One Hit Wonder (23 page)

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Authors: Denyse Cohen

BOOK: One Hit Wonder
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Bill turned to Matt who nodded in agreement.

“This is ridiculous. I just had news from Atlantis, you don’t need Kevin … I mean, John can sing.” He placed his mug on the coffee table and wiped his forehead with his hand. “It will be poetic.”

John shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What the hell.” Bill paced in front of the couch. “Matt, Tyler what are you going to do? Are you going to let him destroy your careers?”

“Hey, we only play the instruments. A lot of people can do that,” Matt said.

“John, I know you’re upset right now, but this is a mistake.” Bill’s voice was pleading. “You’re engaged. How are you going to support your family?”

“I don’t believe that’s any of your concern.”

“What’s going on here? Are you going solo? That’s it, isn’t it?” Bill turned around and rubbed his chin. “I’m sorry pal, but you can’t do that. You have a contract.”

“We’re aware of our contract, Bill. I suspect Atlantis won’t go through the trouble of finding a lead singer for a band that has only a few months left.”

“I see.”

“There’s one more thing.” John took a step closer to Bill. “Your services are no longer needed.”

Audrey’s mouth fell open, and so did Bill’s.

“You’re fired,” John said.

“Huh?” Bill snorted. “You can’t fire me.”

“I just did.”

Audrey covered her mouth, struggling to not burst out laughing. Megan squeezed her hand and shushed her. Bill looked at Matt and Tyler who stared back at him silently.

“After all we’ve been through?”

“After all we’ve been through?” John intoned. “Tell me Bill, what is it you’ve done that accomplished any of this?”

“I arranged the tour.”

“Merely half of it. The other gigs John booked himself,” Tyler said.

“You’ve met her because of the tour.” Bill waved his hand toward the kitchen.

John chuckled and looked at Audrey, then turned back to Bill. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot you were responsible for fate.”

• • •

Later that night, the house was quiet. After Bill stormed out swearing it wasn’t the last time they would hear from him, Matt and Megan went to the movies and Tyler left to meet some of the people he befriended at Atlantis. Audrey walked in the bedroom and found John sitting on the bed, stroking softly his acoustic guitar.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sitting across from him at the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine.” He gave her a thin smile.

“John.” She sighed and said, “Are you sure this is what you want? You’ve worked so hard — ”

“I’m sure.”

“It just seemed so sudden.”

“It isn’t, really. It’s, uh, cumulative.” He propped his guitar against the night stand. “I was young and all I’ve wanted was to play. After my mother died, it was all I had. I got older and I still just wanted to play; but then, everything got complicated, you have to make a living, and there’s all this expectation.”

“Climbing on the bandwagon,” she said, half to herself.

She knew exactly what he meant, she’d felt carried by the current of living as a responsible adult before: setting goals, making money, having a career which were all great if she’d known what she wanted to do with her life all along. Her art history degree had only set her on the right trail.

“This life is not what I wanted, you know?”

“Of course. I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“I won’t.” He extended his hand to her, then pulled her close. “I have you.”

She sat sideways between his legs and rested her head on his chest, and said, “What will you do?”

“I’ll do whatever as long as we’re together.”

“How about music?”

“I’m not going to stop making music, but I refuse to sell out so Atlantis can make more profit.” He tightened his arms around her. “I’ve been thinking of what you’ve said. About school?”

Sometime after Audrey discovered she wanted to pursue art as a career, she started to think she finally might go back to school to get a MFA.

“And?”

“I think I’d also like to give graduate school a try, uh…” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Back in Illinois.”

Audrey stared deeply into his amber eyes, and said, “Sounds perfect.”

Epilogue

Pumpkin spice scent filled Audrey’s parents’ house on the day of her wedding. Due to Isabel’s insistence, Audrey agreed to have an intimate ceremony at her parents’ house. It was only appropriate, it hadn’t been two months since Kevin’s death. Audrey suggested they waited a bit longer, but John wanted to get married as soon as possible.

“Did I knock you up? What’s the hurry?” Audrey had asked him one night when, while spooning in bed, he suggested eloping to Las Vegas.

“I want to start new, with you as my wife.”

She’d melt every time he said “my wife,” but she never cared for the fluffy-white-gown and bridesmaids-by-the-dozen shenanigans. City Hall would have been fine, but her mother insisted on doing something — anything. She agreed, as long as her parents promised to respect her guest list and the ceremony could be performed by a non-denominational minister.

The party planning company her parents hired attached poles to the ground, then loosely draped pearlescent gossamer panels around, creating a sheer tent. Its back wall was a fall-inspired wedding arch, with sunflowers, seeded eucalyptus, curly willow, and large burgundy roses.

Before leaving L.A., Megan had helped her pick out the dress, an ivory empire waist strapless with a thin taupe ribbon.

“But it’s a bridesmaid’s dress.” Marjorie, the wedding-gown specialist at the store, had protested when Audrey pulled the dress from a 50 percent discount rack.

Megan giggled and sipped the complimentary champagne Marjorie had served them after Audrey told her she was looking for a wedding gown. Audrey handed Marjorie the bridesmaid dress to place in the fitting room. Marjorie gave Megan an insufferable look as if that dress didn’t even pay for the champagne she wasted on them.

“This will do.” Audrey twirled in front of the mirror checking her reflection with the same enthusiasm of someone trying on scrubs.

“Oh, you’re such a romantic. It touches me,” Megan said.

“You know I would wear jeans and boots if I could. I’m doing this for my mom.” Audrey pulled the already half-open zipper down.

“You should be doing this for your daughter.” Megan had tilted her glass up, sucking the last drop of champagne, for Marjorie was unlikely to relinquish any more.

“What?” Audrey turned to Megan.

“Imagine you’ll have a daughter someday and she’ll want to see her mommy’s wedding pictures. You’ll be happy you didn’t wear jeans and boots,” she sighed, “or a tankini.”

“Ha. Was that what your mother wore?”

Nodding sheepishly, Megan said, “She got married in Key West.”

“Aw, that is romantic.”

Megan had come to Illinois to spend Thanksgiving with Matt. They had been dating exclusively and seemed to be walking steadily toward living together. Matt and Tyler had decided to remain in L.A. and take over the bungalow. Tyler was hired as an in-house musician at Atlantis, a position Audrey didn’t know existed. Matt did the same, substituting for other musicians as needed, but on a freelance basis because of his new job as a software developer at Apple.

Audrey and John were renting a house in Illinois, which made Isabel very happy. L.A. would still be a part of their life, since Glenn was interested in several of John’s songs which John had decided he didn’t want to record for himself. Glenn insisted John would come to L.A. when necessary to produce the songs with him. Audrey would accompany him whenever she needed to see Ben, who had booked her a solo show in the Spring.

Isabel steamed the dress while Audrey watched the tent being set up from her window. John had taken his suit and toiletry bag to the spare bedroom to get ready. He’d been a little embarrassed when Isabel had shown them to Audrey’s room the night before.

“Are we in the same room?” He’d muttered when Isabel left.

“Does it offend your maidenhood?”

“Your parents are right down the hall.”

“We were in the same room at your dad’s.”

“It’s just … I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry, Dad knows you’re marrying me tomorrow.”

At night, Audrey had tickled him under the covers while he shushed her nervously and pleaded for silence.

“How about a last lay as a single guy?” She’d slid her hands under his undershirt. “You can pretend it’s your bachelor party and I can give you a lap dance.” But John refused to make love to her with her parents sleeping down the hall. At least, not before they were married. She’d called him square, but truthfully, she thought it was endearing. She’d lain on her side and John curled around her facing her back.

“Good night, sweet almost-wife o’ mine,” he’d said into her neck.

A soft knock on the door brought Audrey back to reality and she turned from the window.

“Come in.”

“Hello there.” Megan pushed the door.

“Megan.” Audrey stepped closer and gave her a hug. “Did you just arrive?”

“Yes. Matt is downstairs talking to John.”

“John is down there already?”

“Uh-huh. Looking pretty sharp in a brown suit.”

“Dressed?”

“Something about getting claustrophobic alone in the bedroom.” Megan turned to Isabel. “Hi, Mrs. Whitman.”

“Hi darling.” Isabel hung Audrey’s dress on a hook in the closet and gave Megan a hug.

“You should be getting ready. The minister is here,” Megan said.

“Oh, I should go talk to him. Megan can help you get ready.” Isabel nodded at Megan.

“Yes, of course.” Megan nodded back.

Isabel returned to the room with a hat box, from which she pulled a bouquet that matched the wedding arch, with deep red roses, delicate freesias, and other gold and orange colored flowers tightly tied together by a burgundy ribbon.

“Mom, it’s beautiful.” Audrey hugged and kissed her mom. “Thank you so much — for everything.” Her eyes welled up.

“Oh, my girl.” Isabel cupped Audrey’s face in her hands. “You deserve everything. I know you’ll be so happy.”

They held each other tight until Isabel loosened the embrace and said, “You look beautiful. Now what to do with the hair?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just have it down.” Audrey looked at Isabel and Megan and they shook their heads.

Megan pulled out a small paper bag from her purse and handed to Audrey. “I saw these the other day and thought of you.” It was a package of filigree hair pins in a lotus design with tiny rhinestones at the tip of each petal.

“These are great. Thank you.” Audrey handed the package to her mom.

“Come sweetie, sit down.” Isabel told Audrey. “How about if we pull this much up … ” She propped some of Audrey’s hair up on the crown of her head. “And leave the rest down, cascading on one shoulder?”

“Perfect,” Audrey said.

“I’ll get the curling iron.” Megan vanished into the bathroom.

When they opened the door of the bedroom thirty minutes later, Audrey’s father was waiting at the top of the stairs.

“Oh, angel. You look beautiful.” George stepped up and gave Audrey a kiss on the cheeks.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“See you out there.” Megan squeezed by Audrey and her parents and headed down the stairs.

“I’ll let them know you’re ready.” Isabel followed Megan.

George squeezed Audrey’s hand and ushered her downstairs. From the French doors that led to the backyard, she could see the guests through the sheer fabric: Steve and — finally — a date his own age, Tyler, Charlie, John’s father and brothers, and her parents. The four blurred shapes standing in front of the rows of chairs were Matt and Megan as the best man and maid-of-honor, the minister, and John. Audrey held John’s gaze as she crossed the yard holding her father’s arm.

A familiar sound came from the small speakers tied inconspicuously to the ginkgo tree: an instrumental version of “North Star.” Audrey, still staring at John, smiled. Looking surprised, he turned to Matt, who shrugged and tilted his head toward Tyler, who was grinning triumphantly. For a moment, Audrey saw Kevin sitting on one of the white chairs. Cheery and beautiful, with his wide smile narrowing his eyes so the only thing you could see was a hint of acid green melting gloominess away. Then the moment was gone. She looked back at John and took another step toward the future.

• • •

After one week of romantic dinners, sightseeing, and sunbathing lazily on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro, Audrey and John took the short flight to Goiânia.

“It seems my entire family is here,” Audrey said looking past the exit doors.

“Wow.” He looked at the multitude of people closing in on them when they’d exited the baggage claim area.

Hugs and kisses, handshakes and taps on the shoulders went around punctuated by Portuguese and broken English. She looked at John and laughed, as his widened eyes gave away his first cultural shock. She was sure he’d never been so warmly greeted, not even when the band was at the peak of their popularity.

Five cars made the procession to the farm. Audrey’s aunt, Janny, drove them. Audrey enunciated her name, “
” so John could learn the pronunciation.

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