The Kaleidoscope Album Box Set

by Bryce Oakley

  “I see them every time,” she continued, singing about a painful, lost love.

  Billie stared in wonder, trying to figure out who the person in front of her had just become.

  Vero came to a verse without set lyrics, murmuring words that vaguely rhymed as her fingers continued surely on the keys.

  “That's the part I don't know,” she said, pausing and turning toward Billie.

  “That…” Billie paused, clearing her throat. “I’m…”

  Vero looked unsure of herself for the first time since Billie had met her a few days ago, but she stayed silent.

  Something in her vulnerability twinged Billie’s heartstrings. It reminded her of when she began making music and playing it for people. It was as if she was naked, holding her heart in her hands, giving it to strangers.

  Sometimes she still felt that way on stage, but it had become a rare occurrence with practice.

  “It was pretty good,” Billie said, not wanting to stroke Vero’s ego any more than she had to. “What if in that third verse, you brought back the water imagery from the end of the first verse and expanded on that? Something like… ‘The oceans between us, they’re nothing to me, love.’”

  Vero nodded slowly, furrowing her brow as if she was considering something. “Or what if it went ‘The mountains between us, they’re keeping me…’” Her voice trailed off.

  “This is where you need your lyrics notebook,” Billie said.

  Vero narrowed her eyes briefly at the remark, her fingers back on the keys. “The mountains…” She began to sing, trying different words in place of the line.

  Billie chimed in, singing the melody with different options as Vero replayed the verse.

  Vero stopped playing suddenly. “Okay, that’s enough,” she said quickly, and Billie watched as she drew back into herself.

  It was as if Vero had melted the Ice Queen act as she played and sang, revealing her true self. Now, a mask had slipped back over her face.

  “Are you okay?” Billie asked, seeing Vero cross her arms back over her chest.

  “I’m fine,” she said forcefully.

  Billie knew enough to realize that when women said they were fine, they rarely were.

  “What—“

  Vero cut her off. “I don’t need you to put on your kind and understanding persona to help me through my problems right now. I pay someone a lot of money for that,” she said, standing and walking out of the room in one swift movement.

  Billie stared past her. In her mind, they had just had a nice moment, respecting each other as musicians.

  Figuring out how to make Vero happy was like solving a Rubik’s cube. Blindfolded. Underwater.

  * * *

  “I just don’t know if this is working,” Billie said, lying on her back across her bed as she held the video call above her face. “Maybe I should come home.”

  Domino laughed, running her hands through her messy hair. “Pulling a Julia date?” Dom teased.

  “Not fair. You know I only bailed because Julia said she voted for You-Know-Who,” Billie reminded her.

  “Voldemort?” Dom said with mock-naivety.

  Billie narrowed her eyes at her sister.

  “Death Eater allegiances or not, you kind of have to stay,” Dom said.

  “What? Why?” Billie said, instantly suspicious of Domino’s confidence.

  “I thought we set up Google alerts for you,” Dom said.

  “What are you talking about?” Billie said, dread pooling in her stomach.

  “You didn't get any alert about your name in the news? I really thought you let me figure those out for you,” Dom said, trailing off about talking to their agent about better notifications.

  “Dom, just tell me what the fuck you’re going on about?” Billie asked, sitting up.

  “I don’t know if her manager leaked it, but a big story came out about you and Vero De Luca writing a new song together,” Dom said. “So, now it would kind of seem suspicious if you, you know, bail.”

  “Fuck,” Billie growled, pausing the video to pull up her browser.

  A text dinged in from Micah. It was a link to the article, with Micah’s caption: “Don't know who leaked this, but here we are.”

  The article was on a smaller music review blog and included a paparazzi shot of Billie at the Telluride airport. Billie frowned, trying to figure out how she hadn’t noticed cameras.

  An unsettled feeling grew within her. So far in her career, she had never been a paparazzi target. She had been photographed back at events or even outside of clubs in LA, but never unknowingly. It was an entirely new feeling of discomfort to know that someone had taken a picture of her without her realizing it.

  She looked around. Could the photographer be outside of the house right now?

  How did Vero live like this?

  “Earth to Billo,” Dom said, her voice startling Billie out of her thoughts.

  “Sorry, just creeped out,” Billie said, scrolling through the article. It was a fairly simple article claiming that a source verified that Billie Rush and Vero De Luca were writing a song together for Vero's new album as a solo artist.

  The headline bothered her, though. It read: Vero De Luca Gets Indie Cred From The Shrike’s Billie Rush.

  Billie grimaced, switching back to the video. “So, you’re saying that just because this article is out, I have to write the damn song?”

  Domino laughed again. “Yeah, babe, just think of all the indie cred,” she teased.

  “Vero doesn’t need indie cred. She needs a babysitter,” Billie said, rolling her eyes.

  “Remember when we first started writing together, and we would argue all the time about lyrics? And then we’d go off into our rooms and pout for a few hours until we each came out with a new set of lyrics, only to realize we had almost always written something similar? Maybe you just need to help her write in a different way,” Dom suggested, shrugging her shoulders.

  Billie groaned, setting her forearm over her eyes. “Since when have you ever been the responsible one?” She said, wrinkling her brow.

  “Yeah, it’s weird, right? Is this how you feel all the time?” Domino joked.

  “Ha ha,” Billie said, sitting up in the bed. “Okay, I’ll try suggesting the lyrics thing, but Dom, she’s—“

  Dom held up a hand. “I can’t hear one more word about her. Complain to Micah if you need to, since we pay her to listen to us. Write the song and get the hell out of there.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve got a date, so I’m going to hang up now.”

  Billie laughed. “A date? With who? Anyone I know?”

  Dom put her hand over her mouth, acting as if the reception was breaking up her speech. "Sorry, can’t… hear… you’re… break…”

  “I can see you,” Billie said.

  Dom paused in place, as though she had frozen — except for the obvious blinking and breathing — then ended the call.

  The article opened back up as the video chat ended. The headline image was a picture of Vero with her hair dyed a dark red color, pulled into an up-do. It must have been from a while ago. Billie couldn’t help but feel that the Vero in the picture and the Vero she had met were two entirely separate people.

  The Vero she had witnessed at the piano earlier was a Vero who was passionate, who knew music. She seemed like an entirely different person in that room.

  Now, Billie just had to figure out a way to pull that mask back off.

  Chapter Six

  Vero

  Vero sat, reading the headline over again. “Indie cred?” She said, her mouth full of peanut butter.

  Elena raised an eyebrow, watching her with disapproval.

  They sat at the kitchen island, a bad reality show faintly providing background noise from the television on the far wall of the great room.

  Vero put the spoon she had been using to ferry peanut butter in copious amounts into her mouth.

  “I don’t need ‘indie cred’ — whatever they think that means,” she sa
id, frowning at the picture.

  Elena did her best to casually reach for the jar of peanut butter, but Vero grabbed it back before she could take it.

  “Nica,” Elena said, a warning tone in her voice.

  “Just a little more?” Vero said, scooping some of the peanut butter up before Elena could suggest otherwise.

  “Why are you bothered by this one? We’ve laughed over plenty of headlines,” Elena said, furrowing her brow.

  “It’s just offensive,” Vero said, her mouth full again.

  Elena grabbed the jar with a grin, then took a sharpie out of a drawer to write “Full of Vero’s Germs” on the lid. “Wouldn’t want some poor unsuspecting soul to try to eat this,” she murmured, walking back to the pantry.

  Vero rolled her eyes at the teasing, but couldn’t stifle a grin. Elena had always been her best friend. After treatment, most of her supposed friends had stopped calling and texting. Then, when it was announced she was leaving UltraViolet, even less reached out.

  Elena was a rock. Always.

  “Why don’t you get out of the house?” Elena suggested, sliding onto the barstool next to her.

  “No, thanks,” Vero groaned, resting her elbows on the countertop.

  “Get out of my house,” Elena said with teasing seriousness before breaking into a grin.

  Vero couldn’t contain a laugh. “Okay, okay. Any errands I can help with?”

  “We need rice noodles for dinner,” Elena said, standing up to take a look in the pantry. “And that chocolate cereal Jack likes. Oh, and peanut butter, coincidentally.”

  Vero rolled her eyes, glancing to the clock. It was barely past noon. “Got it.”

  “Oh, and licorice,” Elena added, so casually that Vero almost missed it.

  Vero paused mid-step. “Is Dad coming?” Licorice was one of her father’s favorite treats. She didn’t think anyone else in the house touched the stuff.

  Elena nodded, not looking up from the container of flour she was pretending to examine.

  “He didn’t tell me,” Vero said, checking her phone to examine her texts. The last thing from her father had been a picture of their favorite beach over a week ago.

  “He just decided,” Elena said, her mouth pulling to one side as she looked up, presumably to judge Vero’s reaction.

  “I bet,” Vero said, disappointment bubbling inside of her chest. Her dad wasn’t exactly doting, but she did enjoy the time they spent together. If he was coming out to Telluride, he had to have known she was here with Billie.

  To add insult to injury, Billie was a fan of Felix Lucas, so now Vero would have to play third-wheel while the two real musicians in the house talked real music.

  Her cheeks were warm with jealousy. She knew it was irrational, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

  The last time she had seen her dad was shortly after announcing that she was leaving UltraViolet. He, of course, had known about the decision and had talked her through it — the best he could — but he also didn’t understand.

  He had been playing with Fangs for decades. Since before Vero was born. The solo artist path had never appealed to him.

  Vero imagined Billie was the same way. The Shrikes was a band of four women who were supposedly best friends, if Google was to be believed.

  She grabbed her car keys off the hook with a huff and grabbed a light jacket from the closet by the front door. “Rice noodles, licorice, chocolate cereal,” she called back to Elena.

  “Peanut butter because someone insisted on double-dipping the spoon,” Elena called as Vero stepped out the front door.

  “Very funny,” Vero called over her shoulder, before immediately walking straight into Billie.

  Vero cursed and Billie caught her by the shoulder to prevent the both of them from toppling down the stairs directly in front of them.

  Billie had dropped something she was holding and apologized quickly, bending down to pick it up along with Vero’s keys that had also gone flying in the collision.

  “Whoa, are you okay?” Billie said, blinking. “Sorry, I was looking at what I was working on and I walked right into you.”

  Vero shook her head, trying to find words after being so startled. “Do you make it a habit to stand immediately in front of doors?” She took the keys out of Billie’s hand.

  Billie smirked. “Do you make it a habit to exit doors without looking in front of you?” She asked, her voice teasing instead of snarky.

  “Touché,” Vero admitted. “What were you doing out here? Planning your escape?”

  Billie held up her notebook. “Just trying to get some ideas down on paper. I've been getting so much inspiration lately for a really mean song, I figured I’d write it down while the muse was so clear,” she said.

  Vero stifled an amused smile. She had been dreading the moment she was going to run into Billie again and had avoided her all morning in the house. Sure, that wasn’t going to get their song written, but it made Vero feel better for the moment, and that was what mattered, right?

  After playing the song she had been working on and seeing how impressed Billie was, she had been a bit offended.

  First, why hadn’t Billie thought that she was impressive before? She had heard her with UltraViolet, after all, so why did it take seeing it in person to finally click that Vero might actually have talent?

  Second — and the second reason was entirely her own fault — why had she played the song she was working on in front of Billie? What had possessed her to think that was such a good idea?

  If she was going to be presenting the label with two songs, she couldn’t have Billie’s input on the one that was supposed to be hers.

  And fuck, her advice had been sound. Vero had even kept some of the lyrics Billie had helped with.

  Now, Billie was staring down at her, and she was so close, and her hair smelled like fresh pine, and her eyes were sparkling green in the dappled light of the front porch, and…

  Billie cleared her throat, and Vero realized she was just staring up at her without saying anything.

  “Groceries,” Vero said with surprising force, turning to hop down the stairs.

  “Hey, can you grab some ice cream? Any flavor. I noticed y’all don’t have any and I was going to ask Elena but if you’re…” Billie called after her.

  Vero waved a hand, unable to look back over her shoulder as she walked quickly to the garage.

  The house had originally been converted into the De Luca’s home from a remote 1920s resort, and the garage was unattached, making winter driving pretty inconvenient.

  Vero spent most of the winter back in LA, but even when she was in Telluride over the tourist season, she let Jack and Elena park in the small garage they had added onto the house directly. After all, they were the ones more likely in need of their cars. She had usually just holed up at home when she was back, anyway.

  She tapped in the garage door code on the side door, then picked her way through her father’s ridiculous car collection until she got to her own, a sporty little red one.

  Sure, it was high-profile and completely unnecessary on mountain roads, but it was the first car she had ever bought entirely with her own earnings, and so she loved it.

  She pulled out of the garage to see Billie still sitting on the front steps, her head down as she scribbled in her notebook.

  The light made her normally plain brown hair glow golden around her shoulders.

  Vero blinked, snapping out of it. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting so strangely about Billie Rush?

  Sure, she was attractive in the same generic way that Vero found most women attractive, but something about the quirks in her appearance made Vero want to look longer.

  No.

  Maybe in a previous life she would have pursued Billie, but in this life, she was a solo artist with no time for that.

  She was a professional who could work with anyone, even the best and most insufferable songwriters her label could reel in.

  The car
hugged the mountain road curves with satisfying sureness as Vero tried to convince her own thoughts to be realistic.

  Twenty minutes later, Vero stood in the ice cream aisle, staring at the selection. It had been ages since she had bought it for herself — she was more of a chocolate treat person — but Billie had said any flavor.

  Just to be on the safe side, she picked seven.

  Billie had to like at least one of them, right?

  Chapter Seven

  Billie

  Billie sat with Rocky Road in the living room. She was alone — Vero, Elena, and Jack had all disappeared hours ago.

  Dom was out with some girl and wasn't texting her back.

  Even Mego and Zoey were busy.

  And so, it had become Netflix time.

  She sat under a light throw blanket, clutching her bowl of ice cream, tucked in the corner of the humongous couch that dominated the great room.

  The lights were off and the television was turned to a respectable volume, even though Jack had insisted that they wouldn't be able to hear it from upstairs.

  What better genre to watch in a gigantic, nearly-empty mansion she wasn’t familiar with than a murder mystery?

  “Oh, you idiot,” she said, watching the lead male character run up the stairs of the house to get away from the psychopath murderer following him.

  She needed something to get her mind off of Vero. She couldn't stop thinking of Vero at the piano, singing with her eyes closed.

  She had been… remarkable. Billie had seriously underestimated her.

  Maybe the single needed to be stripped down to show her true talent.

  Billie had been writing all day, trying to figure out the tone of the lyrics that would suit that hidden side of Vero.

  The song needed to be written. Maybe she'd start with the song Vero had been working on, since it seemed like a comfortable place for her.

  How many days had gone by without a single damn lyric finalized? She was growing weary of trying to read Vero's weird moods.