by T L Dasha
My eyes remained trained on my lap. There was something different about him today. I stole a glance at Jay, who was still focused on the road. His expression was serious. There was no hint of his usual amusement or mocking smile.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He took the 101 to Topanga Boulevard, then turned onto Mulholland. We passed a neighborhood of beautiful homes, a high school, and then the road spit us out into the trees of the Santa Monica Mountains. Jay eyes were unflinching while his high beams were the only thing discerning the asphalt from the cliffs. He ran the brakes deeply into turns and accelerated hard on exit, shifting through gears with an expert finesse.
“You’re fast…” I hadn’t even realized I had said the words out loud until I saw a smile form on his lips. Finally something familiar.
“It’s not my first time on this road.”
“I’ve only ever been up this way a few times. Sometimes my dad would take the long way home when we went to the beach.”
“Mine would, too…”
The car fell silent again. I couldn’t help wondering if I had said something wrong. I stared out the window and watched another neighborhood pass us by before we continued deeper into nowhere. With the last signs of civilization behind us, the road gave itself completely to the whim of the mountains, tightly wrapping around every contour. Jay drove faster still, drifting into turns, his tires screeching toward the heavens.
I held tightly to the arm rest, my heart racing with every skirted cliff and pitch black drop off. But Jay was still so calm. He tore over the road almost robotically. Never flinching. Never showing even the vaguest sign of fear.
He came to an abrupt stop at a pull off. He turned off the car, turned off the lights, and stepped out into the pitch blackness.
When I got out of the car, I saw Jay standing with his back to me, staring over the ledge. There was an intensity about him tonight. I approached him cautiously.
“What is this place?”
“Have you ever heard of Dead Man’s Curve?” He didn’t look at me as he spoke.
“Like the song?” I got close enough to catch a flash of a smile.
“Like the song.” Jay ran a hand through his hair, then removed his glasses to clean the lenses. He replaced that barrier between us, then finally turned to face me. The smile on his lips wasn’t corroborated by his eyes. All I could see was darkness.
###
Jay McClintock
The confusion on his face only made this harder. But at this point, I felt like I had been hiding too many things. Too many secrets. Too many small betrayals. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling him all this now, just before the final round when he needed to concentrate the most. But this wasn’t about what was right or what was best for him. I know it wasn’t.
It was about my own selfishness.
Up here, we were too far from any sort of civilization for him to run or hide. We were far enough from cell service that he wouldn’t be able to call someone else. He would have to rely on me to get home. He wouldn’t have a choice but to hear me out. This was a selfish calculation, too.
“You once asked me how I got into this industry.” There was no good way to start this conversation, so I figured I may as well start at the beginning. “How did I become ‘Jay McClintock of ALIVE Records’?”
“’You wrote a song so perfect,’ right? A song for Brad?”
“Right. That’s how I got where I am now. But that’s not where I came from.”
“What do you mean?”
I let my hand slide over his cheek and come to rest on his shoulder. Something about his warmth put me at ease. I brushed my lips lightly over his, before I pulled away and took a seat on the nearby ledge.
“Let me tell you a story…”
###
“I can choose my own name?”
“Any name you want.”
“Jay.”
“Jay? Why Jay?”
I looked down at my feet, as though vocalizing my reasoning would make all of this more real. “My mom used to always feed the blue jays in the park. They were her favorite bird.” I swallowed and looked up at Detective Franz. “She named me Sebastian after my grandpa, who died before I was born. She told me the spirits of the ones we love live on through words. I want my name to represent something she loves, so she can live on, too.”
“Jay it is then” The detective ruffled my hair. “I’d say that’s a fine name.”
I waited patiently in his office while he finished up the paperwork. A new name, a new home, a new life? AT thirteen years old, I barely even got to live my old one. I guess I’d have to make new friends.
I put on my headphones and closed my eyes, trying not to think about it. I didn’t want to cry in front of the detective again. He knew dad, and dad would never cry in front of another adult. Although there was one time when he cried in front of me. Still, I needed to uphold our family’s reputation. I needed to be at least that strong.
A few moments later, a tall, thin man in a suit entered the room, looking rather confident. He had dark hair and darker eyes, and everything about him seemed well-groomed and expensive. I pulled out my headphones, so as not to be rude.
“Mark, good to see you!” Detective Franz greeted the man with a handshake and a smile.
“Is this Bart’s boy?” He asked, sending a smile my way.
“Yes! Let me introduce you. Sebas- sorry, Jay- Jay, this is Mark McClintock. He’s going to be taking care of you from here on. Mark, this is Jay.”
“A pleasure.” Mr. McClintock knelt down until he was level with my eyes. “My wife and I are very excited to welcome you into our family. I was a good friend of your father’s growing up.”
“He never mentioned you.” I stared at him, deadpan.
Mr. McClintock just laughed. He reached out a hand to ruffle my hair. “Bart was never much for nostalgia… Sorry, big word- that means memories. I haven’t been around kids in a while.”
“I know what nostalgia means. I’m not an idiot.” I rolled my eyes. “If you knew dad, you’d know how much he made me read.”
“Of course…”
He drove me home that night, and I stared out the window, watching a foreign part of a familiar city passing me by.
“What kinds of things do you like to do, Jay?” Mr. McClintock remained gentle despite my antagonism.
I kept my eyes on the window. “I guess I like music.”
“Do you like to sing? We can get you instruments.”
“I don’t know how to do all that.”
“In that case, how about I get you a pen?”
###
“Sebastian?” Roland looked at me, wide-eyed. “This story is…”
“You wanted to know more about my past, didn’t you?”
“And your father, he…”
“Went off the road right here. I was in the backseat. He died on impact, or so I’m told.”
Roland stared at me. He remained quiet for several minutes. I couldn’t tell if he was angry, hurt, shocked, or simply confused. I watched his eyes, just waiting for the spark from the moment all of the puzzle pieces came together in his head. From the moment he realized he had already heard my story.
He used his hands for support as he sat down on the ground. His head fell to his lap.
Chapter 15
Roland Finley
“You wrote Valley of the Kings.” My words came out void of any emotion. I had too many running through my brain to choose one. “You wrote Carving through Hell. New Beginnings. Hideaway. Those were your stories.”
“Yes.”
It made so much sense now. Why would Jay McClintock just be walking through the park by the dorms, just outside Lance’s studio? Why would Dread Theory have suddenly come up with an entirely new sound and new look? Why would their lyrics have gotten so much more serious? So much more clever. More polished and professional. It’s like the whole thing was staring me in the face the entire time, and
I was so distracted by Jay’s smooth talking, skillful tongue that I couldn’t see what was directly in front of my face.
I’m so fucking stupid.
“You were working for Dread Theory the entire time. That first time I met you in the park… You were… You knew… I never had a chance, did I?” I tried to swallow back my tears, but my eyes weren’t on board. I don’t know what hurt more. The realization that I was fighting a losing battle, or the realization that Jay had been the one dealing all the blows.
“Roland.” Jay’s voice was quiet. It had none of its power. “You have to understand how all of this works. This isn’t about you and me. This isn’t about your music.”
He was right. I knew he was. He had a job to do. A job for the highest bidder. I was naïve to think that this reality show was ever based in reality. That there wasn’t already a script. Lance Gold got everything he ever wanted. Why wouldn’t he get this, too? Why wouldn’t he get the recording contract, and why wouldn’t he get… Jay.
“So why are you telling me all this? So I’ll be angry? So I’ll be too upset to write a decent song? Were you worried you might not be able to beat me in the final round?” Anger seemed to be my prevailing emotion, and I latched onto it. I laughed at the absurdity of my own words. “Was there a conscience in there somewhere that actual started to feel some semblance of guilt for lying to me every day?”
“I wasn’t lying to you every day. That’s an overly simplistic way to look at it.”
“Just like my lyrics, right?”
Jay’s expression remained serious and unflinching as always. I could never tell what he was thinking. I couldn’t even tell if he cared. “I didn’t agree by choice. I didn’t even know you when I accepted the job. And I never would have met you if I hadn’t, so I still don’t regret it. It’s not like I was conspiring against you.”
“You could have told me.”
“I’m telling you right now. What difference would it have made if I had told you tomorrow or three months ago.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I knew I wasn’t being fair, but that didn’t take the sting away. “I would have known better. I wouldn’t have…” Fallen in love with you.
Jay’s expression dropped, the corners of his mouth down turned, his eyes dark behind his glasses. He knew what the rest of that sentence was supposed to be without me needing to vocalize it. “That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner.”
I watched him closely as he spoke.
“You were my escape. From this job. This life. This…” He motioned with his hands to encompass the dark, deadly stretch of asphalt. “You were this strange, off-colored, lopsided light of positivity amidst all of my frustration. You were bold enough to surprise me, but timid enough to still need protecting. You’re sarcastic and ready to bite back no matter what I throw at you, yet you can’t even lie about how you feel while you’re half way across the city, typing into a text box.” His lips slid into a half smile. “I saw myself in you, ambitious but confused and trying to find your own direction in life. I saw Brad in you, charismatic and upbeat and not willing to give up. And more than all of that, I saw something completely different in you that was bright and powerful and unstoppable.”
I sat in silence for an extended moment, looking into his eyes best I could. Then I shook my head. “You really are a great writer.” The trace of a smile that was on his face fell away. “Dread Theory will be lucky to have you once they get that record deal.”
“Ah, that’s…” Jay didn’t finish his sentence. I guess he was tired of lying to me.
“Even if everything you just said is true- Even if you mean all that- your contract doesn’t end with this. What did you think was going to happen? You’d help them win, and I’d go home the loser. Then you’d go to work every day, trying to build them into the next Brad Garza, while I play the occasional gig at some two-bit dive bar? Then, what, I’d come home to you every night to help inspire their next album?”
He looked like a deer in the headlights. Shock didn’t suit him. I continued.
“You hadn’t thought about that, I guess.” I stood up and dusted myself off, no longer making eye contact. He didn’t deserve to see into my heart right now. I didn’t want to share it anymore. It was bad enough that I had to rely on him for a ride. I’m sure he did that on purpose, too.
“Take me home. I have a song to write.”
###
Jay or Sebastian or whatever his name was dropped me off at the dorms without further argument. It worked out that he was so used to heading to Lance’s studio, because he knew exactly where the dorms were, and I didn’t have to talk to him the whole way home.
As soon as I was comfortably in the hallway, I reached for my phone and dialed Logan. He picked up on the last possible ring.
“This is rare. I don’t usually hear from you on elimination nights.” I could barely make out his voice over all the blaring background noise of the Rumbling Bee.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been a terrible band mate.”
“Ha! Hardly. The only thing I’m miffed at you for is that you still haven’t introduced me to this mystery dude.”
I smiled despite myself. “Thanks, Logan. I…” The muffled sound of a DJ rang through his receiver. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be bugging you when you’re trying to celebrate. We can talk in the morning.” I yelled into the phone to make sure he could hear me, which incidentally, didn’t help much for preventing my voice from breaking.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop. Don’t you dare hang up. What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing. Have a good night. We’ll talk-“
“I’ll meet you at Meli’s in fifteen.” He hung up before I could protest. I guess I wasn’t getting much choice in the matter. I should be used to that by now.
But maybe some ice cream would do me some good.
I walked through the door of Meli’s Diner for the first time since I asked for that leave three months ago. It was already past midnight. They closed in ten minutes, but the tables were already empty. Abby shot around the room, cleaning off the last dirty table, surely hoping she might get off just a little early. Sorry, Abby.
I waited to be seated and waited for her to notice me. She continued to scurry about, dumping one last burger basket in the waste bin, when she finally met my eyes.
“Roland?!” I didn’t even have a chance to respond before she threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, and squeezing me into a hug. “I feel like it’s been a lifetime since I last saw you! You owe me so many stories!”
“I know, I know.”
“There’s a hugging party going on without me, eh?” Logan came up behind me and squeezed both of us. I never thought it would feel so good to be smothered.
Abby had three sundaes ready as quickly as Logan and I could take a seat at the counter. She looked so happy to see us, I thought she might burst at any moment.
“So holy shit you guys! You’re both in the finals! You’re seriously, like, one week away from maybe, possibly having a real record deal. Has that even sunk in yet?” Abby leaned over the counter, barely paying attention to her ice cream.
“Yeah, ‘maybe, possibly.’” I barely managed a half-cocked smile. Abby frowned.
“How are you not excited?”
“Yeah, how are you not excited?” Logan turned his pink leather stool to face me. “You seemed pretty thrilled when we parted ways after elimination.”
“Did something happen?” Abby’s eyes were filled with concern.
I looked at Logan, my mouth open, but words frozen in my throat. Was I going to out Jay as Dread Theory’s writer? Was I going to out Dread Theory as the predetermined winners? Was I going to out myself as sleeping with a bigtime industry executive? I took a deep breath.
“We’re not going to win.” There was nothing but confusion in the diner. “I’ve lost my inspiration.”
“You mean that guy you were seeing?” Logan averted his gaze and took a bite of whipped cream.
>
“Yeah.” It somehow made it more real as I said it out loud.
“Wait- back up, you have a boyfriend?!” Abby hit a closed fist on the counter. “And nobody thought to tell me this? Nobody could have just texted me a quick ‘Hey Abby! Just so you know, Roland, our super awkward, slightly closeted best friend, is totally getting the dick.’ Or something?” She shot a dirty look at Logan. He threw up his hands in defense.
“First of all, I would never write that. Ever. Jeeezus, Abby.”
Abby puffed up her cheeks and crossed her arms. Logan continued. “And second of all, he’s been super hush hush about it, so I haven’t even seen the guy to know if he’s real.”
“Oh my god- Was this the guy you brought to the restaurant a few months ago?”
“Wait, you met him already?” Logan’s mouth fell open.
“Yes! He was this super dreamy older guy. Wore a really fancy suit. Cute glasses. Seemed to really, really like Roland’s ice crea-“
“Ooookay.” I interrupted, mitigating the visuals before they got any worse. Somehow this conversation had completely gotten away from me.
Logan gave me a knowing side eye, not deterred. “Did you catch his name?”
“Ah, no that’s…” sweat collected on my brow as I looked between the two. I’m sure she had at some point. And much to my disdain, Abby never forgot anything.
“Was it Jay McClintock, by chance?” Logan wasn’t addressing Abby anymore when he said it. He looked at me, his eyes accusing.
I motioned to bite my lower lip and play with my lip rings, but then stopped myself short. This wasn’t a time to rely on crutches anymore.
“How did you know?”
“You’re not that good at lying, Roland.” His expression relaxed into a smile. “And the look on your face when he helped you with your keyboard solo in that mash up was a pretty dead giveaway.”
“I see.” My face flushed. “I hope it wasn’t that obvious to everyone else.”
“I think it’s a safe bet that Lance doesn’t pay attention to much of anyone who’s not his own reflection, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” Logan laughed, giving me a quick pat on the back. “So what? He dumped you?”