Moving Neutral (8 page)

Where are we going? Madison asked, once we’d safely left the bookstore behind. We were headed downtown on Seventh Avenue, passing from Chelsea into the West Village.

Sophie looked at Blake as if she wasn’t sure. I told him our hotel, she said, but we can go somewhere else if you want. She sighed. Those stupid girls, she rolled her eyes at Blake. We can’t take you anywhere.

I wondered again if we should mention that we’d been at the concert and bit my tongue, staring out at the buildings we passed.

Don’t remind me, Blake shook his head, still looking out the window. Back to the hotel is okay. We have this awesome suite, you guys will love it. It has, like, six rooms -- it’s almost the whole floor.

I sighed with relief. Madison and I had fake IDs, but they weren’t great ones, and we’d never tried them at real bars in New York, just at the corner liquor stores near Prospect, where all the high school students went. We were way better off going back to their hotel.

I think April was going to invite some friends, too, Sophie said to Blake in a tone I couldn’t read. Her voice brightened as she continued, smiling mischievously. So it’ll be a little party.

I thought about those pictures of April and Blake in the tabloids, and was suddenly more curious than I’d ever been about what their story was.

Blake pulled his hood down and took the sweatshirt off, revealing a printed t-shirt and lean, strong arms. My stomach fluttered, and I looked back out the window, watching as we drove south to pass Washington Square Park, the brightly lit arch in stark contrast against the twinkling buildings that surrounded it.

The cab driver said something loudly, and we all turned to him, totally confused, until he spoke again. I giggled, realizing that he was talking into a headset, and Sophie laughed beside me. It had sounded like he was yelling at us.

We pulled up to a hotel in SoHo, the kind where the doormen look like unemployed actors a few years older than us, and wear nothing but black -- black pants, black tshirts, black shoes. One of them opened the cab door, gazing at us without interest as we tumbled out of the backseat.

Sophie led the way into the hotel, and I followed with my bulky overnight bag, feeling it hit awkwardly against the back of my knees as I walked into the lobby. Part of me still couldn’t believe that no one was stopping us, realizing instantly like the publicist from the concert that we didn’t belong here, not a bit.

I felt the strap of my bag lifted off my shoulder, and when I looked to my side, Blake was holding the bag for me, a half-smile flickering across his face.

It looked heavy, he said, shrugging his shoulders.

The hotel was loud and crowded, a dimly lit bar at one side of the lobby playing music that I didn’t recognize. Colored lights illuminated rows of liquor bottles, each varying degrees of empty. Waif-like bartenders with long hair and choppy bangs stood in front of them, pouring bright cocktails into frosted glasses. As we passed the lobby, a woman sat in an oversized armchair talking to a man, her giant Saint Bernard lounging on the floor next to them.

The elevator was silent as we stepped inside, relieved that it was empty. Blake slipped his keycard into a slot and hit the button for the top floor, and I leaned back against the mirrored wall, feeling the elevator rise smoothly and quickly.

The digital panel registered the top floor and the doors opened, leading us into a small hallway decorated with black and white photographs. There were only two doors, one at either end of the foyer, and Blake slipped his keycard into one of them and clicked open the door.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe I was thinking it would be a few people, sitting around on couches, like one of Matt Andrews parties. Maybe, if I was being totally honest, I was harboring a faint hope that Blake was trying to seduce me, and we’d walk into a room with soft music and flower petals. Maybe I just expected it to be empty.

I didn’t expect it to look like the lobby downstairs. The lights were almost off and music was blasting, loudly enough that I wondered how the people in the rooms below felt about it. Several dozen people were gathered around the room, and what I assumed was a coffee table was pushed to one side of the space, covered in liquor bottles and juice. A bucket of ice sat collecting condensation in the table’s center.

I couldn’t keep the confusion off my face, and I could tell that Blake noticed it. Leaning his head close to mine, he whispered into my ear, Now you see why we went to the bookstore.

I froze, feeling my hands start to shake at the distance between my body and his. He could just kiss me now, I thought, wishing for it as if it was something I could control. I barely managed to nod, feeling my mouth curl into a smile.

Who are all these people? I whispered, trying not to sound too surprised.

I don’t even know most of them, he said, using normal volume again and straightening up. I exhaled, quelling my disappointment for a moment. Whenever we’re in a big city, April and Jesse end up inviting everyone they know over to our room. I think they get sick of spending most of our time in the middle of nowhere, he said. Listen, get a drink, Blake said, pulling his head away from mine and including Madison in the conversation. I’ll be back in a few minutes, ok?

I tried not to look disappointed. Of course he wasn’t going to sit around and talk to us for the rest of the night. Whatever I had expected in his hotel room, this was no different from Madison bringing me to a party that I hadn’t been invited to. He had actual friends here -- he wasn’t going to babysit us. I shot Madison a wounded look and she smiled back at me reassuringly, but she looked uneasy too.

I tried not to stare at Blake as he walked away, through groups of people who jumped up to congratulate him or say hello.

Come on, Madison said, squeezing my arm reassuringly. We might as well get a drink.

No one was paying any attention to us, so I figured it was safe to talk. I can’t believe we’re here, I said, my disappointment overwhelmed for the moment by shock that any of this had actually happened.

I can’t either, she said. And listen -- I think he likes you.

I looked at her, trying to find traces of anger or jealousy that she was concealing. But Madison only looked excited for me, her green eyes sparkling as she delivered the news.

I shook my head. No way. It was actually impossible. At Prospect, I’d never even had a boyfriend.

She nodded like she knew something I didn’t. Trust me, she said. I can just tell. It’s like everything he says, he says it to you. Did he try to pick you up in line?

I groaned, remembering the moment in line without my wallet. A moment made even more humiliating by the fact that Blake Parker had witnessed it. If Madison thought he’d picked me up, she clearly wasn’t as good at reading these signals as I’d thought.

It wasn’t like that, I explained. My wallet was in my overnight bag with you, and I was holding up the whole line trying to get your attention. He probably just paid for our drinks because he didn’t want any of the girls in line to recognize him.

Madison nodded as if she didn’t believe a word I was saying. She picked up a tumbler from the coffee table and filled it with juice, topping it off with a splash of amber liquid out of a decanter that looked expensive, and handed it to me.

Come on, she said. I still have to drive home tonight, but you can relax a little bit.

I picked up the drink and looked around the room, not feeling relaxed in the slightest. I saw an armchair in a corner and squeezed my way over to it, hoping no one would pay attention to us.

I didn’t have to worry. The moment Blake and Sophie had left, no one seemed to notice we were there. Madison squeezed into the wide chair next to me and took a sip of my untouched drink.

Should we tell them that we were at the concert? I wondered out loud.

No, she said it so forcefully that my body jerked, almost spilling the drink all over both of us. Do you want them to think we’re just like those screaming girls in the bookstore?

I nodded, trying not to feel guilty for the lie.

Listen, Madison ordered me, the guy that we’ve both been obsessed with for basically the entire past year is sitting somewhere in this room, and I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re cute. Please, Casey, she looked at me with exasperation. Please do not blow this.

I sighed. Madison was one of those girls who guys always liked. When it fizzled out with one, there was always another one waiting. She didn’t understand that when I blew it, most of the time I didn’t even know what went wrong, much less how to fix it.

You’re okay with it? I changed the subject, looking at her for any sign that she wasn’t.

I’m fine, she said. But if we ever meet Zac Efron, he’s all mine, are we clear?

Grinning, I looked across the room for any sign of Blake, and caught his eye as he spoke to a man in his late twenties, wearing faded jeans and flip flops. He grinned at me and shrugged, gesturing subtly that he’d be done soon. I looked down, unable to think of how to respond.

See? Madison looked at me, her voice gloating.

I blushed, looking down at the red liquid that I assumed was cranberry juice in the glass in my hands. I swallowed a big gulp, wincing as it went down my throat.

Oh, Madison exclaimed. There’s April.

I followed her eyes across the room, thankful that she didn’t point. Sure enough, April was standing at the door of one of the bedrooms, entering the party with a group of people around her.

I tried not to let my jaw drop. We knew from pictures that April was beautiful, more like a model or an actress than the lead singer of a band. But like Blake, there was something about seeing her in person that made her even lovelier -- tall and blonde and gorgeous, she was as graceful and lithe as a ballerina. She walked through the room as if navigating the crowd took no effort at all, wearing a silver dress that had to cost more than I’d saved for college in three summers of babysitting and working at the coffee shop. It fit her perfect body like a glove, and I tried not to think about all the tabloid articles that I’d read linking her to Blake.

Madison seemed to have the same reaction, whispering to me quietly, She doesn’t even look like a person. She could be a doll.

She was right. With her blonde straight hair and bright blue eyes, April could have been the best doll a child could wish for, come to life. I thought about Madison’s idea that Blake was interested in me, dismissed it outright. This conclusion had, after all, come from the same girl who thought we could sneak backstage with nothing but a box of Luna bars as cover.

Someone switched whatever CD we had been listening to, and for a moment the room fell silent, everyone’s voices lowering as they realized, without the ambient noise, that they had been screaming. I was happy Madison or I hadn’t picked that moment to say something about Blake.

When the next song started, I realized that someone had put in Bob Dylan, and grinned at Madison without saying a word. If there was any music I liked almost as much as Moving Neutral, it was music from the sixties. Dylan’s husky voice was still audible when the conversations picked back up, and I leaned against the back of the chair in perfect contentment.

I love this song, I whispered, half to myself.

Me too, a familiar voice said above me, and I looked up to see Blake standing next to our chair, grinning down at us. Sorry to ditch you like that, he said, gesturing at the guy in flip flops he’d been talking to. That guy, Derek, is our manager, he’s basically in control of our lives. I couldn’t ignore him even if I hated his guts, but fortunately, he’s pretty cool.

I looked across the room, and realized April was now with the same man, hitting his arm in a flirtatious way as she pulled her hair back with her other hand. I looked up at Blake, his face wide open and handsomer than I’d even remembered. He would look perfect standing next to April. Next to me, just mismatched.

Are you having fun? he said it to both of us, but again, he only looked at me. I tried to nod, and felt Madison behind me doing the same.

I’m going to try to find Sophie, she said, getting up from the chair. Save my seat, she smiled at Blake as she walked off, and I had never been more thankful that Madison could have any guy she wanted at Prospect. Apparently, she thought she owed me this one.

I tried to stop my whole body from shaking as Blake climbed into the seat next to me, sitting down right where Madison had gotten up. I crossed my legs, trying not to press them into his, but without a better place for it, he was forced to put his arm around me.

New York is my favorite city, he said, his voice low and confident now that he was beside me. I shivered. You’re so lucky to be going to school here.

I can’t wait, I said, relaxing a little. Whenever Madison and I would get sick of everything at school, we’d come into the city for a day, just to go shopping or walk around. It’s like this amazing, crowded, anonymous place.

He nodded, thinking about it. It’s not like that in L.A. Everywhere you go, there’s someone watching you, most of the time with a camera. Here, it feels like no one really cares.

I smiled at him, teasing. Except that horde of stalker kids in the coffee shop, I giggled, and he smiled sheepishly.

I wanted to keep talking, to ask the hundreds of questions in my head, but I wasn’t sure how to do it. I already knew all about him -- Blake had gone to a public school near Los Angeles, graduating the year that Moving Neutral got signed. I knew his favorite color, his favorite movie, his musical influences, everything. I bit my lip -- I even knew the name of his high school English teacher, who he thanked in the credits of their album.