One Hit Wonder (20 page)

“Audrey, this doesn’t mean anything. For all we know, this bitch sent this picture to the paparazzi herself.”

Audrey grabbed the magazine, thumbing the pages hurriedly, looking for more information. There was nothing much inside the magazine about the photo, just a recap on how the band came to stardom, an old picture of John and Audrey together somewhere she couldn’t even remember, a detail of Jennifer from the picture on the cover, and the rhetorical question: Has he found another muse?

“She went to Lake Tahoe with them … on the bus.” Audrey mumbled.

“I’m sorry, hon.” Megan said softly and, when Audrey remained motionless and pale as a ghost, she said “Look, today is Tuesday; they are back, aren’t they? This picture is from Friday. Call him and find out the truth.”

“I gotta get out of here.” Audrey grabbed her bag and stood up, bumping the table and spilling her drink all over the magazine.

“Audrey, wait!”

She ran for one block before tears blinded her. She tripped and fell, scraping her hands and knees on the ground.

“Audrey, my God. Are you okay?”

“It’s over, Megan. It’s really over.” She cried while Megan helped her up.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a tabloid.”

“He was smiling. He looked happy.”

“You’re a photographer. You know it took a split second to snap that picture, he could have been picking his teeth and we wouldn’t know the difference.”

“It has been over a week … he hasn’t called.” Audrey’s voice trailed off.

When they arrived at the darkroom, Megan said “Let’s go home. You shouldn’t be inside this cave, alone, all day.”

“I have to work. I’m fine. I promise.”

“Then, I’ll stick around.”

“No, really. I do have to finish this print. It’s the last one for the show.”

Megan looked at Audrey with a disapproving eye.

“I won’t kill myself with photography chemicals. I’m fucking devastated, but I’m no moron. It’s just a broken heart, right? We’ve all been there.”

“Fine, but if you don’t answer you phone I’ll be back — with Charlie.”

“Don’t worry.”

Megan gave her a hug and left. Audrey closed the door, slid down to the floor, and cried for hours.

• • •

“Audrey.” John came out of his car as she approached the Prius in the parking lot at the end of the day.

“John, what are you doing here?”

“I have to talk to you.”

“About you and Jennifer? Spare me, I already know.”

“That’s why I came, there’s nothing to know.”

“Do you mean she wasn’t in the tour bus with you? You weren’t partying in Lake Tahoe? That photograph was never taken? You didn’t break up with me over a week ago?”

“Audrey, I’m sorry.”

“For what? Any or all of the above?”

“I’m sorry I’ve put you through this — all of it. Since we’ve been together, I’d never thought about the possibility of losing you. After you called me from New York … . It was like waking up from a dream and discovering I was still inside a nightmare.”

“You didn’t lose me. You let me go.”

“I was a coward … insecure. I’ve made a mistake.”

“So, now that you’ve paid me back, you changed your mind?”

“No! Nothing happened between me and Jennifer. She showed up the day we left and announced she was coming with us. We were all at a restaurant when someone took that picture. I was laughing at Matt goofing around.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s better this way. We’re different, we’re going different places. If “North Star” hadn’t become a hit, who knows. We probably wouldn’t have stayed together as long as we did.”

“That’s bullshit, Audrey. And you know it.” He stepped closer and reached for her, but as soon as his fingertips brushed her face, she moved away. “I love you. I will love you forever.”

“You were right, John. It hurts too much.” She got in the car and drove away.

Soon the opening reception for the show was upon her.

“Honey, go to work, don’t worry about us. We’ll see you there.” Her mom hugged and kissed her for the thirtieth time since they arrived.

“Okay, then. Ben wants all the artists to come early and I still have to go get ready.” She had picked her parents up at LAX and took them to a hotel in West Hollywood.

“Sweetie, I think we should have dinner tomorrow. Tonight it will be too crazy and I’m already tired from the flight.” Her dad had already lain down on the bed.

“Oh, Dad. I want to take you guys to a Brazilian place I went with — ” She stopped herself and turned to her mom. “It’s really good, mom.”

“Is John coming tonight? I would really like to meet the young man,” her father said.

“George.” Isabel, standing by the edge of the bed, slapped his foot.

“It might be a little late for that, Dad.”

She went to Megan’s apartment to get ready. The couple of days she had intended to crash there had turned into weeks. But that night, the storm would blow over. There was nothing she could do about John and whatever she could have done to put up a strong exhibition she did. Dodging. Burning. Reprinting. She took Ben’s suggestion to sepia-tint a few images, and create triptychs from the photographs she took in South L.A. With his help, she was able to borrow expensive aged wood frames from a shop he’d sent business to over the years. The day before the show, she was overwhelmed with emotion when she saw that Ben had chosen those images for the gallery window. The letters of her name along with those of the other artists, were being stuck to the glass in bold black type. She’d adjusted her eyes to focus on her reflection. She looked for the girl who’d gotten drunk over a lost job she hated, the girl who was so afraid to live that she’d hidden inside a cubicle punching numbers into a black screen. The trade-off didn’t look much better; she saw a sad woman who had become a little bitter, empty inside from a heart that was given away. A hollow tree waiting for the wind to topple it down. At least now, she had art. Under the red lights, she could look at the images materializing onto the white paper. She could find meaning and give meaning. She could cry without shedding any tears.

• • •

She’d decided the reception would be a success; she would smile and talk and drink chilled Chardonnay and humbly express her gratitude for all the praises. Then she would leave. She had nothing else to do in L.A. Her parents wanted to see California: San Diego, Malibu, Santa Barbara, San Francisco, so after she chaperoned them, she was going to drop the Prius at the dealership. Then she planned to take the Amtrak back to Illinois on her own, stopping wherever she wanted to take photographs.

There were heaps of people in the gallery. Audrey was wearing a simple lavender dress and black wedges. Everyone congratulated and petted her, smiling. She smiled back, feeling her face hurt after a while. When Matt and Tyler arrived she was certain John wasn’t coming. In a way, it helped her relax and concentrate on the people who came to celebrate with her. She needed to honor their gesture with her full attention. Even Kevin showed up, his nonchalant praises suggesting he didn’t have a lot to drink, which truly touched her. Charlie and Matt brought flowers and she held both bouquets in her arms while her friends encircled her with love.

When Audrey and her parents got back to the hotel, John was waiting. She didn’t notice him at first, leaning against his car under a dim light in the parking lot.

“Hi,” he said, straightening up and rubbing his hands.

Audrey was petrified. The last conversation they had in a parking lot didn’t turn out well.

Her mother looked back and forth between Audrey’s and John’s faces, waiting for her to say something.

“John, it is so nice to see you.” Isabel finally walked toward him, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

He was surprised by her warmth. “You too, Mrs. Whitman.”

“Oh please, call me Isabel.”

John repeated shyly, “Isabel.”

“John, nice to finally meet you,” Her dad extended his arm.

“Very nice to meet you, sir.”

The exchange seemed as surreal as if she was watching them from outside her body.

“George, let’s go inside and let the kids talk.” Isabel placed her hand on George’s elbow.

Audrey and John stood there for a few seconds looking at each other, unable to speak.

“Congratulations on the show, Matt said it was amazing.”

“Why are you here?”

“I called Megan. She told me where you’re staying. I wanted to go to the show, but I didn’t want to upset you. I’m very proud of you, babe.”

“Thanks, that’s kind of you. I have to go, the folks are exhausted. I don’t want to keep them up.” She began to walk away.

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Audrey.”

She stopped without turning back. In her dreams, she’d still run to his arms in tears of happiness. Now, in the dark of the night, her eyes were dry and her stomach churned.

“I was so scared. I’m still scared,” he said.

Audrey was quiet, her back to him.

“Please, Audrey.”

She turned around, and said, “John, I know how scared you were because it’s how I’ve been since we’ve got to this Godforsaken city. But … .” She took a step closer. “I thought we could see each other through the bullshit. John — ” She shook her head slowly.

“I can’t do it anymore. I’ve tried to go on, but there’s nowhere to go.” John closed the distance between them in three long strides and took her face in his hands. “Please, don’t do this to us. You know we belong together.”

His touch shook her body the same way a defibrillator’s electrical waves reignite a dormant heart. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, feeling the warmth of his hands on her skin. She knew in a place deeper than her bones it was true: they belonged together. It could be a curse or a blessing when two people are so right for each other they feel like halves of the same whole. Unable to rationalize any longer, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Earth tilted back on its axis as they stood there, holding each other for several minutes.

“Can we go home now?” John whispered.

“I was going to stay with my parents.” Audrey mumbled.

“We’ll be back in the morning and take them to breakfast.”

“Okay. Let’s go in and tell them.”

• • •

Audrey and John undressed each other slowly and made love on the wrought iron bed they’d chosen for their house. No more beseeching for forgiveness was necessary; their bodies did all the talking, and it was enough to mend the cracks created by the weeks apart.

She woke the next day and found him staring at her.

“Hi.” He leaned forward and nuzzled her hair.

They lay sideways, facing each other, and John seemed to study her face like an astronomer looking at the stars.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“What would happen if we just walked away?”

“Walked away?”

“Yes. From L.A., from Atlantis.”

“From Bill.”

“From everyone.”

“Get in a tour bus again and travel the country one pub at the time?”

“No, no tour bus. No band, just you and me.”

Audrey face stiffened. John was not likely to leave his bandmates. “John … What’s going on?”

He rolled onto his back. “Kevin was so drunk in Utah that we barely finished the concert. He missed several notes, tripped on stage. It was a mess.”

Audrey propped herself onto one elbow and placed her hand on his chest.

“Maybe if he knew his job was at stake, it would straighten him up.”

“I’ve told him all of our jobs are at stake if he doesn’t pull himself together.”

“But it’s not true.”

“No. Atlantis will keep the band without Kevin.”

“Can’t Bill do anything?”

“Bill wants me to take Kevin’s place.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Fly to Brazil?” He raised his eyebrows and gave her a pleading look.

“How about your music?”

“My music is not mine anymore, remember? We had to ‘make it more appealing to a wider market.’”

“They might have added some strings and chorus, but those songs are beautiful and they are all you.”

“Next album, it will be worse. Tom, the professional song writer Atlantis is shoving down our throats, wants to turn us into some of the American Idol runner-ups he’s worked with.” He sighed. “I’ve never written a song worrying if it would be appealing or become a hit.”

She stared at him, wishing she could help somehow. He was like an autumn leaf stuck into an icy sidewalk in the middle of the winter; every time someone walked over it, a thin sliver would tear out until there was nothing left. Yet she feared what might happen if he followed Atlantis’s demands to change, as many musicians in similar situations did. Then the band’s popularity would be built on a sound that was not their own, making it impossible to change back to what they had been in the first place.

“You have to tell them.”

“Except for Kevin getting kicked off the band, they know.” He pressed the back of her hand on his lips. “But you know Matt, he can smell roses in a shit storm, Tyler will play whatever, and Kevin, uh, he is on another planet.”

The plans for John’s birthday were relayed by Jennifer only the day before the event: the band would finish work in the studio as usual, then go to the rooftop bar at The Standard Hotel for a bogus dinner meeting she made up as an excuse to surprise him. Audrey could show up if she wanted to.

“Tell me again; why is this girl still around your boyfriend?” Megan asked over the phone when Audrey called to invite her.

“Jennifer is a publicist for Atlantis. Technically, she has done nothing wrong, and I’m sure she was told to do something for his birthday.” Audrey didn’t buy for a second the excuse Jennifer had given John at the VMAs, or her incidental proximity to him in Utah, but she was the band’s publicist and there was nothing Audrey could do to keep her away from him.

“I still think it’s infuriating.”

“I didn’t know you had the jealousy bug in you. It must be that hot Southern temper.”

“I don’t have a bug and I surely don’t have a temper.”

“Surely,” Audrey chuckled.

“But — I suspect if she was planning a party for your boyfriend due to mere obligation, she would have given you a little more notice, don’t you think? God forbid, even include you in the preparations?”