Dying Wish

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “But I’m nowhere near as good as they are.” She flicks her head toward the stage and then looks down at my glass.

  Becky is the most confident person I know. She’s always said what’s on her mind, stuck up for the underdog, and never had a care in the world as to what people say about her. Except when it comes to her music. Her music comes from someplace she can’t otherwise express—except to me on those late nights. She can take criticism, but the vulnerability of putting it out in public is always hard for her.

  I hug her fiercely. “Get that crap out of your head,” I say. “You’re incredibly talented and better than most people who’ve been playing for lots longer than you have. Now get your butt up there and show them how good you are.”

  Pushing Becky out of my hug, I wipe at the tear rolling down her cheek. She straightens up, and shakes her long hair so it flows down her back. “I’m not crying. I’ve got a dust allergy and this place is heaps dusty.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say with a broad grin.

  “Let’s rock it.” She pulls her shoulders back and smiles.

  I watch as she saunters up to the edge of the raised stage. A guy who must be Wicked J unplugs his guitar and walks over to her while the band continues. Wicked J is older, maybe in his thirties, and looks every part the typical rocker; dark sunglasses, white t-shirt, and ripped jeans.

  He squats down to talk with Becky. She’s looking her part too; all in black from her racerback tank to skin tight pants to her Converse. They chat for a few moments until she nods. He stands and goes over to plug his guitar back in.

  Becky turns to look at me, and does a funny little shake of her hips dance. It’s cute.

  “Hey, she going up?” Laurie asks as he plonks himself on the stool beside me.

  “She is. Tried having some liquid courage, but I think she had all of one or two mouthfuls and was too nervous to drink anymore.” I pointedly look at the beer still sitting on the counter in front of me.

  “You gonna have it?”

  “Hell no, I have rehearsals tomorrow.” Laurie picks the beer up and looks toward the stage. I follow his eyes and see Becky’s up there with a guitar strap around her neck.

  “She looks scared,” I murmur as I watch Becky adjust the strap and strum the guitar strings.

  “How y’all doing tonight?” Wicked J croons into the microphone. There are cheers as the people around us lift their drinks in the air. “We got a newbie on stage tonight. She’s pretty nervous so let’s give her a big hand.” The audience starts clapping, and I’m so proud of her I could burst.

  “Go Becky!” I yell as loud as I can, and she looks in our direction and smiles. I can see her hand shaking slightly as she wipes it down her jeans, then looks back at the guitar. “Go Becky!” I shout again.

  “Come on, let’s give this little lady a bigger round of applause!” Wicked J nods at Becky, and she nods back before returning her attention to me.

  The audience is silent, and there is an anticipatory tension in the air of the bar. A hush descends over all of us. I’m smiling at Becky, and my breath catches in the back of my throat as I wait for her to let go of her nerves and show everyone how talented she is.

  It’s almost like a tunnel of light is beaming down on Becky as I watch her chest rise and fall. Come on, girl, you can do it, I chant to myself. Becky lifts her hand and strums the strings, and the moment that first sound is made, the entire audience erupts.

  She looks across to me and I give her two thumbs up.

  Becky plays a few chords and looks around at everyone, gauging their reactions. Then she closes her eyes, throws her head back, and lets go. The drummer in the group comes in to back her up while the lead singer steps up to the mic and sings in his gruff, heavy-rock voice.

  Becky’s body sways to the beat of the music, her head bopping along to the drums while she’s lost in the energy. I watch in awe as she goes from Becky, my nervous best friend, to—right in her element—Becky the rock guitarist.

  She’s on fire. I’ve known her most of my life, and I can see there’s something about the stage that completely consumes her until she’s dazzling. She belongs up there. She owns the stage.

  The crowd was rowdy to start with, but as I look around at the bar patrons, I see how totally entranced they are by the girl up on the stage. And then everything else fades into the background as Becky starts to tear up an incredible solo that races up my spine. I’ve never heard anything like it.

  She’s playing like she’s been in the band for years instead of minutes. Tears begin to form in my eyes. Her love for the guitar is so obvious up there, her hands caressing the neck of the guitar as she moves her fingers, creating something amazing.

  The room is filled with an intense, heart-pumping energy. The women in the club are sitting forward as they listen to Becky and the men are watching the raw electricity coming from the stage. The lead singer steps back. Becky finishes the song and keeps her head lowered as the room falls quiet, still simmering with her intense energy. “Holy shit,” the lead singer says into the microphone. “I think I’ve just witnessed the making of a fucking star.”

  I jump to my feet with the rest of the room and yell, clapping so hard my hands hurt.

  Becky moves to take the guitar off but the lead singer shakes his head at her. “Who wants to hear another song from this lil’ lady?” The crowd cheers for more, and I clap and wolf-whistle along with everyone else. “I said . . . WHO WANTS TO HEAR ANOTHER SONG FROM THIS LIL’ LADY?” he screams into the mic. The crowd goes absolutely wild, screaming and begging for more. Becky flushes, but she knows she was good. At the lead singer’s nod, she starts the next song, wholly unselfconscious. She’s beyond magical to watch, her fingers expertly dancing over the frets, her body swaying in rhythmic perfection.

  Laurie stands beside me and I lean in to say to him, “She’s going places. Get used to this.” I sweep my left hand over the room mesmerized by the music she’s playing.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he says.

  “There’s no stopping her, Laurie. You can see that.” He’s nodding his head, but the sad look on his face tells me something else. He knows she’s going to make it big, and he knows he’s not in her future for much longer.

  I give Laurie a pat on the back but don’t say anything else. Becky is a free spirit, but Becky is also a bright star.

  Laurie stalks to the front of the stage and pulls up a spare seat, settling in to watch his girlfriend up on stage. I sit back down and listen to the music, but the only thing I’m interested in is Becky’s playing.

  “You like Triple Threats?” The voice is familiar.

  I turn to see Elijah on the stool beside me, leaning his elbows back on the bar as he smiles at me. “How the hell did you get in? And what are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I love Triple Threats, they’re damned awesome—that’s what I’m doing here. And I could ask you the same question about how you got in. Actually . . .” He narrows his eyes at me. I wanna slap that stupid grin off his face. “Do mommy and daddy know their precious daughter is out at this time of the night? Perhaps I’ll call them to see.” He reaches into his pocket for his phone, swiping his thumb across the screen.

  “You’re an idiot. If you get me in trouble, you get her in shit, and you get them in trouble too.” I point to Becky and the band. “And besides, I’m sure your parents wouldn’t like to know you’re here either.”

  High-five, Alice.

  He laughs. “My parents are in New York for my uncle’s fiftieth birthday party this weekend. So yeah . . . nice try, but they’re so far away that by the time they get home they’ll have forgotten all about it.” I shake my head at him, determinedly watching the stage instead. Ass.

  A moment passes and I almost forget about him sitting next to me. Of course, it’s difficult to ignore someone as nice-looking as Elijah. He keeps running his hand through his blond hair, which is slightly too long and keeps falling into his stormy gray eyes. He’s also to
o tall to ignore. Even if I exaggerate my height, I still only come up to his shoulder.

  “So tell me, what would your parents say?” he leans over my shoulder and whispers in my ear. His breath lightly tickles my heated cheeks as my back warms from the nearness of his chest. His aftershave slowly invades my senses, the spicy aroma dragging along my skin.

  God, he smells good.

  “Do you think they’d be happy with you, Alice?” He leans in closer, his fingers dig into my hip. It’s not painful; it’s something else.

  I swallow down the dryness in my mouth and gather my thoughts so I don’t become the horny sixteen-year-old girl who throws her entire future away for a boy. Nope, not gonna happen to me. I’m going to be selected by the American Ballet Theatre and I’m going to be dancing to Swan Lake and The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center to sold-out audiences.

  I jump off my stool and away from Elijah, breaking the tension of his hard, heated body near mine. “I don’t think it’s any of your damn business, and if you want to get me in trouble, then go ahead and do it. Or shut up and leave me alone.”

  He leans back again and huffs. “And here I thought you were into me.” His gorgeous, steely eyes remain glued on me.

  Cold irritation suddenly flushes out the desire I felt moments before. “You’re a dick,” I say to him as I head toward Laurie, who’s missed this entire exchange, focused as he is on Becky.

  “Hey.” Elijah wraps one big hand around my wrist and tugs me back to him. “Hey, I didn’t mean it.” He looks at me and smiles hopefully, trying to charm me instead of pissing me off. “I wouldn’t call your parents,” he says. “I was just being a jerk.” He searches my face for something. What, I’m not sure. He lets go of me.

  “Yeah, you were being a jerk.” I look at him and put a hand on my hip.

  He unsuccessfully tries to smother a laugh. “You’re so cute,” he says, just loud enough for me to hear him.

  “What was that?” I lift my eyebrows and tilt my head to the side.

  “Nothing.” He throws his hands up in surrender. “Come on, I’ll buy you a soda. I promise I won’t be a jerk again. Promise.” He crosses his heart and gives me a cheeky grin.

  He pulls the bar stool out for me, and encourages me to sit. I’m not entirely sure I should be cavorting with the enemy. Enemy, because he could get in me in trouble, especially if he keeps smiling at me like that. A shiver runs up my back.

  But I sit, and he sits beside me beckoning the bartender. “Two Cokes please,” he says to her.

  “Diet for me,” I quickly add before she pours mine.

  “You don’t need diet, Alice.”

  I look at Elijah sideways and smile. “I have to keep my weight down; it’s part of being a ballerina.”

  “But you’re too skinny as it is. One full-strength Coke isn’t going to make a difference.”

  “I’m slim, not skinny. There’s a difference. And I’m slim because I choose to be and because no one will be able to lift me if I put on too much weight.”

  “Is that where you want to be? On stage as a ballerina?”

  “It’s why I work so hard. I want to be given the opportunity to show the world what I can do.”

  Elijah pays the bartender before turning back to me. Just then the song finishes and everyone is on their feet, clapping and whistling. The transition into the next song goes smoothly and Becky looks like she’s having the time of her life.

  “She’s really good.” Elijah leans into me. “I’ve heard her at the school band performances, but she’s better than I thought.”

  “She is. She’s going to be a star.” I know it. My gut knows it; my entire body knows it. She was born to play.

  After the next song, I look at my phone and realize it’s well after two in the morning. “Shit,” I say, leaping to my feet.

  “What? Is everything okay? What’s wrong?” Elijah says, standing to his full height, shifting in front of me as he looks around the bar. He’s shielding me. I stare blankly at his back for a few seconds before my heart starts beating in double time, the blood in my veins heating.

  Double shit. I’ve got to get out of here.

  “I’ve gotta go. I have rehearsal in the morning.” I tell him a half-truth: I do have rehearsal but even more, I need to get away from the effect he has on me. I make my way quickly to the front and shuffle from foot to foot as I wait for Becky to finish. Elijah’s followed me, still standing protectively nearby. When Becky finishes, she sees me and unplugs the cord from her guitar to come over. “We gotta go. It’s after two, and I’ve got rehearsal in a few hours. Come on, Becky,” I beg.

  “One more song,” she pleads with me.

  “No! You promised me I’d be home in time to get some sleep before rehearsal.”

  “I’ll get her home,” Elijah says from behind me. “I’ll share a cab with her and make sure she gets home.” He’s addressing Becky, rather than me, and I don’t know how I feel about that.

  “No,” I protest.

  “Yes!” Becky says at the same time.

  “No, Becky, you promised. We have to go.”

  Becky looks at me and I see her eyes grow wicked as a smile tugs at her lips. “Please, Alley-cat? I’ll owe ya.”

  “I swear I’ll be a perfect gentleman; I can sit in the back and you can sit in the front away from me, or vice versa.”

  I look at Elijah and then Becky and growl under my breath. “You’ll owe me big time,”

  Becky’s smile widens and she claps her hands together. She suddenly grabs Elijah’s shirt by the collar and hauls him in close to her face. “You do anything to screw this up, and I’ll personally chop your balls off. Slowly. With a dull knife. She’s the only sister I have. You got it?”

  Where did that come from?

  I’m kind of scared of Becky right now, so I can’t imagine how Elijah must be feeling. He holds up both his hands. “I swear to God, I’d chop them off myself if anything happened to her.” His words are low and precise. There’s a seriousness to his tone I’ve never heard before.

  “Good.” Becky narrows her eyes at him.

  I step back, and for a moment, both of them are unrecognizable to me. “Um . . . okay,” I say. “Right. Well, I’m going then.”

  Becky smiles at me and hugs me close to her body. Her demeanor relaxes when she looks away from Elijah. “Thanks for being here, Alley-cat. You’re the most important person in my life, and I’m so happy you were here to share this with me.” She tightens her arms around me and gives me a fast kiss on the cheek.

  “You rocked it up there.”

  Her face glows with happiness, her eyes bright. “Yeah, I did, hey?” Others may mistake Becky’s confidence for arrogance, but I know her better than anyone else in the world and I know she’s proud of herself.

  “Text me when you get home,” I say to her before I turn and start walking away.

  “Love you,” she yells, but she’s already gone, plugging her guitar back in and seamlessly blending back into the song.

  Elijah’s walking close behind me, but when we get to the exit, he leaps ahead and opens the door for me. He waits until I’m out before he takes a few quick strides to catch up to me. “The cab stand is just there,” he says, pointing down the street to our left.

  “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

  We swiftly walk the quarter of the block toward a line of yellow cabs sitting idle in the middle of the night. “You know,” Elijah says when we reach them, “she’s really good. I knew that from school band. But tonight, she’s something else.”

  I get the feeling he’s into her, and although I’m a little jealous, I understand.

  We get to the first cab and Elijah opens the front and back doors for me. “Whichever you choose, I’ll take the other one,” he says while giving me a genuine smile for the first time.

  “It’s okay, we can both sit in the back.”

  “You sure?” he asks, looking somewhat conflicted.

  “If you don’t want t
o, then sit in the front.” I get in, close the door, slide to the other side and put my seatbelt on, giving the driver my address. I look out the window and wait for Elijah to do whatever the hell he’s going to do. I hear the door open and then the bench seat dips down as he gets in next to me.

  Biting on the inside of my cheek I turn to look at Elijah. “About time,” I say.

  “Can’t be too sure you don’t still have those germs,” he teases back, and an unexpected laugh rips out of me.

  “Anyway,” I say, “thanks for making sure I get home okay. I’ve got rehearsal in the morning and an exam in a couple of days and I really need to get some sleep. Besides, Mom and Dad will be so angry if they go to my room and see I’m not there.”

  “I’ve seen you practice ballet at school. You’re . . .” He pauses for a few seconds and says softly, “You’re unbelievable.”

  I feel my face scrunch in question. “You’ve seen me practice?” Even though I take lessons at the dance studio I go to, I also like to get in some extra rehearsals at school during my breaks.

  “Sometimes at lunch, but mostly during your free periods. I’ve seen you doing all those stretching and turning things in the auditorium as I walk by.”

  Squinting my eyes as if the sun is glaring down at me, I frown and open my mouth to say something to Elijah. He’s turned and looking out his window as his right hand taps his leg erratically. It’s then I know he’s full of crap. “Yeah right. You watch me dance. Good one, Elijah.”

  He whips his head around to look at me, there’s a question and maybe a little bit of hurt on his face. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Huh.”

  “What?” I’m starting to feel bad, but that’s probably the reaction he’s looking for.

  “Nothing.” He turns back to the window.

  The air in the back of the cab becomes stiflingly uncomfortable. I want to ask him what he means by it all, but I don’t want to be caught up in his web. I hear how other girls talk about him and the promises he makes, and then I hear about how he breaks their hearts. I’m not interested in becoming an Elijah Turner statistic.