Strange Girl (29 page)

Aja was walking around our two-room suite, checking out all the nice touches. She’d already eaten the heart-shaped chocolates the maids had left on our pillows and raided the minibar for a ginger ale.

“I want what you want,” she said.

“Gimme a break. You may have the Big Person in your head but I think I know you pretty well by now. You have your likes and dislikes like everyone else.”

Aja stopped to stare at me. “I like what you like. That’s it.”

“Are you saying you honestly don’t have any personal desires?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not true. Those chocolates you just ate—you liked them.”

“I did. They were wonderful.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That I enjoy everything.”

“Every minute of every day?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“But you’re with me. You chose to be with me. Surely you must get at least a little extra pleasure being with me than, say, Mike or Dale.”

“I love being with you. I love you.”

She had never told me that before. It was silly how much the three little words meant to me. Or maybe it wasn’t so silly. Every poet, every songwriter in history, was forever trying to convey how magical those words could be. I shouldn’t have been surprised when my heart beat faster.

But I was surprised I’d never said the words to her.

“I love you,” I said.

She smiled. “That makes me happy.”

I should have quit while I was ahead.

“But my question remains—do I make you happier than you usually are?”

Aja shook her head. “I can’t answer that question. It has no meaning to me. I . . .” She struggled for words. “There is no Aja. How can there be when I don’t have an ‘I’?”

“You have no individuality at all?”

“Not as you understand it.”

“But you’ve said that at certain times, like when you healed Mike, you acted as an individual. That’s why you got sick.”

“For moments, especially when I’m with you, I’m not just the Big Person. But even if a glimpse of what it means to be ‘Fred’s girlfriend’ comes, the Big Person still dominates.” She stopped. “I’m sorry. I’ve upset you.”

“No,” I lied. She loved me, great, but she didn’t exist, not as a human being. How was I supposed to take that? “It’s just hard to imagine what it’s like being you. Can you describe your moment-to-moment state? In a way a Little Person like me can understand?”

She considered before switching to a wicked smile. She pointed to the suite’s bathtub. It wasn’t technically a Jacuzzi but it was big enough to fit several couples and it had water jets.

“Later,” she said. “I’m having one of those ‘Fred’s girlfriend’ moments. Let’s take advantage of it.”

• • •

Hours later, after we’d made love, ordered room service, eaten more than our fill, we lay in bed watching a movie neither of us cared about. It was then my cell rang. It was Janet; I wasn’t surprised. I’d called earlier and left a message on her voice mail:
“I know what Bo did.”

“So Aja couldn’t keep her mouth shut,” Janet said. “I should have known she’d talk.”

“Aja never said a word. I figured it out on my own.”

“Right. After all these years you suddenly had a flash of inspiration.”

“Talk to Bo if you don’t believe me.”

Janet snickered. “That ain’t going to happen.”

I sat up in bed, Aja watching me.

“Are you saying you’re not coming back?” I asked.

Janet was a long time answering. “I can’t.”

“That’s crazy. You’ve got to finish out the school year. You can stay at my house. My parents would love to have you.”

Again, she took forever to respond. “No. Then everyone would know. And that’s the last thing . . .” She struggled to speak. “I hate that you know. I hate how you must see me now.”

“Janet, you did nothing wrong.”

“Didn’t I?”

“Janet . . .”

“I have to go. I’ll call you.”

“Wait!”

She hung up. Feeling sad, I tossed my cell aside. “I know you have a strict privacy policy when it comes to those who come to you for help. But since I already know what’s hurting Janet I was wondering if we could talk about it.”

Aja took my hand. “You feel for her.”

“What I feel like is a fool. That Bo sexually molested her and I didn’t know. Especially when all the signs were right in front of me.”

“It happened when she was young.”

I felt awkward. “Do you know exactly what happened?”

“Yes.”

“Did she tell you or do you . . . just know?”

“I just know.”

I shook my head. “Damn that Bo. Walking around like he’s the greatest dad in the world. Like nothing in the world means more to him than his daughter. I can’t believe I fell for his act.”

“It wasn’t an act. He loves her.”

“How can you say that? Do you know what that kind of abuse can do? It can wreck a person for life.” I stopped. “I feel like killing him. I’m not joking—I’ve been thinking about it. Sneaking into his house at night, knocking him out, driving him out to the country, burying him alive. Pretty sick, huh?”

“You’re not a violent person.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that.”

“Hurting Bo won’t help Janet.”

I looked at her. “Can you help her?”

“Not now.”

“Why not?”

“She doesn’t want my help.”

“I thought that’s why she spoke to you about her father.”

“It was.”

“Oh, I get it. Janet was too proud to ask for your help. That’s no surprise.”

“No. She asked.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Aja squeezed my hand. “Words cannot heal Janet.”

“Can the Big Person?”

Naturally, I waited for Aja to say yes. Hadn’t she told us again and again the Big Person could do anything? But she remained silent.

• • •

Paradise Records sent a limo to pick us up. Their headquarters were in Beverly Hills, fifteen minutes from the hotel. A pretty blonde met us at the entrance and escorted us to Richard Gratter’s office—a corner suite with floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a clear day and we could see the ocean.

The boss kept us waiting. But he sent along two VPs to keep us from bolting: Marc Kroff, who was in charge of marketing; and Jimmy Hurt, who focused on finding new talent. Jimmy told me at the start he’d loved my demo and the footage of Half Life playing at the Roadhouse.

“The sound quality wasn’t very good on the video,” I said.

“Who gives a damn about that?” Jimmy said. “You had the audience eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Thanks. Our band is pretty tight.”

“Your band is okay and they’ll always be only okay,” Marc said. “It’s important you understand that up front. You have the voice, you have the looks. And it’s our understanding you write all the original material you play?”

So much for Paradise signing the whole band.

“That’s true.” I fiddled nervously with the jump drive in my hands. “I brought a new demo. I improved the first three songs and added a fourth.”

“Save it for when Richard gets here,” Jimmy said.

“Did he hear the original demo?” I asked lamely.

Marc smiled. “I can say yes if that will help you relax.”

Richard—Mr. Gratter—walked in half an hour later. Because he’d been close to Clara and her husband, I’d assumed he’d be old. But he appeared to be an incredibly fit fifty. His brown hair was long and stringy with streaks of gray. He wore his shirt open to show off his Hollywood tan; it looked like he’d gotten it during a partial eclipse. He had a friendly smile but his gray eyes were as cold as coins. He said all the right things but I could tell he was a bottom-line kind of guy. If I signed a deal with his company and didn’t make money on my first record there wouldn’t be a second one.

“I hear you have a demo,” Richard said finally, settling into a seat behind a huge desk. “How long is it?”

I stood and handed it over. “Sixteen minutes, four songs. The last one might be the strongest.”

“Why didn’t you put it first?” Jimmy asked.

“Because I’m from South Dakota,” I said.

The three of them thought that was funny and laughed. Richard slipped the jump drive into his computer and turned up the volume. The demo started with “Rose,” which had always been a favorite with our audiences. It was a basic love song about a guy who’s getting rejected. As it played, none of the executives looked too impressed.

The next two numbers were rock ballads. They started with me on acoustic guitar before the drums and electric guitars upped the amps. By the time song number three was done I knew I was finished. Richard was staring out the window and Jimmy and Marc were looking anywhere but at me. It didn’t matter if the two VPs liked the demo. If their boss didn’t, I was out the door. The only ammunition I had left was “Strange Girl.” I closed my eyes as it started to play. I felt sick to my stomach.

Strange girl

Where did you come from?

Where have you been?

Strange one

You’re so full of secrets

I can’t see within

Strange girl

You move so softly

Across the stage

My eyes can’t leave you

I’m hiding backstage

You’re a closed book

I can’t read a page

Strange girl

Where did you come from?

Where have you been?

Strange one

You’re so full of secrets

I can’t see within

Girl, it’s okay

If I can’t solve your riddle

As long as you stay

My heart feels troubled

You’re slipping away

Strange girl

I’m just your lover

Who’ll never discover

What you keep covered

Hidden inside . . .

The song ended and the room was silent. Aja nudged me and I opened my eyes. Jimmy and Marc were smiling. Richard was still staring at the sea but slowly he turned his chair in my direction and I saw he was laughing.

“Shit! That was brilliant,” Richard said.

I shrugged. “I like to think so.”

Richard leaped from his chair. He began to pace. “I want to get that song out before Christmas season. I can put you with a young producer Jimmy found. The guy’s a genius—he’ll get what you’re doing. Name’s—what’s his name?”

“Ralph Varanda,” Jimmy said.

“Yeah, Ralph,” Richard said. “He’ll rework your song a million different ways but don’t let that scare you. The guy’s obsessed with having tons of shit to mix. It’s just a process he goes through.” He paused. “You got an agent? A lawyer?”

“No.” I patted Aja’s arm. “But I’ve got a cool girlfriend.”

Richard liked that. For the first time he checked Aja out. “I bet you’re the one who inspired that song.”

Aja smiled but didn’t reply.

Richard frowned on top of his smile. “Hey, you look familiar. Wait, you’re not that chick they’re talking about on YouTube? The sexy healer?”

“This is her,” I said. “She’s a strange girl.”

Richard stabbed a finger toward us. “Perfect! We’ll put her in the video with you. We’ll have her heal someone on camera. The public will love it.”

I frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Richard said.

“Aja, she’s kind of shy,” I said.

Richard studied Aja. “Think about it,” he said.

“I don’t—” I began.

Marc stepped forward, interrupting. “Fred, for us to do a deal fast you need to get representation. I can recommend a dozen agents you can speak to. Just be sure to choose the one you trust the most. And we’ll need you back here within ten days. Ralph has a break then. It’ll be a perfect time to put you two together in the studio. How does that sound?”

I stood, pulling Aja to her feet.

“It sounds wonderful,” I said.

• • •

That night, an hour after turning out the lights in our hotel room, I found myself sitting in a chair by the window looking out at the city lights. Except for a trip to Honolulu with my parents when I was a kid, I’d never been to a major city before. The size of LA staggered me, and the fact that it was after midnight and the streets were still busy with cars and pedestrians. Back home, even on the weekends, it was hard to buy a cup of coffee after eleven.

Of course I gazed at LA with rose-colored glasses. I’d just arrived and already it was offering to make me a star. It seemed too good to be true, which made me worry that it wasn’t true. I knew enough about the business to know that even if Paradise Records recorded “Strange Girl” and brought it out right away there was no guarantee it would hit the charts and change my life. Ninety percent of songs died the week they were released. A contract for one song meant nothing, I told myself.

Aja stirred in bed. “Can’t sleep?” she asked, her voice drowsy.

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

She pulled herself up on her pillow. “You’re worried your dream is still a dream?”

“You reading my mind?”

“I read it once when I met you. That was enough.”

I had to smile. “Then you know I’m afraid to be happy.”

Aja yawned. “All human beings are afraid to be happy.”

“We are. How come you’re not? What makes you so special?”

Aja sat up all the way. “I’m not human.”

“Are you an alien?”

“I told you yesterday, I’m no one.”

“And that lets you be everyone?”

“Yes.”

“You know, I don’t think it will matter how long we’re together. I’ll never really know you.”