One Hit Wonder Page 7

  It had 1,827,843 views. Tyler whistled in surprise.

  “If those were sold records, we’d be platinum.” Matt moved the laptop to his table and read some of the comments aloud. “I would serenade too if I had a girl like that; These guys are hot; this song is so beautiful, I can feel his love in every word; you made a mistake, dude, now she has the ball; what is the name of this song I want to buy it on iTunes.”

  Matt lifted his head and everyone looked at John.

  “North Star,” he said.

  Matt continued to read. Most of the comments were favorable, and they wondered if some good would come out of it besides ad revenue for jewelsundquist11.

  • • •

  The news the band was going to record “North Star” in a professional studio in Austin took everyone by surprise. Bill had called and was meeting them there. Atlantis Records was interested in producing a single and a music video before deciding on a record deal. In a state of ecstasy, that night was their best performance to date. She heard “North Star” for the second time since Tuscaloosa. This time the band played it together, and Kevin sang it.

  While she took the band’s pictures, people in the audience took hers. It was surreal. Random people would come up and talk to her and ask how it felt having a song written for her and how was their relationship. Was viral fame so powerful? Clearly it was, and clearly she wasn’t prepared for this kind of prying, but as much as she wanted to tell them to piss off, she knew she couldn’t.

  Suddenly worried, she hoped they could stay inside the bus forever, traveling the country, making out in twenty-four-hour Laundromats, and waking up in his arms in cheap hotels. She knew it was impossible. She knew they were good. She knew he was great and would quickly outgrow this life. The tour was about to be over; Austin was their last city. Would the band drive back home as planned? How would Bill react to meeting her? He would probably send her packing on the spot. She needed a drink; actually, many drinks.

  By the time the band finished the encore, in which John had to play the acoustic version of “North Star” by popular demand, she was tipsy. When she saw the boys coming over, she quickly shook off the worries, gave them high fives and kissed John, causing a little stir among the watchful eyes nearby. She had already ordered them tequila shots and, as always, they toasted to the next gig.

  “Is everything okay?” John must have sensed something.

  “Sure,” she lied.

  Usually after a few beers and some chitchatting with the locals, Audrey and John escaped to enjoy some privacy, but that night it took them longer than usual to slip out.

  “What are you thinking?” John said, breaking the silence. They barely made it to the hotel room, and after they’d wrinkled the sheets beyond ironing, they lay quietly for a long time.

  “We will be in Austin tomorrow. It’s such a beautiful city.”

  “Maybe we can go to the lake while we’re there.”

  Audrey’s voice dropped to a murmur. “Maybe.”

  Chapter 11

  Austin. Live music capital of the world.

  They drove straight to the recording studio downtown, where a pale-skinned, round-faced, and rosy-cheeked Bill was waiting. He had incredibly narrow eyes, as if distrust was one of his physical features. His thin auburn hair was tousled and looked like a crumbled sheet of cellophane paper. He gave prodigal hugs to the boys, and a special congratulatory hug to John.

  “Audrey, I’m delighted to meet you.”

  “Thanks.” She shook his clammy hand.

  “I’ve got rooms at the Driskill for all of you, just a few blocks away.” Bill nodded due west. “Audrey, why don’t you go ahead and check in? The boys and I have to go over the details of tomorrow’s recording session.”

  “Oh, no.” Kevin grunted as a little boy whose mother had turned off his video game.

  “She doesn’t have to go.” John cut through the semi-circle they formed in front of the building to stand beside her.

  “She is our good luck charm,” Tyler said.

  She frowned at him, thinking it sounded too much like a pet.

  “Of course, she can stay. I only thought she would like to rest.” Disconcerted, Bill placed a hand on his hip.

  “Bill is right. I’d like to rest.” She was irritated by being talked about as if she wasn’t there.

  “Audrey can out-party any of us,” Matt said.

  Out-party? Was she a drunk now? She preferred to be the pet.

  “Come on, Audrey, you don’t want to be in the boring hotel, right?” Kevin said.

  “Okay, let me think … hot shower and a mini-bar or jabbering with you … uh, see you later.” She wanted to stay, but she had a gut feeling it was a bad idea to fall on Bill’s bad grace so early in the game.

  She turned to John, and the rest of the group seemed to take it as a sign of the end of the discussion.

  John circled her waist with his arms, and whispered in her ear, “Please stay.”

  “Go to work and I’ll be waiting for you at the hotel.” She placed her arms on his shoulders. “I have some stuff to do.” She kissed him.

  “Don’t start the drinking without us.” Kevin shouted to Audrey who, already walking away, waved two fingers in the air without looking back.

  She remembered the way John had spoken to Bill when he called early in the tour, presumably complaining about her meddling with the band’s engagements. It was not surprising Bill would try to get rid of her as soon as he could. Actually, there was only one reason he didn’t give her a check and bid her farewell: John. She thought of Bill’s sticky hand and hers felt disgustingly tacky; she rubbed it hard on her jeans. It seemed his wide smile and educated talk about the business helped him nail his claws into as many upcoming bands as he could. She feared if the band’s viral fame hadn’t happened, they would have accomplished very little under his perfunctory management.

  She crossed the street and her phone rang. Retrieving it from her backpack, she saw her mother’s picture. Great mom, perfect timing, she thought, mildly annoyed.

  “Hi, mom,” she said, her voice as sweet as molasses.

  “Hi, darling. How are you?”

  “Super.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What do you mean?” She hated how her mom could read her so easily.

  “You sound upset.”

  “How do you figure that? I said two words!”

  “Must I remind you, I gave you life? I know everything about you.”

  “Mom, must I remind you that sounds very creepy?” Three minutes ago, she hadn’t felt like talking to anyone, least of all her mother. Now her laughter made Audrey feel immediately better.

  “So, how’s everything?” Isabel tried to sound casual, but there was an inquisitive undertone to her voice.

  Damn YouTube! From that point on, Audrey told her about everything she’d been doing since their last conversation, except anything related to John. She went on describing the towns to food to pubs to people.

  “John! I want to know about John.” Isabel interrupted with utter impatience.

  “How do you know about him?”

  “You’re kidding? Everyone knows. Thanks toYouTube, I now know of cousins I never knew existed — in Brazil.”

  “No way!”

  “Nice song, by the way.”

  • • •

  Sometime later, Audrey noticed John leaning on the door of the bathroom looking at her inside a bathtub nearly overflowing with bubbles. She’d left him the second key at the front desk and didn’t hear when he walked in.

  “You look like a mermaid.”

  “Then maybe I can charm you into joining me.”

  He lifted himself from the door, sat on the edge of the bathtub, and took off his boots. Then, he unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his belt slowly without letting go of her gaze.

  “If you want to torture me, you’re doing a superb job.”

  He got into the tub and sat across from her. They stared at each oth
er with conspiratorial eyes. She wanted to feel his weight on top of her while she scratched his back with her nails; but she sat still, holding his gaze, showing him she, too, could play this game.

  After what seemed like a thousand lifetimes he slid toward her, but she stopped him with her right foot on his chest. He moved her foot to his side and, beneath the water, his hands reached for her calves, traveled slowly up her legs, and squeezed her thighs. She knew she couldn’t escape, neither did she try to. He moved very close, held her hips, and positioned her on top of him. Her back arched from the anticipated clench and the room — the world — was painted with the sensuous glow of skin and heat.

  • • •

  They spooned in bed and dozed off to the murmurs of the TV. Her body was pliable and buoyant from the hot bath and hot sex. She lay beside him with her head on his chest and eyelids heavy. The light touch of his hand rhythmically tracing her spine; up and down, down and up, made her realize he didn’t share her state of mind.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Just thinking about tomorrow. Atlantis is sending Glen Ballard to make new song arrangements for ‘North Star.’”

  “Glen Ballard?”

  “He is a top songwriter and producer from L.A. An executive is coming as well to talk about the contract. The studio wants to speed through the creation of the single to take advantage of the video’s popularity.”

  “I checked it when I got here. The view count is at almost three million.”

  “The guys and I told Bill we want to use your photographs.”

  “You shouldn’t have. You must use whatever is the best for the band,” she said, unsentimentally. “But thanks.” Her face softened into a doubtful smile.

  “You’re welcome.” John kissed her forehead, and she placed her head back on his chest.

  “They want me to sing it.” His voice was suddenly murky.

  “This is ridiculous. They are taking this too literally.” She propped herself up on one elbow.

  “I agree, but it seems the circumstances of the song are as popular as the song itself, if not more.” John seemed calm, but his voice had an exasperated undertone.

  “How did Kevin take it?

  “Not very well. No one would. This single can put us on the map.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sat beside him.

  “Hey, you.” He moved one leg around her and hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “The only thing you should be sorry for is taking too long to be in my life.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Audrey felt the warmth of his body and her own temperature rise as his crotch pressed against the small of her back.

  “Sure. Let’s see, the first time I saw you three years ago to the first time you kissed me a week and a half ago. I think you have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “You were dating back then. What was her name, the blonde pygmy?”

  “She was five-four.”

  “And you’re what? Six-two? She looked like your personal stool.”

  “No matter, I’ve always thought of you.”

  “Whatever, Casanova, I am not a home wrecker,” she said with feigned indignation. He tickled her, she squealed and turned around, pressing her body against him. One thing led to another.

  • • •

  Forty-five minutes later, she was still thinking about the day they met. The band was playing in Michigan and she’d driven there to see Matt for the first time since they were children. She had felt immediately attracted to John. He was tall with wide shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, and a sculptured face with strong cheekbones and contoured mouth. He wasn’t a boyish male-model kind of beauty; his rugged looks screamed untaught confidence. They’d barely talked that night. She was there to catch up with an old friend and the rest of the band was very occupied with the swarm of girls that circled around them, including the blonde pigmy. Audrey had toasted with them: tequila and a lime wedge. Life was good.

  “My heart stopped when I saw you, but Matt — ”

  “He is like my brother.”

  “I didn’t know that. Besides, he didn’t talk about you like a brother.” They lay sideways on the bed facing each other.

  “Because he is a guy, and that’s what guys do. Did you know we kissed?” She bit her lips and watched John’s eyes widen. “We were eleven. Playing spin-the-bottle. We didn’t open our mouths but when his lips got really close to mine, he exhaled profusely. I think he was so surprised the moment we were told we had to kiss, he held this breath and forgot about it until he was right in my face. It was awkward between us until the end of the school year.” Audrey stared at John with fascinated curiosity. “But, uh, I’m pretty sure we were each other’s first kiss.” She giggled.

  He turned on his back. “Great.”

  “But … .” She stretched her hand and twirled a finger in a curl of hair below his navel. “I’m pretty sure you can be my last.”

  • • •

  Later, the band, Rob, Audrey, and Bill had dinner together at the hotel’s restaurant. It was exceptionally awkward for her. Bill watched her and John closely, as if he was playing a Jenga game, except he searched for the exact piece to remove so the tower would topple down on itself.

  Kevin was trying to be his old I-don’t-have-a-care-in-the-world self, but he was uncharacteristically quiet. Being removed from center stage was not the way he dreamed of recording their first hit. They didn’t talk much about work and everyone went their separate ways right after dessert.

  The night was clear and warm, so she and John decided to go for a stroll. They walked together, his arm on her shoulders and hers on his waist, and talked about how they’d come to know Austin. He had gone to Willie’s Nelson Fourth of July picnic in 2000 and she had an aunt from her father’s side who lived in Round Rock just north of the city.

  “So I’ve been thinking,” she said.

  “Hm?”

  “Since I’m already down here, I could spend a few days with my aunt.” Audrey planned to stay with her if the band was diverted from its original route the day after tomorrow.

  “But we’re most likely leaving the day after tomorrow.” He gave her a concerned glance.

  “The band is leaving, sure, but the tour is over and so is my job … if you can call it that.” She wanted to wait and see what was going to happen with the band, but she also didn’t want to become an imposition.

  “I beg to differ.” They stopped at the corner of the street waiting for the light. He turned to face her. “We need you now more than ever. You can continue to be our photographer. I imagine we’ll need tons of marketing material if we sign a record deal.”

  “The studio will have professionals do that.”

  “You’re a professional.”

  Audrey snorted.

  “The photographs you took are really good and that’s what matters. Besides, what’s professional anyway? You do your job very professionally; you’re a professional.” John looked into her eyes without a hint of irony.

  She let out a soft sigh of defeat. It seemed impossible to say anything that would persuade him to let her go.

  “Everything is going to work out.” He placed his arm back on her shoulder and they crossed the street.

  • • •

  The next day, they met at the studio at nine o’clock in the morning. Glen was scheduled to arrive at ten-thirty and the band wanted to rehearse before he arrived. John would not leave the hotel without Audrey who, in spite of herself, joined him and taking her laptop, figured she could answer the band’s emails and edit her photographs. The bagels, fruit and cheese platters, and plenty of coffee were a firm indication they had a long day ahead of them.

  She showed Bill her photographs while the band rehearsed in the sound room. Before the slide show she’d prepared was over, he got up from his chair and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “I must thank you for ‘North Star’.” He sat on a big chair about five feet behind her.

  “Well
, you don’t have to thank me for that. I didn’t write it.”

  “But without you, it would never exist.” He sipped his coffee. “And now, because of the wonders of Internet, you’re attached to it forever.” She guessed the grim tone in his voice was a firm indication of how he felt about her relationship with John.

  “I don’t follow you. It’s just a song.”

  “No, my dear, it’s not. It would be if three million people hadn’t watched him singing it to you. If they hadn’t seen his face and your tears. Walking off the stage and kiss? Classic!” He finished his coffee and tossed the cup in the trash like a basketball.

  “And this is a problem why?”

  “Because this song is only good as long as you two are together.” He stood up and started to walk toward the door. She could hear men talking on the other side; it seemed Glen Ballard and the Atlantis Records’ executive had arrived.

  On his way to the door Bill stopped beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “And we all know how long relationships last nowadays, especially the ones involving rock stars and groupies.”

  Her blood boiled and outrage surged in her veins, but before she could open her mouth he was shaking Glen Ballard’s hands and smiling like an orphan who had just been adopted.

  The band came out from the sound room and introductions took place by the food table. Glen wore khakis and a navy V-neck sweater. He was incredibly tall and bulky, like an antique wooden wardrobe. He introduced himself to everyone with a deep voice that rumbled at each handshake. The executive’s name was Tim Stein, and he spoke very softly in comparison to Glen, more of a joy-of-painting kind of guy than an executive from the brutal music industry. Bill followed him around throughout the day, a purring kitty cat.

  “So, you’re ‘North Star’.” Glen held Audrey’s fingers lightly.

  “Hardly.” She ran her other hand through her hair.

  He kissed her hand, walked toward John, and asked, “Do you know why this song — and video — is such a hit?

  John looked at Audrey, but before he could say anything, Glen continued, “Because it was sincere and heartfelt, just a boy telling a girl how he felt. I wish I had thought about that.” A communal laugh swept the room. “But I didn’t and I don’t believe you did either until you were up there doing it.” He looked at John. “Just a boy and a girl.” His voice faded out like the end of a CD track. Then he clapped his hands together and said. “So, where do we start?”