by Elle Bennett
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. It was nice to see you again, April. You were always one of my favorite students, even though you dropped my class early on. It’s good to see that you didn’t waste your potential. You will make a name for yourself, and I’ll be sure to buy your album when it comes out.”
With a shaky smile, I turned around and headed back to the parking lot. Ms. Moon was more of a mother figure for me in the short time I knew her than Cassidy ever was. She knew me better than Cassidy did. Yet it was always Cassidy’s voice in the back of my mind when I played the piano.
As I drove home, I made the decision to listen to Ms. Moon, and not to listen to the words that had turned to poison in the back of my mind over the last five years. The words Cassidy had said were cruel, and the woman had given birth to me, sure, but she also abandoned me before I even knew that two plus two equaled four. I didn’t want to disappoint the only person in my life who had believed in me before Peristerophobia came along. So I called Andrew. And I said yes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
You hold onto the edge
Your fingers grip my skin
Let go
It’s time to let go
“A Breath Of Fresh Water,” Peristerophobia
Everything Ms. Moon had said to me was the reason I ended up backstage at The Walnut Tree on my day off, waiting for Peristerophobia to start. All I had to do was wait for my cue, then I’d be up on the stage, in front of people who saw me on an almost daily basis. And I’d be in front of an A&R rep who could determine the future of my all-time favorite band. He could determine my future.
No pressure.
It felt so strange to be in the backstage portion of The Walnut Tree. I practically lived at the venue, but my home was up front, stamping people’s hands as they walked in. I never really went to the back, let alone to the stage.
Andrew’s arms wrapped around my shoulders as I stared up at the ceiling.
“You ready for this?” he asked with a slight smile. His voice had a nervous edge to it that I’d only really heard once before in my life.
It was such an alien emotion coming from him.
“I don’t know. I’m nervous. I don’t know how I’m going to do this -” I began to say before I was interrupted by his lips on mine.
He kissed me for a few moments, his tongue barely grazing my bottom lip, then he trailed his lips up to my ear so he could whisper, “I believe in you. You’re going to be amazing.”
I melted into his arms, then I felt an instrument poke into my back. I jumped at the cold touch. I turned around to see Ken standing there with his bass.
“Hey. We need to set up soon. The sucky shit band is almost finished,” Ken said.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Seriously? That’s their name?”
“No, that’s just what I call them. They’re awful.”
After the opener finished, we set up all our gear. Andrew spoke into the microphone.
“Hey guys,” he said to the audience. “How the fuck are you tonight?”
He was starting out in his usual way, but I could see his hands shaking slightly, his voice wavering in ways that I was sure no one else would notice. To the naked eye, he seemed fine. But I knew better.
I left backstage and hopped off the side of the stage, which basically meant I was in the crowd. There wasn’t a good place to watch the show other than in the crowd, and I really wanted to see Andrew perform. Especially since this was a big show. It could change everything for him and the guys.
I looked out at the audience and saw a few familiar faces. Calvin was sitting on the couch at the far end of the venue, bobbing his head in time with the beat. He seemed to be staring at the stage intensely. Joan was standing in the middle of the room, smiling proudly up at her brother. I gave them both little waves and realized I had completely forgotten to tell Erica about the show. Not that she would have cared. Or shown up.
The energy in the venue was electric, and I couldn’t stop myself from dancing around and being ridiculously turned on every time I looked up at Andrew.
He began to play a slower song, and I looked around the crowd again, to see if I could potentially spot Neil. My eyes wandered to the very back of the venue, where a table sat up higher than the rest of the crowd. And there he was. A tall blond man in a pair of jeans and a button up shirt that screamed “corporate.”
He really had shown up. Little Plaid Dress Records was essentially there in the body of one single man, ready to hear everything Peristerophobia had to offer. Everything I had to offer.
Shit.
I grasped my necklace and took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. Andrew believed in me. Ms. Moon believed in me. Joan believed in me. I had people rooting for me. I wasn’t trash. I wasn’t my mother. I was April fucking O’Connell, and I could do it.
Andrew sang “My Favorite Month” next. After he finished, he took a sip of water, then said, “Alright, who wants to meet the girl who inspired me to write that song?” the crowd cheered. “The people have spoken. April, get your ass up here.”
I smiled and hopped up with some help from someone standing in front of the stage. I kissed Andrew on the cheek and whispered in his ear, “You’re doing great. And you’re really fucking hot.”
He smiled, then turned back to his microphone.
“This is April O’Connell. I don’t know how many of you were at the Noir show were we sang together -” a bunch of people cheered. “Oh, good. So you remember her. Well, April has agreed to sing this song with me again tonight. It took a lot of convincing, and my jaw is sore from begging her to do this, so I hope you guys enjoy it. It’s a little song called ‘Spackling.’”
I stood in front of the piano they’d set up for me. It still had my fingerprints on it from the last time I’d used it. I placed a hand over a smudge on the keyboard, the lines matching up with my fingers perfectly. With a deep breath, I began to play.
Slowly, the rest of the band joined in, and I concentrated on Andrew’s face. I searched his eyes as I sang. He nodded at me, letting me know I was doing fine.
I saw some couples kissing each other in the audience as I sang, swaying slightly to the melody. It wasn’t a song that people could jump around with, cheer along to, sing along with. But there were a few cell phones up in the air, taking pictures, recording. I took that as a good sign and I felt my face go red.
“You make me regret every single fuck I ever wasted,” I sang. My eyes went back to Andrew, who was grinning with pride. Heat rose further up my face, reaching the tips of my ears.
The moment I finished the song, I ran to jump offstage.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Andrew called out to me over the applause of the audience. “Get your ass back up here!”
“Why?” I yelled back.
“I need you for the next song!”
Curious, I hopped back up on stage to see what song he could possibly be referring to. There were no songs I sang with them other than “Spackling.” Did he just want me up there for eye candy or something?
He raised his eyebrows at me and gave Ken, Doug, and Chad a nod. They all began to play the opening of the song, and I realized they’d totally planned this.
Bastards.
Andrew sang the first lines of “Dancing Queen,” and handed me back my microphone as he sang. With a shake of my head, I took it and let out a laugh. I figured there was no harm in embracing the song. I did love ABBA, after all.
I was a little frustrated with him, since he made me sing a song that I hadn’t rehearsed, and we were not only in front of a large crowd, but an important person in the music business. But I ended up having so much fun dancing around and flirting with Andrew as I sang. I got out of my mind and simply performed. I acted like we were in my old apartment, spackling, enjoying ourselves, talking and taking steps to get deeper in each other’s heads and hearts. I had fun, and that was all that mattered.
When the song ended,
I asked him if he needed me on stage after that. He shook his head, and I ran off. He turned back to the crowd and I hopped back off the stage.
“How many of you know the lyrics to ‘Eviscerating You In Chords?’” Andrew asked. The crowd cheered. “Good! Sing along! I want you to sing so loud that I can’t even hear my own fucking voice!”
The crowd cheered louder and Joan weaved her way through the crowd. She grabbed my arm and gave me a big smile.
“You did an amazing job!” she said. At least, that was what I thought she’d said. I saw her mouth move, but I couldn’t hear a word over the combination of the crowd and the band. I grabbed her by the hand and dragged her into the bathroom, where I could hear her better.
“What was that?” I asked. The sounds of Peristerophobia still came through the walls, but it was muffled.
“You. Were. Awesome.”
I shrugged. I said, “I guess.”
“No, seriously, you were amazing. Stop doubting yourself. It was endearing at first, but now you’re annoying me every time you say that. Because you know you’re good. So. Stop it,” she said.
She was wrong. I didn’t know for sure if I was good. But I decided that it wasn’t a good time to bring it up. Instead, I changed the subject.
“They’re doing so well. It feels right. The Walnut Tree has a really good vibe tonight. Like, the energy in the air, it’s good. Something big is going to happen here tonight. I can feel it,” I said.
“I think you’re right,” Joan said. “I think this is it. For the guys and for you.”
I rolled my eyes but I couldn’t help but smile. We walked back out to the audience, pushed our way to the very front of the stage. Peristerophobia was towards the end of the song. But they continued to play the final part over and over again as Andrew spoke.
“Give it up to the band before us! They deserve another round of applause, right?” Andrew said. I knew he was just being kind. “And another round of applause for the wonderful, beautiful, April O’Connell, who allowed me to drag her onto stage tonight!”
I heard an excess of cheers coming from one side of the venue. Calvin was sitting over there, with a huge grin on his face. It felt good to know that despite the fact that I hadn’t told him about the show, he was still there, cheering me on.
“I’d ask you to cheer for us again, but I’m not that pompous,” Andrew said.
“Liar, you pompous ass!” Joan shouted. I was pretty sure that Andrew couldn’t hear it over the roar of the crowd, but it made me smile.
“This is going to be the final song of the night! You’ve been a great crowd! Thank you!”
He began to play “Gap Toothed Vixen” and the energy Peristerophobia was giving off took over every single one of my senses. I was happily drowning in the music.
After Andrew finished the song, he hopped off the stage and gave me a very sweaty hug. I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was going to have way too much energy when we got home after the show. That always led to great sex. Of course, that made me happy, but the fact that he hugged me while drenched in sweat had the opposite effect.
“Damn it, Andrew!” I yelled, looking down at my now-soaked shirt. I tried to wipe my sweaty hands off on my jeans, but it only made it worse.
I felt disgusting, but strangely okay with it.
A few minutes later, as people began to leave the venue, I saw the tall blond man that I assumed was Neil walk over to us.
“Hey,” he said. He gave the five of us a head-nod hello. “So, you’re Peristerophobia.”
I shook my head, my eyes wide.
“I’m not. They are. I mean, I sing one song with them. Two, I guess, tonight. But I’m not in the band. I’m just Andrew’s girlfriend.”
“She’s just being modest. She’d be a member of the band if she gave into my pleas for her to join us,” Andrew said.
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and I gave Neil a tight smile.
“Whatever. Peristerophobia is great, that’s all I care about. KALT wasn’t kidding when they told us that you were worth checking out. I don’t know what the fuck Little Plaid Dress has been doing without your sound all these years. It’s exactly what I’ve been searching for.”
My eyebrows lifted up. He loved the band. He seriously loved them. Holy shit.
“So, are you interested in signing with Little Plaid Dress Records?” he asked. “I’d like to snatch you guys up before someone else does, so if we could get all the legal stuff out of the way, that would be great.”
All of our eyes went on each other, then back to Neil, in shock.
“Fuck yeah!” Andrew finally said, while Ken, Chad, and Doug all looked flabbergasted. They nodded slowly, like they weren’t sure what was even happening.
Frankly, I was right there with them.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
If I can handle you, my dear
I can handle anything at all
Stay by my side
And we’ll be invincible
“Invincible,” Peristerophobia
“So, big news,” Andrew said as he walked into our apartment a few weeks later.
“Everything is big news these days,” I said with a smile. I put down the book I was reading and watched Andrew as he gave Pigeon a scratch hello on the head. He sat down next to me and gave me a kiss.
“I talked to Vic today.”
“Really? Vic Hanzel? Like, the actual Vic from Like, I Like That?”
“Yeah, I mean. He’s kind of my boss now. He does own the record label,” Andrew said. “So, anyway, he and I talked today. He heard a certain song from our Walnut Tree set and he wants it on the record.
Fuck no. I shook my head.
“Before you say no -” he began. I interrupted him by saying just that.
“No.”
“Come on.”
“No,” I said firmly.
Andrew placed both hands on each side of my face. My shaking head went still.
“We just finished recording ‘Shooting Targets’ and Vic told me how he saw a video of us singing together. He loved it. He loved you. I promised him I’d at least talk to you about it. And I want this. I really want this. I want the world to hear you and I singing together. I don’t want you to hide your talent.”
Recording myself and having people pay their hard-earned money for it was a completely different story than singing it for a night on stage with the guys. What would it say about me, that I could only get myself on an album by sleeping with the lead singer of the band? Didn’t that put the nail in the coffin, officially make me just like Cassidy?
And what if the song was the least listened to on the album? What if I looked online and every song got five out of five stars, except for “Spackling?” People could talk about me. More importantly, Cassidy could find me again. I knew technically, she could find me again in town, it wasn’t like I was that far from where she’d abandoned me. But she was unlikely to look for me again after everything she’d said to me when I was fifteen. Unless, of course, she found out that I was on an album. That I’d given music another shot. That her daughter might just have some connections in the music business. Once she knew, she’d look for me again. I knew she would. And that was the last thing I wanted.
It wasn’t her genre, so there was a lower chance of her finding out about it, especially if I was just featured on one song, but honestly, that was a big concern for me. I didn’t want Cassidy to come back to me. I didn’t want her to make me give up for a second time. I was just starting to feel comfortable playing the piano for myself again. It took me five years to get back to that point. I didn’t want her around to bring me down.
And if that meant hiding my supposed talent from the world, then so be it.
“Don’t answer now. Think about it, then get back to me. I’ll make dinner while you think,” Andrew said. He kissed me on the cheek before he stood up. “Oh, and not to sway your decision or anything, but Vic expects an answer by the end of the week, and he said that �
��My Favorite Month’ doesn’t get a spot on the album if we don’t do ‘Spackling.’”
My head snapped to look at him and I stood up to walk over to him.
“What? Why?”
“He said they go together, that we can’t have one without the other, it’ll ruin the flow of the album, or something like that? The guys and I have some say for some things, but other things, we have no control over.”
“My Favorite Month” was one of my favorite songs of all time, not just of Peristerophobia’s songs. And not just because it was written about me. I genuinely believed it was an excellent song. I didn’t want it to be excluded because of me.
It was our song, and the album wouldn’t be right without it.
I looked down at the ground as Andrew poured leftover spaghetti sauce over noodles. I let out a sigh and looked up at him.
“I’ll do it.”
He finished pressing buttons on the microwave and dashed over to me to give me a hug. I kept my arms folded and rested my head on his chest.
“Don’t act so defeated. It’s a good thing that you’re singing with us,” he said. I shook my head. It wasn’t a good thing. Cassidy might find me again. “April. It’s a good thing. Thank you.”
He kissed me once on the lips, soft, yet firm. I gave him a small smile.
“I’m doing this for you, and for the song. It deserves to be on the record, you’re right. I don’t feel ready to record, but it’s a great song. So is ‘My Favorite Month.’ I’m just… I’m scared, Andrew. Performing is like breathing for you, and it’s not like that for me anymore. I gave up on all this, and now it’s suddenly all landing in my lap, and that doesn’t seem fair. I shouldn’t get to do this. I don’t have your dedication, your tenacity. I haven’t put in half the work you have.”
“You deserve this,” he said. “You’ve worked your ass off. You practiced that song until it was perfect for the show. You’re just as dedicated as I am. You’re amazing.”
I felt a blush creep up my neck and I looked back down on the floor. Andrew placed a finger under my chin and lifted my head so my eyes met his once more.