Over It (The Kiss Off #2) (18 page)

I tried to ignore the paparazzos that jumped into their cars, headlights flashing and engines roaring to life as we pulled out of the Burlington Grand Hotel onto the highway. Sitting in the back of the black SUV, I shifted uncomfortably on the leather seat, staring out the window at the beach and beachside parking strips that, after a mile or so, gave way to shops and the town of Tallulah Bay. Cars were parked up and down the main strip and diners sat at outside tables, enjoying the warm night air. Crowds stood around doorways of restaurants, bars and take away food joints even though it was eleven o’clock, and small packs of girls in little sparkly dresses and high, high heels were followed by guys in jeans and tee shirts, heading toward the couple of bars and clubs around the corner a ways. Now the festival headlining acts were done for the night and dinner was over for most, the city folk had spilled out of the camp sites, trailer parks and vacation rental homes into town and it was time for local musicians to get a chance at entertaining the crowd in the clubs and bars.

I totally didn’t know how this was going to work.

“Can you stop fidgeting?” Ty asked, clamping a hand down on my knee to stop it from bouncing up and down with anxiety. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I said, forcing a smile and glancing around the car. Dexter watched me from the front passenger seat through the rear view mirror and Gordo looked over from Ty’s other side.

“Relax,” Ty said, giving my knee a squeeze. “It’s going to be fun, right?”

Suddenly Gordo grunted and hunched forward a little. An amused smile flit across Ty’s face as Gordo wheezed, “Yeah, fun.” He started rubbing his chest and punched Ty in the arm, which made Ty’s smile all the wider.

“I’m going to own you on the pool table, Poppy,” Gordo said after he recovered.

“That’s fine,” I said. Trash talk; I could do that. “I’m going to own
you
on the dance floor.” I started to relax a little, nervous energy relinquishing. “Both of you.”

“Is that a challenge?” Gordo asked.

“Challenge accepted,” Ty said. “It’s on like Donkey Kong.”

“Good,” Dexter said as we pulled in to the curb out the front of Marty’s Music House. There was a barricaded line to the door that spilled out into the street with groups standing around being rowdy, couples holding hands and cuddling, and individuals tapping away at their phones as they waited for their friends to show.

Two bouncers stood at the roped–off front door. A girl came out and they stamped a pass out onto her wrist, then let in a couple of girls who’d been waiting.

“Good, play pool, have a dance off, Ty and Poppy you’re completely loved up, Ty – Gordo is your boy, you got that?” Dex said.

“You don’t need to tell me that, Dex,” Ty said, “that’s how it actually is.”

“Whatever. Just show the fans and photographers that too, alright?” Dexter said.

“Loved up, got it,” I said with my most serious nod. Ty tweaked my nose.

“Exactly. Okay. Rules: no beer tonight, any of you.”

“What?” Gordo asked.

“Soda and water preferably, but if you’re drinking, it’s just mixers in soda glasses. Jack and Coke is fine if it just looks like Coke. You know what? Just stick to vodka and soda. That’s probably best.”

Wow. I couldn’t believe that was even a rule, but it made sense, since all three of us were underage and all.

Dex added, “We’re getting good press tonight, boys, if it kills me.”

“You coming in?” Ty asked.

Dexter shook his head, rubbing his forehead wearily. “I’m Skyping Faux Hawk in an hour to assure them I’ve got this crap handled.” He looked past us and out the back window. “Here they come.” We all twisted in our seats and spotted our tails – the paparazzo cars – as they arrived and pulled in illegally across the street. As they clambered out of their vehicles and jaywalked across the street toward us, they caught the attention of club goers waiting in the line. More and more eyes turned curiously toward our SUV. My knee started bouncing again.

A couple of girls with their backs to us screamed all of a sudden, and a couple of camera flashes went berserk. The bouncer nodded acknowledgement at someone and unhooked the rope.

“Hey,” Gordo said, eyes lighting up with recognition, “it’s-”

“Doesn’t matter who it is,” Dexter said. He took a deep breath through his nose, his jaw clenched. Dude was as stressed and pissed off as I’d ever seen him.

“Focus, Gordo,” I said. “All we care about tonight is Team BFF, right Dex?” I said.

“Right, sorry, Team BFF!” Gordo cheered, punching the air.

“I’ll drink to that,” Ty said.

The manager’s shoulders relaxed. Just a little.

“Hey,” Ty said to me, shifting in his seat to face me. I gave him a questioning look and he pulled a single frangipani out of nowhere – had he been holding it the whole time?

“Where did that come from?”

He just smiled and gently tucked it behind my ear. I sat still, letting him work, arranging the petals beside my temple. He sat back, satisfied, before squeezing my hand and giving me a quick peck.

Aw.

I squeezed his hand back and rested my head on his shoulder for a second, careful not to crush the flower.

“Okay. Get your asses out of this car. Smile. Have fun. You’re the best of friends tonight or I swear to God…” Dexter trailed off, glaring at us over his shoulder. He didn’t need to finish that sentence; I was suitably threatened.

“I’ll try and remember that,” Gordo said, reaching for the door handle. Before he pulled it, he glanced at Ty and me and said, “This is so stupid, I’m sorry I was such an idiot I made it even necessary.”

“Just get out, dude,” Ty said, giving him a shove.

I thought I heard Dexter whimper from the front seat, but I couldn’t be sure. He muttered something, made the sign of the cross, and since none of us seemed to be making moves to get out of the car any time soon, Dexter jumped out of the front seat and opened Gordo’s door. All eyes were on us. There were screams and girls in line started jumping up and down. The half dozen paparazzos crowded the car door and flashbulbs turned the night white, blinding me again and again. I didn’t want to know what the expression on my face looked like.

With a jovial smile, Gordo waved at the photographers and fans, glanced back at us and said, “I guess we’re going in, then.”

He climbed out of the car and Ty slid out after him. The screams intensified and people flocked from everywhere, dashing across the road behind us, hurrying up the block from stores and restaurants either side, wondering what all the fuss was about.. I automatically followed and took Ty’s outstretched hand. Dexter gave us all threatening, ‘Don’t screw this up’ looks, then was back in the car and gone. Gordo stood at the front of the club’s queue, chatting with some party–goers. He glanced over at us with a carefree smile. Ty draped his arm deliberately and oh–so–casually around my shoulders, and waved and greeted some fans as we strolled straight over to the door.

His posture was relaxed and confident, but his arm around me and body pressed next to mine was rock–solid with tension. He was selling it well. They both were. I had to up my game. I cleared my throat and smiled at a girl my age who was jumping on the spot a little as she waited in line, staring at me as if our sudden and unexpected appearance tonight had made her life. Though it was unsettling, this girl screaming at my face, I had to admit it was kind of flattering.

Ty guided us over to Gordo and punched him in the arm. He let go of me and signed a few autographs and I heard Gordo say to someone, “No, man, Ty’s my bro. All those stories about us fighting are bogus, right dude?” he said.

“Yeah,” Ty said, “I’m actually finding it hilarious. She’s not, though, are you Pop?” he nudged me with his hip and everyone’s eyes landed on me. My face got hot and my gaze immediately dropped to my shoes.

“No, I’m really not,” I mumbled.

“Who would though? They’re saying some pretty nasty things about her with my bro. It’s bunk,” Ty said. He glanced around at the paparazzos and pointed at them with a cheeky grin. “Blame these guys.”

The bouncer unclipped the rope and Ty put his arm back around my shoulders, before leaning down and giving me a quick peck on the lips. We were surrounded by cameras on one side and camera–phones on the other. Needless to say, it was intense.

“Ready, babe?” Ty asked. I gave my best excited smile and we waved goodbye.

I yelled, “see you in there!” to the queue (it seemed the polite thing to do after blatantly cutting like that) and we walked right in. So far so good.

Inside, the shutter had been rolled down over the kitchen window and tables and chairs from the bistro were stacked against the walls of what had been transformed into a dance floor. There was a stage in the corner only a couple of feet off the ground; off to the right was the bar and through a set of double swinging doors were some couches, pool tables and slot machines. We made a beeline for that.

It seemed those inside had missed the commotion at the door and were happily oblivious to the rock stars in their presence as we wove our way through to the pool tables.

Gordo placed a dollar bill on the edge of the nearest table and pulled two cues off the wall. He tossed one to Ty and as they waited, they proceeded to pretend they were holding light sabers. I figured the point of the exercise was to show how close the boys were, so I left them to it and bought the first round of Cokes on the rocks. Both Ty and Gordo added rum to their next drinks, and the ones after that, but I needed to keep my wits about me. I had a song to write when I got back.

By the time I returned a few rounds later, there were small groups of people, guys and girls, standing in huddles, watching Gordo and Ty as they trash talked, laughed and pushed each other around a bit, the pool game well and truly on.

Girls wanted to dance with Ty and Gordo, and a couple of guys even asked me, but we all declined. The three of us stuck together like iPods and earphones, our cheeks aching from the permanent smiles we had plastered across our faces as evidence we were having a good time together.

We were having a good time.

We were having a good time.

Though it was true, we
were
having a good time, there was something a bit off about each of us. Though we talked shit (not a chance we’d talk about anything important here), and cheered and booed each other and danced on the spot to the music piped through from the other room, none us were being ourselves. We stood a little taller, laughed a little louder and, like I said, we smiled a whole lot wider. We were ‘on’ because we were being watched. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone, couldn’t acknowledge it because that would be too much pressure. I felt like I was on some sort of reality show with a thousand cameras pointed right at me. For all I knew, the camera part was true. I had to just pretend they weren’t even there.

The night was going well and to be honest, if I’d been watching us I’m sure I would have been convinced that everything was cool, so go team. Job well done. It had actually been real fun, not fake fun. I don’t know why I was even surprised by that. I left the guys and joined the line for the ladies room, tunnel vision on the door, ignoring the eyes on me as I made my way through the venue. I bopped my head and shoulders to the music as a local three–piece band played a punk medley of songs from
Grease
. The line moved forward slowly, and it turned out there was a bit of a drunken slap fight at the sinks which was what had sent the line to a screeching halt. No one wanted to get involved in that.

My cell started buzzing and when I checked the readout, it was from home.

“Hi–hi,” I said. “What are you guys doing?”

“Hi honey,” Mom said. “I was just watching a DVD with your father.” A pang of homesickness clenched my heart for a second. What I wouldn’t give to be on the couch at home, sharing the three–seater with my dad and the dog, watching
Die Hard
or
The Terminator
or some other old–school action movie he liked so much. I glanced behind me toward the pool room and caught sight of Ty taking a shot. He stood up again, arms in the air like a champion. Gordo pretended to give him a left hook to the face and they started resetting the table. Life would be a lot less complicated if I was at home on the couch with my dad.

“How about you? It’s noisy, where are you?”

“In line for the bathroom.”

“Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah, this queue is the best time ever.”

“No, I mean-”

“It’s had its ups and downs but overall I guess it’s okay,” I said.

“Ups and downs?” Mom sounded suspicious. Frankly it was surprising she hadn’t called before now and heard all about it.

“Oh, you know…” I said.

“Spill.”

“... Don’t be mad.”

That was probably the single stupidest thing I could have said. Of course she was going to get mad. I could practically hear her mentally counting to ten as she braced herself for ‘Poppy Does Something Stupid’ take number a gazillion.

“What did you do, Poppy…”

“It wasn’t my fault. And we’re fixing it.”