Best Of Everything (28 page)

The driver drops us off at the motel, which looks even sketchier at night, its few low-wattage lights giving it a decrepit air. We approach the courtyard entry and Melody points at the vending machine glowing at the far end of the row of doors.

“I’ll see you at the room. I’m going to get a Coke. You want anything?”

I shake my head. “Nah. It’ll just keep me up.”

“I don’t see how you ever get to sleep. If I had to stand in front of thousands of people every night, I’d be a mess.”

“I sleep like a baby.”

We go our separate ways, the sound of traffic on the nearby freeway a dull roar even at the late hour, and I’ve got my key out and am getting ready to insert it into the lock when I sense someone behind me, their rushing footsteps causing my heart to skip a beat as I hurry to get the door open.

A pair of strong hands grips me from behind, and then an arm slips around my neck, blocking my air supply so I can’t scream. I struggle and try to kick, but he’s way bigger than I am, and I’m starting to black out as he increases the pressure on my windpipe. A sharp spike of pain radiates from the rear of my ribcage when he punches me while strangling me, and I feel myself slipping into oblivion.

Then I hear a sound like a sack hitting the ground, and I can breathe again. I drop to my knees, gasping, and I hear the sound again, along with Melody screaming.

“Help! Anyone. Help! Rape!”

I see her in the shadows and watch as she kicks the fallen man again – now I can make out that the sound is the hard wood sole of her mega platforms connecting with flesh. He continues trying to shield his head with one hand while he holds his crotch with the other, and it’s obvious he’s hurt.

A door opens a few rooms down and a large Samoan man steps out, followed by an equally stout woman.

“What’s going on here?” he demands, as more lights come on in the rooms and more doors open.

I point to the fallen figure. “He attacked me,” I say, holding my throat, which I’m sure is red and will be bruising soon enough. “Tried to kill me. Strangled.”

The Samoan stands over the man as the manager, a fifty-something guy who looks like a hard-scrap farmer from the Midwest, approaches.

Melody glances at him. “Call 911.”

He complies as the Samoan man kneels next to the fallen figure and does a quick check of his pockets. He holds up a buck knife and places it well away from the man, who groans.

“What happened?” the manager asks after calling in the assault.

“I was on my way into the room, and he grabbed me from behind. Choked and punched me,” I say.

“And then I gave him my best soccer kick in the balls, from behind.” She lifts one of her feet, showing off the wooden wedge. “I’d bet they’re scrambled now.”

A small crowd has already gathered by the time the first squad car makes it to the motel – apparently the police station is only a couple of minutes away. The two uniformed officers approach the man and, keeping him face down, cuff his hands behind his back. When they lift him to his feet, I gasp.

“Ralph!” I blurt. He’s got blood running from the corner of his mouth.

The younger of the two cops eyes me. “You know him?”

I nod. “Yes. He’s my mother’s boyfriend. A total abusive prick.”

“I presume you’re going to press charges?”

“Absolutely. He tried to kill me.”

The other officer takes Ralph to a second squad car that’s just rolled up while the first cop takes my statement. About a third of the way through, recognition dawns on him.

“Wait. You’re the Sage who just played the Pavilion?”

Melody nods and answers for me. “That’s right.”

The cop looks over at the squad car with Ralph in it. “I’m afraid I need to ask you to come to the station.”

“That’s fine,” I say.

“We’ll need to take some photos of your injuries and have you see a doctor.”

“Whatever. It’s not like I’m going to get any sleep tonight.”

The Samoan man points to the knife. “He had that in his back pocket. It’ll have my prints on it – I found it and tossed it over there.” Another cop bags the knife.

“Was it closed or open?”

“Closed,” the man says.

“Okay.” The cop sounds disappointed.

On the way to the station, he asks me a few more questions. “You say he punched you, too?”

“Yes. I can feel it bruising. You’ll have all the evidence you need.”

Two hours later, after a brief visit to the emergency room so a doctor can confirm I’ll live, my injuries have been photographed and I’ve finished giving my statement. Amber’s now at the station with me, and the band’s out in the waiting area. Melody’s statement and mine will be enough for them to prosecute Ralph, although we’ll have to appear unless he goes for some sort of a plea bargain. I tell the police I’ll fly in from wherever I am on tour to testify – I don’t want Ralph walking around free, scheming his next attack on me, and I make that clear – I don’t mind going to court, and in fact would welcome the humiliation he’d be subjected to for attacking me.

I send text messages to both Derek and Jeremy, so they don’t read about the event on the web first, and debate calling my dad, but decide it can wait until morning. I check the time – it’s 4:30 – and when we all return to the motel, I feel like a ton of bricks landed on me. It’s all I can do to get my clothes off and take a quick shower before I crawl into bed.

“Melody… Thanks for saving me.”

“Hey, I would have kicked him a lot more if I’d known who it was. But as it is, I nailed him good. He’s not going to be doing any bike riding anytime soon.”

“I just can’t believe he’d try something like this. I mean, I sort of can, he’s a total freak, but to actually do it…”

Melody switches off the bedside lamp and sighs. “There are a lot of sick bastards out there.”

“There are. But how messed up is it that the most dangerous turns out to be your stepdad?”

“You left home for a reason. He’s got a screw loose.” She gives me an evil smirk. “And now pancakes for balls.”

“I hope they bury him under the jail.”

“Pretty safe bet that trying to kill a celebrity who’s also a defenseless minor isn’t going to play well with a jury.”

I sigh and close my eyes. “I hope not.”

“I’ll be right next to you when it comes time to testify. Don’t worry. We’ll get him.”

I remember the sound of her wooden soles slamming into Ralph and nod to myself.

“Yeah. We will.”

Chapter 35

I wake up to my phone jangling. I groan and look at my watch – I’ve gotten four hours of sleep. I leap to answer it and a flash of pain from my ribs reminds me of the prior night’s drama. I reach my phone just as it stops ringing. I glance at the number and hit redial, and when Derek answers, I’ve never heard him sound so worried.

“Jesus Christ, Sage. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. My throat’s a little sore and I feel like I went a couple of rounds, but I’ll make it.”

“I got your text and saw the news on the web. That bastard is lucky I wasn’t there. I’d have killed him.”

I remember the pervert at the rest stop; I believe him.

“Don’t worry about it. He’s going to jail. Hopefully for a long time.”

“How bad are you hurt? Somebody leaked the police report, and it said something about contusions?”

“Bruises. My neck and my back.” I sigh. “But it’s over. Let’s talk about something more important – like how was your show?”

He seems taken aback. “Oh, it went great. I got an encore, and my manager says the video’s trending and my downloads are picking up. The way he put it is, they’re respectable.”

“That’s great, Derek! I know you’ll have a hit on your hands.”

“Well, nothing like you, but I’ll take it.”

“That’s just because Saul put everything he has into making this hit. That will help you, too. It’ll just take a little time. But everyone who’s buying my songs remembers you, and they’ll buy yours, too. We just need to get you some more visibility. Touring together will do that…”

“I know.” He hesitates. “I don’t care. I mean, of course I do, but I’m more concerned with you and this nutcase. It makes me frigging furious to even think about someone trying to hurt you…”

“Derek, he’s psycho. That’s all this was. He hates me because I gave him the middle finger when I walked out on him, and now I’ve got a career, while he’s just some bitter loser with nothing. It’s over and done with. My plan is to do as well as I can and enjoy my life. That’s the best revenge I can think of.”

“Good plan. With me right beside you.”

“Absolutely, Derek. I can’t wait until we’re together again. You’re all I think about.”

“You’re reading my mind. I’m counting the days. None of the rest of this matters. Just you and me.”

I have a hard time swallowing. “Us.”

“The Sage and Derek show,” he says.

“Pretty soon it’ll be the other way around. You watch.”

“Like I said, I don’t care. This is already way more than I thought I’d see. And the biggest plus is that I met…I met the girl of my dreams.”

I don’t trust myself to speak. When I do, to my ear I sound hoarse. “Now we need to make those dreams come true. For both of us.”

“Just under three weeks.”

“Three of the longest in my life.”

“That makes two of us.” He pauses. “I’m sorry you had to go through that with Ralph.”

“It’ll wind up hurting him way more than it does me.”

“Good. He deserves everything he gets.”

I hang up, and my phone almost immediately rings again. This time it’s my father.

“I saw the news this morning. I should have put a bullet in that prick when I saw him the last time.”

“And gone to jail for life? No, I don’t think there’s anything you could have done, Dad.”

“He’s going to wish he’d never been born. I still have plenty of friends in the joint.”

“Dad…”

“Don’t ‘Dad’ me. He tried to kill you. And it’s not the first time.”

I don’t understand. “What?”

“It said in the paper that he’s been charged with aggravated assault before. Fifteen years ago. Against his then-girlfriend. She wound up refusing to testify, but the point is, he’s done this before.”

“I had no idea.”

“That’s our system at work. And it probably won’t be admissible at trial because there was no conviction.”

“Well, I’m testifying, Dad, so he’s not going to get away with it.”

“How are you doing? Did he hurt you?”

“Some scrapes and bruises, but he got the worst of it. Melody laid him flat.” I tell him about her wooden platform shoes and her enthusiastic soccer kicks.

“Good for her. I knew I liked that girl for a reason.”

“Well, that’s usually not the one most males pick, but I’m pretty glad she was there when she was.”

I hang up after more reassurances, and Melody rolls over with a grunt and peers at me. “What are you doing up in the middle of the night?”

“It’s already 9:00.”

“Wake me at 1:00.”

“I’ll shower first. We can take a nap in the van.” I correct myself. “I mean, on the bus.”

Melody sits up. “That’s right! It’s styling time.”

“Let’s hurry up and get ready. I don’t want to miss anything.”

Forty-five minutes later we walk out of the motel door to be confronted by two things simultaneously – the biggest tour bus I’ve ever seen in my life, and about a dozen reporters and cameramen. Amber and the crew try to run interference, but it’s no good – the media smells blood, and I’m swarmed halfway to the bus. I decide to head this off at the pass, so I stop and face the reporters. They all start calling out at once, and I motion for silence.

“One at a time. Please. I can’t answer everyone at the same time.”

“Sage, is it true your father attacked you?” a tall bearded man in front asks.

“No. My mother’s ex-boyfriend. But I’ve been advised that I shouldn’t discuss it.”

“What happened?”

“That would be kind of like asking me to discuss it, wouldn’t it?”

A woman in a red success suit holds a microphone to her mouth as a cameraman adjusts his focus. “Are you okay?”

“Thanks to my friend here, yes.”

“Your friend? What’s her name?” a man cries out.

I exchange a glance with Melody, who looks about ready to burst with joy at her fifteen minutes of fame.

“Melody,” I say.

Melody holds up her hand. “No last names.”

“Is it true that you’re pressing charges?” another man asks.

“Wouldn’t you?” I ask, and then stop myself. “Again, I can’t discuss this. Sorry.”

I resume my march for the bus when another female voice calls out. “What do you make of the plagiarism allegations against your boyfriend?”

I try to resist the bait, but can’t, and I slowly turn. “What are you talking about?”

“This morning. There was a news conference just a few minutes ago. Someone’s claiming Derek stole two of the songs on his album.”

“They what?” I demand, nostril’s flaring, and then Melody’s pushing me forward, whispering to me.

“This is where you say ‘no comment,’ or that you have no idea what they’re talking about.”

She’s right. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Thanks for coming out to check on me, though. I’ll be live tonight in Sacramento. Come see the show if you can!”

I ignore the repeated calls from behind me and exhale with relief when the tour bus door hisses open and the driver looks at me over his shades. “Welcome aboard. I’m John.”

“Hi, John. I’m Sage, and this is Melody. I don’t suppose you could put this thing into mach 2 and take off?”

“I’d love to, but I have to wait for your band and crew. Here. Let me shut the door and I’ll show you around. Leave your bags there – I’ll stow them in the cargo hold below in a minute, unless you have something in them you need on the drive.”

We both shake our heads, and he rises from his position behind the wheel and gestures to the back of the bus. “This here’s a top-of-the-line sleeper coach. It’s got eight bunks, a full galley, a bathroom, two TVs, two stereos, DVD players, satellite Internet…the works. This is the head” – he opens a door to reveal a small bathroom appointed in rich walnut – “and this is your hangout area.” There are two U-shaped sofas facing each other. “Bunks are in the rear.” He moves to a cabinet and opens it. “We’re fully stocked with treats and snacks, and the fridge is full of water, soda, and stronger stuff.”