“This is supposed to go on your bed,” he would say or “this belongs on the floor.”
It took a very stern and motherly flight attendant to scare Ben into turning off his phone when we were preparing to land. It made me giggle, and I appreciated Ben’s dedication to his project.
As soon as we hit the baggage claim in the airport, I could see a plethora of photographers and fans with their phones out, ready to catch our every move.
I wore sunglasses, which I had figured out helped with the constant flashing from cameras. I had my hair up in braided French twist and a scarf around my neck that was slightly tucked into my moto-jacket. My outfit was simple and comfortable, and when people recognized me as Ben’s sister, they wanted as much of me as they wanted of him. Even Splinter got some attention. Despite Ben’s pleas, we weren’t able to stay long enough to mingle with the fans; we had interviews to get to. The fans left us alone after Ben’s manager came in and asked them to disperse. He had to work harder to get the paparazzi to leave, though.
We traveled from the airport to the hotel then had an hour to rest up. After that, the boys had to get ready for interviews. I wasn’t going to be a part of them this time. Ben was entirely intent on keeping me out of harm’s way, which included the sharp-tongued journalists who wanted to know everything about me in light of Everett’s death and the photo surfacing on the internet.
Ben took a shower the moment we entered our adjacent rooms in the hotel, and Splinter went off to take a nap.
I sat and scrolled through Twitter, knowing all too well that our arrival into this metropolitan area was all over the Internet by now. I saw pictures of me hiding my face despite the sunglasses and the large scarf, pictures of my brother trying to keep me safe from the intrusive cameras. Then, something caught my eye. I saw a familiar face in the crowd behind us, and after zooming in, I remembered where I had seen the face in the photograph: it was Crosley’s best friend, Kingston.
Kingston had told me on the last day of school he would be traveling before heading off to college. It made sense that all the anonymous texts I had gotten had picture evidence of me doing something the sender thought to be wrong and that the person sending them could very well be Crosley. Within all that swirling mess, I remembered the conversation we’d had before I left for Ben’s tour.
I had been at a party, and the conversation with Crosley had been dying down, much like the atmosphere of the little house party in the center of Brooklyn.
“I think we should call it quits. We don’t even like each other,” I’d said to him.
“I think you owe me, Bea.”
“How do I owe you a damned thing, Crosley?” I’d asked, reaching for more punch. Terribly afraid of becoming my mother, I had tried to stay away from the alcohol.
He’d grabbed my wrist as I was grabbing the ladle from the crystalline bowl.
“Crosley, your grip is a little tight.” I tried to break free. His grip had only tightened, and when I’d tried to get away, my struggling had only furthered his violence.
“Crosley, what is up with you?” I’d shouted, and then he’d slapped me.
“You owe me, Bea, and you aren’t quite finished paying up yet.”
He had pulled me toward the bedroom, and I had taken note that the few people left in the party had been ignoring us. I’d feared the worst. Was this what he’d meant? That I was to pay a debt with my unwilling body?
He’d hiked up the skirt my mother had always said was too short. Chills had run down my spine, and a cold numbness had rolled over me. Ultimately, nothing had happened. Yeah, he’d roughed me up pretty bad, but he wasn’t in the mood. In fact, his mood had rapidly shifted from anger to lust then despair. Crosley had been on the floor sobbing. I’d tried to console him in hopes that he wouldn’t lash out at me again, and he’d only grown increasingly frustrated with me. I’d left the room then the house with him shouting at me the whole way.
“You owe me, Beatrice Morrison! You either pay up, or you’ll die wishing you had listened to me when you had the chance!”
When I’d gotten home, my mother had been missing—though, the scent of her alcohol-infused musk lingered. I’d gone to my room, certain that the scene between Crosley and me at the party had been our official breakup. However, when I’d returned to school the following Monday, as soon as I had entered the main hall, Crosley had come up to me with a big sloppy kiss.
He had been affectionate all day, and even though it was obvious I wasn’t into it, he’d forced me to pretend I was. That was the whole game. I had to pretend to enjoy the things he did, the things he said, and the fake relationship we put on for everyone to show that we were the big bad bitches of Rosewood. I wondered if this was what Mackynsie had gone through and if this was why she was so different when we reconnected. After being away from one another and going to different schools for a year, I could see how drastically she had changed.
Coming back to the picture on my phone, every little thing made sense. Crosley had money and the means for a hire-to-kill. His family probably had the money to hire multiple hit men and multiple attorneys to cover all the murders up if someone displeased them as much as I apparently had displeased Crosley. I never gave him what he wanted—a consummated relationship. He wanted that part of me so he could say he owned a part of me no one really else had.
Yeah, I’d had sex with boys (and the occasional girl), but none of it meant anything. The only time it had meant anything was when it had been with Everett. I didn’t love him—although, the moments we shared were still special to my heart. I missed him every day. A part of me still felt guilty that I couldn’t give him the love he deserved when he loved me so recklessly.
Caged up and refusing to experience my emotions, I believed that this was truly the root of my problem. I refused to feel at all; I refused to hurt, to love, to be angered or to be gracious. I refused to let my emotions get the best of me, and it was finally taking its toll.
“Bea, are you ready to go?” Ben called from the hotel bathroom adjoining our two rooms.
“As ready as I’m going to be.”
We grabbed our stuff, rounded up everyone else, and headed down to the lobby. We had an escort to and from the location of the interview. This one was for some magazine, and they would be recording parts of it for a YouTube session. Everyone was obsessed with the idea of getting an interview with Eden Sank since their only drummer had been shot to death and since the lead man’s little sister was a witness to it all. They wanted to know more about me, more about Everett’s last moments and, furthermore, what this meant for the band. Everett had been a drumming prodigy. I doubted they could hire Splinter permanently to take his place, despite how much he favored Everett in the drumming artistry. No one would be stupid enough to let Splinter’s talents go unnoticed forever, though. He was the reason the band was still playing shows and the reason the band was still together at this point.
When we got to the magazine headquarters, we were given lanyards with our all-access passes in them. As we went into the main offices, we were told that we were expected to wear them when walking about the main office and other offices surrounding the building. It was the only means we had to get in and out.
As we walked to our ultimate destination, I scanned every corner we passed. Anything could happen at any time. Crosley or his lackey Kingston could be here. While Kingston wasn’t as wealthy as Crosley, he still had enough to get him into any place he wanted without being on a list.
That meant he could be here watching me like a hawk, waiting for any sign of me slipping up and being unfaithful to Crosley. Crosley must have still felt that we were together. We’d never slept together, so it had never been official, at least in his eyes. For me, being with him had been pure torture, and the fact that I had put up with him for as long as I had made it official enough. The thing was, Crosley was more than a little crazy. I had always felt he wasn’t completely right in the head, and if I was right about this, about all the messag
es and the stalking, then I had to be right about Crosley from the beginning.
“Frances, c’mon. You’re lagging behind.” Splinter grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the lounge we were assigned to, and I swore I heard the clicking of a camera. Maybe I was being paranoid.
If I wanted to keep myself from going insane, I had to believe that money couldn’t buy anyone’s way into this place, and that the clicking of the camera was from one of the magazine photographers. This was a magazine office after all. I didn’t want to believe any of the things that were happening were actually happening.
My phone buzzed then, a text message. With a gulp, I tapped to open it, revealing a picture of me looking away from the camera lens and Splinter holding my hand.
Anonymous: Didn’t think I was going to stay away forever, did you? Looks like you’re slipping up, and you’re just about past due.
I tried to hide my trembling, my fear. I had to know who was behind this, and I was fairly certain I already did. I took a moment to go get a bottle of water, and that’s when I saw him: Kingston.
“Kingston?”
Realizing he had been discovered, he took off. I ran after him, except he was much faster than I. He had gotten a track and field scholarship to Yale on top of a drama scholarship.
I almost caught him, but by the time I reached him he was already out into the main street, blending in with all the pedestrians. My heart pounding, I went back up to the floor where the guys were. They didn’t appear to even notice I had left. No one except for me knew about this. This was a burden I had to carry on my own, and before long, I would be well past overdue with my supposed debt that was owed.
When I returned to the interview, everyone was all laughs and giggles. I remained quiet in the background, watching the interview unfold. Ben was amazing, the boys did great, and so did Splinter. For someone who’d had a curveball thrown at them during his internship turned temp drummer-ship, he was handling the fifteen minutes of fame pretty well.
We would be returning to New York after these few press days that remained. I didn’t know how or when I’d run into Crosley. I didn’t know what he had planned for me if I ran out of time in his mind. I didn’t know a damned thing.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Press week dragged on and on. Every day, we spent around twelve hours going between interviews and airport terminals. We were being taken all over the place. The only sense of normalcy I really had was when Ben grilled me about my likes and dislikes for his little project. When I was trying to sleep, though I wasn’t quite dreaming, I could sometimes hear him on the phone with his contractor, giving them further details they needed to complete his project. Working on making this house our home was really bringing us closer together, and it also proved to be a great distraction. With the sleep I was losing due to constant jet-lag and the never-ending traveling, I was thankful when we were given a full day’s rest when we entered New York. It was great to be home, yet at the same time, I knew we had a lot of time dedicated to publicity and interviews. Just a few more days and then we would be done and headed toward Madison Square Garden for the final three shows of this tour.
Ben was happy to be back in New York, and I couldn’t help but feel a mixture of anxiety and joy myself. Joy due to being in the place I was lucky enough to call home, and anxiety due to the fact that once news of my return began to spread, Crosley was going to be waiting for me.
Ben decided we should both take a long nap then he and I would go shopping. He wanted to take me to get a few new things for school, as well as a few things for our new home. It was weird saying “our home.” Though at the same time, it was so right. I always knew my home was wherever my brother was, and I knew he felt the same about me.
The fact that he was leaving LA, the place he had called home for the past six years, to watch out for me while I went to school made me feel lucky to have the privilege of calling him my big brother. He was uprooting and changing as much of his life as I was. I guess we both needed a new start after this tour ended.
We slept for about three hours, and I would have slept longer if Ben hadn’t woken me up. We went through my suitcase and culled all of my old, outdated, and hole-y clothes, bagging them up in hotel trash bags. There were some things I didn’t want to part with, things that held special meaning to me. Like the first Eden Sank shirt I’d ever made and the few things I had that matched Mackynsie’s wardrobe. I did need to start fresh. I couldn’t have matching days with Mackynsie anymore, so I threw out all the mini-skirts, all the shorts, tank tops, blouses, and dresses that she had bought me to match hers. I threw out all the things I had of Everett’s which thankfully, Ben never noticed. I threw out the old excess of my past, liberating myself.
When we were done trashing my old clothes, Ben called us a cab and took me on the biggest shopping spree of my life. I got clothes from all the stores’ fall collections that were starting to come in. I got new boots and shoes, stuff for my dorm room, and I even got some new makeup and things for my hair.
After we were done with our shopping, we walked down the Manhattan streets with all the bags, scouting cool places to catch a late lunch.
When we finally located a secluded place, we set our bags down, relaxing without the fear of being bothered. The waitress took our drink order then we scanned the menu. It was a nice little café, and I could smell fresh brewing coffee. I wanted to check my phone, except Ben had started a no-phone policy while we were together. I suppose it was a good idea—though, a part of me was itching to see if the news of our arrival had hit the inter-webs and to see if there were any new threatening text messages.
I had to make myself believe things weren’t as bad as they seemed. Maybe this was all some sort of hoax. Maybe it was…no, I knew better. There was no amount of self-assured lying that I could come up with in order to convince myself that what was happening wasn’t really happening.
“Frances, what are you going to order?”
“I don’t know.”
Silence fell over us again, and I kept feeling my phone buzzing on the inside of my jean pocket. Ben must have had the same sensation, since his hand instinctively went to pat his pocket only to remember the deal we made.
“I think the grilled chicken sounds good. You still like that, right?” Ben asked.
“Yeah, that does sound good. And yes, I still enjoy grilled chicken.”
Ben was always weirded out by the fact I preferred my food grilled over fried, especially with as much we loved junky takeout food. I had always been that way, and I doubted that it was going to change any time soon.
When the waitress came back to take our orders, Ben asked for their garden burger, and I asked for the grilled chicken. After she had left with our orders, I looked at Ben curiously.
“Since when do you eat garden burgers?” I asked with a teasing lilt in my voice.
“Since I decided to eat a little healthier.”
I giggled until I felt my phone buzzing again. Ben and I looked at each other—then, we silently agreed to give up the no-phone policy.
Opening every app that had an intimidating amount of notifications, I saw one thing right away—my face was everywhere. The picture that had been leaked was the picture from the night of Everett’s death.
“The murderer…took a picture of you…” Ben said quietly.
Soon enough, Ben was in a furious flurry of activity.
“I’m reporting the photo, and I’m calling my manager. This is going to cause a lot of damage.”
“Do you think it’s my fault?” I asked him.
“Do I think what is your fault?” he asked absently.
I couldn’t bear to look at him as our food was placed in front of us. I left his question unanswered. He didn’t know every single thing that was happening when I wasn’t by his side. He was oblivious.
A better question I should be asking myself is how could I possibly begin to ask for his help.
***
When we got back to the
hotel, I tore off all the tags and threw away all the boxes of my new clothes and shoes. I packed them neatly in my suitcase and laid out an outfit for the next day. A pair of ripped, acid-washed jeans, lace-up combat boots, and a black shirt that had something written on it in jagged lettering. I could hear Ben in the other room, shouting on his phone to his manager about making that picture disappear from the Internet. He wanted nothing more than to save me. Although, I also thought that partially he wanted to save himself. How could the band’s reputation survive with that picture of Frances Morrison—Ben Morrison’s baby sister—covered in Everett’s blood with his dying body cradled in her lap?
I had a feeling that if Ben yelled enough in the right pair of ears, someone would figure it out for us.
I went to sleep early that night. I didn’t want to deal with this, not on the day that was meant to give us a rest from the pressures of life on the road.
Now that this picture had leaked, there would be more questions to answer, and I didn’t know if I could hide in the background for much longer. So I slept. Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite find the solace I was looking for. My darkest fears had leached into my dreams, causing me to wake every few hours. I would sit up and stare blankly at the wall in front of me.
***
The next morning came too quickly. We were in such a hurry that I didn’t know what was a dream and what was reality. Everything was a blur, and I swore I could hear Everett’s voice along with the others, and I chastised myself about how crazy I was becoming. No one with a sound mind heard voices of the deceased. He was gone, and all I had left of him now was his memory, and the last picture of us together that shouldn’t have been taken in the first place.
Dressed in the outfit I had laid out last night, I went along on the ride from the hotel to the conference center in a daze. I was empty, numb all over again. I could tell Ben was worried about me, and as much as I wanted to take away his worry and make myself better, there was nothing I could do. There was nothing left for me to do to make this okay. All I could do was leave and put all of this behind me.
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