Moving Neutral (22 page)

As we got deeper into the city, the traffic got more and more backed up on the freeway. Blake finally went up front to direct the driver down side streets, as Sophie and I finished packing my overnight bag full of her clothes.

We’ll probably go out after the show, she explained, so you need something kind of sexy. She held up a pair of gold sequin shorts that looked like bathing suit bottoms, and then folded them up and put them into the bag.

Sophie, I stammered. I cannot wear those.

She gave an exaggerated sigh. Ok, fine, she said, picking out a one-shouldered blue dress that I nodded at approvingly. She threw some black strappy heels into the bag and zipped it, looking satisfied.

How many days do you have? Her voice was serious this time.

I don’t know -- less than a week.

What’s Blake going to do?

We haven’t talked about it yet.

She hugged me, and then handed me a black clutch, slim and jeweled in hundreds of shimmery crystals. I wish you could just stay.

Me too, I sighed, as if I needed to say it.

Blake’s house was sparse and modern, open and airy and completely uncluttered. It was beautiful, but it looked like the home of someone who never actually lived there.

Are you, like, the neatest twenty year old on the planet? I asked, walking through the living room and looking down at the tidy row of architectural magazines on the coffee table.

Hardly, he said, grinning. I haven’t been home in two months, remember?

I looked up at the skylights in the ceiling, taking in the light wood furniture and angular black couch. Two stands sat next to the fireplace for Blake’s guitars, empty. Their equipment had stayed on the bus so it could be set up for the show tonight.

I sat down on one of the couches, looking at Blake and smiling deviously.

Well, I said, now that you’ve lured the impressionable college freshman back to your lair, what are we going to do?

He grinned. Feed her, I think. I have it on good authority she’s been living on dry granola and french fries for about three days.

The tabloids will be disappointed, I laughed. But that sounds perfect. I’m just going to go hang up some of Sophie’s clothes, okay?

Blake gave me a look that I couldn’t read as I walked past him, carrying my overnight bag up the stairs. Maybe he was trying to memorize me, too.

By the time we left for the show, I had taken a shower in Blake’s gorgeous marble bathroom, and blow dried my hair for the first time in weeks. I put on the dress Sophie had lent me and some makeup, and felt ready for a night out in Los Angeles.

Derek hadn’t said anything about recording the acoustic show since Chicago, and I figured that with all the scrutiny on the band right now, the plan had probably been scrapped. April continued to complain about it, but less vehemently than she had about the earlier one, at least. I was dreading it too -- for me, it marked the end of the summer. After that show, my days in L.A. were numbered.

Brett already had tickets to the first show in L.A., but when I’d told him to meet me backstage, he’d stayed speechless for so long that I was worried our call had gotten dropped. It was funny what I’d begun to take for granted -- I tried to muster some of his excitement for the night, to just enjoy the concert and not think so much about what was coming next.

I was meeting Brett at the back entrance to the concert arena. I sat down on a stool where a security guard would be positioned later, giving my feet a rest from Sophie’s heels. When I heard Brett knock on the door, I jumped up to open it.

He looked like a different person, but also exactly the same. It was funny how much he’d changed in the two years since I’d last seem him, since he’d visited when we were sophomores. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen photos, hadn’t realized he was getting older -- but it was strange, after so long thinking of him mostly the way that he’d looked at fifteen, to be faced with someone I barely knew. And he was cute -- maybe not Blake Parker cute, but much cuter than I would have expected, from seeing him last as a gangly preteen.

From the look of it, Brett was having the same reaction, seeing me.

Holy crap, he said, taking a step back. When did you get so pretty?

I punched him in the arm, half joking. You should see Madison, I said, and it was true. Maybe we’d been a little awkward five years ago, but both of us came out of it okay. This is the first time I’d had a decent shower in about a week, I joked. Sharing a bus bathroom with four other people is kind of rough.

Right, you poor thing, he said sarcastically. Tell me everything. How the hell did you meet Blake Parker?

Before I took him inside, I told him the whole story -- from us getting kicked out of the concert in New York, to forgetting my wallet in the coffee shop, the party in the hotel room, visiting the bookstore with Blake, and everything that had happened in between. It felt like that first night in New York had been ages ago -- the whole sequence felt like a distant memory by now.

When I finally got to the end, Brett took a deep breath. Wow, he said. So what happens now?

I wished people would stop asking me that. Now, we watch their show. Let me take you to meet everyone else.

I can’t believe you made it to L.A., Brett said as I led him down the hallway. When you called me after that car thing, it sounded like you’d be lucky to be allowed out of the house for college.

Remembering that night just made me think about how angry my parents were going to be when I got home. If I even made it home. Without Columbia, what was really waiting for me there?

I smiled at Brett and let the topic drop, punching in the code for the green room and opening the door. As we walked inside, I led quick introductions around the chairs, including Derek and April’s stylist. Brett looked nervous as he introduced himself to everyone, his voice cracking as he said his name and shook Blake’s hand.

The opening band was beginning to play, and we could hear the music fairly well through one of the open doors.

So, what’s the plan for our first night back? Sophie asked Jesse, sneaking a glance at Brett. I looked from him to her, trying not to get my hopes up, and then sat down on one of the couches next to Blake.

You’ll see, Jesse said, winking at her. It’s going to be a fun night.

April stood up, her hair falling in perfect, loose waves. She’d spent the afternoon getting it cut and highlighted, Sophie told me, and the result was spectacular. I thought about how proud I’d been of using the blow-dryer on my hair, and once again, it made me wonder why Blake had ever looked twice at me.

Brett and I stood behind a curtain as the band jogged onto the stage and began the first song. I couldn’t believe I’d crossed the entire country this summer, seen state after state go by outside our windows. That we’d made our way from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and that pretty soon, I had to head back. I looked over at Brett, excited to be backstage at his favorite band’s show, and tried to smile. But it felt like after everywhere I’d been, there was no place to look forward to, not anymore. All that was left was looking back.

April was drunk. I looked from Jesse to Sophie, not sure what to do. But after a number of shots that a red-lipped bartender had brought around, April looked like she could barely stand up in her four-inch platforms.

After the concert, Jesse had picked out a club for us, and we entered through a side door as a guy in a slick-looking suit led us to a table, already set up with a bottle of chilled champagne and neat rows of glasses. No one asked for our IDs.

The club was packed, but we were in a balcony on a raised platform, above the horde of sweaty dancers on the main floor. It was still loud, but at least it wasn’t crowded too.

For the first hour or two, we’d been having fun. Everyone toasted to the end of the tour, to getting to sleep in their own beds for the first time in almost three months. I sipped my glass of champagne slowly, squinting to see everyone else in the barely lit space.

Then Blake had disappeared. One moment he was standing next to me, and the next moment he was in the middle of a crowd of people I’d never seen before, all of them talking to him at the same time, so I couldn’t understand a word of it. He shot me a questioning look for a moment, and when I shrugged my shoulders, a girl in a tight, sparkly dress took his hand and led him away. He gestured to me that he would only be gone for a minute, and I tried to act like it didn’t matter.

A few minutes later, the bartender appeared with a tray of shot glasses, filled with a mix of brightly colored liquids. Everyone had taken one to toast again, and I found myself choosing a red one, downing it quickly and coughing for a second at the taste of the liquor.

April chose the one filled with liquid that was completely clear. And a second one that was bright blue. And downed them both without even wincing.

She sat down on a couch with a guy I recognized as the star of a television show that Madison loved, but as I watched, she kept looking around the club -- I couldn’t tell if she was looking for photographers or trying to avoid them, but there didn’t seem to be any nearby.

Sophie and Jesse were leaning against the railing, and gestured for me to join them. Brett got up to find a bathroom and I walked over to them, scanning the room for Blake on the way.

What’s up?

I’ve lost my alcohol tolerance, Sophie giggled. I’m totally buzzed right now.

We should probably head out soon, Jesse agreed, checking his watch. It’s almost two.

Right, I agreed. Have you guys seen Blake?

Not for a while, Sophie said, looking around. Do you want me to text him?

No, I said, yelling to be heard over the music. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. I wanted to ask who the girl was who’d led him off, but I bit my tongue. The last thing I needed was to start sounding like a jealous harpy on our first actual night out.

But I was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering, audible over the music and my yelling. Turning around, I saw that April had fallen, knocking over one of the tables on her way down. She was sitting on the ground next to the remnants of several champagne glasses.

Don’t move, Jesse said, covering the distance between him and her in a few steps. There’s broken glass all over the floor.

April stared at him through giant, drunk eyes, her arms and legs like a rag doll as he pulled her up. Her ankle rolled in her high heels, and for a second, I thought she was going to fall again, but Jesse held her up, one arm under her shoulders, helping her away from the glass that someone from the club had already arrived to clean up.

We should get her home, he said to me and Sophie. Can you call a cab?

She nodded, punching numbers into her phone and walking away, one finger to her ear to hear better.

April, hon, we’re going to take you home, okay?

April nodded, looking as if she was about to start crying drunk alligator tears.

The cab company said two minutes, Sophie returned, putting her phone back into her purse. They’re meeting us at the back entrance. Do you have her?

Jesse nodded, and for a second, they both looked at me.

You guys go, I said, trying to sound reassured. I’ll wait for Blake.

Are you sure? Sophie asked me, looking concerned.

I’m fine, I said. Brett’s still around too. Don’t worry about me.

They left through a hallway that bordered the balcony, Jesse half-carrying April and Sophie following behind him. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned, relieved, hoping Blake had finally returned.

But it was Brett. I tried not to show the disappointment on my face, sitting down on the couch where April and the actor had been a few minutes before.

What happened?

April’s wasted -- Sophie and Jesse took her home.

Do you need a ride?

I sighed. I’m waiting for Blake. You can go -- he should be back soon.

Nah, it’s cool, I’ll stay, Brett said, sitting down next to me. You have to tell me everything that happened in Rockland after I left, anyways.

That should take about four minutes, I said. Everything’s exactly the same as when you left. Madison might be dating Jason Wright by now, but it probably won’t last through the fall. Matt Andrews parents are never around, so his house is kind of the go-to place for parties, but they’re never any fun. Oh, I said, thinking about a piece of gossip from our last semester of high school. Lexi Green got kicked out of Prospect for smoking pot behind the ice hockey rink. It was at, like, seven in the morning on a Tuesday, which was kind of weird. The club figure skating coach found her.

Poor Lexi, Brett laughed. Same old, same old. Speaking of which, he laughed and pulled out a joint out of his pocket, lighting it without even looking to see who was watching. I looked down nervously, trying to pretend like I didn’t care.

Are you excited for Columbia? Brett asked, changing the subject.

I looked at him seriously, those unread emails from my parents flashing through my mind. I don’t know if I’m going, I said quietly, feeling almost relieved just to say it out loud. My parents said they wouldn’t pay my tuition if I didn’t come home, and that was weeks ago. I took a shaky breath and looked at him. I haven’t had the nerve to even call.