Boy Band (5 page)

Of course, the tabloids are telling a different story.  

Sam Morneau - WASTED
!
 

Mega-heartthrob and member of the popular boy band, The Kind of September, Sam Morneau was spotted early Friday morning, leaving a club in Downtown San Francisco with friends.  The young singer, who is under the age of 21, appeared drunk and disheveled as he tripped and stumbled his way out into the streets and into a waiting car... 

“This is so stupid,” I mutter as my mom sits down next to me on the couch.  

“What?”

“Nothing.  Just dumb rumors.”  

“Is it about Sam?” Mom asks.  I look at her.  I’m shocked to see that she looks concerned, almost nervous.

“Mom, you don’t actually believe that he would do this, do you?”

“No, Sweetie, of course not.  I know Sam.  He’s been a good friend to you for a very long time.  It’s just... well...”

“What?” I demand.

“This isn’t the first article to be written like this.  And they seem to be appearing more and more - ”

“Mom, they’re lies!” I can’t believe she’s saying this to me.  She knows Sam!  She’s known him since we were little kids.  How could she even suspect that any of these awful reports are real?  “I promise you, none of this is true.  These are just stupid gossip columnists and phony reporters trying to make a buck.  Sam is still the same guy, I promise you.”

“I know, Melissa, and I believe you,” she says, scooting closer to me.  “I’m just a little worried about what you’re being exposed to.”

“What do you mean?”  

“I mean... You’ve been out there for two years now.  I know you can take care of yourself.  You’re smart and you’ve experienced so much more than I had at twenty.  You’ve done more than I have even now.  I just want to make sure that it’s an appropriate atmosphere for you.  You’re still so young.  If you’re being exposed to anything indecent or - ”

“Mom!”  I leap to my feet.  This is ridiculous.  “I know you’re trying to protect me, but please, hear me out.  The guys are not what the media makes them out to be.  I don’t know why these people think it’s okay to make up stuff like this, but they do.  It’s nothing new.  It’s been happening to singers and actors and other famous people for years, and it’s going to keep happening.  But you can’t believe everything you read.”

“I know that.  But I’m your mother.  I worry.  Can you really blame me?” 

“No,” I sigh and sit back down.  

“The truth is, honey, I know how you feel about Sam.  I know he’s your friend, but I also know he’s more to you than that.  And I just... the last thing I want is to see you get hurt.”  Her voice and her eyes, the same shape and color as mine, are completely sincere.

As much as she loves Sam, I know there’s also part of her that resents him for not liking me back.  She’s felt that way ever since he and the guys decided to skip our Senior Prom to go perform a last-minute show after we’d all agreed to go as a group.  Joni and I decided to ditch Prom as well to accompany them on their gig.  It actually turned out to be a pretty fantastic night anyway, but I’ll admit, I still would have liked to have had one dance with him.  

“Mom, he’s not going to hurt me.  I promise.”

“I hope so, sweetheart.  Because you deserve the world.”

“I love you,” I say and wrap my arms around her shoulders, breathing in her warm, familiar perfume.  It smells like my childhood, and like home.  

“I love you, too.”    

⋯

Every time we come home, Sam’s mom, Laurel, invites everyone over to celebrate and to just enjoy some down time together.  Laurel has always loved hosting parties, even before Sam bought her her dream house in Marin County.  Now, she loves hosting them even more, but with Sam on the road so often, she claims she never has much of a reason to throw one.  

For the party, I prepare my famous peanut butter chip brownies.  They’re Sam’s favorite.  I’m not much use in the kitchen most of the time, but I have to admit, I make some damn good brownies.  

By the time we arrive, the Foremans and the Berkleys are already there.  I’m not sure Jesse’s family will make it.  They live up near Napa.  But I’m sure Josh and his parents will show up.  

Sam is waiting to greet us even before we make it to the door.  Somehow, he looks extra handsome whenever he’s home.  He’s wearing dark skinny jeans and a loose, white button-down shirt.  His hair is messy as ever and his broad smile is absolutely contagious.

“Welcome!” he exclaims, throwing his arms out.  

I go in to hug him, but Mom gets there, first.  I guess she’s gotten over whatever reservations she’d had about me being around him earlier.  

“Sam, it’s so good to see you!” she tells him.

“You too, Mrs. Parker.”  Even though Sam’s mom insists that we call her Laurel, Sam has never felt comfortable addressing anyone else’s parents that way.  

My brother and sister are next.  To my little brother Aidan, Sam is the older brother he wishes he had.  He’s seven, and in his eyes, Sam is a regular superhero.  My little sister, Brooklyn, however, is just about as taken with Sam as I am.  She smiles shyly up at him and giggles when he asks her how she’s doing.  At thirteen, all of her friends listen to The Kind of September, but she is incredibly modest about having grown up with several of its members.  

After them, my dad claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder and says, “Looking good, son.”

“Thank you, Sir.”  Sam is always so polite to my family.  

Finally, it’s my turn to greet him.  Even though we’ve texted, I haven’t actually gotten to see him in almost a week.  That’s not okay.  

Instead of a smile or a hug, however, he just stares down at the platter in my hand.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asks.

“Maybe,” I tease.  

“You are my favorite person on this planet,” he says and finally pulls me into his arms.   

There, in his warm and sturdy embrace, I can’t help thinking
,
Likewis
e
.     

After he lets me go, he takes the brownies from me (“I don’t trust you with them,” he jokes) and leads me inside, where everyone is hugging and greeting one another.  Joni is by my side in an instant.

“Thank God you’re here,” she remarks.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m just tired of listening to my brother run his mouth about Tara and how he wants to bring her home for Christmas and how Sam really needs to consider going out with that Courtney girl because she really, really, really liked him.  Of course she liked him.  He’s Sam Morneau.  Everyone and their grandma likes him!” 

Creepy thought, but not altogether inaccurate.  

“Do you think he’ll really bring her home for Christmas?  That’s kind of a big step and they really haven’t been dating that long.”

“Right?!” Joni agrees.  “I don’t know.  I just thought of all the guys, Jesse would be the one to pull some stupid stunt with a model.  Or Josh.  Or even Sam.  I’d have expected any one of them before my brother.”  

“I think Sam’s smarter than that,” I say.  

“Oh come on, Mel.  I know you two have like, a thing or whatever, but he’s a guy.  And guys are stupid.”    

I want to ask her what she meant b
y
a thin
g
, but Oliver approaches us before I get the chance.  

“Hey, stranger,” he greets me with a one-armed hug.  

“Oliver, you should be honored,” I tell him.

“Oh?  Why’s that?”

“According to Joni, you are the only decent member of the entire band.  Come to think of it, you might be the only decent member of your entire species.  And by species, I mean men.”  

And just like that, Oliver blushes like crazy.  It’s so adorable.  I wonder how Joni would react if she knew how he felt about her.  Even though she’s basically sworn off singers, performers, and celebrities in general, I’m secretly hoping she’d make an exception for Oliver.  

“I didn’t say the others aren’t decent.  But I do think you’re the only one smart enough to know better than to date a stupid, self-interested bimbo.”

“Hey!” Sam appears, looking thoroughly offended, even with a mouthful of brownie.  “I’ll have you know that the last girl I dated was very smart.”

“That’s because you were in Kindergarten and she got a gold star for drawing a pony,” Joni remarks.  

“She set the bar pretty high,” Sam jokes.

Sam actually has dated since Kindergarten.  In fact, he’s had two fairly serious girlfriends.  The first was a girl we went to high school with named Cameron Griffith.  She was really smart and, if I hadn’t been so jealous, I’d almost go so far as to say they were kind of cute together.  But she was a real perfectionist and over-achiever and she didn’t like the idea of dating a guy who wanted to be a musician.  The second was a girl he met after the band released their first album, an aspiring singer named Joyce Berlin.  She was actually pretty talented and I think has gone on to record her first EP.  Anyway, she was his first and only real high-profile relationship, regardless of what the tabloids would have readers believe.    

After Josh and his family arrive, Laurel escorts all of us outside to her beloved backyard.  It’s her absolute favorite part of her new home.  She has an amazing garden of rosebushes with buds of every color.  She’s also decorated the bushes and fence with white twinkle lights.  I’ve always thought that her backyard, with its bright colors, sweet smell of flowers, and overall sense of serenity, was like a little piece of Heaven on Earth.

We eat in groups at the white steel tea tables she has set up.  For what will be our last night with our families together until Christmastime, Laurel has prepared rotisserie chicken, rosemary potatoes, green beans, and an amazing assortment of breads and rolls. It’s a bittersweet event to be sure, but the food i
s
incredibl
e
.  

In the middle of dinner, Josh’s dad stands up, holding his wine glass in the air.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” he says with a goofy grin that is practically identical to Josh’s.  You can totally tell that they’re father and son.  Everyone stops talking and turns to look at him.  “First of all, to all of us here tonight.  Our wonderful friends.  I can’t tell you how honored I am to be a part of this extended family.”

The group responds with, “Hear, hear!” 

“Next, to our talented sons - and daughters - and all the hard work they put in to making their dreams come true.”

“Cheers!”

“I’ll drink to that!”  

“And finally, to the new album!  You all are stars.  And we couldn’t be more proud of you.”

It’s only then that everyone begins to applaud.  

“Wait, wait!” Sam rises, holding up his glass of water.  “I’d like to add thanks to all of you, our parents, our families, for supporting us.”

“Hear, hear!” all of the kids cheer.

“And most importantly, to the fans.  I don’t know if they’ll ever know how much they mean to us, but without them, we wouldn’t be here.  So, here’s to them.”

“To the fans!” Josh yells.

“Cheers!”  

Sometimes it is easy to forget, living in such a tight-knit bubble, that there are other people in the world.  Maybe because, working in the background, we really don’t see too much of them.  But to the guys, the fans are absolutely everything.  I’d even go so far as to say they care about the fans more than their own well-being.  I think that’s one of the reasons why people love them so much.  They’re themselves, they’re appreciative, and they absolutely adore and cherish their fans.   

Once we’ve all finished eating we disperse again into small groups.  Josh is off sharing crazy stories and stupid jokes with the parents while Sam and I are back with Oliver, Cory, and Joni who, like before, is dominating the conversation by griping about Tara, tabloids, and other distractions.  

I have to admit, I’ve been tuned out for a while when I feel someone lean into me.     

“Want to go for a walk?” Sam mutters in my ear, his breath hot on my skin.  His very proximity makes me feel like I’ve just been struck by ten-thousand volts of electricity.

I glance up at him, his handsome features soft and subtle in the violet glow of early nightfall, and I find I can only nod.  

Without telling anyone where we’re going, we slip out the side gate to the alley and around to the sidewalk.  We used to walk together to the playground together all the time when we were younger.  On occasion, we’d race (he’d always win) or exchange tidbits of useless information that we’d, for some reason, bothered to learn over the years.

Most of the time, however, we’d just talk, which is why I end up asking, “Are you okay?  Do you have something on your mind?” 

“Nah.  I just wanted to get away from the drama,” he nudges me playfully.  He knows I know exactly what he’s talking about.  “And it’s such a nice evening.  I just kind of wanted to enjoy it.  One last night before the chaos starts up again.”  

“I know what you mean,” I say.  “Well, sort of.”

“No, you definitely do.  You work just as much as we do, and you take classes on top of it.  Speaking of, did you finish your assignments?”