“You agree then?”
“Yeah,” said Shane. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. We have a deal.” He laughed and laughed and laughed.
* * *
Shane stopped talking. It had felt good to get that out. To tell someone. Anyone. While he’d been talking, relief had flooded his body. But now that he was done, he looked at Lark and anxiety seized him. He looked at her face, trying to read what she was thinking, but she looked blank. And she wasn’t saying anything. He wanted to prompt her. He wanted to know if she thought he was crazy. But he couldn’t. So he just waited, watching her face, feeling tension mount within him.
“Shane,” she said finally, “I don’t think your weird hallucination proves anything.”
“You don’t think it’s too weird to be a coincidence?” asked Shane. “I got famous after that. I did. And then people started disappearing.”
“I think it’s just that,” she said. “A coincidence. That’s all. And I don’t think you’re crazy, but I think you’re trying to blame yourself for something that isn’t your fault, and I don’t know why you’d want to do that.”
Shane sighed. “I don’t think it was a hallucination. I think it really happened.”
“You think you made a deal with the devil?” Lark smiled as she said this.
“Yes. I do. I think I did.”
“Well, then, he’s not keeping up his end of the bargain, is he? He said you could keep the souls. There aren’t any souls here.”
Shane looked away. This was the part where she’d really think he was nuts. If he told her, there’d really be no going back. He was going to do it, though. He had to get it all out. “What do you think the rats are?” he asked.
“What?” Lark demanded.
“The rats. I never bought them, you know. They started showing up after the first person disappeared. They followed me around. I decided to keep them. Sometimes, when I look in their eyes, I think I can see something in there. Something trapped.”
“Okay, that’s ridiculous.”
Oh. She was angry. Great. Pretty soon she was going to stalk out and tell him what a jerk he was and never speak to him again. And damn it, he really liked this girl. Liked her a hell of a lot. Didn’t know if he wanted to face being alive without her.
“Sorry,” said Shane.
“Besides, you’re wrong. You don’t have a new rat, and Rainey just disappeared.”
“Actually,” said Shane, picking up one of the rats he’d been holding before, “this one just showed up today.”
“So you’re telling me that inside that rat is the trapped soul of my best friend?!” Lark said. “I don’t believe that! I refuse to believe that. No fucking way.”
Shane didn’t say anything.
Lark took the rat from Shane. Held it up. Stared into its eyes. “I don’t see anything except rat,” she said, handing the rat back.
“I know it’s true, Lark,” he said. “I know that this is all my fault, and I need to stop playing. Maybe if I stop playing, it will stop. It will all stop.”
“No,” said Lark. “You need to play. People need you to play. I need you to play. Your music says things that I can’t say myself.”
That was a nice thought. Something he’d always hoped he could do. He wasn’t sure if it mattered anymore, though. “Are you leaving?”
She glared at him. “Where would I go?”
She had a point.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said. And she went into the bedroom and closed the door.
Shane looked into the eyes of the rat again. Maybe Lark was right. Maybe all that was there was just...a rat.
* * *
Shane fidgeted in his seat and watched as Chris sauntered into the meeting ten minutes late. He, the rest of the members of the band, their manager, Mandy, and their publicist were all gathered in a conference room at the venue in Kentucky. The concert for the evening was technically still on, but Chris hadn’t apologized, and until he did, Shane wasn’t playing. He wasn’t sure if he was playing ever again, in fact. It made him feel so guilty, especially now that one of the people who’d disappeared was Lark’s close friend. He felt utterly responsible. He felt miserable.
“You’re late, Chris,” said Mandy, as Chris settled into his seat.
Chris took a noisy slurp of the coffee he was drinking and said, “Sorry.”
In Shane’s opinion, Chris didn’t look the least bit sorry.
“Well,” said Mandy. “It looks like we’re all here, so I guess we’ll get started.”
Shane sat up in his seat and tried to focus on Mandy. His inclination was to slide back into a long thought process about what was going on with him and Lark, but he needed to fight that and pay attention to what was going on in this meeting. The Wrenching almost never had band meetings. The fact they were doing this meant that things weren’t going well at all.
“I’ll start,” said Randy. “I’m sick of Shane throwing fits and fucking up our shows.”
Great. So, it was going to be like that, was it? Maybe he should just tune out the meeting.
“I don’t think that’s exactly a very productive way to go about conducting this meeting,” said Mandy. “Let’s try to keep from insulting each other, shall we?”
“Fine,” said Randy, “but this is all about Shane. As always.”
Shane didn’t feel like taking this. “Well, I did start the band, Randy. And those songs you’re so keen on playing at shows? I wrote them.”
“Yeah, you know what?” said Randy. “Kirk and I are sick of feeling like second-class members of this band, just because we didn’t grow up in whatever white-trash town you two grew up in and play with you when you were twelve or whatever.”
Kirk put his hands up, palms forward, a back-off gesture. “Hey,” he said. “Leave me out of this, Randy. I, for one, don’t mind getting the night off as long as I’m getting paid.”
Chris leaned forward. “Randy, you and Kirk didn’t even play on the first album,” he said. “Now, I’m not saying that makes you second-class, but it does make you, well, secondary.” He looked at Mandy. “Is this really why we’re here? Because, we’ve been having issues getting Shane on stage for over a year now, and no one’s ever felt the need to call a meeting.”
Mandy sighed. “We’re here, because we simply can’t cancel this show tonight. You guys have to go on, and we’re here to make that happen. So, if you guys would just stop squabbling with each other, and let me—”
“Not gonna happen,” said Shane. “I’m not playing with Chris until he apologizes to me.”
Everyone in the room looked at Chris.
“What?” Chris said. “I’m not apologizing. I’m just trying to look out for my best friend.”
“You two are going to have to find a way to look beyond this personal fight you’re having and focus on the music,” said Mandy.
“Are you kidding?” asked Shane. “We are the music. It’s always been me and Chris. If it’s not me and Chris, there is no music.”
Chris looked at Shane appraisingly. “Couldn’t have put it better myself,” he said.
“See?” said Mandy. “You two are agreeing about something. You’re best friends. I know you must have had arguments in the past. You got past them. You need to get past this one.”
“It’s not that easy,” said Chris.
“Could be,” said Shane. “If you apologized, it could definitely be that easy.”
“I know I’m right about that chick. So I don’t see why I’d say I was wrong or sorry. Because I’m not,” said Chris.
“Um...” said Kirk. “I don’t want to interrupt or anything, but Chris, just because you don’t like Lark doesn’t mean you can’t apologize for causing Shane pain or whatever. And it doesn’t mean you can’t decide to respect his decision. He is a grown man, here.”
“I don’t respect his decision, though,” said Chris.
“You’re being a dick,” said Shane. “You’re jealous, and you’re acting like
a kid.”
“I am not jealous,” said Chris. “There’s something off about your girlfriend.” He looked at the rest of the people in the room. “You guys see it, right?”
They shook their heads.
“There’s nothing wrong with Lark,” said Mandy. “That girl is a godsend. She is good for Shane. I’m sorry, Chris, but I have to disagree with you on this.”
“Fine,” said Chris. “So, you guys think I’m nuts. I figure it comes with the rock star territory. Deal with it.”
The band’s publicist tapped Mandy on the shoulder.
Mandy turned to her. “Liesl, let’s just hold off on that part for a few minutes.”
“What part?” Randy wanted to know.
“We’re not anywhere near a resolution on this issue,” said Mandy. “Let’s not complicate it by adding other issues to the mix.”
“There are other issues?” Shane asked.
Mandy sighed. “Fine. Liesl, tell them.”
Liesl smiled at the guys. She was generally all business, and Shane was a little embarrassed that she was witnessing their fighting. “Shane did an interview with Whitney Eros several months back, but she couldn’t publish it. So, she and some other guy are wandering around the Entourage passing the damned article out to everyone.”
“Why’s that such a bad thing?” asked Chris.
“Shane tells all of the members of the Entourage to go home in the article,” said Liesl.
“What?” said Randy.
“What?” said Chris.
The two both turned angrily to Shane. Shane was secretly elated that Whitney was actually getting the article out. But now he was the bad guy in the meeting again. He didn’t want to feel ganged up on, but he figured it was par for the course.
“That’s not all,” said Liesl, “the article implies that there’s someone or something dangerous preying on your fans. Shane, do you believe this?”
“I do. And I don’t understand why everybody’s so keen on covering it up.”
“Oh right,” said Liesl, “the article’s very conspiracy theory on that front too, saying that news about the disappearances of fans keeps, well, disappearing, and detailing how impossible it was to publish this article.”
“Which is weird, right?” said Shane. “Because an article that makes me look so crazy should have been lapped up by the press. Look what they did with my fight with Chris.”
“I don’t think that’s the reason it’s not getting published, Shane,” said Liesl. “I think most magazines are just spotting the fact it’s shoddy journalism.”
Shane crossed his arms over his chest.
“The article is a problem, because if those kids out there read it and believe it, they’re going to actually go home,” said Mandy.
“Well good,” said Shane. “They’ll be safe.”
“You’re nuts, dude,” said Chris. “Don’t realize that those kids are paying our salaries?”
“These cancelled shows are hurting us all financially,” said Mandy. “They can’t continue. A diminished fan base is just another nail in the coffin.”
“Coffin?” said Randy. “Aren’t we overreacting a little bit? Are you saying that the band is in danger?”
“I’ve worked as a publicist for a long time,” said Liesl. “When a band’s riding high, they feel as though they rule the world. But never forget this, guys. This is a very fickle business. One minute you’re popular, the next no one has ever heard of you. The more difficult you get, the more likely it is that people will just move on to someone that sounds like you, but is more reliable and doesn’t constantly cancel shows.”
“Shane’s the one canceling shows,” said Chris. “And Lark—”
“Was getting him on stage until you pulled this crap,” Mandy interrupted him. “I’ve had it with the both of you. Now this is what’s going to happen. Chris and Shane are going to kiss and make up. You are going on tonight. You will play a show. And Shane, onstage tonight, you will deny everything you’re quoted as saying in that article.”
“No, I won’t,” said Shane. Who did these people think they were anyway? They couldn’t order him around like this. They didn’t own him.
“And I’m not kissing and making up,” said Chris.
Mandy threw her hands in the air. “What do you want me to do? You want me to put the entire tour on hold because you two can’t get along?”
Chris shrugged. “I don’t care what you do.”
Shane laughed. “This job is a headache for you, isn’t it Mandy?”
“Right now,” she said, “it most definitely fucking is.”
“Well, then,” said Shane, “I guess you’ll be happy to know that you don’t have it anymore.”
“Are you trying to fire me, Shane Adams, because let me tell you—”
“Nope,” said Shane. “I’m not firing you. Or maybe I am. I’m firing all of you. I’m dissolving the band. I quit. The Wrenching is breaking up.”
“You can’t do that, man,” said Randy. “You can’t do that.”
“Shane,” said Chris. “What are you talking about?”
“They’re all my songs,” said Shane. “All my songs. So if you guys want to keep going, you’ll need to write other songs, because there’s no way I’ll give you permission to play mine. But I’m done with this shit. I’m done.”
“Shane,” Chris said again, “this is all you ever wanted to do.”
Shane shrugged. “Yeah. Great. Look where it’s gotten me.” He stood up. “Cancel the rest of the tour, Mandy. Cancel any time you might have booked in the studio. And everyone, please, just leave me the fuck alone.”
Chapter Eleven
Shane hadn’t been out of bed in three days. He woke up occasionally. Watched television. He didn’t eat. He didn’t even want drugs. Lark was ashamed of the fact that she’d tried to lure him out of bed with coke. It hadn’t worked anyway. Shane was barely speaking. And the only person he would talk to at all was her. Since Shane had somehow erected her caretaker of his life, Lark hadn’t felt as though she had any other choice except to go back to the mansion Shane owned in Tennessee. When she wasn’t trying to coax her boyfriend out of bed, she was wandering through its enormity, feeling awed and somewhat frightened by it. The house was huge, and Lark was used to living in vans and buses. Having this kind of space seemed almost criminal in some ways.
Occasionally, she fielded calls from Mandy or members of the band. They always wanted to speak with Shane. She always told them he was in bed, and he wouldn’t speak to anyone. Chris was the worst. He called several times, and when she wouldn’t let him talk to Shane, he accused her of orchestrating the entire breakup of the band. He asked her if she was happy now that she was living the high life with Shane. He called her a gold digger and a bitch and a whore. She hung up on him each time, shaking with anger and fear, unsure why Chris hated her so completely. She didn’t think she’d done anything to make him feel the way he did.
Chris wasn’t the only one who blamed her for the band breaking up. The media did too. The news stories claimed she had put a rift in the band between Chris and Shane, effectively destroying the band. Fans were writing angry messages about her on The Wrenching’s website. When she googled herself, she found a few websites devoted entirely to wishing she was dead and hundreds of blogs slamming her and everything about her. She was instantly famous overnight, but she didn’t want to be. And being instantly famous made it almost impossible to leave Shane. Before the band had broken up, before Shane had told her his crazy theory about rats, she’d been considering starting a new life for herself. Now...Lark felt stuck.
If she left Shane, she’d be followed by the negative opinion America had about her in anything she tried to do. No. The best thing for her to do was to wait until the world was sick of talking about the breakup of The Wrenching. Till they were sick of talking about Shane Adams.
Lark felt a little stupid for even wanting to get away from Shane’s mansion. After all, it was a dream come tr
ue for most of his fans. And it wasn’t that she wanted to get away from Shane. She still wanted to be with Shane. She just didn’t want to feel like what Chris (and some of the media) was accusing her of being. A gold digger. Someone using Shane for his money. She wasn’t. If she could get on her own and support herself, then she wouldn’t feel guilty for taking Shane’s hospitality.
She couldn’t talk to Shane about this kind of stuff, because he wasn’t in any kind of mood for talking. He was mostly silent, lying in his bedroom, with his rats crawling all over him. Ever since Shane had told Lark that story about the rats, the rats had creeped her out. She never used to have any problem with them. But now when she looked at them, the thought that they might actually be people, trapped in rats’ bodies... She didn’t like it.
Beyond that, Lark guessed, there was something else she didn’t like. She couldn’t figure out what it was exactly, but she knew that it bothered her. It was something about the ash man, she guessed. When Shane described him, she had pictured him so clearly. Almost as if she’d seen something like that before... But Lark had never had strange hallucinations like that on mushrooms. And all her bad dreams these days were about Jimmy. So, she didn’t know why she was so fixated on the image of the ash man. She was pretty sure it was just something that Shane’s overactive imagination had made up. It shouldn’t mean anything to her. But there was something about it that niggled the back of her brain. Something she thought she should remember.
Lark didn’t think about the ash man often. She wasn’t thinking about it one afternoon as she was exploring one of the wings of Shane’s mansion. The house was simply too huge. It had almost twenty bedrooms, and they were all decorated and immaculate, considering Shane didn’t really live in them. She didn’t know why he’d built himself such a huge house. Maybe back when he’d gotten it constructed, he’d planned to have huge parties. There was a studio in the basement, so maybe he’d planned to record albums there, with the whole band and a bunch of groupies... Lark remembered seeing something like that on VH-1 Behind the Music or something. One of those hair bands, like Motley Crue or something, holed up in a huge mansion to make an album, but all they’d done were drugs.
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