When the Beat Drops

by Anna Hecker

  I impatiently count down the hours until five o’clock, then freshen up in the locker room and practically vault into his van.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says, leaning in for a kiss. “Is the mall here any good?”

  “You want to go to the mall?”

  He nods like an eager puppy. “I haven’t been to a mall since high school. Please tell me they have a food court. And a Hot Topic! Oh, and I need socks.”

  “You’re nuts.” I shake my head, the anger of a day cooped up in the gym already dissipating. “But, yeah, it has both of those things. And probably socks.”

  “Great!” He pulls onto Route 17. “The mall it is. We can pretend it’s the ‘90s. And wait’ll you hear my good news!”

  “Good news?” I feel like I haven’t had good news in ages. For a moment, all thoughts of Britt and Windham and my family’s lies drift away.

  “About Electri-City.” He pulls up to a stoplight and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “I got you a pretty sweet rate. How does five hundred sound?”

  My jaw falls into my lap. “Five hundred dollars. Oh my god. Derek. Really?”

  His laugh ripples through the van. “Of course, as your manager I’ll be taking fifteen percent….”

  “Five hundred dollars?” I repeat. That’s more money than I’ve ever made at one time. If I can get more gigs like that, paying for Fulton on my own might not be such a pipe dream after all. “You’re amazing.”

  “Damn right. And don’t you forget it.” He reaches over and squeezes my knee. “I got your set time too.”

  “Yeah?” I lean forward. “When is it?”

  His eyes flicker over to me, then back to the road. “Friday. Six p.m. Don’t hate me—it’s the best I could do.”

  “Oh man.” My stomach drops. “You told me it was the weekend after my audition. You didn’t tell me it’s the same day.”

  He frowns at the road. “What time is your audition? Early, right?”

  “Three.” I wince. “That’s cutting it really close.”

  “But it’s in Manhattan, right? You’ll be fine. You worry too much,” he says, ruffling my hair.

  I scratch at a bug bite on my knee. “It’s a lot to worry about,” I admit. With almost anyone else I’d pretend it’s no big deal—I wouldn’t let them see me lose my cool. But I’m past that with Derek. He’s seen me at my most vulnerable, and I’m not afraid to let down my guard with him anymore. “It was already going to be the most important day of my life.”

  “So now you’ll kill it at two things instead of just one.” He keeps his hand on the back of my neck. “I have total faith in you, Mira. You just need to have faith in yourself.”

  “Thanks.” I close my eyes and let his touch transport me to a fantasy where I’ve already aced my Fulton audition and am at Electri-City, about to drop my new track for a thousand screaming fans….

  “Hey.” My eyes fly open. “Can I play you something?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Another mix?”

  “Even better. A new track.”

  “Get out. You’re producing?”

  “Sort of. I was over at Shay’s the other night and this happened.” I plug in my phone and find the rough cut of our song, keeping an eye on Derek as bass rolls through the speakers. His face stays blank as the track builds and swells and drops into a breakdown, finally tapering into drumbeats, then silence.

  “What do you think?” I ask anxiously. He’s staring straight ahead at the road, giving nothing away.

  “I don’t know.” He drums his hands on the wheel. “I wouldn’t play that at Electri-City if I were you.”

  Disappointment leaks through me, making me deflate. “It’s missing something, right?”

  “Not just that.” Derek’s lips go thin. “It’s too experimental. This is your first set at a major festival—you should be playing shit people already know and love.”

  “Well, I mean, of course it sounds experimental. It was an experiment. And Shay says she has a friend who’ll master it, and she’s going to play it at this Pine Barrens party this weekend and maybe it’ll be different over a real system, and I still think I can figure out what it’s missing….” I’m babbling, I realize. I trail off and glance at Derek. His eyes have turned to stone.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He sighs, pulling into the right-hand lane and following signs for the Tri-County Mall. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”

  “Do what?” I ask, my shoulders tensing.

  “Dammit.” He slaps the steering wheel once, making me jump in my seat.

  “Derek.” I rest a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Fine.” He grimaces as he pulls into the parking garage and finds a spot on the second floor. He parks carefully and lets the engine tick into silence before turning to me, his eyes troubled. “You really think it’s a great idea to be spending so much time with Shay?”

  “What?” I sit back, stunned. “Is this because she’s your ex or something?”

  “No!” He shakes his head. “It’s not about that at all. We’re cool. But how well do you know her?”

  “Pretty well.” I twist my hands in my lap. “I mean, we’ve hung out a bunch and she taught me how to DJ and I met her friends and stuff.”

  “Sure.” He sighs. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but it doesn’t sound like you know her that well at all. Trust me, you’d stay far away from her if you knew what she was really like.”

  “Shay?” I scratch the bug bite harder, leaving thin lines across the welt. The girl Derek’s describing doesn’t sound anything like the Shay I know. “Are you sure?”

  His eyes slide toward me. “Remember how upset you were after your Silent Disco set?” he says. “When you’d just slaughtered the dance floor and gotten booked for your first major festival and should have been on top of the world, and instead you were worried because Shay was giving you the silent treatment?”

  I nod, twisting my hands until my fingertips turn pink.

  “Then she didn’t speak to you for, what, a week?” he continues. “Without even telling you what was wrong? Even after you practically watched Yelena die? How immature is that?”

  I look down at my hands, coiled in my lap. “She said she was sorry,” I murmur.

  “Sure. And everything’s cool for a little while. And then you’ll do something else to piss her off and it’ll be the same shit all over again. You really want to get caught up in that?”

  “I don’t know.” I untwist my hands and shake feeling back into my fingers. Shay’s reaction felt normal to me; I might have done the same if I’d watched my friend get something I’d always wanted and hook up with my ex at the same time. But Derek’s known her longer than I have. Maybe I’m not as good a judge of character as I thought. “I guess not,” I say slowly.

  “So you’ll stop hanging out with her?” he asks, taking my hands in his.

  I pull them back, startled. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Oh.” His face contorts. “So you’ll just keep putting up with her shit, and listening to her when she says terrible things about me, and …”

  “Wait a minute.” I sit back in the bucket seat, struggling to reconcile this new side of Derek with the gentle, easygoing guy I fell in love with. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried she’s going to talk shit about you?”

  “Man, I don’t know.” Derek sighs and drops his hands into his lap. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  “She won’t, okay?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Maybe she was different when you guys were dating, but she would never do that now. And even if she did, I wouldn’t listen.”

  “You mean that?” He looks up cautiously, eyes brimming with hope.

  “Of course I mean it.” I uncross my arms. “Don’t you trust me to make up my own mind?”

  “I guess.” There’s a long pause. Finally he reaches for me, pulling me onto his lap and resting his h
ead on my shoulder. When he speaks again his mouth is against my neck. “I’m sorry.” His voice is muffled. “I don’t mean to be like this. It’s all my mom’s fault, and seeing her today …” he sighs into my skin. “I told you I have trust issues.”

  “I know.”

  So that’s what’s behind this side of him—why he’s acting like I’m going to betray him just by hanging out with my friend. His mom made him like this. I should have guessed.

  I rest my head on top of his and his scent wraps around me as the tightness in him loosens, letting me back in. “But you don’t have to be like that with me,” I whisper in his ear. “You can trust me. Always.”

  CHAPTER 33

  “Ooh, Panda Express and Chick-fil-A!” Derek exclaims as we stroll through the food court, pausing in front of each. “How should we clog our arteries tonight?”

  “There’s always pizza,” I suggest. “The Domino’s here makes it extra bland.”

  He laughs and throws an arm over my shoulder. “I guess we’re not in Bushwick anymore,” he says, steering us toward Subway. We order sandwiches and manage to find a table that’s not covered in spilled soda or fast-food wrappers. Even on a Tuesday the food court is crowded with families having loud, messy dinners and packs of the type of people who like to call me Sad Trombone at school. Derek’s talking about Electri-City again, about how I’m on after some electronic jam band, and I’m nodding around a mouthful of turkey when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  I whirl around, strands of shredded lettuce flying from my sub. Gabriella Lawson towers above me, flanked by Missy Meyer and Grace Wu. Jamal Robeson and Brian D’Angelo are behind them, horsing around in glossy athletic shorts and comically large basketball sneakers. I wonder how I’m going to explain the inevitable slew of Sad Trombone comments to Derek.

  Gabriella leans over and plants a big, fake kiss next to my cheek. “Mira, hi!” she says like we’re best friends. “I haven’t seen you all summer!”

  Of course she hasn’t. Aside from the fact that we go to the same high school, Gabriella and I barely inhabit the same planet.

  “I’ve been busy,” I say cagily. I expect her to make some snide comment about how I’ve been busy face-planting all over the football field. Instead she pulls up a chair and settles herself on the edge, leaning both elbows on the table. “Oh yeah?” Her eyes cut from me to Derek, lingering on him for a beat too long. “Doing what?”

  “Just … working and stuff.” I inch my chair away from hers, legs shrieking on the waxy floor.

  “You work at that gym, right? The Gym Rat or whatever? God, I should go there. I’m so out of shape!” She flips her glossy brown hair over her shoulder, her eyes drifting back to Derek.

  “You are not,” Grace pipes up behind her. And she’s right: even my parents would approve of Gabriella’s body fat ratio.

  “Whatever, I really need to start working out before lacrosse season.” Gabriella sits back, crossing one tanned leg over the other. “So who’s your friend? Aren’t you going to introduce me?” She shakes her head and gives Derek a look, like the two of them are adults and I’m a slow child.

  It takes every muscle in my face not to glare at her. “This is Derek,” I say, keeping my voice measured. “He’s …”

  But what is he? My manager? The guy I’m hooking up with? We never defined our relationship, so I can’t say he’s—

  “Her boyfriend,” Derek finishes for me. He crumples his sub wrapper and stands, offering me his hand. “Come on, babe,” he says, wrapping an arm over my shoulder and giving me a noisy kiss on the cheek. “I still want to buy you that thing we were talking about.”

  He nods ever so slightly in Gabriella’s direction before turning both of us away and ambling in the other direction.

  “What thing we were talking about?” I ask when we’re safely out of earshot.

  He grins and pulls me closer. “There isn’t a thing. I just wanted to see the look on her face.”

  I rest my head on his shoulder, my body shaking with laughter. “How are you so amazing?”

  “I just am. And don’t you forget it.” He stops at the entrance to Bloomingdale’s. “Let’s pop in here for a sec. For those socks.”

  He leads us through racks of dresses, each more sparkly and ridiculous than the last. We’re almost out of the ladies’ department when he stops so suddenly I slam into his hip.

  “Damn,” he says, picking up something stiff and iridescent. “You should wear this for Electri-City.”

  “That?” I laugh. Derek’s holding a gold bandage dress, wide triangles cut in the fabric.

  “I’m serious.” He lays it against my body, the brush of his fingers on my collarbone sending sparks across my skin. “Try it on.”

  “Uh-uh.” I shake my head. “That is so not my style.”

  “Why?” He rests the dress against me, smoothing it over my hips. “Don’t you want people to see how beautiful you are?”

  Heat spreads from my cheeks all the way down through my toes. What would it be like to rock a dress like that? To have that kind of confidence, to be able to strut into a room showing that much skin?

  “Just try it on.” He looks around for a dressing room. “No one has to see but us.”

  I open my mouth to protest but he’s already leading us to the back of the store, talking to a woman in a black polo shirt and too much hair spray who ushers me and the dress into a fitting room.

  “Promise you’ll show me,” he says.

  “I promise nothing,” I tell him, shutting the door.

  I stare at the dress. I could just wait in here, come back out in five, and tell Derek it didn’t fit. The dress glimmers back at me, a portal to another world.

  I inch my shirt over my head, step out of my shorts. The dress has triangles cut in the upper back and sides. I won’t be able to wear it with a bra so I unhook that too, already preparing my speech about how horrible it looked, how I couldn’t even get it over my head.

  The dress slides easily over my shoulders. I find the armholes and tug it down, facing away from the mirror so I don’t have to see. Once it’s plastered to my skin, I hold my breath and turn around.

  It looks … not bad, actually. The bandage fabric hugs my boobs and butt, making my curves look curvier and my legs look longer. For a moment I can almost see myself wearing it at Electri-City, strutting on glittery heels to the DJ booth and taking my place behind the decks as fans scream my name….

  “Can I see?” Derek asks from outside.

  I think of him seeing my breasts for the first time, the look of awe on his face. I think of him telling me I’m beautiful. I open the door.

  His jaw drops.

  “Mira.” His voice is an octave lower. “You look …”

  “Trashy?” I volunteer.

  He shakes his head. “Gorgeous.”

  The compliment makes me feel light-headed—or maybe it’s just the dress cutting off circulation to my brain.

  “Take a good look.” I spin around, letting him see me from all sides. “Because this is the last time you’re going to see it.”

  “Then we may as well make the most of it.” He steps forward and kisses me long and hungry, inching me back until we’re both in the dressing room and my back is against the mirror, the door closing behind us and Derek’s fingers getting stuck in the open triangles as he reaches for my breasts.

  “Hey!” The associate calls from outside. “Only one person at a time in the fitting rooms!”

  “Sorry.” I grin, pushing Derek away. “We’ll have to finish this some other time.”

  The associate pounds at the door as he kisses me again, his tongue opening my mouth like we have all the time in the world. “Don’t make me call security!” she threatens.

  “Go.” I wriggle away from him and shove him at the door, my face burning.

  A minute later I’m back in my own clothes. “It got stuck,” I mutter to the associate, shoving the dress in her hands as I hurry toward the exit. “He was jus
t helping me get it off.”

  “Sure he was.” Her glare is as ferocious as Derek’s smile. I lace my arm through his and we practically run out of Bloomingdale’s, giggling all the way to the van. I’m already in the passenger’s seat when he remembers he forgot socks.

  “Can you wait here?” he says. “I’ll just be a sec.”

  I nod and blow him a kiss. My heart is still racing from our mad dash through the store, the memory of the dress and his hands warm on my skin. I tip my head against the window frame, listening to the rhythmic kerthump of a skateboard rolling across the pavement. My tongue tsks against the roof of my mouth, adding snare.

  I’m halfway through working out a new beat in my head when Derek clicks the van door open, a large bag swinging from his arm.

  “Miss me?” he asks.

  “Terribly.” I eye the bag. “You really needed socks, huh?”

  “Socks … and this.” He removes a white cardboard box and sets it on my lap.

  A thrill travels from the back of my skull down through my neck … excitement, but also a warning. My fingers feel clumsy digging through layers of tissue paper until something stiff and sparkly emerges. The thrill in my neck is icy-hot, insistent. “You didn’t.” I pull out the dress and hold it up, pinpoints of glitter catching the parking lot’s lights.

  “I did.” He slides into the driver’s seat. “You deserve it.”

  “But I can’t wear it.” My heartbeat makes its way into my voice, making it shake. “I told you, I’d never have the guts.”

  His hand inches higher. “Maybe not now.”

  “Probably not ever.”

  “Mira.” His smile is gone now, his voice serious. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

  “Which is how?” I barely trust myself to speak.

  He smiles. “Only as one of the hottest, most beautiful girls in the world.”

  CHAPTER 34