One Hit Wonder Page 2

  Bold was a word she hadn’t said or thought about it in ages; she spent countless hours trying to remember her last bold action. Almost three years ago, she found a job teaching English to children in Japan. It was the last risk she had taken, and perhaps the reason she thought about it so often. She couldn’t pinpoint when her life had made the turn to fuck-up-land. At last, she was being bold again.

  • • •

  You’ve got to be kidding me, Audrey thought, as she watched the old RV turning the corner of the street. The Winnebago’s brakes shrieked as it halted in front of her and she looked embarrassedly over her shoulders, hoping none of the neighbors were watching. It wasn’t much of a plan to begin with, and this had been the first mistake. The vehicle was not a century old, but it was from the last century: faded paint, avocado-green pinstripes chipped away at the edges, duct tape on the rearview mirror. She should probably get out of here as soon as possible, turn and walk back inside the house, but it was too late.

  Even after strictly forbidding her parents to leave the house, she twitched with hope her father would come out and forbid her to travel across the country inside an unsafe vehicle. When she glanced toward the window, he was laughing hysterically — convulsion-attack style. Her mother stood beside him, waving one hand and covering her mouth with the other. She wasn’t sixteen anymore; she could no longer count on her parent’s overprotection. Audrey exhaled deeply, as though blowing out smoke, and her shoulders sank so low, she could have brushed the sidewalk with the tip of her fingers.

  Like a B-movie spaceship, short only of dry-ice fog and neon lights, the Winnebago’s door opened slowly. Except the humanoid that appeared, with his hand up, signaling he’d come in peace wasn’t alien.

  “Hi.” Matt’s smile was as big and as innocent as Sesame Street’s Ernie.

  “Hi.” Audrey waved back. “So this is the tour bus, huh?”

  “Yeah, how do you like it?” He stood beside her and they both stared at the Winnebago.

  “It’s interesting.”

  “It might not scream rock-and-roll, but it beats actual bus seats.”

  “I can imagine it.”

  Matt leaned closer and lowered his voice as if telling her a secret. “We have a full-size bed.”

  Audrey rolled her eyes and threw her back-pack over her shoulders while Matt picked up her duffle bag.

  “Wait,” Isabel hollered, coming down the driveway with, Audrey guessed, a tin of cookies.

  “Mom!” She widened her eyes. “I told you to stay inside,” she murmured crossly as Isabel approached them.

  Isabel ignored her and walked toward Matt. “Matt, Oh my goodness. Look how big you are.” She lifted her arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

  “Hello, Mrs. Whitman,” he said shyly.

  “Look at this beard.” She ran her hand along the side of his face. “You were twelve the last time I saw you. You are so handsome.” She turned to Audrey. “Isn’t he handsome?”

  “Audrey thinks I’m cute.”

  “Nonsense, you’re handsome,” Isabel reassured him.

  Isabel’s hand was still on Matt’s face when her attention pivoted to a man coming out of the Winnebago. Lean and tall, he had tentacles of blond hair framing a long face, lit by fluorescent green eyes. After him, a man with brown hair, full lips, and arms that stretched the sleeves of his shirt. He was followed by a square-jawed man with honey eyes and wide shoulders, the tallest of the washboard-abs-type trio.

  Isabel stepped to Audrey’s side and muttered, “Oh my.”

  Audrey looked away and, clearing her throat, said inconspicuously, “Wait, there’s one more.” At that moment, another man, older than the others came out, a balding version of Michael Madsen.

  She imagined what her mother would be thinking; she had wondered about it herself.

  “I’m glad your father decided to stay inside,” Isabel whispered, squeezing Audrey’s hand.

  “Mom, meet Kevin, Tyler, John, and Rob.” Audrey introduced them in the order they had exited the Winnebago.

  “Nice to meet you,” Isabel said. The men replied politely, then lapsed into silence.

  “Okay.” Audrey turned to her mom. “We have to go, the band has a schedule. That’s why I’ve asked you to stay inside.”

  “All right. You guys drive safe now.”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Whitman, Rob is a professional.” Matt tapped Rob’s shoulder as they hustled back inside the bus.

  “Very good, then. Oh, wait. I’ve made you cookies for the trip.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Audrey said, reaching for the tin without a trace of enthusiasm.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Whitman.” Matt grabbed it from Audrey’s hand, leaned to give Isabel a kiss, and moved away opening the tin and stuffing a cookie in his mouth.

  Isabel rubbed Audrey’s arm, and hugged her. “You have fun now. Call me and tell me everything.”

  “I will,” Audrey said, biting her lower lip.

  “And stop worrying so much. When I was your age, I would have given an arm to be inside that … .” She looked over Audrey’s shoulder. “… RV?”

  “It’s a tour bus, Mom.”

  “Right on.”

  Chapter 4

  Audrey wondered if hanging out with musicians would be like hanging out with the band. Was this how rock stars did it? Well, maybe rock stars on a budget that partied in camp sites, roadside hotels, and rundown pubs across the East Coast. Most of the time, she felt in her teens again, except she could legally drink, and so she did — a lot.

  The truth was, the alcohol helped to drown her worries. She took a million pictures, hoping quantity would give her a cushion to relax. If ten percent of the photographs were average and one percent was excellent, more pictures could save her from embarrassment when the tour was over. The internet was a wonderful resource for inspiration. Everyone is a photographer now, she thought while browsing on Flickr. Her models were cooperative and, for the most part, she didn’t bother them much.

  The bulk of her work consisted of positioning her tripod around the stage during the performances. Light was her fierce enemy; she could never shoot with a flash, afraid it would disturb the band or the audience. It wouldn’t matter, anyway, her shoe-mount flash wasn’t strong enough to light the entire stage. She liked the mood in the photographs, colored only by the dim lights of the pubs, although foggy faces hardly made for good marketing material.

  • • •

  “Let me take some pictures of you.” Kevin grabbed her camera from a table at a fast-food restaurant connected to the gas station they’d stopped at in North Carolina.

  “No.” Audrey shook her head adamantly and reached for the camera. Kevin ducked away and Audrey gave up, not wanting to inflict the innocent patrons of The Biscuit House to a cat-and-mouse chase. Surely, the elderly couple splitting and buttering their biscuits in unison at a table by the window wasn’t interested in the mayhem-with-gravy combo.

  “Cut it out, Kevin. You might break her camera.” Matt paid for the bag of biscuits he was taking back to the bus. He was always attentive and, most importantly, truthful to his words, which meant no sexual vibe between them. He really considered her an annoying little sister. That was a relief, although she resented the “annoying” bit.

  “Audrey, you have gorgeous eyes.” Kevin zoomed in the lens on her face, and she instinctively covered it with her hands.

  “If you delete something, I swear.” Audrey pointed a finger at him. “I haven’t downloaded last night’s photos yet.”

  “Man, give her the camera. I had my sexy shirt on last night.” Tyler winked at Audrey from the soda machine as he filled his cup with Dr. Pepper. She frowned at him, trying to decode his ambiguous expression.

  Two days before, his dispensed gallantries had escalated to a rubbing of her feet that felt unexpectedly sensuous.

  “You have a tattoo?” Tyler gasped while studying the delicate cluster of cherry blossoms on her right ankle. His own arm appeared to portray
a narrative much like Dante’s Inferno — ergo it was hard to see authenticity in his caught breath over a few flowers.

  Kevin purred, “A tattoo? You naughty girl.” He nodded to Tyler to scoot over so he could sit at the little table across from her. Instead, Tyler moved to the floor, without letting go of her ankle, and started to massage her foot.

  Audrey snapped her brows at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Relax,” Tyler told her, smirking and squeezing her foot a little harder. Kevin propped his feet on the table as he said, “I’m next.” Tyler proceeded to massage her feet and calves while staring intently into her eyes. For a split second, she feared if she were alone with him inside the Winnebago it could had been the end of her perennial celibacy.

  Tyler was well aware of his sex appeal and he used it well, but she dismissed his smirk as John emerged from the groceries side of the gas station with a bottle of pink lemonade and a pack of cigarettes in his hands. “You guys about ready?” he said.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Rob asked.

  “I’m not hungry.” John’s gaze stopped at the camera in Kevin’s hand as he handed it back to Audrey.

  • • •

  John was the only one who hadn’t opened up to her, ignoring her as much as he could. She couldn’t quite figure out why he continually froze her out, whatever it was; an interrupted look, a change of subject, walking away whenever she arrived. She wanted to knock it out of his head with a crowbar.

  Acutely aware of his behavior, the only thing left to do was find out what was his problem. She was all right, wasn’t she? A bit flaky and gawky at times, but she found solace in knowing she was the only one who suffered by her own faults. In truth, she considered herself quite gregarious, even witty and smart. Then, why was John being such a snob?

  “Are you going to the bathroom?” Audrey asked when he got up from a folding chair near the fire and started to walk toward the bathroom at a campsite in Virginia. She needed to talk to him alone, without the others overtaking the conversation and transforming it into a big joke. They hadn’t talked a lot before the tour, but it never crossed her mind he was going to be the one she’d butt heads with.

  “Oh … yes.” John turned back, surprised.

  They had been making s’mores and drinking instant cappuccino with whiskey by the fire after dinner — a bag of fast-food hamburgers.

  “I’ll go with you.” Audrey stood and walked toward him.

  “Anyone else?” John said.

  Kevin and Matt shook their heads, Tyler and Rob were already in their tent — the cheaper alternative to hotel rooms. She slept on the bed in the Winnebago and everyone else slept in two tents. She had offered to take turns but they refused. Sometimes Kevin or Matt slept on the couch, rarely Rob or Tyler, never John.

  Audrey bit her lips to prevent a smile, amused by his eagerness not to be alone with her. Matt had told her John was their leader, the glue that kept them together from the start. Essentially, he was the sun which the band depended on to survive, providing energy and generating life; in other words, composing the songs.

  “Gosh, it’s cold when you’re not by the fire.” She rubbed her arms as they walked.

  “It’s actually not bad for March. It could be a lot worse.” John looked straight ahead and down at the ground at each step.

  “I had forgotten how much fun camping is. My father used to take me all the time when I was little.”

  They walked forward in semi-darkness, guided by the light hanging on the corner of the bathroom’s bare cement construction.

  John, with his hands in his pockets, said, “I’m glad — ”

  “Boo!” Kevin had sneaked up behind them and pinched Audrey’s waist.

  “Ahhhh!” She jumped. “You idiot!” She frantically slapped his arms as he ducked and stepped away. When she turned back to John, he was gone. She was disappointed; it was the first time in days he had spoken to her directly.

  “What do you think of me and you going to explore the woods?” Kevin asked, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward a dark trail on their left.

  She pulled her hand away. “Yeah, right. So I can be eaten by a Sasquatch while you run for your life.”

  “That hurts my feelings. You don’t think I can protect you?” Kevin flexed his arms and kissed his biceps.

  “It isn’t a matter if you can or can’t, but rather what your survival instincts will tell you to do, and I have a hunch they’ll tell you to protect those golden locks of yours.”

  When they arrived at the bathrooms, John was already leaving.

  “Johnny, Audrey thinks I would run away and let her be the entrée of a hungry Sasquatch. Can you believe it?”

  “I kind of can.” John lit a cigarette and wisps of smoke rose into the air.

  “Oh, man! What’s a guy have to do to earn some respect around here?”

  “Don’t feel bad, It’s not just you.” She stepped on the bathroom’s threshold. “It’s self-preservation, people think of themselves first.”

  John raised his eyebrows and walked away. She watched him being enveloped by darkness before closing the door.

  Chapter 5

  “Let’s have a toast.” Kevin often suggested, raising his glass. They all drank together, but no one felt like toasting every time they took a sip. So, at the later hours of the night, the communal answer was no, and they would just knock back their whiskey — Kevin’s favorite — making faces and shaking their heads. He could have made a fortune as a bootlegger; whenever Audrey thought they’d finished drinking, he surfaced with another bottle. In the beginning, she wondered if he was trying to get her drunk. She eventually realized he was trying to get everyone drunk.

  “Audrey, how come you don’t have a boyfriend?” Kevin’s flirtations were always more acute as the emptied bottles amassed.

  “Who said I don’t?” she said in a defiant tone. It had been almost six months since she had her last encounter with a lingering ex-boyfriend. He was someone she grew accustomed to having around but never felt compelled to take the next step with. He had hinted more than once they were heading to the altar, but when time came to make a decision, she bailed.

  “Only an idiot would let a girl like you go on a two-month road trip with a bunch of guys, and you don’t look like the type of girl who would put out for an idiot.”

  “Then your chances are zero, aren’t they?”

  Kevin chuckled. “I don’t mind being an idiot when it comes to you.” His green eyes fixed on her like laser beams ready to take her down. Fortunately, with eyelids droopy and attention dispersed, he always seemed to have had one too many drinks to use his weapons of seduction properly.

  • • •

  Sobriety hours entailed photographing the band and updating their MySpace, Facebook and Twitter accounts. At her old job, she’d spent long minutes scrolling down Facebook’s news feed out of boredom. She thought it was stupid for people to describe their entire day using status updates, and was specially annoyed when someone would post “I’m going to bed, good night.” Now she twittered the band’s every move, no matter how silly or weird. She also set up a Tumblr account and posted behind-the-scenes pictures along with the twitter updates, increasing dramatically the number of followers in less than two weeks.

  Very naturally, she started to act like a promoter when they arrived at a new location, taking the initiative to call radio stations to arrange interviews if there was enough time. Once in Asheville, she managed to get a TV appearance, orchestrated in part by the venue owner’s local influence, but likely impossible without her diligence.

  She also arranged for the band to visit a school that offered a music program for underprivileged kids. Peter, one of the program’s volunteers came up to her in the bar where the band was playing. He was a seventeen-year-old high school senior, very determined to get into Yale in the fall. It was what got him volunteering in the first place, but he’d confessed after he met the kids he felt helping them was the biggest
thing he’d ever done.

  “Excuse me, are you the band’s manager?” He must have assumed because of the way Audrey moved around the place before the concert, talking to the owner, pointing at the stage, and setting up a table with the band’s CDs and T-shirts for sale.

  Peter invited the band to come to the school to play and talk to the kids. Audrey agreed without asking the guys. He handed her his phone number and left to study for a calculus test the next morning. She stared at him walking away, and felt touched by his determination and confidence. Peter was clearly a responsible and — more importantly — compassionate young man. She thought about what she had done for others during her high school years and quivered with regret.

  After the concert, she told the band about their next-day engagement and didn’t have to convince anyone. During a game of pool, they decided to not trash themselves that night.

  “Got to put up a fresh face for the kids.” Kevin said, lifting up his beer bottle.

  John shook his head and racked the balls.

  “What? Beer is cool. Shots are the problem.” Kevin shook his head and took another gulp. He was sitting near the pool table with Audrey, Matt, and Rob. Tyler was talking to a couple of girls at the bar.

  “Can we play?” Tyler asked, bringing the two blondes over.

  “Sure.” John chalked his cue and broke sharply.

  “This is Ashley and Tiffany.” Tyler placed his beer at the table and grabbed cues for the girls. “That is John.”

  “Hi,” the girls sing-songed.

  John lifted his beer and nodded.

  “Kevin, Audrey, Matt, and Rob,” Tyler said, pointing at each.

  “I’m on your team.” Tiffany moved to John’s side of the table. She was wearing a pink V-neck sweater that complemented her rosy skin and a short skirt that was very inappropriate for playing pool. Her shaggy hair fell on her face as she smiled apologetically, telling John she wasn’t a very good player.