Moving Neutral (11 page)

Picking up my bag, I headed to the bathroom off the main room. Peeking inside, I exhaled deeply with relief -- it had a shower. Locking the door behind me, I turned on the water as hot as it would go and got inside.

I’d been coming to New York since I was a kid, and after spending a day in the city, my skin always felt grimy. I stepped into the hot stream of water and pulled my hair back, thinking about the night before.

Madison hadn’t even seemed surprised when I told her to go home without me.

How am I going to talk to you without a cell phone? she asked, and I tried not to laugh. Of course, that was Madison’s biggest concern.

I’ll borrow someone’s, don’t worry, I said. Or maybe I can get one of those prepaid ones.

She giggled. You and about a million drug dealers, nice.

Listen, I said. Don’t tell my parents, ok? Can you just pretend I’m at your house for a week, and say I don’t want to talk to them?

She blinked at me. Do you really think that will work?

I don’t know. But I don’t want them calling the FBI to track down poor Blake. I was planning to stay with you until they calmed down anyways. So just pretend I’m actually there.

Madison nodded. Okay, she agreed, but I could hear the reluctance in her voice.

The good news was that Madison’s parents and mine weren’t exactly close. When we’d hit junior high and wanted to go to parties or on dates, my mom had called Madison’s mom, looking for solidarity in enforcing her can t-date-till-high-school rules. Madison’s mom had none of it, and from what I gathered from Madison afterwards, she’d told my mom she was completely out of touch (which wasn’t exactly wrong). Needless to say, it had gone downhill from there.

So they weren’t friends. And for now, I was grateful for it -- it might buy me a few extra days with Blake before my parents caught on.

I turned the water a little cooler, rubbing shampoo in my hair and rinsing it out. Madison had left around five in the morning, just as the party had started to die down. I hadn’t checked the clock when I got up, but from the sunlight coming through the curtains, it had to be around ten. I shut off the water and grabbed a plush towel from the rack, wrapping it around my body and tucking in the ends.

There was a gift basket from a local spa on the ledge of the bathroom sink, full of bottles of moisturizers and lotions. The night before, someone had opened it and scattered the bottles across the countertop, and I chose a body cream that was kiwi-scented, and dabbed some on my legs and arms. The smell of kiwi was better than old alcohol, at least.

I dried my hair with the towel, and then looked in my overnight bag for something to wear. I had mostly packed shorts and tshirts for spending the weekend with Madison, but this was my first day with Blake. I didn’t want to wear my old Prospect tshirts or grubby jeans.

But I had packed one good outfit, at least. Beneath a pair of worn flip flops, I pulled out a yellow sundress, a flowy, delicate dress that I’d brought in case Madison’s parents wanted to go out for dinner over the weekend. It was one of my favorites -- soft and sunshine-colored, stunning against my dark hair, highlighted from the summer sun.

I put it on. I didn’t know what I was going to do tomorrow morning, but for today, at least, I was all set.

I ran a brush through my still-wet hair and opened the drawers to find a hair dryer. Dotting my lips with pink gloss, I pursed them and then puckered, smiling in satisfaction at my reflection. Not bad for a girl who slept on a couch for all of about three hours.

The bathroom didn’t seem to contain a hair dryer, so I packed everything back into my overnight bag, tucking my wet hair behind my ears. I usually didn’t blow-dry it anyways -- my hair dried in loose waves naturally, I only blew it out when I wanted it to be straight.

I walked out of the bathroom, back into the empty room. Still, no one except me seemed to be awake. For lack of anything better to do, I looked at the half-full cups on every available surface in the room, and started to pick them up.

No one woke up for twenty minutes, and in that time, I’d managed to turn the room from a disaster area to something halfway decent. I wasn’t sure what to do with the leftover bottles of alcohol, so I stacked them next to the ice bucket. I poured the leftover drinks down the sink in the bathroom, careful not to spill anything on my dress, and stacked the glasses neatly next to the bottles. Picking up a few pieces of trash that were scattered around the room, I noticed someone’s ticket stub from the Moving Neutral show, sitting half-concealed by one of the magazines on the desk.

It felt so surreal that I was here. I wanted to call Madison and go over every detail from the night before, but I didn’t have a cell phone and I felt weird calling her long distance from the hotel’s phone. Plus, she’d probably only gotten home a few hours before. I would just have to wait.

Wow, Blake’s voice startled me as I snatched my fingers away from the ticket stub. You look beautiful.

I turned around, grateful he was the first one up. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain my presence if April or Jesse emerged from their bedrooms before Blake did.

I smiled at him. Looking at him made me think about our kiss the night before, and it was hard to wipe the dumb grin off my face.

Morning, I said.

He looked around the room. Did you do this?

You’re going to be the only rock star in history to leave a neat, tidy hotel room in his wake, I giggled. It didn’t take me that long.

Blake walked into the room and sat down on the couch, resting his feet on the now-cleared coffee table.

So, the bus leaves at noon, he said. It’s back up in Chelsea where the concert was. Do you want to get some breakfast?

I nodded, breaking his gaze and blushing -- even after last night, I still felt a little star-struck and tongue-tied around him.

Great -- give me five minutes.

Blake went back into the bedroom he shared with Jesse and I heard the shower turn on. While I waited, I sat down on the couch and flipped on the television. I stopped on a morning news show, and I wondered if my parents had reported me as a missing person yet.

I cringed at the thought. My parents would go that far in a heartbeat. I remembered hearing somewhere that you couldn’t report someone missing until they’d been gone for three days, at least. I wondered if that was an urban legend, like that poppy seeds make you look like a heroin addict on drug tests, or that if you swallow chewing gum, it stays in your stomach for seven years.

I wasn’t sure, but three days sounded like a reasonable amount of time. I’d call my parents by Tuesday, if I wasn’t home yet.

Blake emerged from his room again in what felt like an instant. His hair was wet and scruffy around his face, and his eyes were bright and excited. Again, I tried to memorize the moment, the way he looked. I could have just watched him all day, committing every detail to memory. It seemed like it could all end so quickly, like he could just blink his eyes and wake up, realize I was just some marginally popular, totally unspecial girl from Rockland, Connecticut.

Bagels? he asked, rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. They’re one of the things that’s always better in New York. And pizza. But we can’t really eat pizza at eleven a.m.

Speak for yourself, I joked, standing up and shutting off the television. But bagels sound good. Mostly, I just wanted to be out of the hotel room before everyone else woke up. In my excitement last night, I hadn’t considered whether it would be awkward for the other members of the band to have me come along on tour, but this morning I couldn’t get the thought out of my head.

Blake held the door for me as we left the room, pressing the button to call the elevator. We passed through the lobby without speaking and walked out of the hotel onto the narrow SoHo street, past cafes with tables stretching onto the sidewalks.

Do you mind walking? he asked. My favorite place is in the village.

Sure, I said, and without a word, Blake lifted the strap of my overnight bag off my shoulder and put it on his. Thanks, I said quietly, blushing.

After a few blocks, we had slipped into the same easy conversation as we had the night before. I found myself talking about Trevor, about how easy it was to be a kid, how all the decisions he had to make were so simple and my parents treated him like he could do no wrong.

Do you have any brothers or sisters? I asked it a little sheepishly, already knowing the answer.

One, Blake replied. I have a sister. But sometimes it feels like April and Sophie are my older sisters too, especially when we’re on the road. And I’m the kid brother who’s always getting on their nerves.

I laughed on the outside, but my mind raced. April was like a sister. The gorgeous, blonde, waif-like lead singer apparently just saw Blake as an annoying little brother.

Are they actually older? I asked.

They are, he said. Does that make it okay? April is two years older than me, Sophie’s a few months older.

So you’re the baby of the group, I teased. Very interesting.

I am, he agreed. I’m the only teenager, actually. Sophie turned twenty a couple of weeks ago. But I’m still nineteen until July twenty-second.

We’d reached the bagel shop, and Blake opened the door for me again. The smell hit me as soon as we walked inside, a fantastic aroma of rising dough that immediately made my stomach growl. I realized, thinking about it, that Madison and I had never actually gotten around to eating dinner last night. Not surprisingly, I was starving.

Blake ordered for both of us, and I picked out a table next to the window, glancing down at the newspaper that the person before us had discarded on one of the seats.

Can we sit here? I asked Blake as he came over, carrying two thick bagels smothered in cream cheese. Or are you going to get mobbed by crazy fans?

He laughed. No, that doesn’t happen a lot, he explained, looking embarrassed. We probably shouldn’t have tried to go somewhere so close to the concert. But now I’m glad we did, he met my eyes, and then looked down.

Again, I tried to wipe the dumb grin off my face. Well, me too, I said carefully. I mean, I don’t know how I would have paid for our coffees if you hadn’t showed up. They probably would have called the cops on me.

Right, he said, playing along. I’m glad I could save you from a lengthy jail sentence. Maybe they would have let you wash dishes to pay it off.

One can only hope, I giggled, trying to bite into the bagel without getting cream cheese all over my face. It was perfect -- untoasted, like all the best New York bagels are. I finished half of the bagel in about three bites before I thought to wonder if I should try to be more dainty about eating in front of him. Looking over, though, Blake didn’t seem particularly concerned. Like a typical guy, his plate was already almost empty.

I smiled to myself -- Trevor was a hoover around food too, and he hadn’t even hit his growth spurt yet. At least I looked dainty in comparison, I figured.

I looked over at the restaurant’s clock. It was eleven thirty -- we had a half hour to get to the bus before it left.

Should we bring some back for everyone else? I wondered out loud. Do we have time?

Blake laughed. They won’t leave without me, he assured me. But that’s a great idea. We have plenty of time. The rest of them are always late, and they have to load our equipment from last night. The bus won’t be ready right at noon.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, warming my back. Blake stood up to wait in line a second time, and I looked out onto the street, watching as couples or groups passed the window on their way somewhere else. An ambulance drove past, all its lights off. A taxi honked its horn at a pedestrian taking too long at the crosswalk. A dog passed the window, pulling on its leash as its owner searched for something in her purse.

Blake came back with a shopping bag under his arm, and two coffees in paper cups, looking at me as if there wasn’t another girl to notice in all of New York city.

I felt so content that I thought I might burst.

Blake was right -- everything was loaded onto the bus, including us, before the rest of the group showed up.

Jesse got on first, registering me and then the food we’d brought. He didn’t say a word, just grabbed a sesame bagel and bit down, nodding his head at me in some unspoken gesture of acceptance.

When Sophie saw me, her face broke out into a smile so wide and genuine that I couldn’t help but feel grateful for it.

You’re coming? she asked, setting a slouchy leather bag onto one of the shelves. Good, she grinned. We need some fresh faces around here. We were all starting to get sick of each other.

I smiled, sitting on the edge of my seat next to Blake, trying not to let my whole body shake.

April was the last to arrive, which Blake whispered to me was typical. She wouldn’t let the hair and makeup people that the record label hired cut her hair while she was on the road, so she made appointments whenever they were in New York or Los Angeles. Those wispy layers, I thought with a tiny bit of jealousy, apparently took quite a bit of upkeep.

And it was obviously worth it, I thought to myself as she stepped onto the bus. Her hair, which had looked lovely the night before, was conditioned and shiny, falling around her face in perfect, luxurious strands of creamy blonde. My hand instinctively went to the ends of my hair, and I thought about how quickly I’d given up my search for a blow-dryer that morning. Maybe I should have looked a little harder.