The Way Back Home (5 page)

“Whoa,” I say, a beat or two later than a best friend probably should in a moment like this.

And then she screams and kicks her feet. “It was amazing!”

Okay, he's not your brother, he's not your brother, he's not your brother. Act like he's not your brother.

“Stella, I would die,” I say honestly.

She turns toward me on the pillow and keeps going. “It gets better.”

“There's more?” I ask.

“Bird, you were gone for a few days.”

“Still.”

“This is too big for text!” she squeals. “I wanted to see your face.”

I purposefully arrange said face into an expression that mirrors her excitement and try not to be bummed that I missed so much while I was working in LA. “Okay, what else?” I ask.

“So the next day, I was emboldened. I asked him if he wanted to watch a movie and he did, but instead of watching something we already have on the bus, he suggested we go see something in town.”

She looks at me again. I can tell this is really big for her, but I can't connect the dots. “Cool,” I say vaguely.

“Bird!” she cries. “He clearly wanted to take me on a real, thought-out date.”

“Did he call it that?”

She considers, and I see her deflate slightly in front of me. Guilt twists my gut.

“I mean, it probably was,” I amend. “Sounds like it was.”

“
Anyway
,” she goes on. “When Grantuam finally fought for Janelle's freedom—” She stops abruptly and covers her mouth. “Oh, sorry.”

“Stella, I promise you that is not a spoiler. There is no way I'm watching an alien black belt save the world, not in a million years.”

She grins. “Okay, so he saved her, and it was a semi-romantic part but actually also really funny 'cause, you know, aliens and karate. Well, Dylan and I looked at each other and laughed, and then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he grabbed my hand. And he held it until the end. And it was just”—she sighs and closes her eyes—“the most perfect day.”

“I did
not
realize how much you liked my brother.”

She nods. “I've got it bad.”

I look up at the ceiling and think about it all. I do want them to be happy. I just don't want to deal with the fallout if things go badly. I've lived on an RV with Dylan after a breakup, and it is not a pretty sight.

I face her. “So, should we make some ground rules?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if you guys do start dating, how's that going to work?”

“I don't understand.”

I exhale loudly. “Like, I don't want to be in the middle if there's any drama, you know? And I don't want to be the third wheel on all your dates. And I definitely don't want to hear you guys making out at night.”

Stella starts laughing. “Bird! It's not like he's my boyfriend. I don't know what we are or if we'll even be anything.”

I look over at her. “My brother is a lot of things, but he's not stupid. You're a catch. Any guy would be a fool not to date you.”

She beams at me and squeezes my hand. “What if we make a code name?” Stella suggests. “What if I can still have your feedback as my best friend without compromising your situation as his sister? Like, I can still tell you everything, and you can imagine that it's… Channing Tatum, a hot, tall, delicious guy with amazing eyes who makes me melt every time I hear him play the guitar.”

“Channing Tatum, huh?”

She giggles and nods.

“Okay,” I say. “So has Channing slipped you the tongue?”

“Excuse me!” Stella exclaims. “Mr. Tatum is a gentleman.”

We laugh. We laugh and it feels good, and I realize that, as usual, I've been making things more complicated than they have to be. I'll listen when either wants to talk, I'll keep everything they say about the other to myself, and I'll stay Switzerland on all possible conflicts.

“He hasn't kissed me,” she says softly now. “I definitely would've called you if things had gotten that far.”

“I would hope so,” I say.

“We spent our days off together, but he didn't really make another move. It just seems like we touch a little more often now, like he'll lean against me in line for lunch or I'll scratch his back while we watch a show. There's tension like something might happen, but it hasn't.”

“Maybe you intimidate him,” I say.

“Or maybe he knows when he kisses me it'll make it all real,” she says. “Maybe he's not ready for real.”

She picks at a loose thread on her shirt, and I can almost hear her thoughts. I wonder if they echo mine:
What does it mean when it all gets real?
I can't help but think about Kai and how perfect our relationship was when we were on the road together last year. And then I remember how impossible it was once we were apart. I wonder if we would still be friends if we'd never taken it to the next level. I used to tell him everything, we shared every part of our day, and now all I get are snippets of his life from his Instagram account.

The same thing happened with Adam. We were always so comfortable together, and I nursed a crush on him well before I let him know about it because I was always worried that he looked at me as nothing more than Jacob's little sister. We finally went on a date, and it was so perfect. I thought we had a chance. But he stopped it before we really got going, and now it's only the occasional text message or tweet that keeps us in contact.

I close my eyes and am inundated by painful memories from two failed relationships. I haven't been on a single date since my breakup after New Year's. There really is a lot at stake on the brink of things getting real.

“I'
M STANDING HERE
with three-time-VMA-nominated Bird Barrett, who looks stunning this evening,” Sway Calloway says on the red carpet.

I smile. “Thanks, Sway. It's so good to be here.”

“Now, I just spoke with your old pal Devyn Delaney, and she said your performance is the one she's most looking forward to tonight.”

I'm surprised to hear that after our falling out last year, but as my publicist looks on from a few feet away, I know I make her proud by not letting it show. I am very familiar with the PR machine that is Devyn Delaney. Before she betrayed me by setting me up for a spat with Kayelee Ford on reality television, I learned a lot about the business from her. So, smiling broadly, I tell the MTV reporter, “Oh, Devyn's just the best.”

“She's a cool cat,” he agrees. I glance at Anita, who smirks back at me. “Tonight you're nominated for Best Video with a Message for your monster hit ‘Shine Our Light.' That's what you'll be performing later, correct?”

“Yes, and that performance is going to be really special,” I say.

“The video is also pretty special,” Sway says. “Fifteen million views on YouTube in the first week. We've all heard the rumors that it was penned about another singer here tonight,” he goes on. “What do you think about when you sing that song?”

I pause to think about my answer as the fans surrounding the red carpet swell in their cheers. I briefly wonder who just arrived, but then I focus on my response. “Well, it does take me back to a hard time in my life,” I say, “but a friend helped me see that we all shine brighter when we're casting light instead of shadows—of doubt, or negativity, or whatever else—and I think about that.”

“Love the positive message. Good luck tonight, Bird.”

I finish the interview and meet up with Troy, Anita, and former country music sensation and personal mentor Bonnie McLain, who are waiting for me off to the side. “The VMAs are madness,” I say. “Last year I was just excited to be here, but this year all I see is drama around every corner.” I nod toward the carpet as Kayelee herself appears in front of the stands, stunning in a provocative gown that looks like it's made out of purple zip ties.

“Well, all I see is skin,” Bonnie says loudly. Of course right at that moment, somebody walks by in a leather tube top and some sort of grass skirt.

“Bird, let's walk,” Anita says, business as usual. “I want to get you ahead of Kayelee, and I don't know if you saw, but she brought your good buddy Colton Holley as her date, so let's march while she's waiting for her interview.”

I know I shouldn't look, but I immediately whip my head around and lock eyes with Colton on the spot. He smiles broadly and waves, so handsome and polished in his tailored tux.
Is he dating Kayelee or not?
Either way, I am mortified that I got smashed and almost hooked up with him in Vegas, so I just give him a quick smile and follow Anita toward the row of reporters eagerly awaiting a brief conversation. I never thought I'd rather talk to the press than a hot rich guy with a sexy British accent, but my life is stupid sometimes.

Bonnie hangs back with Troy as I get down to business, posing my way down the red carpet for the next half hour, giving the photographers and fans every possible angle of my strappy, sparkly red cocktail dress. I felt dangerous and sexy when I chose it a few days ago, but now that I'm actually at the VMAs, I feel like a Catholic nun. Bonnie was right: Less is more for MTV fashions.

Once I reach the end of the carpet, I manage to drag Bonnie out for a few pictures before we head inside. The photogs love it. She may have retired at the top of her game, but that doesn't mean people don't know who she is. I can only dream that one day my shelves will sparkle with as many awards as hers do. And she may be older than my mom and not one for the spotlight anymore, but when the song she helped me write was nominated for Best Video with a Message, I didn't want to bring anyone else.

When we get to our seats, I see that I'm close to the front of the stage, behind Nick Jonas. Dan is there waiting for me, along with a bunch of other Open Highway execs from LA and their dates. Everybody is dressed to the nines and excited. It's fun celebrating with the whole team.

Throughout the show, we get to see performances by everyone from Justin Bieber to Tori Kelly. And although Bonnie doesn't have a clue as the rest of us sing along with the Weeknd, she sure knows every word when Madonna makes a surprise appearance. She breaks out some eighties dance moves that both amaze and mortify me, and I desperately hope someone gets it on camera.

After Madonna's final bow, when fandom took over Bonnie's body in a way that made me think she might need an exorcism, she crashes down into her chair for a breather. “Thank you for bringing me, Bird, honey,” she says, patting my back when I sit next to her.

“I wouldn't want anyone else by my side,” I say truthfully.

“You know, I've always wanted to see this show live,” she goes on. “Seems like there's always a few crazies trying to out-crazy each other, and it's a hoot!”

Twenty minutes later, Kayelee Ford, who is not even nominated for an award, proves Bonnie's point. She struts onto the VMA stage in the middle of the Bitter Boyz's live performance, and it's not only a shock, but it's a head-scratcher.
Why is a country music singer featured with rappers?
But as she sashays around the stage wearing next to nothing, it's clear that her solo is secondary.

“Is that a cash register?” Bonnie asks as Kayelee marches past our section. She's wearing a tiny bra made out of hundred-dollar bills and has a cash register strapped around her waist like a belt. Her legs sparkle in shimmery tights, and she keeps whipping her long blond hair around like it's a bug she's trying to shake off.

“Why?” I ask, more to myself than to anyone else.

“I think the lyrics are saying that the lifestyle is the dream because you'll get rich, but then maintaining the lifestyle is impossible because you spend all your money keeping up the image,” Bonnie says.

“No, I understand the song,” I say. “I just don't get what Kayelee's doing. Or why she would want to demean herself like this.” I scan the crowd for Randall Strong, the president of Great American Music, and wonder why in the world he approved it. Then I lean across Bonnie and ask Anita, “How is this good for her image?”

“I would kill you,” Anita says simply. “But this will be the performance they'll all be talking about tomorrow.”

“What?” I exclaim, looking at her like she's lost her mind. “This is gross! Look at how she's grinding on them. They're totally objectifying her.”

Bonnie nods. “Anita's right though.”

And just because I want to prove them wrong, I pull out my phone and open my Twitter app. Immediately I see that Kayelee Ford is trending. “Are you serious?”

At that moment, Kayelee brings the mic to her sparkly pink lips and ends the song with an admittedly impressive vocal run that brings even the most reluctant of the crowd to their feet, but as I stand and applaud, I am only more furious.
The girl can actually sing!
So why not just wow the audience with her talent?

The houselights come up and the cameras move away, everybody standing to stretch and take a break. I overhear snippets of conversation, and it's as if nobody else has performed all night. I certainly didn't feel this energy after my own performance, and not to be conceited or anything, but I brought the house down. I'm just baffled that it's “Kayelee this” and “Kayelee that”—not all of it pleasant but all of it about her.

“Your award's up next,” Anita says matter-of-factly. “There's no way you'll lose this one, so forget what you just saw and be gracious.”

Bonnie clearly agrees. She grabs my arms and shakes me from side to side, smiling big and trying to pump me up. “You've always wanted a Moonman!”

I throw my phone back into my purse and frown. Yeah, I wanted to win, both for me and for Bonnie, but at this point, it's not like anyone will even care.