Break It Up (7 page)

A week
later, I get a phone call from Aidan Greer, the quiet guy who came out with us to the restaurant with Triple Cross. “Kyra, I just lost my intern,” he says. “The band leaves on their European tour in four days and I need someone to come work on the movie with me. You game?”

“What?” Okay, not the most articulate response.

“I need a production assistant. Preferably someone who knows a thing or two about film. I know this is a desperate move here, but are you available? I can pay expenses but no salary.”

All I’m hearing, though, is that he wants me to do something with the band for an extended period of time, and that makes my head spin. “I, um… uh, I need to talk to my parents.”

“Yes, of course. Any chance you can get me an answer in twenty-four hours?”

I could give him an answer now. I know what my parents will say.

“Huh, okay.
Well, should we talk to Jason about this?” is my dad’s response when I ask if I can go on tour with Triple Cross in Europe while they film their concert movie.

Jen, who’s parked herself at the table, shakes her head. “Jason’s got all kinds of stress right now. I’ve never seen him like this. We could probably talk to Dave, though.” Dave is Jason’s personal assistant. “Or no,” she goes on, “what am I even saying? We just call Mom. She’ll know what questions to ask.”

“Wait,” I say. “Back up. Are you guys actually considering letting me go?”

They both look at me. “Do you not want to?” asks Jen.

“Yeah.
Yes
, of course I do. I just…why would you let me?”

“Because it’s a good opportunity,” says my father as if he doesn’t understand the question. “You’ve expressed an interest in film and the entertainment industry before.”

“I’ve expressed an interest in everything,” I protest. “Remember me? I never stick with anything I say I’m interested in?”

“You’re eighteen,” says Jen. “Nobody’s asking you to sign up for a long-term career right now. You’re exploring, and this is a good avenue to explore if you’re interested.”

“Do you think you shouldn’t go?” asks my father.

“Of course I shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

I look at him, then Jen, then him again. “I can’t be trusted.”

“Kyra,” says Jen, “you may be very attached to this idea that you’re wild and uncontrollable, but I hate to break it to you. You aren’t anymore. You haven’t missed curfew in a year.”

“I missed it when I spent the night with Zach Wechsler. Hello!”

“Nah, that was an accident,” says Jen.

“You even kept curfew after you turned eighteen,” says my father, “when it didn’t apply anymore.”

“It didn’t? You never told me that.”

“You didn’t even think to ask,” says Jen. “You didn’t even try to find a loophole.”

“It’s true.” My father goes to sit down next to his wife. “Sorry,
querida
, but you’ve turned into the kind of girl you always used to mock. You even pulled straight A’s last year.” His words are all lightness and humor, but his expression is serious, as if he’s telling me I have cancer. “If you have an exclusive job offer in Europe that might expand your horizons beyond washing dishes and waiting tables in New Mexico…” He leans forward and fixes me with a deadpan look. “I’m afraid you leave me with little choice. I’ll support you.”

This is messed up. I pace our living room, not knowing what to say.

Jen shakes her head. “I don’t understand. What’s so upsetting about this?”

“Yes. Come on. We’re saying yes and we’re trying to be funny,” says my father. “Is it my humor?”

“It could be your sense of humor,” says Jen.

“Is it that scary?”

“She’s agitated. Look at her.”

Boots, the cat, sits on the arm of the couch and watches this exchange like it’s a tennis match, his gaze bobbing back and forth.

“Kyra?” presses my father.

“It’s Triple Cross,” I say. “They’re the hottest boy band ever and…”

“And what?” My father shrugs.

I shoot Jen a pleading look. She takes the cue and puts her hand over my father’s. “Give us a moment?” she says.

My father nods and slips out of the room.

How is it I never noticed that my parents can read me just fine? I spent high school certain that they never knew the first thing about me.

“What is it?” Jen asks.

“I have a massive crush on Zach Wechsler.”

She nods. “I know. So you think that’d be too much for you to take, being near him?”

“I’m afraid I’ll do something stupid like sleep with him or one of the other band members and end up hating myself.”

“Kyra…you’re not that person anymore.”

“I slept with Chase Rollins,” I blurt out. “When Jason was filming
The Pact
. I totally let him seduce me and take me back to his trailer and—”

“Mmmm. My shocked face.” She points to her expressionless, deadpan countenance. “Who didn’t sleep with Chase Rollins when they got the chance? He had the worst reputation.”

“So you can’t trust me.”

“I couldn’t back then, no. And I can’t trust Chase Rollins, but I knew that. I know the type. And now he’s on a reality TV show that gets some of the lowest ever ratings, and there, sweetie, is your payback. That’s what you get.”

“Jen, if I’m on tour with three of the hottest guys on the planet, I
will
screw it up. You know me. I’ll sleep with one or more of them and the media will find out about me and my past and—”

“Kyra, listen to me. You may be over the whole sleeping around thing, but you’ve still got some confidence issues. You are well qualified for this intern job if you want it.”

“You can’t let me go.”

“I can’t
make
you go. But maybe you should make yourself. Maybe you need to see once and for all that, really, you can handle this. You can make good decisions and do the right thing. You are a good person.”

I think about Zach and that penetrating stare of his. I think of what it felt like just to be near him and how I can’t help but picture us sleeping beside each other.

I shake my head. “No way. Things with Zach ended, they were okay. He texts me and is really nice…and if he got to know me, he wouldn’t be that nice.”

At that, Jen’s expression grows serious. “Any guy who thinks less of you for your past doesn’t deserve to know you. You’re better off without him.”

“I don’t need a high school guidance counselor’s advice,” I say. “I need you to level with me.”

“This is me leveling with you. I hate to break it to you, but you’re a grown up now. No one’s going to forbid you to do stuff anymore. Unless it’s illegal.”

“But it’s not fair. I only just figured out how to actually not do the stuff people forbid me to do.”

“Such is life.” She smirks at me. “Seriously, though, I think you’ll be fine. And who knows? Guys like Zach do date, you know.”

“Oh, don’t even.” I resume pacing. Boots watches me as if there’s something fascinating about the way I am tugging at my hair. “If there was even a rumor about me, and if anyone dug into my past…”

“Well, true.” Jen exhales like a balloon deflating. “There is that. You do not want to get on the wrong side of the media.”

“So I’m forbidden to even think about dating him?”

“No. You’re required to use your own judgment.”

“But I have historically
bad
judgment.”

“Not as of the last year.”

“Come
on
. That’s nothing. That’s…you can’t just hold that against me.”

“I’m sorry. Your father’s decision’s final and I support him in it. We will trust you, we will let you take this job after we look into it a little, and you will have to decide for yourself if you want to tour Europe with the hot boy band.” She holds up her hands as if to say this is not her problem.

“This is
so
not fair.”

“This is life, sweetie. Deal with it.”

I go
to bed that night undecided and wake up the next morning to my phone ringing. “Hello?” I answer, my voice a croak.

“Kyra?” A voice I’d know anywhere.

“Zach?” Great. He’s heard me first thing in the morning.

“Listen, I’ve got a stopover in Albuquerque later on today.”

“Oh… uh-huh?” My insides quake. I definitely won’t be going back to sleep now. The prospect of Zach within ten miles of me is enough to give me a good jolt of adrenalin.

“You want to go grab coffee or something?”

No. I don’t. I want him to decide he hates me already and leave me alone. And one picture of us together would give the media a field day. “Um…”

“Or just, I don’t know…”

“Well, uh, I mean…” I’m
so
articulate at this hour.

“I’d like to see you,” he says. “Please. I want to talk to you about Aidan’s job offer.”

“Should I not take it?”

“I want to talk about it, and not over the phone.”

Why not?
I think. He and I text each other fifty times a day. I roll onto my back. “Yeah,” I say, “we can talk. I just really don’t want there to be any pictures of me in the media.”

“Okay. I land at ten. You want to meet somewhere?”

“I’ll come pick you up.” Because that’s my life apparently. I do this kind of stuff.

I drink
my coffee, brush my teeth, spend over an hour on my makeup, and dash out the door, but not before telling Jen I’m going to go meet “a friend,” which is as good as lying. I note this about myself. The road back to the person I was begins with a single step. Was that it? Not telling the whole truth to Jen?

Yeah, I’m having major issues right now.

I drive Libby to the airport and hope and pray no paparazzi have followed Zach here. I know the way to the private terminal thanks to the few rare occasions I travelled with Jason, so I show up just after ten, feeling like a wreck. All that time I spent painstakingly applying eyeliner has left me looking like a raccoon, I just know it. And I’m sure my hair has frizzed out in every direction. The private terminal is a boxy, utilitarian building situated with the hangars at the far end of the runway, and there’s not much of a parking lot; I pull up to the curb.

Through a gap in the buildings I see a jet taxi past and I feel like I’m going to throw up or faint—or both. I wonder if I should get out of my car and go into the terminal or what. I don’t want anyone who works at the airport to see me with Zach. With my luck, it’ll be one of my high school classmates or something. Then again, it seems way rude to just text Zach to come on out to my car. Talk about presumptuous.

Zach… I’m about to see Zach again. The whole world does a definite tilt to the left, and I rest my forehead on my steering wheel. I can’t do this.

Kyra:
I’m in my car. Red Jeep Liberty. Should I go into the terminal?

The reply is immediate.

Zach:
I’ll come find you.

Okay, so it isn’t presumptuous if it is his idea, right? The terminal door opens and a blond man steps out. I want to hide under the dashboard. That was
fast
. Did he get off the plane and run or something? And if so, why? What would that mean?

The closer he gets, the more undeniably
Zach Wechsler
he becomes. I am definitely going to puke.

He glances to the left and right before grasping the passenger side door handle only to find it locked.

Smooth, Kyra
.

He smiles at me as I unlock it, and then the door pops open and I have Zach Wechsler
in my car.
“Hey,” he says like this is normal. “Sorry to just show up like this. Did I disrupt your day at all?”

How is this a serious question? Those gray blue eyes are as intense as ever, and his hair may not have been styled today, but he still looks every inch the rock star.

“I mean…” He looks me in the eye. “Did you have work or anything?”

“Oh… no. Nothing like that, no. So, um…hi.” I really miss my brain. I’m sure it’s lying around here somewhere.

“Hi.” He tugs the seatbelt loose and pulls it across his chest.

Which I guess means we’re going somewhere. Don’t ask me where. Just keeping the car between the lines on the road is going to be a challenge. I start the engine and drive out of the airport complex. The day has gone from confused to surreal. It’s as if I’m dreaming now; reality is fuzzy.