“Sorry, mom. You gotta work tomorrow?”
“Fortunately, no.” She grabbed a cigarette out of the pack on the coffee table and lit it. “Otherwise, I’d be kicking your asses out.” Vicki grabbed her mom’s pack and took out a cigarette, stuck it between her fingers, and lit it. “That’s bad for you, Vic.”
“Doesn’t stop you, mom.”
She sighed and rested her head on the back of the couch. Then she looked at me and said, “She’s too late to save.”
“You too, old lady.” After she lit her cigarette, she held the pack out to me, a couple of those bad boys sticking out. “Want one?”
I’d been drinking, so I was more willing to try something new, something I knew was bad for me. The fresh smoke wafting around the room smelled good somehow, unlike the stale scent of the walls when we’d first walked in her house. I wasn’t thinking about that then; I wasn’t thinking anything. I just decided to do what my friend and her mom were doing and grabbed the cigarette and stuck it in my mouth before it fully registered what I’d done. “Don’t waste ‘em, girls.”
“If we’re smokin’ ‘em, we’re not wastin’ ‘em, mom.” Vicki held out the lighter and touched the flame to the end of the cigarette in my mouth, and I sucked on the end to draw smoke in my mouth. Ah, there it was. Like a pro. Except… “You gotta suck it into your lungs for the full effect, Kyle.”
Full effect? Okay. So I pulled on the cigarette again, this time breathing the smoke inside my body and it reacted violently. I started coughing and hacking as my lungs rebelled against the foreign substance. Vicki started laughing. “Okay, so maybe Kyle’s gonna waste hers. You’ve never smoked before, have you?”
I shook my head. Her mom said, “Great. I’m gonna get in trouble with her parents now.”
“No…you won’t get in trouble with my parents. They’re too intertwined in their own drama at the moment.” I looked at the cigarette, assessing it. “They care about what’s happening with me…but I’m secondary. It didn’t used to be that way.”
“Aw, I’m sorry, honey. The band help take your mind off it?”
“Some.” I tried sucking on the stick between my fingers again and, once more, it ended in a coughing jag. I felt dizzy afterward, lightheaded, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
“Feel that?” Vicki asked. I nodded. “That’s what you’re goin’ for.”
I crushed the cigarette out in the ashtray. “Not worth it.” I looked over at her mom. “Sorry for wasting it.”
“Not a problem. I’ll smoke the rest of it later.”
“She will too.” I chugged on my beer to get the taste of the cigarette out of my mouth. Yeah, beer wasn’t exactly good either, but it was a taste I was beginning to acquire. I didn’t see myself ever enjoying cigarettes. Then Vicki looked at her mom and said, “But don’t you feel too sorry for her. She complains about her mom and dad, but at least she has one of each.”
“Vic, we’ve been through this a thousand times before. Your dad’s a deadbeat.”
“It’d still be nice to meet him once.”
“Honey, you think you want to, but you don’t want to. He’s an asshole. He’ll break your heart just like he did mine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. Else why wouldn’t he call and talk to you or send you a card on your birthday?”
“Maybe he doesn’t know when—”
“Or on other special days like Christmas? Nobody forgets what day Christmas is.”
Vicki drew hard on the cigarette between her fingers. This was obviously an old tired argument between her and her mother. She decided to change the subject, but I became the focus once more. I realized then that Vicki tended to be a mean drunk. “Kyle’s got a boyfriend too.”
Vicki’s mom latched onto the new topic like an infant on his mom’s breast—anything to get the focus off herself. “You do? Tell me about him.”
“She doesn’t talk a lot about him—just that he’s hot and sometimes sweet.” I grinned. That was true. I brought the can of beer back to my lips. I wasn’t in the mood to be the center of attention at the moment. “Uh…after meeting CJ this week, I think her boyfriend has a serious run for the money.”
Vicki was right but I wasn’t going to acknowledge it out loud. I felt guilty that I’d been drawn to CJ like a magnet. There was something raw about him, something my body felt it needed…and that was so not fair to Decker. To acknowledge it aloud to my friend and her mother would give it more power. “Nah. Decker’s my number one.”
“I dunno. Mom, you should’ve seen the way CJ looked at her.”
“He didn’t look at me like that.”
“Oh, yes, he did. You were in the booth jamming on your guitar. You have no idea how he looked at you.” Well, that was a revelation. She was right. I’d had no idea he’d been watching. I’d thought he was working with Barbie the whole time. It must have shown on my face. “You didn’t know.”
I couldn’t help the tiny grin spreading over my face. “No, I didn’t.” I took another swig of my beer. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
Vicki’s mom lit another cigarette and said, “So…if you had to choose between Decker and CJ, who would it be?”
“Oh, my God. There’s no choosing.”
Her mom looked at Vicki and said, “He that hot?”
No way were we going there. “I didn’t say that. Decker’s my boyfriend. End of story.”
“Methinks the girl protests too much.” Her mom got up and walked to the kitchen. “I think I should meet this guy.”
“Too late, ma. Recording’s over. Besides, he was only there that one day.”
“You might get to see him soon enough, though, Mrs. Graham.”
She came back in the room, cracking open another beer. “Please. Call me Danielle.”
“Okay, Danielle.” I finished my beer too, feeling a little more grown up by the minute.
“So…tell me about this opportunity to meet hot guy CJ. If you girls are passing on him, maybe this ol’ lady’ll go for it.”
“Oh, God, mom.”
I started laughing and the two of them joined in. Once our giggles had settled down, I said, “His band has already recorded an album and they’re going on the road in a week or two. The single comes out on Tuesday…so I bet the video’ll come out around then too.”
Mrs. Graham—Danielle—raised her eyebrows and looked at Vicki. “He hot enough to be worth the wait?”
“Oh, yeah.”
She turned her eyes to me then…and I couldn’t tell a lie. “Definitely.”
Chapter Twenty-six
WE’D TRIED TO talk Peter into getting all our families together for one big meeting. Our thought was that it would be so much easier on him to speak his piece once. But he lectured us, telling us it was a job that would require finesse and the ability to read people, something easier to do with fewer people at a time. He insisted upon one-on-one.
So he met with my folks on Tuesday night. When I told my parents about it, they invited him over for dinner. Man…this was gonna be awesome. But Peter had also told us his plans—and then I understood his need for a cautious approach. We were going to be touring starting in late August…and for months after. That meant we were going to miss school and be away from our families for a very long time. I knew my parents would be reluctant to say yes, so I could only imagine what other parents would think.
One thing I knew for certain—mom and dad could not be allowed to know that I’d taken up drinking and occasionally smoking when I was with the girls. That would make them think twice about even letting me out of the house. Bad enough mom knew I wasn’t a prim little virgin anymore.
I also knew Peter himself would be off putting, something the man couldn’t exactly help, because he had the personality of a legal pad.
But he was halfway charming at dinner—and I’d forgotten that, at the heart, he was a salesman. He talked about boring stuff with my mom and dad during the meal it
self (which was my parents’ version of Pad Thai), mostly the current state of politics, and how they managed to keep the conversation neutral during that discussion, I wasn’t sure, but then I realized that, politically at least, they were on the same page, so Peter had managed to hit it off with my folks.
Over key lime pie for dessert, Peter began talking about the band itself—how he knew we had what it took to be huge, how I and my bandmates were talented beyond measure, and how he wanted to—and could—propel us to superstardom. Dad asked, “What all does that entail?”
“Well, obviously, nothing monetarily from you folks. We’ve recorded the album and it’s currently being mixed right now. We’ll be filming a video or two and then, with your permission, we’d take it on the road—a tour across the United States and possibly overseas as well.”
“When?”
“Late summer.” Peter let those words sink in and then said, “I realize that interferes with the usual school year, so I want to ensure you that we would keep up their education while we’re on the road.”
Mom and dad understood how that worked, because I’d been—well, you couldn’t call it homeschooled, exactly, because we had no permanent home, but I’d been educated in a nontraditional way. That was what Peter was proposing. I still didn’t know that mom and dad would be an easy sell—but he’d sold me, so I had hope.
Mom looked at me. “Kyle remembers how that works.”
“Yes, but she had us telling her to get her homework done.”
“I would do that,” Peter assured them. “In fact, the girls will be chaperoned at all times. Not only that, but they will have a bodyguard whenever they roam about. We will represent you by proxy.”
Mom and dad exchanged a significant look, and I wasn’t sure what it meant. Dad said, “How soon do you need to know?”
“The sooner, the better.”
“Kyle,” mom asked, “how are you feeling about this?”
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply before looking my parents in the eyes. “I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything else.”
Mom was sold—I could tell. I’d have to wait to see what my dad thought. He continued asking questions of Peter, such as where the man suspected we’d be going, what kind of hotels we’d be staying in, if there’d be security, things like that. My head was in the clouds imagining all of that, hoping and praying my dad would help make my dreams come true. If my parents said no, I had no idea what I’d do…because now I couldn’t see myself doing anything else with the rest of my life. I was a rock star.
* * *
Hanging out with Decker later that night and texting back to Vicki on occasion did nothing to settle my nerves. My parents had already told me they wouldn’t have an answer for me until the next day, so “don’t even bother to ask.” That was one of their old tricks, meant to make me patient (which it did not) and also to prevent me from getting my hopes up (again, not successful). If I’d had any fingernails, I would’ve bitten them down to the quick.
Even getting hot and heavy with Decker in his truck couldn’t take my thoughts off what was coming. My parents were deciding my fate—my future—and I couldn’t pull my mind from that.
Decker noticed. “What the hell’s wrong, Kyle?” So I told him, even though he seemed half distracted, probably because his dick was still throbbing with desire. When I was done, he said, “So this is all real? You really recorded an album?”
“I told you that. I told you Peter wants us to tour and stuff.”
“I thought this guy was full of shit.”
“He’s not. It’s all real.”
Decker got quiet then. I thought I hadn’t kept anything from him, had told him exactly what had been happening with the band and how Peter, although a huge asshole, was legit and we were going places…but maybe I hadn’t been telling him everything. I’d been spending a lot of time in Colorado Springs lately, especially overnights, and maybe I hadn’t told him everything I thought I had.
“So what’s gonna happen?”
I took a deep breath. “If my mom and dad agree, I’ll be going on tour with the band this fall instead of going to school.”
He was quiet for a long time again. “So…you’ll miss all my games?”
I felt a pang of sadness then. “Yeah.”
“You know I’m varsity quarterback this year, right?” Now, I might not have been that into sports, but I did know it was a huge deal when a junior was quarterback. I wasn’t the only prodigy in the car.
I stroked his cheek. “That’s amazing, Decker.”
“Yeah, but you’re not gonna see it.”
I frowned. I understood his disappointment, but… “We’re talking about my future here, Decker.”
“We’re talking about my future too, Kyle.” He sat up and zipped his jeans before sliding under the steering wheel. “I don’t think you get that.”
He drove home in silence—and we didn’t talk or fuck. That was it. He kissed me good night after walking me to the door and told me he’d talk to me tomorrow…but things felt really weird.
I drowned my sorrows like I always did—by wrapping my arms around my guitar and playing her furiously until the rest of the world drifted into the background.
* * *
The Vagabonds had a meeting three days later. It was then that I learned that all parents were a go except for Liz’s.
My parents had been exceptionally cool about the whole deal. We had a long talk the next day about all their concerns. They wanted me to make sure I focused on school—just because I was going to be a rock star now was no guarantee my star wouldn’t burn out fast. There were examples they gave of movie stars who’d excelled as kids and wound up in perma-rehab as adults, because no one wanted them once they were grown up…which brought us to the subject of sex and drugs, the two sisters to the rock-and-roll component. Mom and dad said they knew the temptations would be there and they didn’t exactly tell me to not indulge…but they told me to be smart. If I just had to have sex (which mom already knew I had—unless she was completely stupid), use condoms and birth control. If I had to have a drink, make sure I was with friends and no driving. If I had to experiment with drugs, they urged me to stick with the things that weren’t hardcore (pot was okay and they hemmed and hawed about a few other things, but they made it quite clear that things like heroin, meth, and crack were life changers—killers to be avoided at all costs, something I already knew).
But it was official and it was definitely okay.
I was high on cloud nine and forgot the entire incident with Decker. I didn’t even notice that he hadn’t called like he’d promised.
He called the next day, though, early, and asked if I wanted to go for a jog. A jog? Did I look like the kind of girl who liked to jog? I had nothing against exercising, mind you, but jogging sucked. I’d had to do it in PE classes and wasn’t a fan. I had to wear an exercise bra just to keep my boobs from feeling like they were going to rip off my chest.
But this was my boyfriend, and I’d felt like the other night, I’d let him down. I still didn’t get how his future, his dreams were more important—I mean…to him, of course, they should be—but I wanted him to understand that my dreams were equally important to me. That hadn’t seemed to sink in with him, and I wasn’t sure what else I could say for him to understand that.
Maybe he had, though, and that was why he was asking me along.
We met in the park and it wasn’t long that he was running ahead of me—and I let him. Maybe I should have taken that as a sign.
Ah, foolish youth.
Chapter Twenty-seven
THE VAGABONDS MEETING was the moment in time when we learned that we were all a go except for Liz, the girl who’d had the biggest hand in creating us. We were devastated, because we all felt that we didn’t have a band without her.
That thought alone made her feel better.
Peter was disappointed as well, showing probably the most emotion I’d ever seen from the man, but he kep
t his quiet, droll way of speaking. Liz said, “I’ll talk them into it—they’re just stubborn and so worried I’m gonna make them look bad.”
I tilted my head. “What if you changed your name?”
Peter nodded but Liz said, “You mean pretend to be someone else?”
“Well, not exactly, but what about a stage name? Like Nikki Sixx or Tom Cruise. Those aren’t the names they were born with.”
She nodded. “Yeah. You guys already call me Liz.”
Peter simply said, “Mayer.”
“Mayer?”
“Yes. Drop the last part of your name. It’s an easy way to dissociate yourself from your parents without completely denying your heritage.”
In my mind, I remembered that her first name was Edna, questioning to myself if her parents even loved her at all. I did know she’d said once that her parents had wanted a boy…a wish she’d tried to fulfill by dressing like a tomboy, but that had just pissed them off more. She still did it, though, and she never said anything out loud, but I suspected that was a small way she rebelled against them. “Okay.”
“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s assume they’ll change their mind. You know your parents better than anyone else, so I’m hopeful that you’ll be able to influence them and show them how it will be beneficial for you—and how your music needs to be heard by the world. Anyway, I called this meeting to talk about our next steps. Your songs—your first album—is being mixed while we speak. We now have another job to focus on: your image. I’ll worry about the album art and your first videos, but I need you all to start thinking about your image. Remember too that it will be hard to change after you choose, so settle on something you’ll be comfortable with for a long time.”
Liz, ever the logical one, asked, “Do you have any suggestions?”
On the Run (Vagabonds #1) Page 17