Redemption Song

by Melodie Murray

  “So . . . Wal-Mart . . .” Alaina said unsurely. Per Ethan’s instructions, they were parked in the very back corner, in the most possibly remote parking spot on the lot. This wasn’t quite what she had expected when he’d asked her to hang out with him.

  “Yeah . . . well . . .” Ethan spoke slowly, being extra careful to choose the correct words. Finally, he sighed and spit it out. “Okay, here’s the deal, and please don’t take this the wrong way because I don’t want to come off sounding like a total jerk, but . . . I can’t really hang out with you looking like this.”

  Alaina blinked, quickly hiding the offended scowl from her expression. She glanced down at her black and purple tank top with matching Converse shoes, paired with faded blue jeans with a frayed hole in the left knee. She didn’t know how the girls Ethan was accustomed to being around dressed, but she hadn’t realized there was a dress code stipulation involved in this outing. “I’m sorry. . .” She wasn’t sure what to say.

  Ethan’s eyes widened in understanding and he jumped to try to cover his tracks. “No! I didn’t mean you! I meant me! There’s nothing wrong with how you look. You’re beautiful. I just meant I can’t go out in public looking like Ethan Carter. I’m going to have to change my look up, or something. I thought maybe some hair color, a new cut . . .”

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  Ethan slowed his rant and his cheeks flushed. He glanced down and started picking at a bit of nothing on his shorts. “Oh . . . well . . . yeah, sure I do.” When she didn’t reply, he went on. “So, I wondered if maybe you could do me a huge favor.” His eyes met hers and he gave a timid smile.

  Alaina grinned. “You want me to go in alone and buy you hair color so you don’t get mobbed by the masses of the Fairhope Supercenter?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Is it really that hard, being you?

  Ethan shrugged and gazed out the front glass. “Being famous definitely has it perks. It’s the normal part that I have trouble with. People don’t like to let me just be normal.”

  Alaina had never thought about it like that. When she saw celebrities on TV, she never gave a second thought to what their real life was like off screen, but then again, this was the first celebrity she’d ever known personally.

  She resituated in her seat, regaining her confidence. “So, Ethan Carter, pop sensation of the twenty-first century . . .” Ethan gave an amused laugh. “What identity would you like to try on today? Platinum blonde beach dude? Black-haired Emo kid? Fiery hot-tempered red head? Or maybe just plain old brunette all American boy? What’s your look of choice?”

  Ethan remained silent for a moment, contemplating his options. Finally, his eyes sparkled and a mischievous grin spread across his cheeks. His description online had nailed him perfectly, Alaina thought involuntarily. He was one of the cutest boy’s she’d ever seen, but that grin looked like he was up to something.

  “Uh . . . you’re not going to do anything crazy like green or orange, are you?” she said. “Because I’m pretty sure that will draw more attention than your normal hair.”

  Ethan laughed. “No, not green. And definitely not orange.”

  “What then?”

  “You pick.”

  Alaina snorted. “I’m sorry, I think I heard you say, ‘You pick’, as in you being me in this particular situation.”

  “You heard correctly.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe a little. By the way, how are you with a pair of scissors?”

  Alaina let out an exasperated sigh and reluctantly took the cash from Ethan's outstretched hand. As she made the hike toward the entrance of the store, she turned back once to view her car. Ethan’s currently blonde hair was no longer visible in the passenger side window, undoubtedly because he was hunkered down in the floor board attempting to remain unseen.

  By the time she reached the front door, Alaina had considered the situation and decided that she was definitely going to have to choose wisely, or forever be known worldwide as the girl who messed up Ethan Carter’s perfect hair. But it wasn’t a hard decision. She already knew exactly what she wanted to get. A picture of Ethan’s wide smile plastered in her memory, she easily found the perfect color to suit him. Ethan wanted to look like a normal guy. So Alaina chose a normal brown for a normal guy, just like he wanted, and just like she wanted for him.

  Chapter 8

  Ethan

  Ethan suppressed the urge to mock Alaina as she grabbed small sections of his freshly colored hair, and lifted them to the scissors that rested tightly between her fingers. She gave a frustrated sigh—her brow scrunching in a tight line of concentration that made cute little wrinkles form on her nose—and released the hair back to its original position without so much as a snip from the scissors.

  Ethan sat in a straight back wooden chair next to the bay window in Alaina’s bedroom. A bed sheet was draped around his shoulders. He’d tried to take his shirt off to keep the hair off of his clothes, but Alaina had insisted he keep his white tank top on—which he found a little amusing.

  He looked around her room wondering if it would give him any clues to her personality. Her bedspread was a deep purple. A picture of his talkative young roommate, Ben, sat on a nightstand beside the bed in what appeared to be a frame made of cardboard and construction paper. A present, he guessed.

  Posters hung here and there from her wall, mostly of different bands—several Ethan had never bothered listening to. They were mostly Christian rock bands. Ethan had never really bought into the whole Christianity thing. If he couldn’t touch it or see it, he didn’t see the point in believing it. Where was the proof? On the little table in front of him sat a soft leather-bound Bible that was clearly worn. Colorful bookmarks stuck out of random pages. A journal lay under the Bible and a cup with pencils and highlighters beside those.

  Was that really what made Alaina different than the other girls Ethan had met? Her faith? Was that the source of her smooth confidence? Ethan only hoped she wasn’t one of those religious fanatics. What did they call them? Jesus freaks? That would ruin everything. He liked Alaina because she seemed to accept him as a real person and not a superstar, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to be judged for all his little vices. He knew he wasn’t perfect; he didn’t need to be reminded of it every day.

  But that’s what this little visit to the South was all about, wasn’t it? To serve as a constant reminder of what he had done. The danger he’d put himself and others into when he drove that car after drinking all of that Tequila. What had he been thinking at the time? Why had he let Vanessa get to him like that? What’s funny is that he hadn’t even received so much as a text from her since arriving in Fairhope. Not only did Vanessa not know where he was, but she hadn’t even bothered to call and find out. She was probably still mad at him. He couldn't believe she'd gotten so upset just because he refused to dedicate his latest song “Girl from My Dreams” to her at his Staples Center concert. He was with her and everyone knew it—especially considering she never passed up the opportunity for a photo op with him when they were being swarmed by the stupid paparazzi. Why did he have to announce it to fifteen thousand fans during a concert meant for entertainment purposes only? It seemed like a little overkill.

  “Ethan, I’m . . . I’m not sure I can do this.”

  Ethan turned to find the color swiftly draining from Alaina’s cheeks. He held back a smirk. She looked hilarious, but cute as heck. He loved her style. Her little purple tank top, loose fitting faded jeans, and her signature Converse shoes. Her hair was long and dark and he noticed that she did wear a little makeup during the day. Her style was very punk rock, but by her current expression, fierce was the last adjective he would use to describe her. She looked like a terrified kid standing there, holding those scissors.

  “I thought you said you’d cut Ben’s hair before?” Ethan said.

  “Well, I have, but that was different. Ben’s ten and if I messed up, we just combed it funny for a c
ouple of days and hoped nobody noticed. You are not ten, and if I mess up, people will definitely notice.”

  Ethan smiled. “Calm down, Alaina. You’re stressing out. It’s just hair.”

  “No, it is Ethan Carter’s hair, and that little bang flip thing you’ve got going on there is known worldwide. They call it the ‘Carter Cut’.”

  Okay, this time he couldn’t hold it back. He had to laugh. “The Carter Cut? Seriously? Where did you hear that?”

  “I . . . might have . . . read it somewhere.”

  “You Googled me, didn’t you?”

  “No!” She sighed and her lips pursed.

  He could tell by her guilty grin and the way her eyes darted from his that he was right.

  “You did! You Googled me!”

  “Well, what did you expect? You’re sharing a room with my brother. I have to look out for him. I’m all he’s got.”

  Her comment cut Ethan like a knife as flashbacks of his overturned Camero on that dark mountain road came to mind. Once again, he hoped he would never have to tell Alaina the real reason he was in Alabama. Instead, he made a joke to mask his unease.

  “Whatever. You’re a stalker. Just admit it.”

  “Yeah, okay,” she replied sarcastically. “That’s why I had never heard even one of your songs until yesterday. If that’s my best attempts at stalking, then I’m terrible at it.”

  Ethan paused, unsure if he had heard correctly. “You had never heard my music until yesterday? But you said you’d heard it from Granny Mae’s room?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, but I never listened to an entire song or anything.”

  Ethan felt his mouth hanging open slightly. “Wow. I don’t know whether to be insulted or insanely impressed.”

  She shrugged. “I told you I don’t listen to that kind of music.”

  “So, how was it?”

  “Your music? It was . . . cute.”

  “Cute?”

  “Yeah, cute.”

  What did cute mean? Was that good? Ethan had never heard of his music being referred to as cute. Rockin, sure. Jammin, maybe. But cute? Never.

  “What does that even mean?” he asked incredulously.

  She grabbed his chin, and rotated his face back toward the window. Running her fingers lightly through his hair, she grasped a strand and made her first cut, her courage returning.

  “I don’t know,” she said. The songs have good beats and your voice is amazing, but I guess now that I’ve met you, I don’t really see you singing those songs. The lyrics are so poppy and sappy. It just doesn’t feel like you mean what you’re singing. Like you’re just singing for the sake of singing, not to get out a message. Does that sound weird?”

  Ethan laughed to himself. “Nope, that doesn’t sound weird at all.”

  How had she picked up on that? Alaina had known Ethan for less than a day. How could she—when even his own mother couldn’t—figure out that he hated singing those stupid songs?

  Ethan raised a brow. “So I should be singing messages?”

  “Oh, you know what I mean,” she said. “You are so famous, Ethan. You have the ability to make a difference in so many people’s lives. I would love to have that kind of opportunity. I wouldn’t waste it by singing corny little love songs about relationships that don’t even exist in the real world.”

  Ethan grinned. “I wish you’d just tell me how you really feel.”

  Alaina laughed. “I’m sorry. I have this little problem of voicing my opinion even when people don’t ask for it.”

  “No, it’s okay. I think I might like that about you.”

  Alaina stopped mid-snip and Ethan felt a twinge as the tension between them increased.

  “What would you sing about?” Ethan asked, changing the subject.

  Alaina paused. “I don’t know. Thankfulness, maybe? Or loss. I would sing about things that could provide encouragement for people going through situations like mine. Something that would help them step back and take a look at the big picture, you know? And I think I might sing about Jesus.”

  There it was. The J word.

  Their gazes met through mirrored reflections. When Ethan remained silent, Alaina asked, “What? Is that weird?”

  Ethan considered this. “No. Not weird.” He paused. “Just, I officially feel like a total jerk.”

  Alaina laughed and squeezed her eyes shut tight; her nose scrunched into a cute little line of embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Your music is great, really. I like it . . .”

  “No, that’s okay,” he interrupted. “You were just being honest. And in a way, you’re right. I don’t sing about anything important like that. But if it’s any consolation, I have no control over my song selection. Everything I’ve written is still a well kept, treasured secret.”

  She looked surprised, continuing to run her fingers lightly through his hair, making the occasional snip here and there. The touch of her fingers in his hair sent chill bumps down his arm.

  “Why is that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask the big-wigs at my label.”

  Alaina moved around to the front to work on his bangs. She studied him carefully while continuing to snip at his hair. Why did Ethan get so uncomfortable when she did that? Why did he feel like he owed her more of an explanation? Her huge brown eyes were wide with concentration as she twisted his head slightly from side to side; trying her hardest to make sure that the cut was even. When she was satisfied with her work, she reached for a bit of hair jell and ran it through a small chunk of his hair in the front. Finally, she grabbed a large hand mirror off the nightstand and handed it to him so that he could view the back of his head. The cut was short on the sides and in the back, but spiked just a little right around his bangs. The brown color made his eyes seem extra blue. And he had to admit, it was one of the best, and cheapest, haircuts he’d ever received.

  “Well, I’m no big-wig, but personally,” Alaina’s eyes appeared just above his shoulder in the mirror, “I’d love to hear an Ethan Carter original sometime.”

  Ethan ran his fingers through his new hair. He couldn’t believe the difference it made in his appearance. With a hat and some sunglasses, it was possible that he might actually be able to walk around like a normal person while he was there. Suddenly, Ethan felt a glimpse of something he hadn’t felt for a long time. Freedom. And it was all thanks to Alaina.

  And she wanted to hear his real music. It had been a long time since Ethan had played one of his own songs for anyone, but he was interested to see her reaction to his lyrics. He enjoyed and appreciated her honesty. In fact, he just enjoyed her company.

  Ethan shifted his gaze and met her reflecting eyes in the mirror. “Alaina, for you, I think that can be arranged.”

  Chapter 9

  Alaina

  Alaina was thoroughly impressed with her skills as an amateur cosmetologist. She loved Ethan’s new look, and he’d been right. The change in color and style seemed to alter his looks just enough that people might not realize who he was. Besides, nobody in Fairhope actually knew that Ethan Carter was the grandson of Granny Mae. Apparently, it was a well kept family secret. No one would be expecting to see him roaming the streets of Alabama. Maybe if they weren’t looking for him, it would be less obvious that it was him.

  Alaina only hoped it would work because Ethan was itching to get out of the house. He had already asked her what people around there did for fun on a summer Monday night. Alaina informed him that, normally, she would be working, but everyone else usually hung out down by the pier. Which would have been a great outing for them aside from the fact that “hanging out at the pier” was code for getting wasted on the beach, and Alaina had way too much on her plate to be mixed up in the drama of high school parties. She mainly kept to herself, which made it difficult when Ethan asked if she wanted to go out that night and do something fun.

  Alaina had sort of forgotten how to have fun.

  The latest doctor’s appointment had been almost more th
an she could handle. She had felt so helpless. Alaina knew chemotherapy couldn’t be comfortable for anyone, but she always just sat there speechless, waiting for it to be over. That kind of stuff was so far out of her league it was ridiculous. And now, another appointment loomed ahead in only a couple of days. Would it get any better this time? Would she be inspired with amazing words of comfort at the perfect time; something that would turn the entire situation around? Probably not.

  Alaina merely wished there was something she could do, but she wasn’t a doctor. She was a teenager whom, only a year ago, thought she had lost everything, only to realize that she still had so much left to lose.

  Alaina had lost a piece of herself after her parent’s untimely death. A piece that she didn’t think would ever fully fill in. How many pieces did she have left? She didn’t think she could stand to lose any more chunks of her heart to the death of someone she loved. It was too much. So she did the only thing she knew to do.

  She prayed.

  Alaina found her strength in God. That was the cause of the wear and tear on the ragged Bible that sat on her little table by the window. Countless nights, when she couldn’t sleep, her Bible was the only thing that calmed her nerves to the point that she could keep her body tied to her bed. Her mood shifted constantly. On her helpless nights she simply sat and stared, unable to move a muscle, trying to find some way of coming to terms with what was happening. On her angry nights, she wanted to run out into the streets and scream at the top of her lungs until someone pointlessly challenged her to shut up. On her hopeless nights, she stuffed her face in her pillow to keep Ben from hearing her uncontrollable sobs. She didn’t want to scare Ben. He didn’t need that. He was too young. She was all he had. She needed to be strong for him.

  And then, out of nowhere, Ethan Carter walked into her life.

  Ethan might have just been using her to help him stay undercover, but Alaina couldn’t express to him how much of a comfort the distraction of his presence was. He obviously had no clue what was going on, which made her a little sad, but he would find out in due time. It was inevitable.