One Hit Wonder Read online

  All Audrey could think was during the time Ellen had spent asking her irrelevant questions the band could have played at least another song. Although the boys seemed satisfied with the outcome of their first national television interview, in her heart Audrey knew this kind of attention meant trouble.

  Chapter 13

  Their TV appearance was quickly followed by the release of “North Star’s” music video, and it propelled the band to instantaneous stardom. In light of their success, Atlantis signed the band and their first CD was to be released soon. Bill took them to a dealership to celebrate; as a perk, Atlantis had leased cars for everyone. The very sweet American dream — at least, the bit about material prosperity.

  “Me, too?” Audrey asked as the salesman led them through the lot and asked her if she liked any of the cars she saw.

  “It has been already arranged,” Bill said sourly.

  John gave her an endearing smile and the thought of him making requests to anyone on her behalf gave her a pang of chagrin; especially to Bill, who had made clear she was no more than a groupie. Kevin, Tyler, and Matt ran between the rows of sports cars, spotless and incredibly shiny as if a washing crew had just left the lot.

  “John, I’m not sure about this.” Audrey told him when he followed her toward the less glamorous line-up.

  “You can’t survive in L.A. without a car.” He caught up to her and laced his fingers on hers.

  “I don’t feel comfortable. I haven’t earned it.”

  “Earned it? Babe, seriously? Do you feel guilty for accepting a little perk from a multi-million dollar corporation that probably writes it all off in tax deductions?

  “My mother always said it’s better to make your own journey by foot than riding on someone else’s horse.” Audrey chuckled. “It’s a Brazilian thing.”

  “Hmm, interesting.”

  “I grew up watching my mother’s side of the family live in Brazil with so little money and yet they were the happiest people I knew. They didn’t want to buy a newer car every year, or the largest flat screens available, or the biggest house on the block. They were happy with their comfortably restrained life as long as they could spend it together.”

  “It sounds like a utopian society. How about education, careers, uh, the corporate ladder?”

  “All of my three uncles went to college. One is an agronomist and has a farm near my grandfather’s, the other two are business owners. My aunt has a PhD in mathematics, and she teaches at a Federal University. They’re not at all the starved and uneducated aborigines portrayed on the six o’clock world news.”

  “Our media is not the most reliable source for world events, especially the ratings-driven news broadcasting shows.” John pulled Audrey toward a Mercedes SLK and said, “Check this one out.”

  “Absolutely not.” Audrey shook her head, looking at the fiery red convertible with tan leather interior.

  “You would look very sexy driving this.” He pinned her against the car kissing and nibbling at her neck.

  “I love when you do that.” She whispered.

  “How about this?” He bit her earlobe.

  “That too.”

  “And this?” He trailed the side of her neck with his lips and delved his tongue in her ear.

  “Ahem.” Bill cleared his throat from a few feet away. “The boys already made their choice: convertibles.”

  John looked expectantly at Audrey who said, “How about that one?” She pointed at a lonely Toyota Prius sitting on an unpopulated corner.

  They drove to the beach and along the way she parked at a gas station and rode with John to have dinner in Malibu.

  • • •

  The fact that their newfound fans seemed to get much more of a thrill from John’s love life than from the band’s songs didn’t seem to bother anyone but Audrey. Inevitably, she had to accompany them in all their appearances.

  “KYSR wants to interview Audrey, too.” Bill told them one morning. She and Matt had arrived from their run. John was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table, and Kevin and Tyler were still sleeping.

  Surprised, she stopped with a bottle of water midway to her mouth. The room was quiet except for Tyler’s soft snoring coming from the living room. He had been demoted to the couch since Bill had taken his bed for the days he was in L.A., claiming he had back problems.

  “Why?” She looked at Bill.

  “You know why.” He spoke condescendingly.

  Matt sat at the table and picked up the sections of paper John had discarded.

  She looked at John and Matt who were both staring at her, took a big gulp of water, and said, “Look, Bill, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job.”

  Bill was standing in between the kitchen and living room toying with his cell phone, when Audrey’s words sank in, he shifted his weight, disconcerted as if she had cuffed him on the ear.

  “But you have to stop this madness. Get the focus back to the band and leave me out of it.”

  Bill cleared his throat. “Audrey — darling — please know having you involved in the band’s professional engagements is not my preferred marketing strategy.”

  Audrey suppressed a snort. Right, like you ever had a ‘marketing strategy.’

  “Great, then. Just tell KYSR and whoever else asks for me, no.”

  “That’s impossible — unfortunately.”

  “Yes, it’s very possible. I won’t go.” She shrugged.

  “If you don’t go, you’ll give them reasons to inquire about the stability of your relationship, and, potentially, start attracting another kind of attention. Much more unpleasant, I must warn you.” He walked to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup.

  She hated to agree with Bill, but he was right. It was hard to stomach the situation, but it would be harder if she had to deal with gossip about a break-up. She’d have to suck it up. After all, she was living the life most woman would kill for: going to Hollywood parties, hanging out with musicians, and being loved by the man she loved.

  “Don’t worry, pretty soon it will all be in the past and the boys will be able to continue their career without, uh, ‘North Star’s nuisances.” The corner of his lips slightly tweaked upward.

  Did he say what she thought he did? Audrey wanted to knee him on the crotch.

  John stood from his chair and walked toward her, circling his arm around her waist from behind. He kissed her neck, lifted his gaze to meet Bill’s, and asked, “What do you mean?” His face pressed against her head and his arms curled around her like a protective shield.

  “Uh, a second hit will give people something new to talk about it.” Bill gave them his million-dollar smile.

  • • •

  Audrey had continued to work keeping up with their fan mail, but there was no need for a photographer with the band at all times. They spent all day everyday inside the studio working with producers to select songs from their repertoire and composing new ones. And these were just the demos; recording would officially commence only when they had chosen the twelve tracks or so for their album. She felt as useful as a calendar from a previous year.

  Several of her photographs — heavily retouched on Photoshop — made into the publicity package for the band, but she suspected Atlantis was hiring a real photographer for the upcoming CD and eventual tour. Regardless of their decision, she wanted to move on. She needed to learn more to even consider offering her services as a photographer. As a matter of fact, she still wasn’t sure it was what she wanted to do. Until Tuscaloosa, her life had been a boring story unfolding in front of her. She couldn’t wait for everything to fall into place anymore. One thing was clear: she had found John and lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice.

  For self-preservation, she’d never spoken in advance about things she planned to do, she would rather wait until the deed was done. It eliminated unnecessary explanations and unfulfilled expectations. Like bringing a boyfriend home only if they remained together after the novelty of the initial six mont
hs had faded. However, she intended to spend the rest of her life with John, so this was a good chance to exercise sharing her plans with someone before she acted on them.

  “I’m going to visit Edward today.” She told John from the shower while he brushed his teeth.

  “Mm-hmm.” He was swishing mouthwash.

  She cracked the shower curtain open and said, “I want to ask him if I can come over more often…to learn…like an apprenticeship.”

  John turned toward her, his mouth parted slightly by surprise.

  She closed the curtain and said over the shower, “I don’t want to sit at Atlantis all day answering fan mail anymore.” She waited for his response, fighting the urge to look.

  A few moments later, John opened the shower curtain and stepped in. She smiled as he took the soap from her hand.

  “We’ll be performing more very soon, and we’ll need you,” he said, soaping her shoulder, then her back as she turned. “I can talk to Tim. You can do something else.”

  “John, I don’t want you to find me a job.”

  “I know.”

  Taking the soap and switching places with him she said, “I need to find my own way.”

  “I know,” he mumbled, grabbing the bottle of shampoo. “I — I’m just gonna miss you.”

  “I know.” She took the shampoo from his hand.

  He rinsed his hair in silence, then kissed her.

  • • •

  At the studio, Audrey watched Edward and his assistants working on a photo shoot for an upscale clothing catalog. She talked to Janice, his secretary, for a while, and after he called a lunch break she approached him gingerly, almost ashamed to ask.

  “Apprentice?” He snorted it and she wished she hadn’t opened her mouth. “I haven’t heard that in so long. I feel very Da Vinci all of the sudden.”

  Audrey made a mental note not to say that word near him ever again.

  “How about an assistant, Audrey? Part-time. Low pay. Heavy lifting. How does that sound?”

  She swallowed hard and her eyes burned from the imminent tears she hoped to hold back. It was the best news she’d gotten since John had said he loved her.

  “Perfect.” She hugged Edward.

  “You’ll pretty much be carrying equipment around, so don’t hug me just yet.”

  She didn’t care. She was going to be a photographer.

  • • •

  After the band signed the contract, their status as out-of-town artists was revoked and they had to vacate the house. As much as Audrey loved the guys, she longed to have a place just for her and John, where they could walk naked, cook together, and settle into coupledom and domesticity. However, she said nothing. Surprisingly, the suggestion to live separately came from Kevin, who said he wanted to have his own place to escape the artistic influence from the others — especially John — and find himself again. The biggest load of bullshit he had thrown at them yet; but, conflicted herself about what life in L.A. would do to them, she had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Though Matt and Tyler disapproved of the new living arrangements, they were Audrey and John’s biggest supporters. It would also be nice for them to have a place of their own, where no woman would be telling them to pick up after themselves as she did sometimes. The four of them looked at apartments together. Audrey suspected Matt and Tyler had hoped to find two available apartments in the same building complex, and so did she. After looking in North Hollywood, Silver Lake, and Brentwood, she and John settled for a small bungalow in Pasadena; then Matt and Tyler rented a loft a few miles away.

  The Spanish-style bungalow reminded her of the farm house in Brazil, with stained alabaster stucco exterior, red terra-cotta tile roof and a matching color front door. Sunny orange California poppies framed the sides of the stone steps leading to the graceful arched-opening porch. The sun-drenched backyard was landscaped with purple sage, lavender, and more California poppies.

  During the next weeks she and John made the bungalow their own, like a corny television couple who had just moved to their first house. They painted together and ate pizza sitting on the floor in an empty living room.

  “Are you sure about this?” John asked her as he rolled deep burgundy streaks of a color called Vin Rouge on the wall of their master bedroom.

  “It will look good against the white crown moldings and some black and white photography.” She pointed at the walls and described to John where the art would go.

  They bought a few practical pieces of furniture at IKEA: a dinette table with chairs, bar stools for the kitchen counter, a geometric-print futon, pots and pans and a few other essentials. For the rest of the house, they would look for pieces that spoke to them.

  On Saturday mornings, they looked for garage sales and visited antiquaries. The first piece of art they bought for their house, was a sixteen-by-twelve inch vintage illustration of a coffee cup with the words “coffee” and “bottomless cup” at the top and bottom of the image, and a five-cent sign at the bottom right corner. It cost three dollars, but she felt shamelessly happy. It was different from purchasing a futon, pots or pans; they’d bought something with no practical purpose whatsoever, a real indication of their commitment in building their home — their life together.

  • • •

  Kevin had been the biggest rupture to the living organism they had created since she joined the band on tour. He was quickly swept away by the shining lights of Hollywood. He was the first to rent his own place. He knew everybody, went to all the parties, and slept with all the models. Matt and Tyler were able to get a free ride on his wild train for a while, but they couldn’t keep up. Even Tyler, the notorious womanizer, didn’t keep a scoreboard like Kevin’s.

  A few months later, their CD was released and another track did well on the charts. While Atlantis put together a national tour, they’d started to perform locally, with gigs almost weekly. The spotlight shone back on Kevin, whose wild voice, dirty blonde locks, and charismatic personality always caused an enthusiastic uproar on stage. As Bill predicted, a second hit had cast a shadow on “North Stars’s” incidental focus on their love life and John resumed his role as the guitarist. He seemed relieved to be detached from center stage as there were less and less requests for him to sing “North Star.”

  If for the world Kevin was the band’s heart, in reality, John was its liver: filtering the junk into useful stuff for the band and, most importantly, creating the songs which made it all possible.

  “I love your raspy voice. It’s sexy.” She refilled his glass of wine and watched his face change colors, his shyness never ceased to amuse her.

  “I could never do it.” He sipped his wine and flipped over the chicken breasts on the grill. “I like to sing, but what Kevin does is much more than that, it’s a performance. Like acting.”

  “You did great, though.”

  “For one song yes, but imagine an entire concert. I’m sure the audience would get tired of me closing my eyes or staring at nowhere. Kevin engages the audience and more they give him more he gives back.”

  “True. He thrives on attention.”

  Chapter 14

  The job was not as bad as Edward had told her. Sure, there was plenty of heavy lifting, but she could do much more. Photography at Edward’s level had nothing to do with what she’d seen in college, and working in his studio was like being on the set of The Devil Wears Prada: she’d never seen so many wonderful and unwearable clothes. The models seemed like creatures from another planet; incredibly tall — even next to her five-eight — emaciated to the point of tears, and very pale. They would arrive at the studio wearing no make-up, with their hair pulled in high ponytails, holding bottles of water, and talking on their cell phones.

  In the mornings, Edward would huddle with the assistants and talk about the assignment they were about to work on. Then they would set up the lights and backdrop according to his specifications, along with the cameras, lenses, filters, and computers. By the time the shooting was about to
start, the studio looked like Grand Central Station at rush hour with makeup artists, stylists, magazine editors, models, caterers systematically moving through a chaotic pattern.

  Edward taught her about lighting, temperature, white balance and many other singularities of digital photography, such as RAW files. She listened to him as if her life depended on it, and in a way it did. It was the first time she had a chance to learn from a real photographer, and it was Edward McCalman nonetheless. He was coveted by the largest magazines in print, anything from fashion, music, and travel. Other than Annie Leibovitz, one of her favorite contemporary photographers, he was the most popular photographer in fashion, at least on the West Coast. He often worked on locations, and surprisingly the cinematographic work he did with the band’s music video was not the bulk of his business.

  “I have this dinosaur here if you want to play.” He led her into a storage room in the back of the studio and opened a bag with a Zenza Bronica inside.

  “Oh my goodness — the same medium-format camera they had at school. They are great.”

  “Indeed. I quite enjoyed it, but it’s unrealistic for commercial work now. I don’t even have a darkroom anymore. You can rent one; I know an excellent place down Sunset.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure, no problem. I have to go check my schedule with Janine, but feel free to browse here. I’m sure I still have unused film somewhere and I think its tripod is over there.” He pointed to a cluttered corner of the room and left.

  Her voice dropped paradoxically low to the intensity of her awe. “All right.”

  For once, she wasn’t swimming against the current. Immediately, she thought of her mother and wondered if this was what she meant by “let God govern your life,” because she felt none of what was happening in her life could possibly be by her own doing.