Double Minds (24 page)
Authors: Terri Blackstock
When the concert ended and the crowd thinned out, and she’d sold all the CDs she was going to sell, Parker helped her mother pack up the boxes. When Gibson showed back up at the table and told her they hadn’t been able to find Mick, she decided to venture back to her dressing room to get her things. Gibson went with her, eyes scanning the dark corners, his gun tucked into his jeans under his untucked shirt.
“I’m sure I made a mistake,” she said. “He wouldn’t come here. I’m just jumpy, that’s all. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Yes, you should have. You did the right thing. If it had been him, we might have caught him. I’m still not convinced you didn’t see him.”
She went into her dressing room, gathered her things, and loaded them into a duffel bag. She slung the bag over her shoulder. “What about your guitars?”
Gibson shook his head. “We’ll get them after we help break down the set. Just leave them here for now. Listen, I don’t want you and Mom alone. Ride the shuttle bus back to the hotel.” He opened the door and looked out into the hall. “Daniel.”
Parker looked past him and saw Daniel Walker coming toward them, guitar case in hand. “There you are,” he said when he saw her. “My favorite part of the concert.”
She managed a smile. “Your favorite part? Don’t lie, Daniel.”
“I’m not lying,” he said with a laugh. “There’s something about the way you perform. You can just feel the Holy Spirit all over the place. I hope you sold a ton of CDs.”
Warmth flushed through her face. “I sold a few. I was a little distracted, though, because right after I performed I thought I saw Mick Evans in the crowd.” She told him about her close encounter.
Daniel looked concerned. “Serene wanted me to ask you to come to her dressing room. But if you want to get out of here, I can tell her you had to leave. She was crying, though, so it must be kind of important.”
“Crying? You don’t know why?”
“No. She was talking to Butch and Jeff Standard, so I guess it could have been anything.”
Parker glanced at Gibson. “Guess I’d better go see what it is.”
“We’ll walk with you,” Gibson said.
Daniel walked beside them as they headed back to Serene’s dressing room. When she reached it, she saw Jeff Standard and Butch standing outside it, talking to several other men she didn’t know. None of them looked her way. She reached the door and gave her familiar knock, and heard Serene call, “Come in.”
She opened the door and leaned in. “Hey, it’s me. The show was fabulous.
“Parker, I have to talk to you.” Daniel was right. Serene had tears on her face, mascara dripping like some teenaged Goth. “Come in and close the door.”
Parker glanced back at Daniel and Gibson. Frowning, Gibson said, “I’ll wait here for you.”
“Me, too,” Daniel said.
She stepped inside and closed the door. “What’s wrong? Didn’t Jeff like the concert?”
Serene ripped a tissue out of its box, dabbed at her eyes. “Yeah, he liked it. It’s just … he wants to make some changes.”
Parker’s throat tightened like a fist.
“Parker, this is hard.”
She could already guess what the change would be. “Tell me.”
“Oh, Parker, I’m so sorry. He wants you out of the show.”
Was that her heart beating in her ears? Parker tried to breathe. “He just thinks that your part brings the mood down. That it’s too Christian—too serious. He doesn’t get it. He says that your style and mine aren’t compatible.”
Parker finally found her voice. “Not compatible? I wrote your songs. That’s not compatible?”
“I know. I told him that it was a worship thing, the mood that you bring, but he’s not a Chris Christian. That doesn’t even make sense to him.”
“But don’t you get any say at all?”
“No, I don’t.” She sucked in a sob. “You don’t argue with him. My contract gives him a lot of authority.”
Bottle rockets seemed to flare in Parker’s head. “So that’s it? I’m out, just like that?”
“Please don’t hate me.”
She couldn’t hear her heart anymore, and her lungs were shut tight. She’d spent her mother’s money … her grandmother’s property had been sold. There was no way to recoup that investment if she didn’t finish the tour and sell out of her CDs …
Her dreams of a record deal spun to the earth. She could almost hear them splat. Parker felt the blood draining from her face, pooling down in her fingertips, her toes. “I don’t care what your stupid contract says. You should have fought for me. He’s not going to cancel the tour over it. He has too much invested.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Serene grabbed another tissue. “Walk? Threaten him? My career’s on the line. I have to do what he says.” She pressed the tissues against her eyes. “I was so up after the concert. It was so great. I thought it had gone off perfectly. And then this.”
Did Serene expect her to comfort her? Setting he jaw, she went to Serene’s chair, leaned over it. “You can’t do this to me. Do you know how much money I’ve invested? I pressed enough CDs for the whole tour. If I don’t have the opportunity to sell them, I’m sunk. What about the contract you have with
me?
”
“There was an escape clause, Parker. It said that you were on the tour unless things didn’t work out—”
“They
did
work out.”
“Jeff doesn’t think so.”
Parker hated the tears rushing to her eyes. She pursed her lips, trying not to blubber like a child. How would she tell her family?
“I told him it would ruin our friendship. He didn’t care.”
“And you didn’t care, either?”
Serene grabbed her hands. “It won’t, will it, Parker? If I succeed, you will, too, as my songwriter.”
Parker jerked away from her. “It wasn’t about fame, Serene!” But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. It was all about fame. Parker wanted to follow Serene’s rising star. She wanted to be one, too.
“If you need a loan to pay all this back, I’ll help.”
Now she offered. Where had she been before? If Serene had invested her own money in Parker’s part of the tour, this wouldn’t be happening. “I don’t want your money!” she shouted. “I want you to honor your commitment. I signed a contract, trusting you. I rewrote the songs! My brothers took leaves from work. My mother gave me all her savings!”
A knock sounded on the door, and Parker wanted to scream that they were busy, to leave them alone. They had things to work out.
But she was kidding herself. Nothing was going to be worked out. Serene was cutting her loose. It was a done deal. They might as well end this conversation with an interruption, rather than an explosion.
She went to the door, flung it open.
Butch stood there with a copy of
the New York Times
, opened to Nigel Hughes’s column. A picture of Serene in her hospital bed, with Parker beside her, filled the top half of the page. Butch’s over-whiteteeth were set together. “Why wasn’t I told about this?”
Parker had nothing to say to him. She bit her lip so hard she thought it might bleed.
“Oh, no.” Serene took the newspaper and read the headline. “Anorexic Chris Christian Star Serene Stevens Collapses.”
Parker couldn’t help the spontaneous indignation firing in her chest at Nigel’s audacity. But then a small, distant voice whispered that Serene deserved it.
Anger propelled her out of the room.
Daniel was waiting, a look of concern on his face. Gibson was gone. “Everything okay?” Daniel asked.
She didn’t want him to see her cry. “Did you know about this?” “About the article? No, I just saw it when someone brought it to Jeff.”
She stormed up the hall. “Not the article. The tour!”
He was right behind her. “What about it?”
He would know soon enough. The whole world would know. The humiliation would bleed far and wide. She swung around to face him. “I got cut from the tour.”
His jaw dropped. “No way! Why?”
“I’m not good enough,” she said through her tears. “I’m bringing the crowd down. Jeff Standard hates me.” Her voice broke and she swallowed. “Where’s Gibson?”
“Talking to the stage manager. He’s decided not to help with the set tonight. He’s afraid to leave you alone.”
More breached contracts. She wanted to get out of here but didn’t dare leave without Gibson’s protection. “I have to finish helpingmy mom pack up the CDs.” She sniffed. “Maybe we should just leave them. Maybe the janitorial staff will enjoy them.” What would she ever do with that many CDs she couldn’t sell? All the money spent …
Daniel touched her arm and stopped her. “Parker, what happened? What did she say?”
“I told you.”
“That Jeff hates you? That’s impossible. You were phenomenal. I wasn’t just saying that.”
“What Jeff thinks is all that matters. He’s calling the shots now. Some guy who doesn’t understand a thing about glorifying or praising God. How ironic that he’d sign a Chris Christian star and then make judgments about the spiritual content of her show!”
She didn’t want to be near him with tears staining her face. Her mascara was probably smeared like Serene’s. That’s what she got for wearing so much makeup, thinking she was somebody. Why had she ever wanted to put herself out there for everyone to judge?
“Where is Gibson?” she cried as she headed back for the stage area. “I just want to go back to the hotel and be alone.”
Daniel grabbed her arm again. “Stop and sit down here with me, please. I just want to pray with you, all right?”
She paused and dug into her bag for something to wipe her face with. She found the T-shirt she’d worn over to the Coliseum today. She used it to wipe the black under her eyes, then her nose, then her cheeks …
“All right,” she said. “Just … let me go into the bathroom for a minute.”
He checked out the restroom before letting her go in, then he waited outside the door. She went in and stood in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection. She looked like a vampire. She hated the sight of the smeared mascara and thick matte makeup. She filled the sink with water and bent over it, allowing herself one last, good cry. Then trying to pull it back in, she washed her face.
Daniel was outside waiting for her, waiting to pray. Even now, he was probably praying. Why couldn’t everyone on the tour be like him?
She washed off her tears and told herself to stop crying. She didn’t want Daniel to remember her self-pity.
Daniel was still quietly waiting when she came back out. Gibson, who’d probably expected her to spend more time with Serene, wasn’t back yet. Daniel pulled her into a corner in the backstage area, where two folding chairs sat catty-cornered. She sat down with him, arms folded on her knees. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine, Daniel. I know you’re tired. I just needed a good cry, but I’m over it now. Time to move on.”
“You have every right to cry.” He took her hand, laced his fingers through hers, and began to pray without a prelude or a note of warning. As he talked to God about her situation, she found her sadness pinching her face again. She fought to hold back another meltdown.
He asked God to help her with her sorrow, to lift her spirits, to remind her that it wasn’t over, that there was still a plan. He asked him to do his perfect will in her life. When he finally ended the prayer, she was a wreck.
He handed her a handkerchief. She looked down at it, hating to mess it up. “I didn’t know guys still carried handkerchiefs.”
“Helps on stage under those bulbs. Can’t have sweat dripping into our eyes. That one’s clean, though.”
She smiled and looked down at it. “I wasn’t worried that it was used.” She blotted her eyes again, saw more black. How much of that stuff had she caked on tonight, anyway?
“Parker, this is wrong. They shouldn’t have done that to you.”
She shook her head and stared at the white cloth. “It’s just business.”
“Not good business.”
She breathed a bitter laugh and sat back. “Oh, Daniel. That’s nice of you to say, but I know what you think of my talent.”
His eyes softened. “What do you mean?”
She swallowed the dryness in her throat. “That night I was performing for your group? The night Brenna died … I got the phone call from Gibson and I had to step out. Then I heard you tell the kids that I just slipped away so I wouldn’t get the glory.”
He looked embarrassed. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I remember. I didn’t know you were listening.”
“But I’m not really that pious, and I’m not that selfless.” She smiled and shook her head. “I really wanted the applause.”
He stared at her for a moment, then laughed. “That’s okay. We all want applause. That’s why we perform.”
“Yeah, but I let you go on thinking that was why I left.”
His smile faded. “Well, after the news came out, I figured it out.”
“But the point is that I didn’t even want to set the record straight.”
“You’ve been kind of busy.” He took her hand, held it, looking down at it.
She knew she shouldn’t go further, but she felt the need to unload all her baggage—to lay it down and walk away from it. “That night, I heard you telling them that I didn’t have a voice that could draw crowds.”
“Parker, did you hear the rest of what I said? That you can take your audience right to the throne of God? You did that tonight, too. Who says you don’t have talent? Just because some record executive doesn’t get it, doesn’t mean you’re not gifted.”
She fingered the handkerchief. “I went with Serene to the hair dresser one day and watched how they pampered and fawned all over her. I thought, Someday I’ll have that, too. How stupid.”
“I don’t believe that’s what it was about for you,” he said. “I’ve seen you worship with your songs. God smiles when you write, and when you sing.”
She wanted to believe it, but right now her head swirled with humiliation and failure.
“Ready to go, Parker?”
She turned and saw Gibson. “Yeah, guess so.” She’d have to tell him about the tour. Maybe she’d wait and tell him with her family.
She turned back to Daniel. “Thank you, Daniel. I appreciate your waiting with me.”
He clung to her hand a moment longer. “I’ll be praying,” he whispered.
Gibson plugged one ear and tried to hear David Carter’s voice on his cell phone. He was having problems hearing the detective who’d taken over the Evans/Teniere case because the conversation in the adjoining hotel room was getting heated. His family was incensed that Parker had been cut from the tour, but Gibson couldn’t help thinking that it might be a blessing in disguise. With Mick Evans still at large, and Parker’s possible sighting of him tonight, he was glad she wouldn’t be sitting like a piano-playing bull’s-eye at the center of the stage tomorrow.
“We’ve learned some interesting things about Mick Evans’s background,” Carter was saying.
Pete’s voice was rising in the adjoining room. He wasn’t taking Parker’s news well. Gibson went to the door between the rooms and closed it. “I’m listening.”
“We already knew his father left his mother for Tiffany when Mick was seven. Father basically ignored him as he was growing up. Mother struggled. She wasn’t very well educated, married Nathan when she was seventeen and pregnant. She wound up working two jobs to support Mick.”
“But she took Nathan back to court, right? Tried to get more money.”
“And lost the suit. Nathan and the judge were golf buddies. So not too long after, the mother offs herself.”
“Yeah, I know all that. Mick found her.”
“This part you don’t know. His dad’s stuck with little Mick all of a sudden, so he moves him into the mansion, where he lives with Tiffany and the child they had together.”
“Brenna.”
“And apparently Tiffany doesn’t like having him around. So a few weeks later, they pack him up and send him to a boarding school in Colorado.”
Okay, so Mick was a traumatized kid. No excuse. Lots of kids had traumatic lives and didn’t wind up murderers. “But he told me he’s lived with them off and on lately. He works with his dad.”
“Yeah, after he graduated from college with a 4.0, his dad let him come home. Put him to work in his record company. But we’ve interviewed his friends and coworkers, and they all say that it was no secret that Mick and Tiffany didn’t get along. And he was hardly on speaking terms with his sister. He hated her, and the feeling was mutual.”
Gibson ran all that through his mind. It was helpful. Maybe now that Tiffany and Brenna were dead, Mick had no further agenda involving Parker. For the thousandth time since Parker had alerted him, Gibson wondered whether he was making too much of this.
Gibson lowered his voice. “Can you think of
any
reason he’d be following this tour?”
“Not unless he has some kind of vendetta against your sister. We know her house was broken into, and that he was following her. And that he’s probably the one who called her.”
None of it made sense. The man who called Parker from the pay phone had promised to protect her. And the person who broke in hadn’t stolen anything; instead, he’d left the song sheets. In hindsight, it was clear he’d been warning her about the stolen song, before anyone else even knew it had been taken.
“I’ll keep you informed, but you do the same,” he said. “No kidding. I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”
“My guess is that he’s still in Nashville somewhere, James. Don’t sweat it. He wouldn’t put himself out there like that.”
Gibson hung up the phone and sat on the bed for a moment, staring into space.
God, please let that be true
.
He heard his dad’s voice booming through the wall. He had to get back in there. He opened the adjoining door and leaned in. Parker was hunched on one of the beds, arms around her knees. Lynn sat on the edge of the other one. Pete and LesPaul were standing.
“What hotel is Jeff Standard staying in?” Pete bellowed.
“You can’t go to his hotel!” Parker cried.
“Yes, I can, and I will!”
LesPaul looked ready to punch someone, himself. “Dad’s right. At least maybe we could recoup the money invested in this tour. Or scare Standard into putting Parker back into the concerts.”
Parker covered her face. “I don’t want to force my way onto that stage. That’s not how it was supposed to be!”
“You rewrote your songs because she promised you this spot,” LesPaul said.
“Maybe that’s where I went wrong. Maybe I just sold out.”
Lynn got up and came to sit next to her. “Honey, you didn’t sell out. You have a dream. You thought God was making it happen. We all did.”
“We thought wrong.”
“No, we didn’t. You heard the people who bought your CDs for the last two nights. You drew them closer to God, they said. And if all the money we spent was to impact one person that way, then it was money well spent.”
“What a crock.” Pete set his hands on his hips. “Lynn, you’re killing me.”
“It’s true, Pete. Music has power to impact people—I don’t have to tell you that. To draw them closer to God. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel the Holy Spirit when you were playing with her onstage.”
Pete looked at Parker, and his face changed. “No, I felt something. It was emotional, all right.”
Quiet settled over the room as everyone absorbed Pete’s admission. Gibson wondered if this disappointment would be enough to send his dad back to the bottle. He crossed the room and looked out the window. The parking lot wasn’t well lit. Anybody could be out there.
“I’m so sorry, guys,” Parker said. “You did so much to help me get ready. You put your own work, your whole lives, on hold. I wouldn’t have asked any of it if I’d known it was going to turn out like this.”
LesPaul’s voice was softer as he answered. “How could you know? Come on, Parks. Nobody could have anticipated this.”
“I should have,” she said. “I know I’m not the best performer in the world. I’m no Serene. I thought maybe my voice was unique enough that I could pull it off.”
“You did pull it off,” LesPaul said.
“You sure as blazes did,” their father echoed. He sat down beside her, touched her knee. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, sweetheart. I’ve given this a lot of thought. You’ve got to go country with some of these songs. Jesus gets good airplay on country stations. That’ll get you into some venues that you haven’t thought of.”
Gibson’s jaw dropped, and he looked at his sister. She unfolded from her knot, stretched her legs out in front of her. “Venues like honky tonks and mud races, with a few churches in between?”
“Parker, I’m not kidding.”
Parker had the grace to smile. “Dad, I’m a Chris Christian songwriter. I’m not changing.” She sighed and grabbed the remote, turned on the television.
Mick Evans’s face filled the screen.
The sight of him seemed to suck the air from the room, as Nancy Grace spoke of the search for the “person of interest” in Tiffany Te-niere’smurder.
“What did you find out, Gibson?” Pete asked.
He shrugged. “They don’t have any reason to believe he’s here in Jackson. Carter thinks he’s probably still in Nashville, hiding somewhere.”
“I sure hope so,” Lynn said. “So what about tomorrow? We’re going home, right?”
LesPaul shook his head. “Mom, I can’t go home. I have a contract to help with the set.”
“Surely you can’t be expected to fulfill that when your sister was booted off the tour.”
“I will be. They need both Gibson and me. I doubt seriously that Standard pulled the set designer in on the decision about Parker. He’s counting on us. I don’t want to be known as somebody who doesn’t keep his word.”
Gibson agreed. “We can tell him tomorrow that we need to quit, and we’ll be close enough to Nashville for him to get replacements. But it would be bad business to leave him holding the bag.”
“I don’t want to pay for another night in a hotel,” Parker said, “but I sure don’t want to go to the coliseum and sit through the concert. It’s humiliating.”
“We’ll put it on my credit card, sweetie,” Lynn offered. “Your dad and I will stay behind with you, and we’ll wait for Gibson and LesPaul. Then we’ll all head back to Nashville after the concert.”
