Moving Neutral (27 page)

The back of the house was entirely glass, and I could see the inside of the party like it was the set of a television show, framed by the black edges of windowpanes at either side. It was crowded, but the house was big enough that none of the rooms looked overly packed, and I watched through the windows as a woman with white-blonde hair give air kisses to a tall, heavy-set man in glasses.

I walked into the house and down a hallway decorated with light wood and special lights for where sculptures were displayed, careful not to bump into anything, or anyone, feeling a little tipsy.

I opened the first door I got to, and found a library -- a room lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. The floors were covered in forest green carpeting, and the leather couches looked like no one had ever sat in them. No one was inside.

The next door was a bathroom, and I went in and closed the door behind me, twisting the lock with one hand. I looked in the mirror, grateful that the makeup Sophie applied had held up for several hours. Washing my hands with the decorative bar of soap next to the sink, I patted them with a plush, cream-colored towel and opened the door, almost running straight into a willowy brunette actress who was reaching for the handle.

Sorry, I mumbled, trying not to be star-struck. She’d played the lead in one of my favorite movies, and then turned to modeling for a British makeup line -- her flawless skin graced half the billboards in Times Square.

Hey, she said, a hint of an accent audible. You’re the girl with Blake, right?

I nodded, surprised she recognized me.

Those horrid magazines, she said, shrugging her shoulders at me. You guys have had a rough go of it lately -- hang in there.

I tried to smile, but I was probably gaping. We’re okay, I managed to choke out before letting her pass by me into the bathroom. I kept walking down the hall, playing the conversation over in my head, wondering if I’d heard it right. The tabloids, I thought to myself. It was weird to have strangers know so much about us. Yet another thing that was decidedly not a part of my daily life two months ago.

I walked into the kitchen, where two bartenders were manning a fully stocked table of liquor and mixers, and one of them smiled at me as I walked up.

Can I have a glass of water? I asked, wondering if it would be okay if I just got one from the sink myself.

Of course -- Perrier, Pellegrino or Voss?

Um, I said, trying to remember the difference. How many types of water could a party seriously have? Is just tap okay?

The bartender smiled like I had said something completely brilliant. Right, he said. We should totally offer tap. So much more eco friendly. A woman waiting in line next to me nodded in tacit approval.

I thanked him with a confused smile, and turned back to the party to find Blake. Los Angeles was a weird place. A place, I thought to myself with a more genuine smile, that I’d be visiting every few weekends, it seemed.

I walked back out to the backyard, and found Blake looking out at the ocean from one of the lawn chairs.

Hey, I said, sitting down next to him.

He looked up, as if I’d startled him. Hey, he grinned. Sophie told me you’d wandered off.

I looked at the crowd of people clustered in groups around the pool, and even more inside. I just talked to Alyssa Reynolds, I told him, giggling. This is insane.

He put his arm around me, rubbing my shoulder with one hand. I rested my head against the back of the chair, until all I could see was the side of Blake’s cheek and the ocean behind him. I listened as the voices behind us started to melt together, until they were so far in the background that I couldn’t even distinguish one from another, and all I could hear were the waves and Blake’s breath, in and out to the same rhythm.

And then one voice rang out loud and clear.

Blake Parker--

I felt my stomach jump into my chest as I recognized April’s voice.

How could you?

Blake sat up in the same second, and we both turned to see April storming across the deck, her eyes blazing and furious. I felt my body start to tense up -- I’d known she would be mad, but this was even worse than I’d imagined. She yelled Blake’s name across the entire lawn, and half the conversations died down to listen to ours.

April, are you serious? Blake said, standing up suddenly, matching her anger. You completely bailed on our show.

Right, April said. Your precious acoustic show. Which would never have even been scheduled, if anyone ever listened to me.

Stop acting like a spoiled brat, Blake said, lowering his voice as people started to draw closer to us to listen. You can’t just bail on us because you didn’t like the show. And you definitely can’t expect us to cancel it just because you didn’t bother to show up.

April’s eyes flashed at him. I’m not doing this anymore. I didn’t like it when the tabloids found out about her, she jerked her shoulder in my direction, as if it wasn’t worth it to use my name. But you had her take my place at one of our concerts?

What did you want us to do? You’re the one who didn’t show up. They were both starting to yell again, and I looked around the lawn, registering the number of eyes on us. I saw Sophie, by the side of the pool about ten feet away from us, looking at me with a worried expression.

Listen, Casey, she turned to me, and I flinched before she even started to speak. You are going to go back to whatever little rock you crawled out from under, okay? No more magazines. No more trying to pretend like you’re a rock star. You’re done here.

Blake stood up, his face furious. April, that’s enough. Casey’s not going anywhere. I think it’s time for you to go home, he said, and I could tell it was a struggle for him to keep his tone even and civil.

No, Blake. It’s time for Casey to go home. Either she disappears and I never have to hear her name again -- or you’re out.

What do you mean, I’m out? Blake was silent for a moment, his voice low. That’s not your call.

Actually, April’s voice had the lilt of victory, syrupy sweet and deathly certain. It is my call. I had a meeting with the label this morning. If you don’t do the reality show, you’re out.

I felt my head spinning as I tried to process what April was saying. There couldn’t be Moving Neutral without Blake -- he wrote all their music. A tall, broad-shouldered girl in the crowd raised her hand to cover a snicker, looking at Blake. I wanted to shove her into the pool, but restrained myself. Barely.

And the show is my project, April continued, as Blake stared at her in stunned silence. So if you don’t get rid of Casey, you’re not invited. I’m serious, Blake. Think about it -- is it worth losing your whole career for some groupie?

I wanted to say something to make April stop -- we’d guessed that she would be angry, but this was going too far. For all the embarrassment that those magazines had caused April over the summer, this was worse. This was personal.

And she wouldn’t stop until she ruined Blake’s whole career, I thought to myself. Or until she got rid of me. I felt like she was tearing a hole in my body, ripping something out that I’d barely realized was there.

Please tell me you’re not serious, Blake said, his voice wavering with shock and anger. I wanted to do something, anything to console him, to assure him that April didn’t have that power.

Blake was the band -- I thought about all the magazine articles Madison and I had read, all the times I’d fallen asleep listening to one of their songs, over and over until there weren’t words or music anymore, just these perfect sounds that he’d created.

And then April took aim and fired her last shot. I don’t know why you’re protecting her, she said, picking out the words with deliberate care. I cringed, guessing too late what was coming next. She’s nobody. She was obviously just using you to get famous.

Blake took the bait. That’s ridiculous, he said, dismissing her words instantly. She didn’t even know who I was when we met.

April took her time before answering, and I could feel her ramping up the anticipation of everyone around us. I looked down at my feet, unable to make eye contact with her or Blake as I waited for her to say it.

You sure about that?

Blake hesitated, looking at me, his eyes searching. What is she talking about?

I opened my mouth to explain, but no words came out. Looking at Blake, it felt like I couldn’t get any air into my lungs, like I couldn’t form a word to save my life.

April sighed loudly and exaggeratedly, and I looked at the expression on her face, a vulture swooping in to snap the neck of its dying prey.

Casey was at our concert, the night you met. She knew exactly who you were. She’s been lying this whole time.

I’d thought so many times about how to explain to Blake what I did, how to sugar-coat it or make it all seem like a big misunderstanding. Looking at his face now, as it registered disbelief and then confusion, I knew there wasn’t any point in trying to explain. It was over.

In fact, she continued, I checked with Lindsey in New York, and she said that two high school girls tried to sneak backstage that night. I dropped my head silently, not looking at Blake, not wanting to listen anymore, never having fully believed that after all this, it could disappear so quickly. I wanted to plug my ears as April continued, emphasizing each word. I’m sure this isn’t the first time she’s tried it -- you know what the girls who get backstage are like. You’re just the sucker who actually fell for her.

I heard a ringing laugh of a girl standing somewhere behind April, an awful, bitter sound that seemed louder than it probably really was.

And with that, April turned away, pausing for a second. Remember, she said. I want a decision on Monday. She walked away, across the now nearly silent lawn.

I looked back at Sophie, gaping at me with a horrified expression on her face.

The best night of my life had turned into the worst, in just an instant.

Swallowing and feeling the dryness in my mouth, I forced myself to meet Blake’s eyes. He stood in front of me, looking down like he barely recognized me, and I could see my betrayal reflected in his face. I wanted to turn back time, wanted some way of stopping this moment from ever happening.

Is it true?

I just nodded, unable to speak.

You’ve been lying, this whole time. I could hear him start to believe it as he said it out loud. I had done something that couldn’t ever be undone, I realized, and now I was watching it all fall apart.

It felt like the first night we’d met. Again, I tried to memorize everything about him, knowing that it was already over.

I’m sorry-- I whispered. It felt like the people around us were closing in on me, like they were sucking the air out, like I couldn’t breathe or speak or explain anything. I wanted to tell you.

But you didn’t, he cut me off, his voice cutting with sarcasm. Don’t be sorry, he spat out. Please, this is what every fan wants, right? Dating the rock star?

It wasn’t like that--

Right, he said sarcastically, lowering his voice so that only I could hear. God, Casey, I thought you were different. His eyes flashed with anger and pain. I thought I loved you.

They were the words I had waited this whole summer to hear -- waited my whole life to hear. But I couldn’t make myself respond, couldn’t find the words. Blake, I said, feeling like everything was spinning around me. I’m so sorry.

But it was too little, too late. I couldn’t go back, couldn’t change any of this. I looked at him, wondering if I should try to plead for him to calm down, to forgive me, and then I thought about what April had said. It was me or the band. Maybe being angry at me just made the decision easier for him.

I felt my chest rise and fall, but it still didn’t feel like I was getting any air. I looked at him carefully, like it was for the last time.

You should go, he said, and we both knew what he meant. I took a step forward, wanting, somehow, to change his mind, but he held up a hand to stop me. I can’t, Casey. Just go.

I walked across the patio, pushing my way through the crowd of people that had gathered around us, tottering in Sophie’s heels and wondering how everything could go so wrong, so quickly. But maybe I’d been on borrowed time all summer -- it was hard to feel surprised that, even suddenly, it had to end.

I heard the conversations start to resume as I walked away, the loud music swirling around me, and tears started to slip down my cheeks. I didn’t bother holding them back, not now, not after everything that had come so quickly had been taken away just as fast. I walked through the house and out the front door, not waiting for a ride, just hitting the intercom for the gate to open, walking outside and then running, running, tripping on my high heels and still going, going, going, going.

I ended up on the beach. I wasn’t surprised -- it seemed like if you ran long enough in Los Angeles, you’d hit either the beach or a highway, and I hit both at the same time. A highway, and beyond that, the beach.

I slipped gratefully out of Sophie’s shoes, feeling the sand with my toes as I walked past the parking lot. It was starting to get light, but just barely, that grayish pink light before dawn where everything is still dark. The kind of light that makes you feel like it would be possible, even now, to start all over.