Evolution (9 page)

“When you traveled with Wild Park, no one took interest in your group because they assumed you were Saxon’s boy toy. You dropped him fast enough when you met me. You’ve chased me for weeks, not caring what you did to my reputation. The world thinks we’re lovers whether we are or not. They believe you were with Saxon before me, that he was your sugar daddy. Does any of that matter to you?”

“Devon and I never—” He’d never even asked me on a date. I’d always sort of seen him as the older brother I’d never had.

“Doesn’t matter, kid. The world sees what it wants to see.” He picked up his shirt and put it on, leaving his back to me. “You swim in the fishbowl and they craft your life for you.”

I finished dressing, wiping annoying tears from my cheeks. Maybe that’s why Rob kept Devon and I apart. And now Kerstrande, who didn’t like me at all, felt trapped, forced to me by the media. “I’m sorry. All I ever wanted was to sing.” And maybe love a little. Why was that so much to ask? Why wasn’t it okay to just be me?

He stood a few feet away, the light from the lamp shading him with a black silhouette, ominous but beautiful. He was so beautiful it made my heart hurt even more.

“You’re pretty clueless. Probably the best way to become a pop star.” We stood in silence, him refusing to look at me and me moving toward the door. “A crappy way to begin a relationship, though.”

I slid into my shoes. “Can’t have a relationship if it’s only one-sided.” Leaving felt like running, but I had nothing else to do but move forward as I always did. “Let yourself out, and don’t worry about locking the door. I have nothing valuable to steal.”

He said nothing as I left. I trudged down the stairs, feeling four hundred pounds heavier and terrified of the one thing that had never scared me before—being alone. How could I have grown accustomed to having him around so quickly? What if the studio didn’t want me anymore, since I was obviously not willing to be quiet about my homosexuality? What if the guys didn’t want me in the band now? What else could I do with my life? How alone would I be without the band, the music, and Kerstrande?

Arriving at the studio didn’t lighten my mood. Rob didn’t remark about the tear-stains on my face. Joel just gave me a hug and an ice cream sandwich. I worked hard, sang what they told me to, and pretended the world didn’t exist outside the music. It worked for a while. Devon called at lunch to ask me to dinner. I wondered if it would have been a date and why I’d never seen him like that. But I did turn him down and texted Cris instead, who immediately seemed to sense a change even from a text message. I had to put him off until later, though he kept pinging my phone.

Mr. Tokie pulled me aside just before it was time to go and gave me a note. It read:

Have a nice life, pop star.

Kerstrande Petterson

The words took a few minutes to sink in. Though it was written on REA letterhead, I knew his writing. Had I really messed up or what? Maybe if I’d called him, apologized for leaving in a huff. I dunno. So this was it? The end of whatever Kerstrande and I could have built felt a lot like my heart breaking. Pain walloped my chest, and I struggled not to fall to the floor in a heap of quivering tears. Not like I hadn’t seen it coming.

“You worked hard today. Exceptionally well. I suspect your distractions of late have been due to young Mr. Petterson. Now that we’ve remedied that situation, I expect your performance to continue to improve.” Mr. Tokie adjusted his glasses again. He stared down at me with open dislike. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning.” He motioned me to the door.

I left in somewhat of a daze, managing to find my way out of the building and to my car without tripping down the stairs or anything. My dirt-covered Honda laughed at me as I got in and headed to the other job. I worked until 1:00 a.m. on autopilot, then went to Cris’s feeling like I could purge Kerstrande from my system by using my friend’s generosity and kindness.

When I arrived at his loft, he opened the door wearing nothing but loose running shorts. His mussed-up wet hair meant he’d probably been working out and had just showered, knowing I was arriving soon. His smile made my heart ache and tears stung my sight.

He opened his arms. I threw myself into them and sobbed. “It’s okay, Little One.” His words were soft and comforting.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be.” Cris lead me to his couch, a huge suede monster with cushions soft enough to sleep on, and cradled me in his lap. “You want to talk about it?”

No, but yes. Instead I kissed him. He returned it with his usual skill. Until Kerstrande, I’d never thought anyone could kiss better than Cris, and it wasn’t so much KC’s skill as it was the things I felt for him.

Cris pulled away first, his expression soft and understanding, which just made me cry even harder. I buried my face against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Gene, I knew this day would come eventually.” He held me so tight I wished it had been him that had captured my heart.

I rubbed his stomach. He caught my wrist before I could go lower. “Let me take care of you,” I begged. Maybe it would help me forget.

He shook his head. “Let me just hold you awhile, okay? I think it’s best if I just hold you.”

Tears flooded my sight again, but I nodded and relaxed into his arms.

Cris said nothing when I couldn’t do anything other than cry. He just held me and stroked my hair. For once his peaceful calm did nothing for me. When I finally left at four, he kissed me on the cheek and told me to come to him if I ever needed him for anything. He’d tried to convince me to stay, to sleep, but I couldn’t be a burden to him.

Have a nice life, pop star.

The words stung like nothing else ever had. I parked my car on the street below my apartment and headed upstairs. The bed was made. How clean of him. Bastard. A new TV dinner, a mirror of the one I’d dropped last night, sat on the counter. No note or anything, but then he’d already given me one. A stab of pain lanced my chest again. Damn him.

I shoved the dinner into the freezer, yanked the blankets from the window, and peered into the dark. It was raining. At least I’d made it home before the downpour. The pattering made my place feel smaller, lonelier, and so unforgiving.

This was why people drank and sang about broken hearts. I dug out an old orange notebook. Pages of scribbled lyrics and simple melodies decorated the book. Still a few empty pages in the back waited for pen strokes. The melody I’d been toying with in my head finally had words. I squeezed my emotions onto the paper, like drops of blood escaping with my tears, and prayed sleep would take me before I purged too deep.

Chapter 9

T
HREE
weeks passed with eighteen-hour workdays. I slept little, ate only when I had to, and sang on autopilot. When I did sleep, I had nightmares of the graveyard I’d dreamt of for years. Now it was empty, like sitting in a metal box, so lonely that I avoided sleep as much as I could.

We did tons of interviews and photo shoots for promotion. That Friday we rehearsed in REA’s stage room, which was sorta like a small concert hall with a fully functioning soundstage, a bunch of seats, and really good acoustics. The day had arrived with a slew of groupie hangers-on, all girls, and no word from KC. The fact that I still thought about him constantly was probably why we’d been given the room and told to practice instead of record. Mr. Tokie wanted us to each play our parts and listen for the emotion of the song. All day I’d been listening to the others perform, trying to focus on whatever gave them passion and channel it into myself. I just felt so empty, and my voice sounded just as bad.

In the first row sat three groupies and Joel’s girlfriend, Sarah. She’d been encouraging. Sweet, like a friend’s girl should be. From the stage they all looked pretty starry-eyed to me, and that made my head hurt. What would it have been like to have a guy of my own out there watching and encouraging me? I sucked in a deep breath and cast off the thought. I really didn’t want to disappoint more people. And the crappy way I’d been singing lately, I was sure that’s what would happen, whether or not I flaunted my differences in front of the group.

We finished our last track and jumped off the stage. The girls surrounded us with cheering and high pitched words. “That was great!” a pretty blonde girl told me. She had pink streaks in her hair and a nose ring. Rob had introduced me to her earlier, but I couldn’t remember her name. She clung to my arm and smelled like flowers and candy, which made me sneeze.

“Thanks. Maybe we can play again for you sometime.” Two brunettes hung off Rob’s arms. I wished I could be as comfortable as he was around the girls. The sparkling eyes bothered me more than their “girl parts.” The girl Rob had chosen for me was nice, but I didn’t need a groupie. I just wanted a friend.

“I’d love to hear you sing again. Maybe something abdullah.”

“You mean a cappella? Without instruments?” I asked her. She wasn’t all that bright, and sadly, though I didn’t consider myself that smart, I really wanted someone I could talk to for a while about normal things, like the weather or music.

“That’s it.”

“Okay.”

She sat down in a chair and stared up at me. Did she expect me to sing now? Nothing Evolution played was fit for a cappella. The only song that came to mind was Triple Flight’s “Red Rose.” It reminded me of KC again. I’d studied Michael Shuon, lead singer of TF, as he’d done it improv at three different concerts. Kerstrande stood behind him on the stage, sweating in the spotlight. The haunting wail of his guitar filled the silence when Michael stopped singing. That memory inspired me to open my mouth and sing. Only I made it mine, following that beautiful guitar like I could really hear it.

I sang it for
him
, contrasting notes, extending the range, and playing up the bass in my voice. I poured myself into the song with the same emotion I’d been driving into the pieces that were hidden in my orange notebook. My sanctuary. The pain and the rain, I gave it all to the music and let it run free. This time it was my voice that rang through the room, bouncing from wall to wall, changing the colors of the occupants to gold. My heart lightened. Just a little.

Kerstrande

F
IRST
my sire claims the kid, then the manager, whom I hired, demands I get lost. Not like the kid hadn’t said as much himself. It was just like me to push him away. Probably safer if I left him alone. My sire hadn’t approached him yet, and for that I was grateful. Tokie had always been one to warn the vampires away from his bands. It hadn’t helped Triple Flight, but maybe he could keep it from happening to Evolution.

The rain plummeted to the ground in growing puddles that fueled my anger. I stomped through them like a spoilt child, searching the Park as if I’d find him simpering in the rain. No one played in weather like this. And Genesis hadn’t come back around for days. I’d watched him work himself to the bone at that club, then go home so weary he could barely stand. Saw how other men wanted him, watched him, even tried to touch him. He brushed them all off, only allowing the one named Cris to get through the tight emotional walls he’d erected around himself. But even then, Gene’s light had vanished, his smile didn’t reach his eyes, and when he took a simple hug, he often looked on the verge of tears.

My fault. Just like always. I’d done the same thing to Anya.

Thunder shook the horizon and made my blood boil. The darkness was rising over my sight again. I needed to eat. The world would be clearer if my belly was full. The dull blaze of color from the Park reminded me of dried blood. Tonight, the early darkness had been a blessing, freeing me from the confines of my home long before dark. I’d wasted it griping about the kid. I needed to sink into something, burn off the need. Push the darkness back a little longer.

The sound of women trickled through the rain in the direction of the parking lot. Young heartbeats, and strong, like Genesis.

They hovered near my car, two blondes and a redhead. I liked the variety. My car brought giggles and pointed fingers. No, I wasn’t overcompensating. The wheels were just whatever was popular. An easier way to feed. “It’s fast, but the ride is smooth,” I told the girls, sliding up behind them.

They grouped together nervously but were all smiles. Yeah, that would do. Three had to be enough to override the taste of him. “Want a ride somewhere?”

They exchanged a look, one stepped forward, the other two followed. Safety in numbers, they thought. So easy. I hadn’t even had to press the answer into their heads. The lock clicked under my thumb, and I pulled the door open. They crammed in back. I curled into the front. The need ran off me and into them as naturally as the wind blew. I started the car and headed toward the outskirts of town—my territory. Banished to the middle of nowhere. That sire of mine found it a grand joke. Hunt in a town of thirty-five. I’d rather drive the hour into the city and stalk the Park, which was neutral ground. Thankfully, my retreat had the privacy I required.