One Hit Wonder (4 page)

“Stand back and watch?” Tyler shook his head in disapproval. “He never leaves his office.”

“Why do you work with him?” Audrey asked, disappointed by the interruption. She thought she saw something very peculiar in John’s eyes when he said her name, and she desperately wanted to know what it was.

“There are benefits.” John said, looking at Tyler with an unspoken rebuke. “His studio, his connections.”

“But he manages too many little bands, probably to keep his upscale lifestyle,” Tyler said.

“Don’t sweat it.” John looked at Audrey. “Everything you’re doing is great for the band’s image. He’ll realize it sooner or later.”

“I’m not worried about Bill. In fact, I’m cool if I finish the tour without ever meeting him.”

• • •

After Bill backed off, it felt as if they were on a road trip instead of a professional engagement. Not that the band didn’t take their job seriously, because they did — especially John. He was always hauling around an old acoustic guitar, playing notes, and writing in a composition book. She even witnessed a song being born one afternoon on their way to South Carolina, when she was in the back of the bus reading
Eat, Pray, Love
and longing for pasta.

“Check this out.” John straightened himself on the seat and fixed his guitar on his lap. Then he stroked his guitar and mumbled something about the wind on birch trees, dreams that fly away, and a life spent waiting.

Matt, Tyler, and Kevin geared their attention on John. Tyler got his bass and played a seamless note. Kevin sang along as John repeated the words, and Matt nodded his head rhythmically. After a few minutes of repetition, words were amended and shuffled into a chorus. Kevin sang in his high-pitched voice something about forgotten dreams.

She tried to efface herself, pretending to be completely absorbed in the book. It was the first time they had done any composing since the tour started, and she didn’t want to disturb them. Awe rushed through her veins, as if she was witnessing Michelangelo carve out David from a block of marble. For a moment, she thought about college and why she had chosen to study art — the creative process was fascinating, and she loved watching the band collaborate to transform words and sounds into something meaningful. Something that could travel inside people and rip their guts apart the way songs often did shot a bolt of emotion through her veins.

A little later, she had abandoned her book and was concentrating on not throwing up when Kevin lay next to her on the bed.

“What’s the matter? You don’t look so good.”

“Motion sickness.”

“Really?”

“Yes, it ranges from a little nudge on the stomach to tsunami-scale barfing. The smell of diesel doesn’t help.”

“Even your foot is cold.” He touched her foot with his.

Kevin had a natural way to getting close to people; somehow, he was always touching her. Normally she would feel uncomfortable, but he behaved so casually he could be giving her a handshake. She noticed he would throw his arms around the shoulders of one of the guys when walking inside a convenience store, or give them little punches when messing around. She figured it was his way of being friendly and, slowly, had started to relax to his touchy personality.

“It seems we’ve been behind a very smelly old truck for ages.” She turned her face to him, wiping her hand across the drops of sweat on her forehead. “How much longer ‘til we stop?” She squeezed her stomach, hoping to keep its contents from coming out.

“Not long.” Kevin stroked her hair and called out, “Hey John?”

John stood at the doorway and looked at them.

“Can you ask Rob to stop somewhere? Audrey is sick.”

“Sure.”

They stopped at a gas station and she ran out of the bus barefooted, feeling immediately better by standing on firm ground. She waited in front of the bus door, taking deep breaths and listening for her body’s signals. They commanded her to run. Like an arrow, she flew to the curb on the back of the convenience store. The wintery midday air scratched her bare arms and the cold cement coated the soles of her feet. Her breakfast, so delicious not more than an hour ago, was now a plate of steel wool pads traveling up her throat.

She inhaled and smoke punched her in the gut. John was standing a few feet away, holding her shoes in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

She stared at him and he followed her gaze to the hand with the cigarette — the executioner and his axe.

“Sorry.” He dropped the shoes on the ground near the curb and walked away.

Her lips parted to thank him, but the words didn’t come out. The smell of smoke was nauseating, and she could only focus on keeping whatever was left of her meal where it belonged. She wished John had dropped the contents of the other hand and stayed, but he never did what she expected of him. Unlike Kevin, who relied on human interaction to survive, John watched the action from the sidelines. She sensed something between them, but his behavior made it impossible for her to figure out what it was. So, looking at her shoes on the ground, it dawned on her that, with absolutely no fuss and, perhaps without even liking it, he took care of everyone — herself included.

On the drive from Raleigh to Columbia, Audrey sat on the passenger’s seat beside Rob. A true bohemian who’d chosen to do what he did to be exactly where he was — drinking, traveling, and listening to rock-and-roll. His girlfriend had gotten pregnant before he left for the Gulf War. They got married, then divorced a few months after he returned. His eighteen-year-old daughter seemed to be the only reason he had a job at all; everything he owned was in his rucksack.

“I did the house-with-a-yard thing when Stacey was young, so she could come over and stay with me every other weekend. When she left for college I said ‘no more of this shit, man.’ I don’t like being stuck in one place for long. I want to see America.”

He spoke of his daughter with tenderness and had made sure to be a part of her life. “I taught her how to play the guitar.”

They’d planned to spend part of the summer traveling together: Nevada, Arizona, and Mexico. The trip was Stacey’s idea, and it made Rob so happy he glowed when talking about it. “She wants to spend time with me.” His smile cut his face from ear to ear.

The gig in Columbia, South Carolina, although happening very early on, was the highlight of the tour, at least in regards to turnout. The band was going to be part of the line-up in the city’s Saint Patrick’s Day festival. She’d never heard of it, but it seemed to be a quite large event, with around thirty thousand people partying in a closed-off area of downtown called Five Points.

“This is awesome,” Kevin said, as John walked to the front desk to check them in into a historic brick-building hotel that used to be a bakery. The rooms were each about a hundred dollars over their budget, but proximity was important since they couldn’t drive to the performance area the day of the event.

“We’re probably sharing rooms, so let’s keep the same arrangement in case one of us has company.” The prospect of being at walking distance from a hub of partying college girls made Tyler very happy.

The “arrangement” meant the first to arrive at the Winnebago with their guest hung something at the door as a sign for the others to go sleep anywhere but there. Audrey was the most inconvenienced by it, the one without a bed for the night, and then having to find a Laundromat the next day to get the sheets washed. But since it didn’t happen every night, and the boys gave her the bed exclusively on normal nights, she played along.

“How about if more than one of us has company?” Audrey said, defiantly.

She hadn’t planned on having a one-night-stand in South Carolina, but she thought Tyler was very cocky to assume he was the only one who might.

Tyler, Kevin, and Matt gave her dumbfounded stares. Rob seemed to be enjoying the exchange, chuckling under his breath.

“Audrey, you slut,” Kevin teased, but when they looked at him with straight faces he said, “Sorry, just kidding.”

John approached them with keys in his hand. “I’ve got two rooms, and each have double queen beds. Rob and I can stay in the bus, Kevin and Tyler share one room, Matt and Audrey the other.” He turned to Audrey and, in a surprising moment of eye contact, said, “If that’s okay with you.”

It took her a few seconds to gather her thoughts. His eyes were translucent, like pieces of amber, with yellow rings around the pupils, and shapely thick eyebrows that hooded his expressive eyes. A faint scar cut through his left brow, making it a little disheveled in the middle.

“Yes, of course,” she said, feigning nonchalance.

“Queen beds work out great. We can double-up in case one or more of us” — Tyler looked at Audrey — “needs to use the bedroom.”

“Wait — ” Matt looked confused.

“Of course, we can pretty much solve the whole predicament if Audrey and I would sleep together. In the same room. Together.” Kevin twisted his hands in opposite directions while tapping the tip of his fingers together.

“What predicament?” John said, a little irritated.

“Don’t bother,” said Matt. “Let’s go, Audrey.”

• • •

The next morning she went for a run on the streets around the hotel. Matt was sound asleep and she knew the boys had stayed up late, so it was better not to wake him. She’d called it a night around one in the morning and left them in an Irish pub a couple of blocks away.

The sun was bright, but the temperature was in the upper forties. It took only a few minutes jogging up a hilly street that led to the University of South Carolina campus for her to feel warm. She liked the wooded streets and old houses, many transformed into duplexes for students. There were old cars parked on the streets and plastic and beach chairs on the lawn, probably the preparations for the parade. Not a lot of people out, though, since it was 7:45
A.M.
She turned left and ran down until she found a wide street called Blossom, then took another left and made her way back. She’d seen a Starbucks between the pub and the hotel the night before, and decided to stop for coffee. She bought water, ordered a vanilla latte and sat at a patio table, reading the newspaper. At 9:30, when the streets were noticeably busier she decided to go get ready for the day. The festivities started at ten, but the band wasn’t performing until four in the afternoon. They were third on the line-up and the only thing they had to do was to take their instruments to the stage and do a quick sound check before the first band started at noon.

The shower was running when she walked into the room. She placed her newspaper on the night stand, took off her running shoes, and walked toward her bag on the floor. Kneeling in front of it, she started to rummage through her clothes.

When the door of the bathroom opened, John came out shirtless and damp, with his toiletry bag in one hand. He seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him, even though he was in her room.

Startled by the sight of him, she stood up quickly and almost lost her footing due to lack of blood in her brain.

“Are you okay?” He lifted his hand and touched her arm with the tips of his fingers.

Thank goodness, she was pressing her forehead with her hand, thus shielding her eyes from him, because she couldn’t look away from his chest. The prickly fuzz of black hair, and the hardness of his muscles adorned by droplets of water would be enough to make her crawl up the walls; add his erect nipples and the scent of his skin in the mix, and she was burning in places she couldn’t name.

“Yeah. I thought you were Matt,” she said, while thinking to herself ‘Audrey, you really need to get laid’.

“Matt went to get aspirin. I was about to knock on Kevin and Tyler’s door, and he said I could shower here to save time. I have to go talk to the festival’s coordinator.”

“Of course. You don’t have to explain.”

He walked past her toward the bed, and grabbed his T-shirt. As he was putting it on, he said, “I didn’t want to look like I’ve just walked in here.”

“John, you don’t have to cater to me.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Sometimes I feel like, uh, an inconvenience to you.”

“You’re not… Do I make you feel like that?

Audrey nodded.

“I’m sorry. You don’t inconvenience me at all, it’s quite the contrary,” he said, walking toward the door.

Quite the contrary? She thought.

“You’ve been great…Helpful.” He seemed flustered, holding on the door knob for dear life. “I’ve got to go.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice as small as a toddler’s.

• • •

If it wasn’t for check-out at eleven
A.M.
, none of the boys would had gotten up before late afternoon the next day. The Saint Patrick’s Day festival had been great: the band sounded terrific, the people were friendly, and Guinness abounded. Tyler indeed had required privacy, but fortunately the girl took him to her house. It was the beauty of college towns: they functioned like a giant dorm.

Driving away from Columbia, they watched from the tour bus kids gliding on rubber tubes down the river that cut the city, scattered cars dotting the shoulders of the road, and men with fish rods standing on bridges. Since Kevin, Tyler, and Matt wouldn’t stop complaining about their hangover, John agreed to stop. Rob steered off the narrow road that was taking them to the Congaree National Park, where they intended to camp for the night before heading to Georgia. He drove the Winnebago as far into the woods as he could as if trying to conceal it from the passing cars.

Uncertain of how long the boys intended to stay there, Audrey took a couple of the many books she’d bought in one of the city’s used books store the day before.

“That will be great.” She tilted her head toward the cooler and the tequila bottle Tyler carried. “For when the State troopers stop to find out why a RV is parked on the side of the road.”

“Now I know who the designated driver will be.” He winked at her.

She looked for a spot in the sun to sit down. There weren’t many smooth areas; tree roots punctured the water, and rocks and moss framed the river. Her only option was to walk up the bank and sit on a weedy patch of grass relatively far from the rest of them.