Los Angeles was always going to feel like home for me, and for the first time since my mom died I felt her spirit around me in Dad's car. Mom would always be in Los Angeles. She existed in the crisp salty night air, in the rustle of palm fronds, in the endless blue sky that could stretch for miles and miles without a single cloud.
"Your mother used to love it up here," my dad finally said.
"I know," I told him.
"When I first met her I used to drive her up here and we'd sit up here for hours. I'd play my guitar… she'd always ask me to play songs that would make her laugh. She liked to hear me play Prince songs, songs that were totally not my style," my dad said, and I looked to see him smiling at the memory.
"She was a funny girl, your mom," he continued. "So full of life. She wanted to experience everything. I had never met anyone quite like her before. She only slept a couple hours a night. Said she didn't like to sleep, it made her feel like she was missing out on things."
He was telling me their love story. I had never heard it before; I had only heard bits and pieces from Mom and Julia, muttering about how he'd left, how he chose fame and glamour over us. I felt a huge lump forming in my throat.
"Your mom was a party girl. Used to like to hang out on the Sunset Strip, flirt with doormen at the clubs to get into shows for free. One night after we played the Troubadour, hell we were just starting out, there she was backstage. Dawn was always twirling that long, long blond hair around one finger. She had those long skinny legs, like you. A whole bunch of us went back to the apartment I used to share with Wade back then, this tiny little bungalow up on Vista Del Mar, doing all kinds of…" his voice trailed off and he remembered he was talking to a kid. "Bad stuff, stupid stuff, stuff I hope you're smart enough not to get into. And when the sun started to come up your mom said she was going to take the bus home. I asked her to stay and she said she was a good girl, she didn't spend the night with strangers. It had been a while since a girl had told me no. It's true, what they say. You always want the one you can't have. So we spent a lot of time together in L.A., started dating, it was pretty old-fashioned, all things considered."
"Anyway, we were just kids, fooling around. I mean I loved her, wanted to marry her, but then everything stated to change. Your mom was singing with a different band then, going on auditions all the time for acting roles. We got signed to Geffen Records. We went on tour and your mom dropped everything else in her life and came with, the partying got heavier… got out of hand."
"When that first tour wrapped, I wasn't very proud of myself. I knew I needed to make some big changes, clean up my act, or I was going to lose everything. The thing about success is that it's real hard on a band; everyone starts wanting their own thing, going in different directions. And your mom… well," he was struggling now to find a way to phrase the next part so as not to hurt my feelings, and I appreciated it.
"She had a real taste for the lifestyle. She had come out here when she was seventeen or eighteen, all fresh-eyed, from Minnesota, wanted to be a star. Had a whole life there with good parents and college that she just left behind. When we got together suddenly casting agents were calling her more often, photographers were taking her picture, she got to be on the cover of Spin Magazine… man, that was real big for her, that cover."
I had seen it. When I was little she had it framed in the hallway leading to our bathroom. In the photo she had long, long hair and was topless, with her hair strategically positioned to keep the photograph from being obscene. She took it down at some point after I left for school and casually told me that seeing it every day was making her depressed about getting old.
"I was getting homesick, wanted to move the band back to New Jersey. I mean, that's our home, and we were having a real tough time putting together our second album for Geffen. But your mom didn't want to leave L.A. She felt like if we left Hollywood we'd become irrelevant, she didn't want to be a New Jersey housewife. She had big plans for herself."
"When you came along, neither of us was ready," he told me. "I think your mom thought that a baby would keep me in L.A. with her. I didn't think Hollywood was a good place for a kid to grow up. Still don't. We went out to New Jersey and three months after you were born, I came home from practice one day and she was gone."
My jaw dropped slightly. "What?"
"Oh yeah," he said. "You were born in Trenton, just like me. Your mom was just miserable, stuck at home all day with a baby to care for while I was at the studio. She complained because we didn't go out at night anymore, and all of her own career stuff had been cast aside because we weren't in California anymore. She left for L.A. without me. I joined the two of you for a few weeks, but things between us were really stressful. Finally she told me she was going to want money to raise you on her own."
He paused, tapped the steering wheel, and continued. "That's when I knew it was over. She said she wanted money. Not me. She wanted money and Hollywood. She wasn't in love with me. She didn't want to be my wife and share my world."
A huge tear rolled down my cheek and I made no attempt to wipe it away.
"I was no angel, Taylor. Lord knows I wasn't the best boyfriend and if I had been responsible at the time I would have toughed it out in L.A. to try to work something out for your sake. But my feelings were hurt, my family was in New Jersey, there were a lot of other women around and there was pressure from the record company to outsell the first album. I let her go. I let you go."
This was all a huge revelation for me. I had grown up thinking that he had abandoned us, that my father had never wanted me and had a strong suspicion, especially as I started getting older, that my mom had just been a groupie, a hanger-on, and that I had been an embarrassment to my dad. Just an obligation he was happy to leave on the west coast. But this was a complete reversal of everything about my life I had assumed to be true. My mother had left him. She had chosen our life in Los Angeles together.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I owe you an apology and I owed your mom an apology. I wasn't much of a man back then, and sometimes I fear I'm not much of one now, either."
"You don't have to apologize," I assured him.
"Nah, I do," he said. "I've been trying to find the right way to get all this off my chest all summer. I needed to tell you, and if Dawn's spirit is out there somewhere, I needed to say it for her, too."
It was a lot to take in. The windows of the car were starting to get kind of steamy from us sitting there parked for so long, and Dad turned the engine back on for a second so that he could open them.
"I know you're gonna go off back to school next week," he began slowly, "but I really hope that you'll come home for Christmas. And next summer, if you want, you're more than welcome to come stay with us in New Jersey. Meet your grandparents. I know it's… not much of an offer after the way I've acted this summer. But it's all I've got."
A cool breeze blew, bringing the smell of the Pacific to the car. Below us, I heard cars honking and music drifting out of thousands of cars across Southern California, everyone having the time of their lives. For a second I felt like a child again, with the warm night air against my skin. I sensed the rush of pedestrians on Hollywood Blvd, the clinking of glasses at poolside parties, everything about Los Angeles that my mother loved so much. I knew in my heart that my mother was saying goodbye to me, and that everything was falling into place in my life for me as if she had arranged it herself. I was going to be all right. She was seeing to it.
Goodbye, Mom, I thought to myself.
CHAPTER 16
"Geez, Taylor, your hair has gotten really long!"
It was the second week of September, and I had taken the bus all the way into Boston to meet Todd at a diner near Harvard for lunch. The random meeting had been his suggestion; he had emailed me out of the clear blue suggesting that we meet up. He was going to be in Boston visiting friends for the weekend and asked if it was a possibility for me to meet for lunch.
"Yeah," I said, blushing. He was every bit as cute as I h
ad remembered. I hadn't spoken to Allison since that morning in Chicago when she had hung up on me, and I wasn't sure if Todd had told his sister he had made plans to see me. "How was your summer?"
"My summer was boring," Todd insisted. He had gotten to the diner before me and was already drinking a black coffee. "I drove around, saw movies, same old."
We had a great lunch, one that lasted over two hours. I told him all about touring the country, and my dad's house in New Jersey, and what it was like to meet my grandparents in Minnesota. He was completely smitten with the International Relations department at UConn and was already thinking about trying to secure an internship at the UN in New York City for the summer. He couldn't wait to see the leaves change color, something that Angelenos never get to experience.
What was best about our conversation was that he barely asked me about the band or being a celebrity. He seemed genuinely more interested in how I was doing and what it was like for me to be back in school.
"Are they going to offer you Drivers' Ed this year?" he asked.
"No, of course not," I laughed. "If any one of us had a license and a car, we'd all drive away as fast as we could."
"I miss my car," Todd claimed with a fake sob. "My parents made me leave it with Allison. God only knows what will be left of it the next time I go home."
"What about Nicole?" I asked cautiously, wondering what had ever happened to their hot summer romance. I was enjoying myself so much with Todd that I genuinely wanted to know if there was another girl in the picture.
"Nicole Farley?" Todd asked, surprised. "We saw two movies together over the summer. She's a total airhead. Not my type."
I felt like jumping out of the diner booth and dancing down the aisle. I had forgotten how easy it was to get lost in his sleepy blue eyes.
I mentioned to Todd that I was practicing night and day for my junior symphony concert the following weekend, and he asked if he could attend.
"Uh, sure," I said. "I mean, I can't promise that it's going to be good or anything, but I can send you a ticket."
We paid our bill and stepped outside. Todd was staying with friends who had an apartment in Cambridge, and I had to catch my bus back to school.
"It was really great to see you, Taylor," Todd said, hesitating awkwardly outside the diner. "I mean, it was really weird the last time I saw you, with your mom and everything. I thought about you all summer."
I nearly jumped out of my skin when he said this. Todd thought about me? Not only did he just think about me once, but all summer?
"Thanks," I said. "I'm doing really well now, I think."
Todd reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small wrapped box. "I brought you something. Tomorrow is your birthday, right?"
I was stupefied. The next day was, in fact, my sixteenth birthday, but I had no idea how or why Todd would have remembered this. And yet, he had remembered it. I accepted the gift and held it in my palm, afraid to open it. "Todd, how did you ever remember that it's my birthday?"
Todd chuckled and looked up at the blue sky for a second. "Taylor, I've known you practically your whole life. Of course I know when your birthday is. Don't open it now, I'll be too embarrassed."
"OK," I agreed, tucking the gift into my blue Coach bag.
And then, just like magic, he leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips. It was just perfect. A better birthday present than I ever could have asked for.
The next day, Sunday, I was awakened early in the morning by my cell phone ringing. Jill had gotten Kelsey up at the crack of dawn to sing Happy Birthday to me over the phone. There were boxes waiting for me in the dormitory mail room, and jealous glances were cast in my direction as I hauled them up to my room using a wheeled cart.
I still hadn't gotten used to my new status at Treadwell. Anyone who hadn't been aware of my dad's identity last year was certainly aware this year. Emma Jeffries had even said hello to me on dormitory move-in day. I tried to overlook the fact that she had been wearing a scarf loosely tied around her hips when the event occurred. It was the best I could do to give her the benefit of the doubt and open myself to the possibility that perhaps she was unaware of the trend beginning with me.
Amazingly, the birthday present boxes included sixteen cupcakes from a bakery in New Jersey, sixteen pairs of cashmere socks, and sixteen expensive perfume and skincare baskets. Leave it to Jill to have sent gifts that would keep me off of every girl's Most Hated list for the year. She had sent enough of everything for me to share with all of the girls on the floor of my dorm. And of course, in one box, there were a few gifts just for me, a new pair of jeans, a new sweater, a new pair of running shoes. No car keys. Not even having a celebrity parent is a guarantee that all dreams will come true.
And of course I had waited until my actual birth date to open the present from Todd. Riddhi and Ruth sat captivated on the floor of the dorm room that Ruth and I shared, while I pulled the package out of my hand bag.
"I bet it's going to be earrings," Riddhi insisted.
"Earrings are so cliché," Ruth rolled her eyes.
I opened the pink foil gift wrap to reveal a very pretty wooden jewelry box. Inside, however, was not jewelry. Inside there were sixteen pennies and a note.
Sixteen pennies for you to make sixteen wishes. May all your wishes come true this year. Todd Burch.
It took my breath away.
"Sixteen cents! That's all he spent on you? Sixteen cents?" Ruth exclaimed. "I don't know about this guy."
"Her dad is rich, Ruth," Riddhi reminded her. "There's nothing he could buy her that her dad couldn't buy her, bigger and better."
I could barely hear them critiquing Todd's gift. As far as I was concerned, it was perfect. As perfect, if not more perfect, than a bag of seashells.
The following weekend, my stomach was icy as I dressed in my black turtleneck for the junior symphony performance. Although I had been practicing every single day before and after classes, and Mr. Ferris was telling me he had noticed significant improvement in my execution, I was nervous. I had not yet even once made it all the way through the first movement, spring, without missing at least one note or pausing in frustration. The rest of the composition was a piece of cake, but spring had been impossible for me to master.
Before the performance, we gathered backstage at the auditorium that had been rented for our performance in Boston, and Mr. Ferris gave us a pep talk. Even with the heavy velvet stage curtains drawn, I could still hear the audience chattering. I wondered if my dad ever got scared like this before a show. I clutched my violin and assured myself that it was just a bunch of Board Members, family and friends in the audience. No one was going to stand and throw tomatoes if I messed up.
I breathed a complicated sigh of relief that my dad was far away in Malibu in rehab and not in attendance. As much as I felt odd being the only girl in the junior symphony who didn't have a parent attending the show, I feared that no one would be more critical of my performance than my dad. And yet I was kind of sad at the same time that he couldn't be there. For whatever reason, it was still really important to me to impress him.
"Ladies," Mr. Ferris began (he always referred to us as ladies), "you've all worked so hard for this moment. And it's just the beginning of what's to come this year. I'm so proud of all of you and I know you're going to put your best into this show."
We filed onto the stage and took our seats by the orange glow of the house lights, and tuned our instruments for the last time. Then we heard a whirring as the curtains opened.
I lifted my violin to my chin, and the audience fell quiet.
I had been practicing my piece so arduously that I barely even needed to reference the sheet music. The notes flew from my bow and I closed my eyes, blocking out the rest of the world, focusing on making sure that my timing remained steady. I concentrated on making each note soar, and tried to channel Vivaldi's spirit of spring as I struggled to keep up with the fast tempo. I was sweating. Why, oh why, did the hardest part of th
e song have to come first?
A slow rumble of applause built up as I finished my solo, and it grew to a thunderous standing ovation as the rest of the symphony swelled and I sat down. Mr. Ferris was beaming with pride. I tried to catch my breath and looked around at my fellow symphony musicians, amazed. I had made it through the hardest part without a single mistake. Only then did I look out into the audience and see Tanya and Kelsey sitting in the front row, clapping like maniacs. I had no idea they were going to drive in from New Jersey for the show. A few rows behind them, Todd was with a few friends from his school. He was standing and applauding as well.
After the show, Jill trapped me in a huge bear hug. I held onto her for at least a minute, so happy to see her and grateful that she had come. Before I knew it, my eyes were watering from joy. She was just a woman who happened to have married my dad, and yet there she was, at my concert, carrying a bouquet of flowers for me. She had tiny mascara streams running down her cheeks from crying.
"I am so proud of you!" she hoarsely whispered into my hair.
"I didn't know you guys were going to come," I said, blowing my nose and picking up Kelsey to kiss her on the cheek.
"Of course we were going to come," Jill said. She hugged me again. "You're a part of my life now, Taylor. No matter what, I will always, always be here for you."
Everything in my life had changed over the summer. Nothing was ever going to bring my mom back, and having Allison break off our friendship was like losing a sister. Jake had completely stolen my heart and then had broken it, even if it hadn't been his intention. But I knew I had come out of a very dark time much stronger and more appreciative of what I had in my life than ever before. I felt more than ever that I was loved, and for all that I had lost that year, I had gained in return a father I believed was trying his best to be a good parent to me, a trusted friend in Jill, and a little sister who looked up to me. I was pretty sure it was going to be a good year.
The Rock Star's Daughter (The Treadwell Academy Novels) Page 19