Cardinal (24 page)

“Ariel!  I found her,” Mason calls out.

A partially open door to my left opens further.
It’s a bathroom, and Ariel is sitting on the floor in front of the toilet. “Hey.”
She gives me a weak smile. “Did you know morning sickness doesn’t only hit in
the morning?”

My eyes consume my face, and I glance at Mason.
“Yeah, I just found out,” he says, crossing his arms and setting his jaw. “She’s
been puking for the last hour.”

I look at my guitar and then Ariel. Does she
want me to play her a song?  I walk toward her and kneel down. “What can I do?”

“I need you to stall,” she says. “I can’t go on
yet. I’m feeling better, but not one hundred percent. I still need to get
dressed and fix my face.”

“Stall how?” My brow furrows. “Do you want me
to get the guys and go back on?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I mean, you can,
but you already played your set. Does the band have anything else?”

“Not that we’ve rehearsed.”

“Then you go,” she says. “Sing “Fairytale.” Sing
“I Choose You.” Sing –” Suddenly, she leans forward and dry heaves. “Sing
whatever the hell you want,” she says into the toilet.

She’s lost her mind. “Are you insane?  The
people out there don’t want to see me.” I can hear the booing and catcalls now.
My music isn’t what they paid for.

“I’m asking a favor,” she groans. She looks
over her shoulder at Mason. “Where are my Saltines?”

He looks like he’s losing his patience. Either
that or he’s so far out of his comfort zone he doesn’t know what to do. He
holds up his hands. “I put in a call.”

My eyes bounce between the two of them. Couldn’t
my favor be to deliver the crackers?

“Please,” Ariel pleads. “I just need some extra
time.”

My mind races. Going out on stage alone
violates my cardinal rule. The idea doesn’t make me happy. In fact, it scares
the shit out of me. I’m not prepared.

“Jen. Think of it as a career opportunity,” Mason
says.

“You’re on board with this?”

“I’m on board with anything that prevents a
hostile audience.” He looks at his watch. “And we’re supposed to start the show
in a few minutes.”

I take a deep breath. Nothing like a little
pressure to force you into a decision. “Okay.” I stand up and look at Ariel. She
wears a grateful expression.

“Thank you,” she says before pushing her body
off the floor and turning on the sink.

Don’t thank me just yet,
I think. She
may still wind up with angry fans.

“Let’s go,” Mason says and opens the door. As
soon as he does, he’s bombarded with questions.

“Is the show canceled?”

“Is Ariel sick?”

“What does she have?”

“The show is not canceled,” he says, raising
his voice and his hands to push back the people. “Ariel had a migraine, but
she’s feeling better. We’re running about twenty minutes behind. Go get ready.”
He grabs one of the arena personnel. “I need a mic at the front of the stage. Tell
the crew there’s been a slight change, we have an extra act.”

The guy nods and starts talking into his
headset.

“C’mon,” Mason says and starts to lead me
through the fray.

“Jen!”

I hear Dean and look behind me. He catches up
to my side as we walk. “What’s going on?”

“Ariel needs extra time. She wants me to stall.”
I give him a panicked look. “She wants me to play.”

His eyes grow wide. “Are you okay with that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

The three of us make it backstage where I’m
hooked up with everything I just took off. “Just go out there, introduce yourself,
and play,” Mason says as Roxanne comes running up.

“What in the hell is going on here?” Her eyes
shoot daggers.

“Don’t worry, Roxy. I’m not stealing your
talent.” Mason looks me over, making sure I have everything. “Last minute
schedule change, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Ariel’s not feeling great. She needs a few
more minutes.” Mason looks me in the eye. “You’re all set. I’ll tell you when
it’s time to come off through your ear piece.” He gives me a little nudge
toward the stage. “Please don’t suck,” I hear him mutter.

Oh my God. Am I really doing this?

“I’m going with you.” Dean grabs my hand, and I
relax a little. He leads me toward the stage. “You’ve never performed alone
before. What they’re asking isn’t fair. I’ll introduce you and stay close.”

“Thanks.” I squeeze his hand.

We walk out on to the darkened stage and the
lights come up a bit. Dean lets go of me and waves as he makes his way to the
mic. I stare out into the arena as I follow him and notice every seat looks
filled. They’re waiting for Ariel.

Not me.

“Hello again, New Orleans,” Dean’s voice echoes.
“Remember me?” He laughs and the crowd cheers. “I’m Dean McCarthy, in case you
forgot.” He jerks his head, telling me to move closer. “This here is Jen
Elliott. You saw her earlier, too, when she wailed on rhythm guitar with me and
the boys.”

The people actually make noise for me, so I nod
and smile.

“Ariel –”

The crowd erupts at the mention of her name. It’s
deafening. Dean grins and claps with them, then gestures for them to calm down.

“Ariel will be out in just a few minutes,” he
continues over the whistles and applause. “While you wait, she sent you someone
special. She asked my friend Jen to entertain you. I promise you’re going to
love her.”

He steps back, giving me the mic, and my head
feels heavy. A low buzz sounds in my ears, and I start to feel nauseous. My
heart pounds in my chest like it’s trapped in a cage.
Don’t faint. Don’t
faint. Don’t faint.

I manage to step up to the mic without keeling
over. “Thanks, Dean. Hello, Louisiana.” My voice sounds thick and tense. I
force a smile even though my legs feel weak. “I’m Jen, and this is ‘Fairytale’.”

The people continue to cheer. Not like they did
for Ariel, but at least the majority sound polite. Adrenaline feeds my nervous
energy, so I close my eyes and strum my guitar. I feel like heaving.
I
cannot throw up!

The sound of the instrument centers me, and the
buzzing starts to fade. My heart continues to race, so I concentrate on the
feel of the guitar in my hands. It gives me confidence, and I let the first
notes flow through my fingers and onto my strings. I open my eyes, then I open
my mouth and …

Sing.

“Check this out.” Dean extends his hand to show
me his phone. He taps the screen and a video of me starts to play.

“You taped me singing?” I try to steal his cell
from him, but he’s too fast.

“Yep,” he says and holds it close to his chest.
He starts typing. “I’m sending it to everyone we know riiiiiiiight …”  He draws
out the word as his thumbs fly over the screen. “Now.” He sets his phone down
with a smirk.

I roll my eyes.

“Here we are.” Our smiling waitress appears. We’re
seated at a high top table at a loud bar near the arena. She sets down four
shots of Fireball, then hands out our other drinks. “I’ll be back to check on y’all
in a few minutes.”

Drew and Paul waste no time reaching for the
shots and passing them out. “To Jen!” Drew announces with his glass in the air.
“On her first solo performance!”

“Hear, hear!” Dean and Paul chime in.

“You guys are dorks,” I say, but raise my glass
just the same. We down the shots and slam the glasses on the table.

“I think we should add your song to our set. At
least in Detroit,” Dean says. “Isn’t your family coming to that show?”

I nod. “I’m not sure if that makes me more or
less nervous. I almost passed out tonight.” I’ve never felt a mixture of fear
and excitement so strongly before.

“The more you do it the easier it will be,”
Dean rationalizes. “You did great. Even the audience thought so.”

“They were being nice.”

“They didn’t have to be,” Paul says. “I’ve
played for a few evil crowds. Those motherfuckers can turn on you like that.” He
snaps his fingers.

I’m so glad that didn’t happen.

“Who’s up for darts?” Drew asks, eyeing an open
board.

“I am,” Dean says. “Five bucks says you lose.”

“Five?” Drew scowls. “At least bet me enough to
buy another beer.”

“Fine. Ten.”

Drew looks at me and points. “You’re playing
next.”

I smile. “You’re on.” I haven’t played darts in
years, but my parents used to have a board in the basement. I was decent against
my brothers.

Dean and Drew leave the table, and I take a sip
of my Kamikaze. It reminds me of Latson and his party when we formally met. If
I knew then what I know now, I would have jumped that man immediately and taken
him up on his offer of a private tour. We would have had four more weeks
together before I left. I sigh. Hindsight is always 20/20.

“Jen.” Paul gets my attention. “I’m going to go
hit on that blonde at the bar.” He looks over his shoulder. “Will you be okay
here for a minute?”

“Just a minute?” My eyebrows shoot up. “You
think that’s all it will take?”

“You know it is.” He winks at me before he
stands. “I’ll be right back.”

Sure,
I think as he walks away. This isn’t the first
time I’ve witnessed his moves. If she shows any interest I won’t see him until
morning.

I’m just about to get up to watch Drew and Dean
when my phone buzzes against the table. I lean over and read a message from
Gwen:
I got Dean’s video. You go girl!  So awesome!

I smile and reply:
Thanks. It was a last
minute thing.

Then, almost immediately, I get another text
message from Jules:
Holy shit!  Are you the headliner now?  Congrats! 
Oh, and Pete says you were lip synching. Don’t worry. I hit him for you.

I laugh. I miss those guys.

Just as I’m responding to Jules, a smooth voice
says, “Spectacular show tonight. I’m glad I caught it.”

A body slides next to me and into Dean’s seat. I
look up and mentally groan. “Caleb.”

“Jen.” He flashes his perfect smile and raises
his hand, calling over a waitress. “I’ll take a Dewar’s straight, please.” He
looks at me. “What would you like?”

My eyes dart to my nearly full glass. “I’m all
set. Thanks.”

The waitress leaves, and Caleb turns his body
and attention toward me. He’s dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans; his
dirty blonde hair left natural and un-styled. Unfortunately, I like this look
on him. He appears approachable, more like a regular guy.

“I didn’t know you could sing like that,” he
says.

I raise an eyebrow. “And I didn’t know you were
stalking Dean across the fifty states.”

He laughs. “What if I am?  I’m just doing my
job.”

“Really?” I skeptically glance around the bar. “I
don’t see any other label execs. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone other than you
since we’ve been on tour. Why is that?”

“Snare Records is Ariel’s label.”

“But Dean’s a free agent.”

He smiles. “Why are you giving me such a hard
time?  Don’t you want Dean to get signed?”

“Sure I do. I’m just not sure you’re the best
choice.”

Caleb loses his grin. “Because of what Gunnar
told you?”

“Um, yes,” I say sarcastically and take a drink.
I may need another one of these if he’s going to hang around.

“Look –”

The waitress interrupts him to deliver his
scotch.

“Thanks,” he says before turning back to me. “I’m
trying to right a wrong here. What happened before shouldn’t have happened, and
I know that now. Gunnar isn’t performing anymore, so I can’t make it up to him.
But I can try with Dean.”

“Why the change of heart?”

Caleb plays with his drink, turning it around
with his hand. “Because time tells stories. I realize what I did wasn’t
necessary.”

I get snarky. “Well, isn’t that big of you.”

Caleb crosses his arms and leans against the
table top. “How much do you know?  What did Gunnar tell you?”

“He’s told me enough,” I say. “It’s your fault
he lost his career.”

“That’s fair,” Caleb concedes. “But did he tell
you he was there the night his sister died?”

No,
I think and frown. “What does that have to do
with anything?”

“Because he was caught on the security camera
leaving her hotel room before she overdosed. There was speculation when the footage
was released; hell, his own father accused him of murder.” He moves closer to
me. “I knew Gunnar didn’t put the coke up Audrey’s nose, but the bad publicity
was impossible to ignore. It seemed the best thing for everyone was to let the
band go.”

I remember reading the headline about Latson’s
dad, but hearing it from Caleb still shocks me. As my mind wraps around his
words, I say, “So, you’re telling me Latson ended his career before you did.”

“I’m telling you we’re both guilty.”

The man looks sincere. I can see where he’s
coming from, but it’s undeniable Latson was a victim of circumstance. There’s
also the issue of Levi. “Don’t you think your brother shares part of the blame,
too?”

“That he does.” Caleb takes a long drink and
swallows.  “That he does.”

I study him. Something doesn’t sit right. He
flew all the way out to New Orleans for what?  To see the exact same show?  “Why
are you really here?”

“I told you. Dean.”

I raise my eyebrows. “And?”

Caleb smiles and shakes his head. “Fine.” He
places both hands on the table and sits back. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You intrigue me.” He leans forward
again. “You’re the only woman in an all-male group. Someone who’s never played
professionally, but performs like she has her whole life. Someone who writes
her own music and saves the day at the last minute.”

I’m confused. “Saves the day?”

“Roxanne told me how you stepped up for Ariel. I
wasn’t expecting that. No one was.”

Does everyone think I’m a bitch?  “She needed
my help. I have a heart, you know.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Caleb shakes his
head.  “No one was expecting your performance. It was good. Really good.”

I don’t want to feel flattered by his
compliment, but I do.

“Have you ever considered recording a demo?  I
could get you into the studio once the tour’s over. We could see where it goes.”

Is he serious?  “I’ve never thought about being
a singer.”

“Why?  What’s your nine to five back home?”

I laugh and pick up my drink. “It’s more like a
six to two. I tend bar.”

Caleb’s eyes light up. “Selling music would
earn you more. A lot more.”

Of course it would. The idea is tempting,
especially after tonight. However, there’s no way in hell Latson would want me to
work with Caleb. Plus, there’s no guarantee my songs would sell. “Thanks, but I’d
rather not get my hopes up.”

Caleb leans into my personal space. “What’s
holding you back?”

I shrug, but don’t move away. He’s doesn’t
intimidate me.

“I know it’s your boyfriend,” he says. “Are you
going to let him run your life?”

My jaw drops. “Excuse me?  You don’t know
anything about us.”

“I know the chance I’m offering is one in a
million. You should take it.” He pushes a loose piece of hair away from my
face, his fingers lingering on my skin, before he whispers my ear. “Do you know
what I mean?”

Oh, I know what he means. My eyes narrow. “You
don’t get to touch me. Ever. Is that clear?”

He pulls away. “Jen, I …”

“Don’t Jen me.” I stand. “This conversation is
over.”

My phone starts to buzz against the table. I
reach for it, but Caleb’s faster. He holds it out of my reach and says, “Don’t
go. Let me explain.”

“Give me my phone.”

“If you would just wait a minute –”

“I said give me my phone.”

“You don’t understand what I meant.”

“No, I understand perfectly what you meant.” I
try to grab my cell, but he stands and holds it hostage. “Damn it, Caleb!  Give
me my phone!  I want to leave.”

“What’s going on here?”

I turn around to see Dean and Drew. Caleb
answers, “Jen and I were just discussing the possibility of her starting a
singing career. Weren’t we, Jen?”

He smiles, but I can see the message lying
beneath. He doesn’t want me to say anything about what just happened. Little
does he know the truth will be told once Dean and I are alone.

“Yep,” I say, clipping the word and holding my
hand out for my phone again. He gives it to me, and I look at Dean and Drew. “I’m
headed back to the hotel. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“I’ll come with you,” Drew says, giving Caleb a
questioning look.

As we leave the bar, Drew sets a protective
hand against my back. I glance down at my phone to see who called and realize
the call connected. Caleb must have brushed his thumb against the screen when
he picked it up. My heart drops.

It’s Latson.

“Hello?” I put the phone to my ear. “Hello? 
Are you there?”

“You’re with Caleb.”

Shit. His words are a statement and his voice
sounds flat. I say the first thing that comes to mind. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re thinking about a singing
career.”

“No. I –”

“I’ll let you go.”

“No!  Wait.”

The line goes silent. “Latson?” No answer. “Latson?”

He’s gone.

~~~~

“If it makes you feel any better, he’s not taking
my calls, either.”

I shift my gaze from the ceiling of my bunk to
Dean. “You tried again?”

“Just now. I left another message.”

My face falls. If Latson won’t answer the phone
for his brother, my chances are disappearing by the second. It’s been two days.

“He’ll come around,” Dean says. “He’s sulking
right now, but he’ll snap out of it.”

“When?” I ask. “Because this is killing me.”

It is. I think it literally is. My stomach has
been in knots ever since this whole thing happened. I have no appetite and
sleeping is impossible. I keep thinking he’ll text or call, and I’ll be asleep
and miss it. I’ve even been taking my phone with me into the bathroom when I
shower.

“Hopefully he’ll get his head out of his ass by
the time we get to Tampa,” Dean says. “Only a few more hours to go.”

If that happened, I would welcome it. With open
arms, trumpets, and confetti cannons. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, but it
feels like I did.  All I want is the chance to explain what he overheard.

Dean’s phone rings, and I nearly jump out of my
skin.  I get hopeful until I watch his expression twist. He sends the call to
voice mail. “Caleb,” he says.

“Asshole.” I flop back against my pillow. “Is
there any way we can rid of him?”

“I wish.” Dean pockets his phone. “You know I’m
only putting up with him until the end of the tour.”