Indigo Blues (20 page)

"Yes, ma'am." I'll say anything at this point. I just want
to get out of here.

"Okay then. But if I catch you two here again, I'll call
your folks. Now get moving."

Tripp thanks her and we take off. Why we have to
thank the officer for not ratting on us, I have no idea. But
I do know I'm not willing to stick around to find out.

"That was a buzz kill," Tripp says.

"Tell me about it." I sigh. We don't talk much the rest
of the way home. Luckily it's a short ride, so we both pretend to be really into watching the traffic lights change.

By the time we hit my driveway, I realize that I have
one focus-to make things right with Adam. Maybe if
he has some clarity then everything else will follow. Dad
always says, "Go right to the source of the problem." No
reason that I can't do that, too.

It's nine thirty, half an hour before my weekday curfew.
Tripp puts the car in park. "Well, we've had an interesting
start." He laughs, nervously.

"Ah, yeah." I laugh, too.

Then, in an instant, we're both silent again.

The thick air between us has not dissipated. "I better
get inside."

"See you tomorrow," Tripp says.

Okay. I pause for a moment, hoping for a reassuring kiss
and knowing I won't get one. He squeezes my arm instead.

The car door shuts and I don't look back. I make a final
adjustment to my shirt before unlocking the front door. As
soon as the key is in, Tripp's off. He's probably thinking, I
never want to see that freak again.

I pray for a free pass up to my room, for no one to be
watching TV or chatting in the kitchen.

Only the foyer light downstairs is on. I switch it off
and tiptoe up the stairs. A light is on in Eli's bedroom. I
want to kick open his door and tell him that everything is
his fault. But I know that's not true. Even if he had started
the website just to ruin my life, there's no way I could link
his meddling with Rocky Ledge.

After I put my PJs on, I call it a night and get directly
into my bed. It's warm and soft. I wish I could stay under
these covers until the school year ends.

I cry softly into my pillow. I feel like such a moron.
What did I do to deserve this humiliation? Can't anything
go right for me?

I pull out my phone. No messages. I can't believe even
Adam didn't call me back. Maybe he's finally had enough
of me. Can't say I blame him.

is only eleven in the morning and I already have three
missed calls from Hannah. What does she want? Doesn't
she realize I work for a living? That there is actually a lot
of time and effort that goes into maintaining a successful band? Like right now. I have to check Indigo's website
without the guys breathing down my neck.

My stomach feels queasy as I lower myself into the
computer chair. I bring the site up, half expecting something to pop out of the screen that says, You suck, Adam.

Wait a minute-I swear that's a different pic of Indigo.
She was wearing a prom dress or something in the other
photo. So this site is not a fluke. She's maintaining it and
the quote is gone. Was that her idea, or did one of the guys
call her? Threaten to write another song about her?

When I click on How I Met the Band, there's a picture
of me and Indigo at one of our first shows. Weird. I thought
she hated me. I scroll around. Not much is really going on.
There's a comments page. Well, Kristalight and Cherry-
pop23 seem to want to rough Indigo up a bit, but otherwise the comments are pretty tame. I still can't get my head
around why she would leave this up if she wanted to be left
alone, but as Conjunction pointed out, girls are a mystery.

Maybe I should call Indigo back. Can't believe I even
held out since yesterday. I stare at my phone. Crap. I have
to be in the studio in less than an hour. I need to de-Indigo
myself and get "Sugar Rush" back on my brain. I'll shoot
her a quick text instead. Don't want my not calling back to
be a feature article on her website.

Saw the site. Both times. Sorry no time to
call back. Got 2 run 2 the studio. Catch u
later.

I chug a Coke from the fridge. Now I'm all "Sugar
Rush." I think I have the last few chords I was struggling
with down pat, so I'm not worried. The thing that worries
me more is living up to the reputation of "Indigo Blues."
I don't know how mega-artists do it. How do they make
each song, each album, better than the last?

I grab my guitar case and head out the door. I don't
bother eating anything because I know Gina will have food
for us. If it wasn't for her, we'd all be surviving on beer
and bar food. I walk the block to the L train and pass the
same old guy playing the guitar that I pass most every day. I wonder if in his heyday he had dreams of becoming a
rock star. Did he start out playing on this corner, across the
street from the liquor store, or is this his last-resort stop? I
throw a couple of dollars into his open case. It doesn't feel
like enough, but I don't think me emptying out my wallet
will help him out, either. I should send Becky Gentle over
for a house call, but even she might be scared of this guy,
with his unruly gray hair and wicked blue eyes.

A watered-down version of "Hotel California" fills my
ears as I make my way down the stairs to the subway, hitting the bottom stair the same second the train pulls up. I
book it to the car and slide into the seat next to a young
girl bopping to her iPod. Placing my guitar on the floor
in front of me, I go over the words to "Sugar Rush" in my
head. Then I feel a tap on my shoulder.

The girl looks down at her iPod and then back up at
me. "Are you Adam from Blank Stare?"

I'm caught off guard. I look around the car. There are
only a few other people inside. "Yes."

A smile breaks across her face. "I love you guys!"

"Thanks. That's great to hear."

The old couple across from us keeps their eyes fixed on
me like they don't know exactly what I'm doing talking to
this middle schooler, what power I hold over her.

"No school today?" I ask.

"I have an orthodontist appointment, so I'm meeting
my mom at her office."

"I used to have braces."

Gina would be proud of me. I'm relating to our fans. She's always harping at us to make personal connections
with people.

"I'm supposed to get them off next month. Um, do
you ever give autographs?"

I fish in my pockets for a pen.

"Don't worry, it's okay," she says.

"No, it's my pleasure. I'm just hunting for something
to write with."

She unzips her enormous purple backpack covered
with red hearts and pulls out a notebook and pen. I take it
from her and scribble my John Hancock. "Oh, this is my
stop." I stand up and dig back into my pockets to give her
something that she'll remember me by. I pull out my house
keys and yank off my plastic rubber chicken. "Here, this is
for you." I toss it to her as I'm walking off the train.

"Oh, cool," she squeals. "I've never gotten something
from a star before."

The door slams shut before I can say anything else.

As expected, Gina hasn't forgotten our empty stomachs, and
there are bagels and cream cheese waiting for us at the studio. For once I'm not the first person here. Tommy's already
chowing down.

"What's up, Adam? Heard you hooked up two nights
in a row?" He has a huge grin on his face.

"Uh-huh."

"Still too sore to talk?" He laughs.

"Okay, she was good." Last night I didn't sleep over,
hence Hannah's three early morning calls. Like, did she
really think I left her place at two a.m. and hiked over to
some other girl's apartment?

"Just good?"

"She's hot, but I'm not looking for anything right now.
Too much is going on with the band."

"Who said anything about looking for something?
I was talking about ass." Tommy smears a thick wad of
cream cheese on his bagel.

"Yeah, but that ass has got a face and a mind of its own."

"Adam, you think too much."

I actually have nothing to say to that, so instead I fix
myself a bagel and sit down next to him. It's true that I could
relax a little more. That's something Indigo tried to tell me
whenever I probed her about not calling me back. "Adam,
just chill. Don't take things so personally. People get busy."
And busy she got with that website.

Zach and Jack burst in the door. "Gimme eats," Jack
yells.

"Yum yum." Zach sniffs the bagels. As they're spreading on cream cheese, Gina comes in the room carrying a
stack of newspapers. She has a big smile across her face.
"You boys are popular!"

"Why's that?" I ask.

She hands out the papers to us. "Last night's party was
a success.

"Front page of the entertainment section! Score!" Zach shoots his arm up in the air like he's rooting for the winning team.

"You all look great," she says. "And turn the page.
Adam is on fire!"

"Me?" Whoa. Hannah photographs well, I'll give her
that.

"Who's that Marcel guy?" Zach asks.

"A model." I'm staring at the photo of me and Hannah talking to Marcel over by the bar. The caption under it
reads, Adam Spade and new squeeze Hannah James talk up
model Marcel Elmer.

"He looks like a jack-off," Zach says.

"Yes, he's the jack-off that's graced over thirty romance
novel covers." Gina pulls a paperback from her bag.

"Eww, get that away from me," Zach says playfully. "I
don't need to see him half naked."

"Well done, guys," Gina says. "You're generating some
good hype. When the album comes out everyone will be
bubbling."

I'm not really sure how hanging out with the likes of
Marcel is good for my image, but Gina seems to be happy
about the whole thing.

"And I've got an announcement, too," I say.

"It's a little early for marriage, don't you think?" Zach
laughs.

"I'll leave that up to you," I say. "No, I made a few
calls and got Boston back on our tour schedule."

Gina's face drops. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"I wanted to make this decision on my own. I know
everyone wants a homecoming, including me."

"You sure?" Tommy asks.

"Yes. Brighton College said they'll still have us. If Indigo
shows up, I'm fine with it, and if she doesn't, I'm fine with
that, too. It's about us. The band. Boston is our home turf."

The guys all look toward Gina.

"You know you don't have to do this, Adam," she says.

I don't move. "I know."

She nods. "Okay. I'll give them a call later to tie up any
loose ends."

"Great," I answer.

"Now it's studio time. Scott's got a full schedule of
bands signed up for the space today." Gina claps her hands.

"Yes, ma'am." Tommy salutes her and we all follow suit.

"Get your asses in there." Gina scoots us inside.

Zach, Tommy, and I set up our instruments while Jack
tinkers with the drums. We resume our comfort levels and
get back to business. This is our final rehearsal before we
lay down the tracks.