The show had gone up an hour late, but it had gone up. She’d gone round and round with Shane, who was in one of his funks, talking about how his fans were getting killed because he played music and saying that he needed to stop. It worried Lark.
At any rate, it was good to see Shane happy about the article. They had just arrived at the hotel where they’d be staying for the MTV Movie Awards, and during the whole trip, Shane had talked about nothing except getting to see this website. He was trying to get his publicist on the phone, because he wanted to put a link to it on The Wrenching’s homepage. He wanted everyone on earth to see it.
What he wouldn’t talk about was what the article was actually about. Why was he so excited about it? And why wouldn’t he focus on anything else about the conversation she’d had with the journalist, like the fact that Lark told the journalist that she and Shane were dating? When she’d told Shane, he’d just shrugged. “Well, it’s the truth,” he said.
Lark didn’t know if she wanted journalists digging around in her past. She didn’t like to think about her past herself. She definitely didn’t want the entire world to think about it or know about it. Besides what had happened to Jimmy...well...she didn’t want anyone to dig that up. She didn’t want to think about Jimmy. Ever.
But Shane was stuck on his single-minded purpose, so the minute they checked in, he tore upstairs to their suite, plugged his computer in, and waited anxiously for the computer to boot up. Apparently, seeing it on his mobile screen hadn’t been enough for him.
Lark looked around the new suite they were staying in. It was as opulent as the others they’d been staying in. This one had an enormous, wide-screen TV. She’d never seen a TV so big. There were TVs in every room, even the bathroom. Lark was suddenly struck with an intense desire to watch television in the bathtub.
“Hey Shane?” she asked. “Do you mind if I take a bath?”
“What?” said Shane.
“I’m gonna take a bath.”
“What?” said Shane.
“Never mind,” she said. It was silly to think he’d pay any attention to her when he was so focused on this damned fucking article. Lark wanted to see it too. She was worried about it. What was it about? Why was Shane so excited about it? He generally didn’t like attention from the press. It didn’t make any sense. And why had that journalist had Shane’s personal cell number? That couldn’t be a good move, could it? She could publish his private number! Did Shane have any sense at all?
Unless there was something about this journalist that was different than other journalists. She was female, after all. Maybe something was going on between them. Lark didn’t want to feel jealous. And she didn’t want to think about Shane having a relationship with another woman. But he was a rock star, wasn’t he? Were rock stars ever very concerned with fidelity?
Lark started running water into the massive tub in the hotel room. It was made from marble, and the fixtures on it had jeweled accents. God. It seemed a little much. The water got hot quickly, though, and began to fill the tub. Lark undressed, carefully folding her clothes and leaving them on the counter, where they wouldn’t get wet. She moved one of the fluffy white towels to just outside the bath so that she could dry off when she got out. She slid into the warm water, a sigh of pleasure escaping her lips.
There was some bubble bath stuff, but Lark didn’t add it to the water. She didn’t like the way the soap clung to her skin after a bubble bath. It made her feel slippery. Not clean. So she was nearly neck deep in warm, clear water when Shane burst into the bathroom.
“The website’s down,” he said.
Shane had never seen her naked before. They might be dating and sleeping in the same bed, but they weren’t having sex. Not yet. And this was not exactly how she wanted Shane to see her naked body for the first time. “Get out!” Lark cried, covering herself as best as she could.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“I did, yes, and it doesn’t change the fact that I need privacy right now!”
“But the website—”
“Fuck the website! Get out of the bathroom, now!”
Shane looked at her with wounded eyes, and she felt guilty for yelling. But he left.
* * *
Tim collapsed into his desk chair and surveyed the surroundings of his office. He didn’t have a cluttered office, but he had a full one. His desk was a mess at the moment, littered with open files and pieces of paper, practically obscuring his pictures of family and friends. His computer was framed with different colored sticky notes. And that was just the desk. He had three file cabinets full of files. Information he wanted to keep. And he had to pack all of this stuff up. Now.
He’d just been fired.
This was the first time in his life he’d ever been fired. As a kid, he’d once stopped going into work at The Stock Room. When he stopped showing up, he assumed he got fired. But he’d kind of quit too. This, at least, was the first time anyone had told him to his face, “Pack your stuff and be out of the office by the end of the day.” Tim was still reeling from it. He couldn’t quite believe it. Couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that it had happened, because it didn’t seem right. He didn’t deserve to be fired. He was stunned.
He guessed he needed to try to find some boxes. He could probably use some copy paper boxes. They were good-sized, sturdy boxes. He wondered how many he’d need. Four? Maybe five.
His phone rang. Tim checked the caller ID. Whitney Eros. Of fucking course. He considered letting his voicemail get it, but he couldn’t do that to Whitney. So he picked up the phone. “Hey,” he said.
“Tim?”
“Yeah.”
“Shane Adams just called me. He’s unhappy. Well, that’s an understatement. Why is the website down?”
“Tony took it down. Boss guys here said that if he didn’t take it down, he’d get fired too.”
“Fired too? Tim, what happened?”
“I got fired,” said Tim. “Just happened.”
“Because of the website?”
“Because of the article,” he said. “I’ve been on thin ice for a while. I got talked to a few times about wasting company resources pursuing something we were never going to print. I bobbed my head and told them I was done with it but kept trying to get the article out there. And so, they fired me.”
“They can’t fire you over that,” Whitney said.
“You wouldn’t think so. But they just did.”
“Well fucking A,” said Whitney. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. Tell Shane Adams I’m sorry about the article. I know he’s going to be a pain in your ass about it.”
“Don’t worry about me. Besides, Shane apparently has a new girlfriend. Some sweet-voiced girl named Lark. So maybe she’ll keep him from having a break down.”
Lark? “I used to know someone named Lark,” said Tim. “It’s an odd name, isn’t it? Different, I mean.”
“I think it’s pretty.” Whitney sounded a little confused, as if she wasn’t really sure why the conversation had turned in this direction.
“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “It’s a pretty name.” He paused. “Have you ever met anyone else with that name?”
“Well, no.”
“I wonder if it could be the same Lark.”
Whitney laughed. “That would be great for me. Maybe you could get me an interview.”
An interview? Was she insane? “Whitney, you aren’t thinking about trying to write another article about Shane Adams are you?”
“Why not? No one knows he has a girlfriend. I could break the story.”
“No magazine on earth will publish an article about Shane Adams right now. I thought you realized that. My advice to you would be to do your best to forget Shane Adams even exists.”
Whitney was quiet. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Well, I’m letting this article go,” said Tim. “It ruined my life. I’m moving on.”
“Hey, I don’t blame you. And for what it�
�s worth, I’m sorry. If I’d never come to you with it, this would never—”
“No blame, okay, Whitney? It’s no one’s fault. I definitely don’t blame you.”
“Thanks.”
“We, uh, should keep in touch anyway, even if we’re not working on the article together.”
“Definitely.”
“Good, then.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Tim sat back in his chair and stared at his desk. Packing. Right. He couldn’t help thinking about the fact that Shane Adams’ new girlfriend was called Lark. He remembered the only Lark he’d ever known. Remembered her quite well. When he’d first met her, he remembered thinking she was sweet. She’d seemed like such a nice girl. Quiet. Graceful. With dark hair. He remembered that at the first family dinner she’d come to, she’d hid behind Jimmy almost the entire time, too shy to speak to anyone else. She’d seemed very sweet when they’d met her then.
But dating Lark Thomas had destroyed his brother. Jimmy had met Lark in October. By September of the next year, he was dead. Shot himself. And before that... Tim hadn’t enjoyed watching Jimmy deteriorate. He’d gone from a warm, open guy with a loud laugh and smiles in his eyes to a hollow, sallow, depressed wreck. Tim blamed Lark. He didn’t know if it was fair, exactly, but he saw that Jimmy changed after that girl appeared in his life. Lark had done something to him.
Sometimes, towards the end, that summer, Tim remembered seeing Lark at a couple family picnics. She and Jimmy would huddle in the shade away from everyone else. Jimmy wouldn’t speak much. When he did, it didn’t always make much sense. Lark would stare at him, and Tim could just swear that there was something in her eyes. Well, it was crazy. His wife at the time, Maria, would always tell him it was crazy. Maria would say, “Tim, you’re just overprotective of your little brother. That’s why you don’t like his girlfriend.”
But it was more than simply disliking her, Tim knew. He really didn’t like her. He loathed her. It was because something about Lark Thomas made his skin crawl. When she looked at his brother, it was as if there were something in her eyes. Something evil. As though she wasn’t totally human or something.
Maybe it was crazy. But he’d never trusted that girl. And he was convinced that Jimmy never would have killed himself if he’d never met her.
Chapter Nine
“So you are dating her?” Chris said quietly, running his finger around the rim of his shot glass.
“Well, yeah. I am. She’s awesome,” said Shane.
Chris was happy to actually get Shane alone for half a second. Since he’d started hanging around this Lark chick, he was up her ass twenty-four seven. But at least Shane was going on stage more often now and throwing less diva fits before shows. Chris guessed it was kind of a good thing. Mandy and the rest of the band practically worshipped at the shrine of Lark. If he had to listen to Mandy go off one more time about her (“That girl is a godsend for Shane. Thank God he found her.”) he might go absolutely apeshit. He’d wanted to talk to Shane, just the two of them.
The two of them were sitting in Chris’ hotel room, drinking whiskey. It was four hours until the MTV Movie Awards. Chris knew they shouldn’t get wasted, but Shane kept goading him into shots. They were on their fourth.
Shane started to pour more whiskey into their shot glasses, but Chris stopped him. “Whoa,” he said. “We’re gonna be on national television in a few hours. Let’s not look like drunken jackasses, okay?”
Shane laughed. “Okay. Point taken.” He sat back in his chair and studied the whiskey bottle’s label. “So, uh, what’s up, man?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why’d you wanna hang out?”
“I miss hanging out with you.”
“And that’s all?”
That wasn’t all. But Chris didn’t know how to put it without sounding like a crazy idiot. “I don’t like Lark,” he said finally.
“Yeah. She says that you’re pretty rude to her. What do you have against her?”
What did he have against her exactly? The girl had always rubbed him the wrong way, ever since the first moment he’d seen her in the back of Shane’s bus. It was like, whenever that chick was around, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. She made him feel... But that was crazy. “I just get a bad vibe,” he said. “I don’t think you should be so close to her so fast. I mean, she was a fan, right? She’s using you for money.”
“She won’t let me buy her concert tickets, and she still sells clothes that she makes outside the shows. She’s not trying to use me for money.”
“I just don’t get it,” Chris said, grasping for something, anything to say that made sense. The past few weeks, his hatred for Lark had become so intense at points, that he’d questioned his sanity. “What’s so great about this girl, anyway? It is ‘cause she’s young? Does she give phenomenal head or something?”
“We’re not fucking.”
“What?” Chris didn’t believe that. That was Lark had told him, but he didn’t believe it. “You’re serious?”
“Totally serious. It hasn’t happened.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think she’s attracted to me,” Shane said, looking a little worried.
“Fuck that, you’re Shane Adams.” Chris paused. “You two really aren’t having sex?”
“Really,” said Shane. “You were gonna say she’s a gold digging whore, right? That she’s out to get pregnant and sue me for child support?”
“No, I wasn’t gonna say that,” said Chris, even though that was exactly what he was going to say.
“Well, she’s not,” said Shane. “So don’t worry about me, dude. Everything is cool. She’s cool. I feel happier than I have in years. It’s really, really good. Why can’t you just be happy for me?”
“I have a feeling.” God that sounded stupid! But what the hell? He listened to Shane tell him all kinds of ridiculous, crazy-sounding shit. Shane could listen to him for once.
“A feeling?”
“This might sound crazy, but whenever I see Lark, I just get freaked out. As though there’s something wrong with her. She makes me feel... I don’t know how to explain it. Creeped out.”
Shane was quiet for a second. “That does sound crazy.”
“Yeah, well, you think your music is murdering your fans, so people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
Shane raised his eyebrows. “Point taken,” he said again, sighing.
The two were quiet for a few minutes. Shane picked up the whiskey bottle. Poured them two more shots. Wordlessly, they took them.
“You know, Chris, it’s not my music that’s doing it,” said Shane. “I keep trying to tell you about the night back in Tennessee, when we were on mushrooms.”
Shane had mentioned this before. “The night you got eaten by the fireball.”
“Yeah, that night.”
“I remember. You got eaten by the fireball, you met God or something, and he told you that you’d be a big star. Weird, sure, but you were on mushrooms, dude.”
“That’s not exactly what happened.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t think it was God.”
“Shane. Come on. It was a hallucination.”
“So, then, what you’re feeling about Lark. Maybe it’s just a side effect of whatever drugs you’re doing. Maybe it’s just a hallucination.”
“Maybe,” Chris said. He didn’t know, but he didn’t think so. He was certain that there was definitely something terribly wrong with Lark Thomas and that his best friend should not be around her. Positive. But maybe he was crazy. “I just feel like I need to warn you.”
“Screw you. You never like any of my girlfriends.”
“That’s not true. I liked that model you dated. What’s her face? Kista?”
“You liked her ‘cause you were screwing her too.”
“Yeah. Well. Did I ever apologize for that?”
“I think so.”
“Anyway, I just worry about you
.”
“Fuck it, man. No. You’re being an asshole is what you’re doing. I don’t care if you don’t like Lark. Don’t like her. That’s fine. But you won’t be fucking rude to her anymore. If you can’t talk to her nicely, don’t fucking talk to her at all. And that goes for tonight when we’re in the limo together, because the last thing I want to happen is for you to ruin the fucking MTV Movie Awards.”
“Don’t be like this.”
“Don’t be like this? You’re attacking my girlfriend. Back off.”
Great. Now Shane was pulling a bunch of dumb macho shit. Wonderful. Chris got up and went to the door of his room. “I’ll back off,” he said tightly. “Sure. I think it’s time for you to go.”
* * *
Lark was still in a robe when Shane burst back into their suite, clutching a whiskey bottle. He slammed the door behind him, walked over to a table, and pounded the bottle down on it. Lark winced. They hadn’t had much time to talk since he’d walked in on her in the bath. He’d run off to see Chris, which Lark had hoped would be good for the two of them. Shane sometimes talked about missing his best friend. She wanted a reconciliation between the two of them. It didn’t look like that had happened.
Lark took a breath, started to say something, and then hesitated. She went back to her nail polish. She was painting her nails a deep color of red for the awards ceremony that night. Nail polish was a luxury she didn’t normally indulge in anymore.
Shane stood next to the table where he’d put the whiskey bottle, shaking because he was so angry. “I’m going to kill Chris,” he said suddenly, his voice low and venomous. “That bastard called me over there so he could try to do some kind of smear campaign on you. He’s fucking insane and probably jealous or something, and I wish to hell he’d just fucking grow up.”
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