More Than Anything (5 page)

We climb into the car, and he points the wheels toward the highway to Lakeport and the curvy pass that almost got the better of Melody last time. When we’re about to begin climbing the grade, I ask my dad to pull over, and we switch seats, Melody taking the front.

“I’ll be fine,” she says, but she looks grateful when I offer.

“No problem. There’s nothing in this world that can make getting the hell out of this town anything but pleasant for me. Do your worst, Dad.”

The drive back to the city takes longer than it did going north. We jump out of the car at Melody’s, my dad with only minutes to spare if he’s going to get the car back in time. I press a hundred-dollar bill into his hand. He tries to refuse, but I’m not having any of it.

“Dad. Seriously. You don’t have time to argue. I want to pay for it. Just take the money.”

“I…thank you, Sage. You don’t have to keep paying for everything,” he says. I covered the motel, too, which barely dented my bankroll. The truth is I’ve hoarded so much from the appearances that I’m flush, and I don’t want my father having to eat dog food for a month so he can play the gracious host. I have no idea how long the good times will last, and I intend to do what I can while I’ve got a few bucks to spare.

“I know. Don’t worry, Dad. Everyone says I’m going to be rich and famous. Don’t sweat a couple days of car rental.”

My cell goes off. New York number. I wave goodbye and promise I’ll call as soon as I get settled in L.A., and then answer it.

It’s Jeremy.

“All right. I have the number of the boarding house he’s staying at, off the island. Someplace in Queens. Yuck. Anyway, you got a pen?”

“Shoot.”

He gives me the number, and I thank him. “You’re the bomb, Jeremy. I’ll get you flowers or a box of chocolates, I swear.”

“I want a duet with the Maroon Five guy. Nothing less will do. You’ve been warned.”

“I’ll see if Saul can make it happen.”

A woman answers the phone when I call the number Jeremy gave me. Derek’s not there, but I manage to convince her to let me leave a message. She repeats my number back to me, getting one of the digits wrong, and I have to give her the whole series again before she gets it right. She grudgingly promises to give Delek, as she pronounces it, the message when she sees him, and I get a sinking feeling. If her aim was to inspire confidence, she failed big time.

Melody and I mount her apartment stairs, and when we get inside, there’s a note from her mom – she’s going to have a few friends over tonight for beer and snacks, and would it be possible if I’d sing a few songs for them? I groan, and Melody rolls her eyes.

“I don’t even have a guitar,” I say. “I left it in New York. I was only supposed to be here for a couple of days…”

“Score. They can’t insist you sing if you don’t have an instrument.” She pauses, thinking. “Unless Samantha comes. She only lives a couple blocks away, and I think she has one. You may be screwed.”

“I can say I have laryngitis.”

“Or the plague.”

“You really think she’ll insist?”

Melody gives me a smile. “I know you don’t drink, but I’d strongly suggest you start. That’s all I’m going to say.”

My phone trills. It’s Saul’s assistant with my flight information for the following day. “We’ll have a driver pick you up. He’ll be waiting in arrivals holding a sign with your name on it. And Saul wanted me to ensure you have time the next day to do some shopping – the awards ceremony starts at six. We’ll have a car get you at five, so you can do some photos on the red carpet. Oh, and you’ll meet Sebastian at one o’clock, so plan on doing the shopping in the morning.”

My words catch in my throat. “Oh, my…what should I get? How formal is this?”

“Don’t worry. You can wear whatever you’re comfortable with. It’s not the Academy Awards or anything. But it might not hurt if you got something like, oh, some leather pants and a cute glittery top. If you like, I can meet you that morning at ten and show you a few places.”

“That would be great. I…I don’t have a driver’s license, so I can’t drive.”

The assistant laughs. “Well, fortunately I do. Ten o’clock. Your flight gets in tomorrow afternoon, and the apartment’s in Westwood Village, so there’s plenty of stuff within walking distance too, if you want to look around on your own first.”

“Apartment?”

“We lease one there from time to time. We have this one for the duration of your stay, so enjoy. Very ritzy.”

“That’s…thank you.”

“No problem. My name’s Ruby. Anything you need, call this number. Anything at all, okay?”

“Thanks, Ruby. I will.”

I hang up and tell Melody everything, and she’s beyond amazed. She looks up Westwood Village on her computer and nods approvingly.

“Very nice. You’re all that, Sage. This is it. You’ll be surrounded by hotties begging you for a little some a that. Derek’s got serious competition with the best Hollywood has to offer.”

I frown. “That’s nice to know.”

“I’ll be happy to come visit you before school starts. I’d do that for you.”

“Not for the Hollywood heartbreakers, right?”

“So suspicious. Not an attractive trait.”

“Hmm.”

My thoughts turn to Derek. I feel like I’m losing control of my life and wonder if it’s worth it to follow my dream. Which wasn’t even my dream in the first place – it was Derek’s. He’s the one with the Elvis tattoo. It was his suggestion to try out for the show. And then I waltzed off with the prize, leaving him crumbs.

How would I feel if our positions were reversed? More importantly, how does that make him feel? It’s got to be eating at him that he didn’t win, and I did.

Then I remember the circumstances – the drunken fight, his broken hand. It wasn’t like I saw an opportunity and went for it. I went to New York to win with Derek. He’s the one that screwed things up. He can’t resent me for that.

But things turned out okay for him. He’s got a record deal. That will be enough to turn his life around, I’m sure. I recognize I’ve been letting my inside voice mess with my head again, and force it back into the dark recesses of my mind, where it will lie in wait for the next moment of weakness.

New York’s three hours ahead of us, so it’s getting late there. I wonder where he is, what he’s doing, how he’s feeling, and in spite of my best efforts, feel another pang of guilt. Melody seems to sense my low mood and breaks out some mini Snickers bars. She knows that like a panda at feeding time, I’m easily distracted. Within minutes my doubts are forgotten in favor of delectable chewy chocolate treats.

The night drags on forever. True to my worst fears, Melody’s mom’s friend runs back to her place for a guitar, and I wind up doing a half-dozen songs for the gang before packing it in. It’s kind of weird to be sitting in a living room with a bunch of adoring middle-aged fans oohing and ahing over your every note. I think until that moment it hadn’t completely dawned on me that I’m a big deal to some people.

When it’s finally over, I check my phone, which I left in the bedroom, and see I missed a call from New York. I hit redial and head to the bathroom, but the phone just rings. Probably a pay phone. I need to convince Derek to get a cell. I’ll gladly pay for it. Just the annoyance factor is more than worth the cost of the phone.

I sleep in fits and starts, and when I wake, it’s to a headache. I try the New York number again, but there’s still no answer, which does nothing to improve my mood. Melody’s got Excedrin in her medicine cabinet, and I dry swallow two before hopping into the shower.

When I emerge, Melody’s sitting up in bed, texting someone. She eyes my wet hair, black jeans, and Harley T-shirt, and shakes her head.

“We need to get you some star-quality threads. That street-guitarist look’s so over.”

“What’s wrong with jeans and a T-shirt?”

“You look like a roadie, not the main attraction.”

Melody favors hip-huggers and hoochie-mama tops, so I’m leery of what she thinks would be a step up, but I agree to do some shopping with her while we’re in the Haight, which has a ton of funky boutiques and second-hand stores. She rinses off while I try the number again, and when it rings endlessly, I command myself to stop dialing it every ten minutes and to wait for Derek’s call.

Melody takes three times longer to get ready than I do. When she announces she’s done, she’s exuding a cloud of floral perfume and wearing a hot pink tube top and low-rise jeans so tight I can make out the mole on her butt. She inspects herself in the mirror with satisfaction and turns to me. “Are you going to dry your hair?”

“Nah. It’ll dry by itself once we’re in the sun.”

“Tell me you at least brushed it.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I suppose that’s a step in the right direction.” She goes to her closet and fishes out an Oakland Raiders baseball cap and tosses it to me. “There’s your disguise.”

“What, my knit cap’s not fashionable enough?”

“I’m going to burn it. It’s gross.”

“No, it’s not. I wash it.”

“Everyone on the street knows that cap, so it’s not much help if you want to go incognito.”

“I seriously doubt I’m going to get mobbed.”

She considers me like I’m from another world. “You really have no idea how big you are, do you?”

I shrug. “Apparently not big enough to get any respect from you.”

“I’m an exception. You don’t want an entourage of suck-ups. More like real friends who’ll arrange for the oil-rubbed shirtless boy toys to follow you around like puppies.”

“I think you’re confusing me with eighties Madonna or maybe Lady Gaga.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

Melody’s mom has already gone to work, so we have the apartment to ourselves. We agree to do my usual routine for old times’ sake – bagel shop, Peaches & Cream for coffee, and then some shopping.

It’s weird how different it all feels now I have some cash in my pocket. I’m wearing new sunglasses I picked up from a street peddler in New York for twelve bucks and Melody’s hat, and I might as well be invisible next to her. She’s like some kind of queen bee who’s backlit by nature’s spotlight, whereas I’m about as high profile as an economy sedan. I’m okay with that, and in fact, it’s a relief that nobody seems to know or care who I am.

Until I see Todd coming out of his doorway, toting his mountain bike, as usual. He does a double take and waits for me, a big stoned smile on his face, his dreadlocks longer than ever.

“Yo, I never thought I’d see you around here again,” he greets me.

“Why not? Best coffee in town,” I say.

“You back for good or passing through?”

“Here for the day. I have to go to L.A.”

“Nice. You got a private jet yet?”

I give him a sidelong glance. “What are you smoking? I won a TV singing contest, not the presidency.”

“Seriously, though. What’s it like? Being all famous?”

“I don’t know. Better than living on the street. But other than that, same ol’.” Which isn’t entirely true. I’ve got a few thousand in my pocket, a car’s picking me up at the airport, and I’m going to be sitting with some of music’s biggest celebs tomorrow night. Whenever I think of it, I get a skitter of nervousness, so my solution is to not think about it.

“It was hella cool to see you representing up there. Nobody else came close. You were the bomb.”

I think about Derek and Jeremy, and how close the contest probably actually was, and smile shyly. Strange as it sounds, I’m almost embarrassed that I won. It doesn’t make any sense. Just like nothing in my life does at the moment.

“Off to work?” I ask, anxious to change the subject.

“Yeah. The packages never stop, you know? Gotta earn my keep.”

“Well, hey. Once I get done recording my stuff, I’ll be back. They say it should only take a couple months. Save me some coffee, would you?” I say, but it sounds kind of fake to me. Will I really be hanging around in the Haight? Or will I be in New York with Derek?

It doesn’t take a crystal ball to know the answer.

“Sure thing, Sage. It’s really good to see you, you know? Glad to hear about someone from the hood making it.” He looks off and then grins as his gaze returns to me. “Can’t be late. Time is money and all that.”

“Bye, Todd,” I say as he swings his leg over the seat and pushes off the sidewalk into a gap between two cars, and then shoots like a hairy cannonball into traffic, seemingly unaware of the near miss with oncoming vehicles that’s his signature move.

We enter Peaches & Cream and order two drip coffees, but this time is different than the last time we were here – two women waiting for their drinks spot me and whisper to each other, and then one starts texting on her phone while the other approaches me.

“Aren’t you…you’re that girl from the show! Sage! It’s you, isn’t it?” she says, overly loudly, and I feel the blood rush to my face.

I look to Melody, but I can see she’s going to be no help at all. I turn to the woman and give her a small smile.

“Yeah. Nice to meet you,” I say, hoping to shut her up, but it’s too late. Now the baristas have stopped what they’re doing and are murmuring to each other, and the other people in line are whispering, some doing their best to ignore me, others gawking like I have two heads.