Never Land (15 page)

            “Danny – no!”

            It was only when the first flashbulbs went off that I realized someone else had come. Not the police. The paps. I looked up, blinded by the light, as ten different flash bulbs went off in my face. My heart sank as I looked over at Danny, at the picture that had been taken.

            Danny Blue, assaulting a homeless guy in a hoodie. Danny Blue, assaulting a former band member. Whichever way the story played out, it certainly wasn't good.

            Geoff may have been high, but his wits were far from addled. “Help me!” he began to cry, wailing piteously. “He attacked me – out of nowhere...”

            I could see the police lights in the distance; I could hear the sirens. My whole body was sick, shattered. My nose was still bleeding profusely. But the police were coming – the police were here – I was safe...but weak from hunger, from being attacked, from all the emotional blows of tonight. I was so so tired.

            Those were the last words I could make sense of before everything went black.

            When I came to I was lying on a hard, cold bench.

            “Y'all right miss?” A cop was sitting next to me, offering me a glass of water. “You had a pretty nasty scare out there....”

            “Fine...” I looked around. Where was I? Some sort of office – no, a police station. Metropolitan Police. I shook my head, the world coming into focus. “I mean, not fine, but...”

            “We're going to need to take a statement about what happened. Did you see Mr. Blue commit the assault – did he hurt you, too?”

            “Me?” My eyes widened with shock. “No – Danny didn't do anything. He was protecting me...”

            Or at least, that was how it had started. But it wasn't what the cameras had caught. It wasn't what the police had seen. They'd seen a furious, out-of-control Danny whaling on an unarmed man. I swallowed hard. Whatever happened to Geoff, the outcome wouldn't be good for Danny.

            A door opened, and Geoff staggered out. His face was covered in blood, his nose clearly broken. Danny had clearly taken a toll on him. But not even his black-and-blue bruises could hide the smug look on his face.

            “This isn't over,” he spat as he passed me by, led by a cop to another room. “I know everything about you, Neve. I know all I need to know.”

            His words sent shivers down my spine. I looked around in fear – where was Danny? I caught sight of him through a window – he was in one of the interrogation rooms, giving a statement. He too was bleeding, but he looked almost preternaturally calm, collected. Drained.

            My heart went out to him. I wanted to rush to him, to thank him, to apologize, to explain. To take him into my arms. I'd hurt him – and he'd repaid me by saving me. Tears fell down my cheeks. I rose to go to him.

            But before I could make it to Danny's side, someone else did. Clarence Blue, apoplectic with rage, strode past me and into the interrogation room, shutting the door behind him. I couldn't hear what they were saying – but I didn't need words. The sight of their two faces – mouths open in shouts and screams, fury on both faces – told me all I needed to know.

            “Come on,” a voice made me turn around. It was Steve, and he wasn't smiling. “I've been sent to pick you up and take you home.”

            “Thank God...” I said, hugging Steve tight. But he was stiff, almost awkward.

            “We've got to get on a plane in five hours,” he said. “Back to California. And, probably, back to obscurity and Luc's basement.” He wasn't looking me in the eye. His face was tight with anger. “Probably better this way,” he said.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean,” Steve said stiffly, “that in the last few hours, I've had to comfort a sobbing Kyle as he threw up over the side of the boat, deal with an utterly heartbroken Luc, watch you fight with Danny on the boat, watch Danny get into a fist-fight with Geoff, and now apparently deal with the fact that RRR is run by your biggest nemesis.” He sighed. “You really do know how to create drama, Neve...”

            “It's not like that,” I insisted.

            “You know – I was supportive of you and Danny. I really was. As the one person in this band who apparently
doesn't
want to sleep with you, I just figured you were happy, and that was great. But I don't know what you're playing at, Neve. With Luc – with Kyle. I just want to play my drums and play some music. Not get involved in a fucking soap opera.”

            “It's not my fault...” I protested.

            “Fine,” Steve sighed. “Maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. Maybe if you weren’t so friendly with the guys, maybe if you weren’t so sexy, they wouldn’t have fell for you. I don’t know what I’m saying. But they did, and now it’s tearing the band apart. Look, Neve, I don't want to fight, okay? I just...I just want to pack my bags, go home, and pray to God whatever beef you have with Danny's stepmom doesn't hurt the rest of us. Remember that whole “no dating in the band thing?” The thing you were so set on? Yeah, well, it was there for a reason.”

            He turned away from me. “Sorry,” he said, after a pause. “That was mean. I mean – Geoff...what he did, it was awful.” He squeezed my hand. But I knew that what he said was true. My actions – my relationship with Danny – had done exactly what I hoped it wouldn't do. It had gotten between us and the band.

            “I’m sorry, Steve,” I said. “All I did was because I cared for the guys, but with Danny…” I gulped back tears. “It’s like the floor fell out from me when I first met him.”

            Steve’s expression softened. “Guess it’s real then.”

            “Must be,” I said mournfully.

            “Come on,” Steve said gently. “Let’s go.” He led me outside and into a cab back to the hotel our band had called home for the past week or so, where I slept like the dead.

            The next morning wasn't much better. I woke up to room service knocking at my door at six in the morning – my bags all packed and ready for the taxi to Heathrow.

            “Miss...” the maid said. “I've got a letter for you.” She handed it to me. “He seemed pretty set that you read it.” She handed it to me; I took it with shaking hands.

           
Dear Never,

           
It was Danny's handwriting. Clipped, clear, and neat. And painfully formal.

           
I must apologize for not being at the hotel to see you off. I hope you have recovered from your injuries – and please believe me when I say I could not be more grateful that I was able to be in a position to help you avoid far worse. I am happy to be able to inform you that I have guarantee that the photographs of all of us will not be reaching the press. My father was kind enough to purchase the rights to all photographs from the photographers, and these have summarily been destroyed. Your reputation – and all of ours – is safe. 

            However, I am afraid I have less fortunate news. My father has reminded me of my duty to Blue Enterprises, and of the debt I owe to my family, and of the responsibilities I hold as his son. It is thus with great regret that I must inform you that I can no longer fulfill my duty as the lead guitarist of the Never Knights to the best of my ability...

           
I felt tears begin to stream down my face; I felt myself begin to sob – violently, savagely. I could read between the lines – I knew what he wasn't saying. The price Clarence Blue had extracted from his son for getting our names out of the press. Danny's resignation from the band.

            The rest of the letter was curt, formal, perfunctory. Nothing about our relationship – nothing about the time we'd shared. Only
I wish you the best in seeking a new guitarist, and have every confidence that he or she will be a far more suitable candidate than I...

           
And the one sentence – the only sign of the loving, kind Danny I had known:

           
I believe with all my heart that the Never Knights will see its dreams fulfilled – and that you, Neve, will achieve yours.

            Yours Sincerely,

            Daniel Blue

           
Not only had I lost the man I loved, but I lost one of my band members. And the band. I had never felt so much pain.

 The flight back to America was sickeningly awkward. Steve evidently felt bad about his harsh words from the night before, but news of Danny's departure did little to disprove his main point. The band had imploded – and everyone, from Steve to Kyle to Cassandra Curry, who was short with me than usual, seemed to know exactly who to blame.

            We sat in silence – me, Kyle, Luc, Steve, and Cassandra. We didn't talk about it – but the shadow of Danny's departure had fallen over us all.

            We'd survived a lot together, the band and I. But could we survive this?

Chapter 19

            The next few days didn't improve matters much. We all went home to our respective houses – to watch, to wait. We didn't talk much; it felt as if there was nothing to say. The day we arrived back home Cassandra Curry called to deliver the news we'd all been expecting – due to the restructuring happening at RRR, the Never Knights' American tour had been indefinitely put on hold. “Until we can resolve this through the proper channels,” Cassandra had said. It fell to me to pick up the phone and shamefacedly beg the dean of USC to let me re-enroll for the upcoming semester. I'd had my moments of stardom, but now it seemed I'd fallen to earth. I was just another college student, just another normal kid. Nothing special. The band had fallen apart. And I was single – or at least it seemed that way. Danny wasn't returning my calls. His mobile was perpetually off; I tried to call his office, but a rather curt and snooty woman called Marcie intercepted me to inform me that she was his secretary and no, Mr. Blue wasn't in right now, nor could she say when he would be back. After the fifth or six such phone call, I gave up.

            So, was this how we broke up? Danny walking off in a huff and never speaking to me again? I wasn't sure whether to be devastated or furious. I knew I had inadvertently betrayed Danny by telling Luc about his relationship with Roni, but his response seemed to me to be beyond out of proportion to what I'd done. He hadn't even tried to forgive me, to talk it out. He'd just quit me – and the band – in one fell swoop.

            And I thought I knew why. Peyton would never have done such a thing. Poor, dead, perfect Peyton would never have let Danny down like that. Even if she might have done one day, Danny would never know. She was frozen in time, her flaws varnished by her tragic death. How could I – or anyone else – compare? My thoroughly human screw-ups, the stress of a real relationship – what good were these things when what Danny wanted was his fantasy of the perfect girl. The girl I could never be.

            Still, trying to rationalize it didn't make the situation any less devastating. I spent days in bed, going through boxes of tissues, watching old Hollywood movies and crying my eyes out. I didn't want to face anyone. Not Kyle, whose drunken words had still stung me. Not Steve, who still resented the fact that my romantic intrigues had cost him a chance at stardom. And certainly not Luc – although I couldn't say why. Perhaps I was afraid to admit to him that Danny and I had broken up – afraid of what he'd say, of what he'd do...

            Not even my mother's cheery voice on the telephone, telling me she was so glad that I'd made it home in time for Christmas and that I simply
had
to come over to try Mrs. Jostens' newest stew dish that very night, could cheer me up. I just wanted to curl up in bed and hide, utterly alone.

            “Will you be inviting any special guests over for Christmas dinner?” My mother asked me. “Anyone...who matters?”        

            “No,” I admitted miserably. “Just me. Alone.”

            “Don't sound so glum, sweetheart,” my mom chirped. “You have us.”

            Yes, I had my family, and I was grateful for that. But I couldn't help feeling that I was returning home in defeat. Roni had won. My band and my relationship – not to mention my friends – were gone. Not even the thought of Christmas pudding and my father's famous rendition of “Oh Holy Night” on the electric guitar could make me forget that.

            I sighed as I started packing a suitcase. Maybe it would be good to go back home. Less depressing, at least, than this tiny studio apartment, where I still kept finding reminders of Danny. His toothbrush. His spare shirt he'd let me borrow when it got cold. I closed my eyes, placing the shirt against my cheek, remembering the smell of him. Remembering how much I missed him.

            A knock came at the door and for a single, fruitless second, I imagined he had come back to me, to tell me he missed me, to tell me he cared...

            “Hello, Neve?” It was Luc. “You in there?”

            “Yeah...coming!” I opened the door. He was standing before me with an enormous casserole dish.

            “Was just about to leave,” he said. “Was cleaning out the fridge and I noticed we had a bunch of food left over from last night. Didn't want to throw it out – thought you might want some.”

            I smiled. “Thanks,” I said. It was nice to see his smiling face. Someone who wasn't mad at me – which felt like a rarity right now.

            “You get two forks, I'll stick it in the microwave?” Luc grinned at me, warming my heart.

            “Is Steve coming?” I asked.

            “Actually...” Luc looked uncomfortable. “He already left. Headed back down to Texas to spend the holidays with his grandparents.”

            “He left?”
And didn't say goodbye?
My heart sank. In the old days, Steve would never have even dreamed of leaving without saying goodbye. But things were different now, it seemed. “So, I guess he's mad at me too, huh.”