All Rhodes Lead Here

by Zapata, Mariana

  Why did he look freaked out?

  “What happened?” I asked, trying not to worry.

  He grabbed my hand, which should have been a sign because he tolerated me on the rare occasions I hugged him but had never initiated one himself, and started pulling me forward, out the door.

  “Hold on,” I said, stopping to slip on my boots halfway and shuffling after him. “What’s going on?”

  The kid didn’t even glance at me as he kept on leading me toward his house. “Your… your friend is at my house,” he basically gasped.

  “My friend?” What friend? Clara?

  That was when he glanced over, his expression damn near distraught. “Yeah, your friend.” His throat bobbed. “You said some things, but I didn’t really believe you.”

  “That’s rude,” I yawned, not knowing what the hell he was talking about but going along with it.

  Amos ignored me. “But she’s inside. She was banging on the door and calling your name—and she doesn’t have her wig on, but it’s her.”

  Wig?

  I clomped up the stairs behind him, way too tired to really use my brain yet. One of my boots fell off, and I had to tap his hand to get him to stop so I could put it back on.

  “She said she’s making us all breakfast, so I ran over here to get you,” he kept on rambling a mile a minute, talking faster than ever. More than ever too. He pushed the door open and kept on tugging me after him. “Can I tell Jackie? Dad said she could come over for two hours, remember? She’s gonna cry.”

  “I stayed up last night finishing a book, Am. Who is over here? Clara? Why would Jackie cry?”

  He led me straight into the living room before suddenly stopping.

  “It’s her,” he whispered, not sounding very reverent but more like… surprised out of his mind.

  I narrowed my eyes toward the kitchen with yet another yawn and spotted the jet-black hair and slim body standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a glass bowl.

  I couldn’t clearly see the woman’s features, but all it took was an “Ora!” for me to know who she was.

  An eight-time Grammy winner.

  One of my best friends in the whole world.

  One of my favorite people in the whole world.

  And one of the absolute last people I would’ve ever imagined seeing in Mr. Rhodes’s house.

  “Yuki?” I asked anyway.

  I was pretty sure she set down the bowl before rushing over and throwing her arms around me, hugging the shit out of me so hard I couldn’t breathe. Still in shock, I hugged her back just as tight.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked her in an exhale I was careful to let out above her head since I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet.

  She hugged me even tighter. “I had the day off, and right after my show last night, I decided to come and see you. I tried calling but it went straight to voice mail. I’ve missed you so much, cutie pie.” Yuki pulled back just a little. “Is this okay? I remember you said you had this Sunday off.” Before I could say another word, she went on. “I can leave early if you need me to.”

  I rolled my eyes and hugged her again. “Yes, it’s okay. I have plans but—”

  “We can do whatever you need to do!” she offered, pulling back, giving me a rare view of her makeup-less and wigless upper body. Yuki Young, the person I loved and who had painted my nails once a week when I’d stayed with her at her twenty-thousand-square-foot mansion in Nashville.

  Looking at her, only a massive fan would recognize her. And it was really, really rare. We could go out in public all the time… with her bodyguard that looked more like a boyfriend.

  “I wasn’t really going to give you the chance to choose otherwise, Yu.” I laughed, feeling so tired but so happy to see her.

  Honestly, it filled my heart with so much joy, I might have cried if my eyeballs were capable of it, but they were still so tired.

  The only plan I had today had been…

  Oh crap. I turned my head to find Amos standing in the exact same spot he’d been in when we’d stopped. His hands were on his belly, his mouth was slightly gaped, and he looked like someone had just told him he was two months pregnant.

  “Amos,” I said carefully, everything suddenly clicking now. “This is my friend Yuki. Yuki, this is my friend Amos.”

  He made a wheezing sound.

  “Amos, are you sure it’s all right that I’m using your mix to make pancakes?” Yuki asked him with an earnest smile, all too familiar with that kind of reaction.

  “Uh-huh,” the teenage boy whispered.

  I, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. Mostly because I knew his dad and how protective he was. “Am, can I borrow the house phone and call your dad real quick?”

  He nodded, gaze still stuck on my friend of the last ten years. For someone who wasn’t a fan of her music—his words when I’d casually mentioned her during one of our sessions to test out the waters—he sure did seem starstruck. Then again, she was a household name who had magically appeared at his house, in the process of making pancakes while dressed like… well, like normal Yuki. The colored wigs she put on were nowhere in sight and neither were the colorful outfits and even more colorful makeup that so many of her fans tried to replicate.

  She was just here, in a small town in Colorado, her sleek black hair cut shorter than it had been in a while, ending right at her chin, in jeans and an old NSYNC shirt… that she’d stolen from me and I hadn’t noticed until now.

  I loved her. Thief or not.

  But first, I needed to call and leave a message. Grabbing the house phone from the dock I found on the counter, I caught a big grin from Yuki, who at another glance looked worn the hell out, and then had Amos recite his dad’s number. Half expecting him not to answer—and praying he didn’t—I was surprised when Mr. Rhodes picked up.

  “Everything all right?” was the first thing he said, sounding alarmed.

  It was sevenish in the morning, and he had to be wondering what his kid was doing waking up early when he didn’t have school. “Morning, Mr. Rhodes, it’s Aurora,” I said, cursing in my head that of course he’d answer. “Am is fine.”

  There was a pause then, “Morning,” he greeted me back in a cautious voice. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Are you fine?” he asked slowly in a grumbly voice that had me wondering what time he’d woken up.

  We hadn’t done much more than wave at each other, which really consisted of me waving and him lifting two fingers or lifting his chin in response, since the day of the bat house. He hadn’t been outgoing or kind, but more just… back to putting up with my existence in the peripheral of his life. And that was all right. At least Amos had been keeping me company. I didn’t have any illusions.

  “We’re both fine,” I replied, hoping he wouldn’t get too mad about having not just me but a stranger in the house too. “I was just calling to tell you that my friend showed up to surprise me and accidentally went to your house first, and we’re… here.”

  “Okay….”

  Okay?

  Was this the same person who had mentioned at least ten times that I couldn’t have visitors over?

  “She’s making us pancakes,” I went on, baring my teeth at myself.

  That next “okay” sounded just like the first one had, trailing off and kind of funky.

  I walked off toward the hall where Amos’s bedroom was so that they wouldn’t hear me and dropped my voice. “Please don’t get mad at Amos; he was just being polite. I would have let you know in advance or gotten a hotel room, but she surprised me,” I tried to explain just to be on the safe side. “I’m sorry we’re here.”

  Did he just sigh in irritation?

  “We’ll get out of here as soon as possible. My friend is one of the best people in the world, and I’ll keep an eye on Amos, I promise,” I whispered, eyeing Amos as he kind of strolled closer to where Yuki was busy trying to pour batter onto a skillet she’d heated up at som
e point.

  There was another sigh. “I….”

  Shit.

  “I know you would, Buddy. It’s fine,” he said.

  Buddy? Where had that come from? Not that I was complaining, but… I cleared my throat and kept my voice even. “Okay. Thank you.”

  Silence.

  All right then. “Okay, well, I’ll see you later maybe.”

  There was a moment of silence. “I should be home around two.”

  “Okay.” I considered warning him who she was, but decided against it. Based on the few times I’d heard music playing when he had the windows down in his truck or Bronco, he either wouldn’t know who Yuki was or wouldn’t give a crap.

  I heard him breathe. “Bye.”

  “Have a nice day at work.” I hung up then, confused by how weird he was being.

  I glanced over to find my old friend staring at me intently from the kitchen, where she had a hip against the counter.

  Too intently.

  Especially when she seemed to be smiling all sneaky too.

  And beside her, Amos was still staring at her.

  At least until he asked, “Ora…?”

  I made my way over. “Yeah?”

  “Jackie’s supposed to come over at eleven. To… you know….”

  I did know. I was surprised he remembered too, especially when he seemed into a dead-eye stare at Yuki.

  For a brief moment, I thought about asking her if she’d care if his friend came over… but this was his house. And she wasn’t that kind of person.

  “Of course she can still come over. We might as well take advantage of having Miss One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Seven-Million Albums being here. She can help.”

  His head snapped over toward me, wide and alarmed.

  “She’s the one who sent you that crystal in your room.”

  I swear his coloring changed. Then he choked.

  Yuki piped up, “Who needs help? How can I help?”

  I grinned at her. “I love you, Yu. You know that?”

  “I know,” she countered. “I love you too. Who needs help though?”

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  Amos choked again, and his face started to get red at what I was implying, asking Yuki for “help” because we were supposed to work on his performance today. I’d begged him to try to sing in front of me. We’d put it off and put it off until he’d finally agreed… as long as Jackie was there too. He’d had to ask his dad for an exception since he was still grounded. I’d learned recently that he’d been supposed to start taking driver’s ed over the summer, but because of the apartment rental stunt, he was going to have to wait until he was forgiven.

  “Yu.” I glanced at her. “How the hell did you get here?”

  She turned to flip the pancakes. “Roger”—that was her main bodyguard who had been around for probably a decade; he was in love with her, and we were all pretty sure she had no idea—“drove me straight over after my show last night in Denver. He dropped me off and went to rent a hotel room to get some sleep.”

  I noted the dark circles under her eyes again before glancing back at Am to make sure he hadn’t passed out. He was still standing there, in his own little world, terrified or shocked, probably both. I was pretty positive he wasn’t paying either one of us any attention anymore.

  “Everything okay?” I asked her quietly, setting the phone back into the cradle and closing the space between us.

  The breath she blew out was straight from her soul, and she lifted a shoulder. “You know I shouldn’t complain.”

  “Just because you shouldn’t complain doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to.”

  She bit her bottom lip, and I knew there was something going on. Or maybe it was just the usual stresses from touring. “I’m tired, Ora. That’s all. I’m really tired. The last two months have felt… really long and… you know. You know.”

  I did know. She was getting burned out. That’s why she was here. Possibly to just be… this version of herself. Her normal person. Not the persona she put out for the whole world to see. She was sweet and sensitive, and bad reviews of her albums ruined her month. It made me want to murder people to protect her.

  Sometimes you looked at a person and thought that they had everything, but you didn’t know how much they still wanted. What they were missing. Most of the time, they were things the rest of us took for granted. Like privacy and time.

  And she was tired and here.

  So the second we were close enough, I hugged her again, and she dropped her forehead into my shoulder and sighed.

  I needed to call her mom or her sister tomorrow and tell them to keep an eye on her.

  After a minute, Yuki pulled back and braved a tired smile. “Ora, where can I get some Voss water around here?”

  I stared at her. Then I kept on staring at her.

  She held up the spatula in her hand and muttered, “Okay. Forget I asked. I can drink tap water.”

  Then sometimes I forgot she was a multimillionaire.

  * * *

  Nearly four hours later, Yuki and I found ourselves downstairs in the garage in two of Mr. Rhodes’s camping chairs while Amos sat on the floor, looking sick. It had only taken a stack of pancakes that were eaten at the table with my young friend not saying a word, a quick talk with the same teenage boy who pleaded with me to take the day off, but I insisted that, no, we shouldn’t and arguing about it for a second, which had surprised and amused me, to get to this point. I’d gotten to talk to Yuki in private while I’d gotten dressed about how the tour was going, which was just okay.

  Jackie was on her way.

  “We can wait another day,” the teenage boy insisted, his neck red.

  Usually I didn’t like to force people to do things they didn’t want to do, but this was Yuki and she had the kindest soul in the world. “What if you turn around and pretend neither one of us is here?”

  He shook his head.

  “Neither one of us would ever say anything mean or bad, and I’ve heard you already. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Am, and One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Seven Million Albums over here—”

  Yuki grunted from where she was sitting in her chair, legs crossed, holding a cup of tea she’d somehow made in my apartment. Knowing her, she probably kept a couple of packs in her purse. “Would you stop calling me that?”

  “Not after you asked for Voss water earlier.” I raised my eyebrows. “Would you prefer Eight-Time Grammy Winner?”

  “No!”

  Amos paled.

  “You’re making Amos more nervous,” she argued.

  But there was a method to my madness. “What about… I Puke Before Every Concert?”

  She seemed to think about it for a second but nodded cheerily.

  And that had Amos snapping out of it and asking quietly, “What?”

  “I throw up before every performance,” my friend confirmed, seriously. “I get so nervous. I’ve had to go to the doctor for it.”

  His dark eyes flicked from side to side like he was processing her comment and having a difficult time doing so. “Still?”

  “I can’t help it. I’ve tried therapy. I’ve tried… everything. Once I’m out there, I’m fine, but getting up there is so hard.” She uncrossed her legs and recrossed them. “Have you performed in front of an audience yet?”

  “No.” He seemed to think about it. “My school has a talent show every February… I was… I was thinking about it.”

  This was the first time I’d heard about it.

  “Getting up there is difficult,” she confirmed. “It’s really hard. I know some people get used to it, but it’s fighting every instinct in my body to go out there every single time.”

  “How do you do it then?” he asked, gaze wide.

  She cradled her cup, looking thoughtful. “I throw up. I tell myself I’ve done it before and I can do it again, remind myself I love making money, and turn into Lady Yuki. Not normal Yuki, mind you, but Lady Yuki who can do everything that
I can’t.” She shrugged. “My therapist said it’s a survival instinct that isn’t necessarily healthy, but it gets the job done.”

  She set her cup down on her thigh. “Most people are too scared to ever put themselves in a position to be criticized. You shouldn’t care what they think if they don’t have the guts to do what you’re doing. You have to remember that too. The only opinion that really matters is your own and other people you respect. Everyone is scared of something, and perfection isn’t realistic. We’re humans, not robots. Who cares if you’re a little sharp or trip in front of national television?”

  That had happened to her. Her sister had recorded it and cackled over it for at least a year.

  Amos’s face was very thoughtful.

  “So….” I trailed off to give him some time to think about her advice. “Have you written anything new?”

  “Are you writing a song?” Yuki interrupted.

  “Yeah,” I answered for him. “We’re still trying to figure out long-term what story he wants to tell with his music.”

  She understood and puckered her lips together. “Yes. You absolutely have to figure that out. Amos, you’ve got the best person in the world right here to help you. You have no idea how lucky you are.”

  I gritted my teeth, hoping she wouldn’t say much more, but the boy made a face.

  “Who? Ora?”

  That got me to snicker. “Dang, Am, don’t make it seem like it sounds that wild. I told you I’ve written a few songs.” He just didn’t know that some of them had done… well.

  It was Yuki’s turn to make a crazy face. “A few?”

  I had told her while we were upstairs that they had no idea about Kaden, that they only knew about her, at least Amos had been warned in a backward way with little hints. All they knew was about my… “divorce.”

  “Hers? You wrote her songs?” my young friend wheezed, acting like he was floored.

  Yuki nodded way too enthusiastically. I just bared my teeth at him in a noncommittal smile and threw in a shrug for the hell of it.

  The confusion—and surprise—on his face didn’t go anywhere, and just as he seemed to think about what to respond with, a car started coming down the driveway, and we all turned as a familiar SUV drove by and did a three-point turn, a teenage girl coming out while it was still in motion. The window rolled down, and Clara’s familiar face appeared behind the driver's seat. “Hi! Bye! I’m late!” And then she was gone as Jackie carried her backpack in one hand and headed toward where we were.