Never Say Never

by Kailin Gow

  “Then I decided to listen to you play. I listened to the single that your band put up on Myspace. Figured I'd have a listen before I judged. And it was good, Neve. Really good.”

  I blushed slightly. Dad had never complimented my music before. After all – how could any music I created measure up to the sounds of Keith Knight and his band?

  “It reminded me of why I went into rock and roll to begin with. Not to get rich or famous. Not to get women or score drugs or get free booze. But to tell stories – beautiful stories – with music and with words. To touch people. To make them feel something.” He looked up at me. “Your songs made me feel something, Never. Pride – in having a daughter so talented, able to find her own voice. I saw in the liner notes that you wrote some of the songs, Never. You have...something special. And you did it without me.” He smiled. “And I'm proud of that too – as sad as it makes me to see my girl growing up. I was so afraid you'd turn into one of the other celebrity daughters I know – trying to make a career on the back of an over-indulgent father. But you weren't like that. You did it by yourself. And I've never been prouder of you than I am now, Never.”

  I was speechless – utterly shocked. After all this time I spent worrying about my father forbidding me to be in a band, was he giving me his blessing?

  “This isn't an unqualified showing of support, Never,” my dad continued, putting his hand on my knee. “I'm still worried about you. The lifestyle – the rock n' roll scene – it's no more innocent now than it was in the '70's and '80's. Maybe worse. And I worry about you – as my daughter, as a human being – of the way that fame can change you. There are so many dangers for a young woman these days. STDs, pregnancy, drug addiction – and don't think I'm being alarmist, Never; I've seen all these things happen to friends of mine back in the day.” He looked up at me. “If you're going to do this, Never, at least let me keep you safe. Introduce you to the right people, the people you can trust. People who won't betray you or steal your money or try to get you hooked on drugs.”

  “I don't want you to interfere, Dad,” I said, my voice choked with emotion. “I just want to make it on my own – every step of the way. I don't want to be just Keith Knight's daughter.”

  “But you'll always be my daughter, sweetheart,” he said. “And I'll always love you.” He hugged me tight. “You wow them tonight at the Palladium, okay?”

  Tears were streaming down my cheeks. “Okay,” I said.

  There wasn't time to reflect on my conversation with my father. No sooner had we said our goodbyes than I had to hop into the shower and get ready for tonight. My father's strength had given me renewed energy, renewed vigor – the conviction that I had to wow them all tonight. Not just the audience, but Danny too. Let him see what he's missing, I thought angrily as I looked through my wardrobe, in search of the perfect outfit to show Danny precisely what he could have had – and what he'd lost. I decided to go all out – a deep black leather miniskirt with red trim, a lacy black bustier top that pushed up my breasts and emphasized their shape, and red faux-crocodile heels that added a few inches to my already not inconsiderable height. I left my hair long, allowing the dark tresses to flow freely around my face, lining my eyes with copious amounts of eyeliner to bring out the green-hazel tint Danny had once found so inviting...

  “Damn...” Luc's mouth almost dropped open when he saw me. “I see you've dressed up for the occasion.” His words were innocent, but his gaze was filled with desire – as was Kyle's. They'd never looked at me like that before – their eyes so strongly hinting at unbridled longing. Now that they knew I was dating around – now that they'd pictured me having meaningless sex with my mystery groupie – I couldn't be the asexual “kid sister” anymore, the girl they'd kidded themselves into thinking would never date, would never have any life outside the band. I flushed. Nothing was innocent anymore; it felt like my experience with Danny had colored all parts of my life.

  You're just projecting, Neve, I tried to tell myself. Stop worrying.

  Danny, by contrast, looked infinitely less well-rested. He wasn't wearing his customary leather and eyeliner. He was wearing tight jeans, his T-shirt casual and looking like he'd picked it crumpled off the floor. His stubble and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed the fact that he hadn't slept. The sight of him still sent my heart into a whirlwind of agony.

  “Neve...” Danny came up to me, his eyes filled with pain.

  “Glad to see you showed up.” I was cool, calm, collected. I wasn't going to let him see how much his words had hurt me.

  “Of course I did,” Danny said. “I'd never let you or the band down. Neve, we need to talk. Can we...”

  “There's nothing to say.” I didn't want to deal with this right now. I had to focus on getting ready for the gig – I couldn't let myself give into the maelstrom of emotions inside me right now.

  “There's a whole lot to say!” Danny insisted. “I've been trying to call you all day. And send emails. You haven't answered my calls, my messages, my texts.” I'd turned off the phone after the first one – unwilling to deal with what I knew would be insincere apologies at best. Danny Blue didn't want a relationship with me, and that's all there was to it.

  “Look, Danny,” I said. “I did want something more, okay? I didn't just want sex – and I'm sorry. You want fun; I want a relationship. Let's be grown-ups and end it before we get hurt, okay?”

  “Neve, I really want to talk about this.”

  “The show's going to start any minute, Danny...”

  I passed him and went backstage, focusing on the lyrics, trying to remember them as I warmed up my voice, hoping I wouldn't cry...

  I had to focus on the music – I had to let my mind go black, let the music flood through me, sublimating all my fears, all my pain. I had to let go of Danny, of my heart, of my pain, of everything but the song that flowed through me...

  And we sang together. The music played. And once more we were beautiful, powerful, brilliant – once more we had the audience in the palm of our hands. I channeled my anger, my pain, my loneliness, all my feelings into the long loud wail of my voice.

  I could feel the energy. It was electric. Through my pain, we'd managed to give our best performance yet.

  Chapter 19

  After the performance we were all utterly exhausted. I felt drained – the force and passion of my performance had left me completely spent. As we headed backstage – I was careful to avoid Danny's gaze – I couldn't help but feel completely overwhelmed by the past few weeks. In a matter of barely a month, I had watched the Never Knights go from a tiny indie band to the wildly successful opening act for the Cure. I had watched as the Never Knights – a close, tight-knight group of best friends – had slowly begun to unravel: first we'd lost Geoff, then gained Danny. Luc and Kyle were still tense around each other; Kyle and I had a lot to sort out, I knew. I'd fallen in love. I'd lost my virginity to Danny Blue, whose voice onstage and off still had the power to make me melt. I'd finally gotten the approval from my father that I'd been seeking for so long. Had it really been only this September that I'd arrived on the USC campus, a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old hoping to blend in, hoping to after eighteen years of privilege, start at last something resembling a normal life? That seemed like so long ago now. Standing onstage, hearing the raucous applause of thousands of people, listening to the echoes of the guitar and the drums reverberating through the whole amphitheater, I wondered if I would ever feel normal again. My fingers were calloused from the guitar I'd played; my voice was rough and ragged. I stumbled backstage and doused my face with cold water, trying to regain some sense of balance.

  “Neve!” Danny came over to me. “Neve – you were incredible tonight.”

  “Thanks...” No sooner had he come near me than I was walking away, heading towards the reception area. “You too.” I would not look at him, I told myself. I would not let him hurt me once more – would not give him the power of looking into my eyes and being able to tell precisely how much he
had hurt me. He'd done enough – that final satisfaction of knowing the power he had over me was one I would never give him. Of course, he had seen me in my vulnerable moments. He had heard me cry out things, words I'd never thought I would cry out. He had seen my face and body unguarded as I lay back on the bed, writhing with pleasure, letting him know exactly the power he had over my body.

  “Neve, I really want to talk to you. Look, about what happened the other night...”

  “I don't want to discuss it,” I said shortly as we walked into the reception room together.

  “Neve!” A short, red-haired girl rushed up to me. She couldn't have been more than sixteen, but her goth makeup and mohawk suggested that she'd done a lot to try to look older. “Neve Knight – is it really you?”

  “Yes?” I turned around, confused. “I'm sorry, do I know...”

  “I'myourbiggestfan,” she exclaimed – all in one single breath. “I mean, I'm sure you have others, but I'm the president of your official fan club.”

  “We have an official fan club?”

  “Ever since last summer, when ‘The Night is Young’ hit college radio – I downloaded it and listened to it hundreds of times since then. It helped me through a lot – when I was dealing with this breakup I just listened to it on repeat and cried and cried. And I started the fan club. We come to all your shows. And this one was the best one yet!” She blushed, her face radiant with happiness. “I have all your EPs – and a couple of bootlegs. I mean – you're my heroine.”

  “Me?” I was flabbergasted. I knew that we were starting to make it big – that we were perched on the cusp of success – but I had never imagined that we'd have anything like a fan club yet. To my mind we were still that same idealistic group of kids who practiced in Luc's mom's basement three nights a week during high school.

  “I mean – there's a lot of rock groups out there fronted by a girl. I know – I listen to a lot of music. But you're not just “the girl,” you know. You don't just sing and look hot or whatever. You play guitar, too. And you write all your own songs. And you're totally cool just being one of the guys – I think that's so great.” She smiled. “I'm starting a band now – with a few friends from the fan club. We learned to play ‘The Night is Young’ - we played it for my high school dance.” Her face fell. “That's not like a copyright issue or anything, is it?”

  “Don't worry about it.” I smiled back at her.

  I looked out through the corner of my eye. Danny had vanished into the crowd – I was surrounded by fans, groupies. People who not only cared about my appearance, but about my music. Our music. My heart was beating so loudly I could feel it in my ears; I'd never been so overjoyed in my life. For a moment, Danny didn't matter. Kyle didn't matter. The pain in my chest didn't matter. All I could feel was the overwhelming joy of having succeeded at last – the way I'd always wanted to. My music had touched somebody.

  That was something not even Danny Blue could take away.

  *******

  The next few weeks passed by in something of a blur. Our success at the Palladium had invigorated our internet sales, not to mention the press interest in us. Our booker called us the moment we left the Palladium – telling us that she'd, on the live-tweeted feedback alone, been able to book us another, smaller gig, for the next night and the next. Suddenly we'd gone from playing a show a month, if that, to playing a show every night or two for the next two weeks. I hardly had time to concentrate on my heartbreak. I spent all the time I had with the band practicing; those few moments that I had to spare I spent catching up on homework and trying desperately to get through midterms. But nothing was as difficult as sitting in Professor Poe's class, trying to present a paper on the glam rock movement. Whenever I walked into that classroom I could feel Danny's eyes on me, his stare boring through me. He wanted me – I could feel the force of his desire for me even when I turned away. But I knew now that all he wanted, all I could give him, was sex. And what I felt for Danny was so much more than that. While my desire for him had only increased in our separation, I knew now that I didn't want to fall back into the trap of becoming friends-with-benefits alone. As much as those nights gave me pleasure, I needed something more from him. Something that I knew he couldn't give.

  Meanwhile, my relationship with Kyle started to stabilize somewhat. Since our semi-fight over my mysterious lover, Kyle had begun to chill out considerably. He was aware – all too aware – that he'd gone too far and said too much, and he worked extra hard to try and make us both forget the truth that had now come between us – the love he felt for me. “I just...got a little freaked out,” he admitted as we walked between classes one day. “I'm so used to losing the people I love. I feel like I get attached to someone – and they go away. You were the only person in my life for so long, other than my aunt, who gave me stability. Who made me feel loved. I guess I got jealous – scared I'd lose you, lose that connection.” He smiled. “But whatever happens – you're your own person, and you've got to make your own decisions. I get that.” Still, as hard as he tried to whitewash what had happened, I could still see the naked, unbridled desire in his eyes. The look that made it clear that he wanted to do with me precisely what Danny had done.

  We'd taken to practicing in the daytime at Luc and Kyle's, since we were at gigs all night – which made it possible to avoid the noise restrictions within reason. I was relieved. I wasn't sure how I would be able to handle going back to that cottage by the sea, looking at the bed that had been the source of so much pleasure, looking at the couch, the shower...all objects filled with lasting memories. If we went back there, I knew, it would take every inch of my concentration not to break down and sob. I tried to repress my feelings, to focus on the positive: the band was a success, and we were playing to packed houses every night. But somehow I couldn't feel as happy as I wanted to feel. Danny's absence was a dull ache in my heart.

  And when our booker called to let me know that Beyond Blue, the Vegas outlet of Danny's family's chain hotel empire, had specifically requested that we play on their main stage, I was torn between excitement and disappointment. On the one hand, it was our highest-profile gig yet – a chance to travel to another city, to play to hundreds if not thousands of people. On the other hand – it was Danny's father's club. And that meant being closer to Danny, dealing with his family, dealing with a world to which I had gotten so close. If I had been Danny's girlfriend, I couldn't help but wonder bitterly, then would I have been introduced to his father? Would I have gone with him on those hotel trips like he promised?

  If...

  The word that stood between me and so much happiness.

  Still, if my heartbreak was making me feel like my life was falling apart, it had the opposite effect on my music. I'd never played or sang better than I did that night at Beyond Blue. My heart was breaking every second I was onstage; just looking at Danny made me want to sob aloud, and tears sprang to my eyes as I looked into his own. But that pain, that anger – all that came out in a voice that barely seemed as if it were coming from me at all: it was a voice that was raw with emotion, a voice that conveyed so much, melding with the guitar solos to create a wall of sound, an overwhelming echolalia of expression. And the crowd was going wild for it.

  Then came the last song – the song we'd practiced a hundred times before. My duet with Danny – a song that we'd written together the week he'd first joined the band. A song called “Don't Tell Me Why” about lost love. We'd composed it without thinking of its meaning – but now, singing it as we stared into each other's eyes, the words came to us as if for the first time. Danny and I – singing together:

  “Don't tell me why it didn't work/don't tell me why it all went wrong,” I began, and he continued where I left off.

  “Don't tell me why I never knew/you were running all along.”

  “Don't tell me why you went away/don't tell me why you never stay....”

  And then we looked at each other as we sang together: our voices melding together, his gaze so
intense upon my own:

  “Just tell me that you're coming home to me.”

  As we looked into one another's eyes, as I felt the piercing stare of his icy blue gaze, I couldn't help but feel a connection with him. Even now, even apart, I felt close to him: as if the music gave us a space, out of life, out of space and time, to be together. To be in love – even when I knew that love was impossible. My whole body ached for him – but something else ached too. My heart was broken. I felt it now more keenly than before.

  “Just tell me that you're coming home.”

  Tears were streaming down my face as we packed up our instruments and headed backstage.

  “You okay, Neve?” Steve came up to me.

  “Just an intense show, that's all,” I said, deflecting his question.

  To our surprise, we found backstage for us a whole table piled high with gifts – presents from fans. A teddy bear, a few bouquets of red roses, chocolates, poems. One woman slyly slid me an envelope. I opened it, my mouth dropping open as I saw a series of black-and-white photographs of the woman fully unclad.

  “I've got such a crush...” she began, blushing.

  “You want me to give these to someone?” I asked. “Kyle...? Luc? Danny?”

  The woman laughed. “Honey – they're for you. My number's written on the back.”

  Before I could respond, she winked at me and vanished. I stood holding the photographs in utter shock. So this was what being a rock star was like.

  The manager tapped me lightly on the shoulder. “Miss Knight?” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “We've got a bit of a situation I was hoping you could help us resolve if you don't mind.”

  “Sure,” I said, following him through a gorgeous corridor lined with marble and gilded mirrors, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

  “Secret VIP entrance,” said the manager, opening a hidden door in the wall and taking me into an elevator. “We're going all the way to the penthouse suite.”