My Stepbrothers Rock: Headliner (4 page)

“What do you mean? Nobody's going to call them! Besides, I have a train back tomorrow!” There is no way in hell he's going to play this big brother card with me.

“Morgan, you don't really think they let girls walk off campus and not double check with the parents later? They weren't born yesterday.” Grant laughs, but his expression is serious as he stands in front of me.

“You've got to be kidding! I'm here, don't you think I would've been caught by now?” I glance toward Alex. He's in the final chorus. I wish I could enjoy it as much as he is, but Grant is like a huge weight on top of me.

“Whatever you're doing, it's not worth sacrificing your future for, not now.” Grant's referring to my relationship with Alex, I can feel it. A part of me thinks he understands and for a minute, I want to tell him everything. Then I remember, he's Alex's brother, and to him, I'm Alex's sister.

The song is finished and Alex walks to where Grant and I are standing just off stage.

“Hey, what's up?” His brows are furrowed as he looks at me then Grant.

“I'm taking her back to school. This was a dumb move Alex.” Grant crosses his arms and stares at Alex.

“Please, it's not hurting anyone.” Alex retorts, throwing a look to his band mates standing alone on the stage.

“Yeah, it's just a concert.” I chime in figuring two against one has got to sway the vote.

“You don't understand, it's a selfish move. If Morgan get's caught they won't give her a diploma. Then what? She works at the mini mart? She's got a month before graduation. This could've waited.” The anger is apparent in Grant's voice. For a minute I start to soften to his reasoning, but I can't stand the parental vibe.

“Then I'll work at the mini mart. It's not your life Grant!” I'm not letting him boss me and Alex around. If nothing else, I'll join Alex on the road. At least we'd be together. Alex and Grant stare at each other. If I didn't know better there was some telepathy going on between the two.

“Grant's got a point. Go back to school.” Alex turns to me a blank look in his eyes. I begin to protest as he looks over his shoulder to the crowd now chanting his name. It's obvious he's got to get back on stage. The last thing I want to do is stand in the way of his music, his success.

“See you soon, okay?” Alex squeezes my shoulder barely offering a smile as he heads back to the stage.

“Sorry 'bout that! Let's get this party started muthafuckas!” Alex grabs a bottle of what looks like Vodka, takes a drink then dumps some over the crowd. They act as if he's throwing money at them.

I stand in shock watching my opinion of my stepbrother change before my eyes.

“Come on. We can be there by morning if we leave now.” Grant touches my arm. For a split second I feel relief to be leaving. I only wish it didn't feel so weird.

Grant steers me away from the stage and we weave the halls to the back entrance again.

“Do you have a bag?” He asks before we exit.

“It's in Alex's car,” I reply almost to myself. Keeping my head down as we walk my eyes begin to burn, but I swallow back the tears. I refuse to let Grant see me cry. For starters, it seems so, juvenile and groupie-like and emotional. It was the last thing I wanted to be in front of him and I sure as hell am not about to display my heart broken feelings over having to leave the love of my life.

Grant retrieves my bag from Alex's car and ushers me to a black Mercedes sedan. He holds my door open as I slide into the plush leather seat, which feels more like a chaise lounge, then places my bag in the trunk.

“All set?” He shoots me a smile as he settles into the drivers seat and starts the car.
Is that a rhetorical question?
I wonder, but decline to respond knowing if I do it will be another rant and right now I fee like a child whose been caught being naughty.

We drive through the dimly lit city streets making our way to the freeway. I peer out the window trying to see the venue, get one last glimpse of this memory, but we take enough twists and turns, changing freeway to freeway then to highway that I'm not sure where the fuck we've been let alone where we're headed.

I stare blankly ahead at the dark road stretching before us. I can't imagine being on this for hours on end, not under these circumstances anyway.

“Why don't you just put me on a train?” I blurt, knowing full well the answer.

“Because the station actually shuts down. Besides don't you think it's going to look a bit suspicious you being dropped by a taxi instead of your parents? Did you think that far ahead? Or are you waiting until midnight to sneak in through the hole in the garden hedge?” As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. I left in a bit of wonder as to how was I able to walk through the hole and straight into a black town car. A note from Alex was waiting for me in the back seat explaining my train ride and “The Plan.” It was like a dream, which, now, has turned into a nightmare.

“Wait a second, you know about the hedge?” I stare at Grant until he looks at me.

“It doesn't matter if I know about it, it matters that you graduate.” He turns back to the road ignoring the fact I'm still staring at him. I wonder who Grant is as I study his face. Serious, strong, intriguing.

“Why do you care so damn much if I graduate?” He doesn't answer for a minute, no doubt trying to think of an answer that won't sound “cookie cutter” parent-like.

“You know what, maybe I don't. I just think if you're going to flush a diploma down the drain you should have a better reason than this.”

“This? Alex? His concert?” I stammer. “You act like it's meaningless. Some way to treat your bread and butter.”

“You just broke the cardinal rule and stole away from your school, an action that will have you simultaneously losing your diploma while being kicked out. I think I would've picked something bigger than hanging out at my brother's concert. By the way, he's not even close to being the crumb on my plate, but he'd thank you for thinking so highly of him.”

My mouth is agape listening to Grant. If he knew what Alex and I meant to each other, I'm sure his opinion would change. I wonder if he's ever been in love like this, me and Alex. He's certainly old enough to have some experience under his belt, but it's hard to tell looking at the tension in his face.

I sit back and watch the road digesting Grant's words. Shit, I can't be kicked out. Not that I wouldn't love to piss my mom off, but it's my stepdad's money paying my tuition and for what it's worth, he's been nice to me these past few years. As much as I'd like to play tough and think I can make it on my own, I need that damn diploma and any doors it might open for me, and Alex.

“Don't worry, it's not as bad and it sounds.” Grant pats me on the shoulder, a smile spreading across his face. “We'll have you back and in bed before the dean gets out of Sunday mass.” He presses a button on the steering wheel and music blares through the speakers in my seat. I flinch and look around me, but they're somehow hidden.

“Have you heard this song?” Grant turns up the volume. It's an indie band I recently added to my blog. They remind me of a cross between Florence and the Machine and Milky Chance. It's mellow, yet the vocals are so deep and dark.

“Yeah, I discovered these guys on Youtube last month.” It was actually last week, but I hope to sound like I have better taste than whatever the radio's feeding us.

“Cool! They asked me to manage them. What do you think?” Grant tips his head toward me, his eyebrow raised.
Is he really asking my opinion?
I ask myself. This is a guy with a million dollar artist management company if I remember correctly and he's asking
me
, if he should take these guys on as clients?

“Um, well honestly?” I look at him waiting for the slap on my back and “Naw, I was just kidding,” comment, but Grant is listening intently.

“Yeah, tell me.” Grant's eyes are serious.

“From what I know, they're newly formed, only been together for a year. The lead singer's already been in and out of rehab a few years back and, so far, claims to be clean, but the rest of the band parties pretty heavily. They've got two singles out, engineered in their garage and while they have a following online, it's nothing close to the popularity of Walker Heights.” I feel like Billboard magazine spouting facts and crap as if I work in the industry. Grant is nodding his head, a smile on his lips.

We talk on and on as the road stretches before us. Sharing information about indie bands, who's hot, who's on the way out, what the next trend will be. It's easy talking to Grant. He's so full of music knowledge and I guess he should be, it's his job. Yet at the same time, he's interested in so many other things and he's a pilot! I would have never guessed, but then how could I even begin to guess about a man I've only met a handful of times in the years our parents have been together.

“Right on. That's some great information. Yeah, Walker Heights has some seriously devoted fans. One even has a site pretty much dedicated to them,
Walkin' With Walker Heights
I think it's called.” Grant stares at the road. Hopefully he didn't notice my neck snap to look at him.

“Really? That's cool.” I try to remain nonchalant, but my heart is racing. He knows about my site. I'm not admitting to my handy work afraid it will give away my more than sisterly dedication to Alex.

“Whoever runs it knows what they're doing. I wish I could get someone like that on my team.” Grant sounds genuinely interested, but at the same time, like he's fishing. I can't see myself working for him, unless it's to make my parents get off my back about not have a 'real' job.

“Do they? That's a nice thing to say. I mean, if you ever meet the owner, that'd be an ice breaker comment.” I'm stammering over my words
like a five year old. Only a five year old probably wouldn't have as much trouble.

Chirp! Chirp!
Grant looks at his cell phone resting in a holster in the middle of the dash board. Grant's eyes grow large as he looks at the screen, then back to the road. His jaw is tense as he thinks and I can tell something is up. I wonder if it's Alex or the concert. I haven't heard a word from him, so can only guess what's going on.

“Everything alright?” I'm not waiting to ask, if it's Alex, I need to know.

“Not exactly.” He hands me his phone. The screen is lit up with a photo of me and Alex leaving the hotel room earlier that day shared to Grant's Facebook page.

“Fuck,” I breathe, staring at the image.

“I won't ask.” Grant puts his elbow on the window sill running his hand through his hair. It looks amazingly soft in the lights of the passing street lamps.

I shoot him a look, but I'm not denying or confirming what Alex and I did. First of all, it's not his business and second I was eighteen and I could do what I want.

“So, what does this mean?” I need to know if this is going to hurt Alex's career. Grant doesn't respond, just drives watching the road, his index finger brushing gently against his lips as if it helps him think. I sit back hoping it's an easy fix, but really I can't imagine how this is gonna play out.

“This means you're going to have to work for me. We'll spin it to look like you're my PR specialist and the two of you were having a meeting to discuss business.” Grant's tone is steady and matter-of-fact as though he's got this all worked out.

“I've got school, I know nothing about PR. Is this gonna work?” It's not that I'm against the idea, I'm just wondering how this is possibly going to fly. I haven't even graduated high school and last I checked, PR executives weren't this young.

“After you graduate, you don't have to know PR. Besides, you already do Walker blogger.” Grant grins into my face.

“How'd you?” I start, but he cuts me off.

“It's not that hard to find out who registered a website.” I smile realizing I didn't cover my tracks as well as I thought.

The sound of my cell phone beeps from my purse. It's a text from Alex.

Hey M! I miss you already. I promise, next time will be better you'll see. Until next month keep that booty warm for me!

I smile and blush. I shoot a look at Grant who's watching me, wonder in his eyes, but I still won't tell. Alex will be my secret until I decide he's not.

I'm sitting on the podium with the rest of my graduating class. The dean is going on and on about what upstanding young ladies we are and how the world better watch out because we're going to change views, shape opinions, create ideas that only we can carry forth into the next generation.

Is he talking about my uterus?
I wonder sarcastically to myself. Sasha pokes me in the side motioning subtly to Alex who's sitting at the end of the second row.

“God damn, he's even sexier in person,” she whispers under her breath. Butterflies erupt in my stomach while looking at Alex who must have realized we were talking about him. He pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head and smiles back at me shooting a quick wink. I blush and bite my lower lip while holding his gaze for a minute, then look down.

“Girl, if I didn't know better,” Sasha whispers again. I meet her questioning look, but now isn't the time or place to discuss what she thinks she sees between us.

I glance across the row and find my mom and stepdad a few seats away. My mom is fanning herself with a piece of paper straining a smile at me. She glances down the row at Alex who I can't stop looking at, then back at me her lips pursed. Why would she care I'm smiling at Alex? My face is screwed up in a questioning look at her, but she looks away.

Grant's sitting on the other side of his dad. He smiles at me raising his hand for a small wave. I smile back. I wonder if he's always been as good looking as he seems today. My pulse quickens noticing him staring at me, but there's something different about his stare. It's not parental for one, but it's also not scrutinizing me either. More like, admiration?

You're reading too much into this
I tell myself, besides there's no reason to think he'd be interested in me.
Yeah, you're right except you've seen him more in the past month than you have in the past three years.
I argue with the devil in my mind. Yet realize there was really no need for Grant to return my earplugs, which had fallen out during my nap on our drive back to the school. I'm not sure how, but it turned into him taking me to lunch. I still haven't figured that one out, but didn't pay much attention to it until now.

“She's undoubtedly came the farthest in her educational studies and held onto her A plus grades never missing a day of classes or a chance to volunteer her time when not busy organizing club activities. While not our valedictorian, she certainly qualifies for recognition, so please welcome your salutatorian, Morgan Knight.” The dean's introduction shocks me to the present.

I move to the podium and look out over the crowd of parents and friends. I almost wanna say, “Salute this mother fuckers!” and flip the bird, but decide it sounds better coming from a rockstar. I begin my speech and realize I'm running a sarcastic commentary alongside all of my go-get-em-advice. My gaze floats from Alex to Grant and back. So different, yet giving me much the same feelings. Some I don't know what to do with and others I can't wait to do more.

In the middle of it, I see my mother's face, fuming instead of happy. Glancing at Alex again as if she has an idea of my desire.
One she tried to squash by sending me here?
The thought crosses my mind quickly as I say some more shit about how one woman can change a mind, but many can change the world. Then decide to end with an impromptu unscripted fuck off,

“Life is too short and true love shorter. Don't let society tell you what you desire is wrong.”

***