nose in the petals and inhale; there must be two dozen flowers here. Each one is a rich, velvety red and has a faux diamond set in the center. Eagerly, I find the card with my name on it and pry it open, excited and relieved to read Latson’s words.

  As quickly as the high came, the low crushes me. The flowers aren’t from him.

  My apologies for NOLA

  Yours, Caleb

  Chapter Twenty Five

  “I really think we should add “Fairytale” between “The Short Life” and “Over-Exposed”. It would be a natural pace progression.”

  Dean tries to talk me into performing solo as the four of us enter our dressing room. We just finished opening at the Tampa Bay Times Forum.