The Heartbreakers (10 page)

“
Stop
!
” Cara finally shouted. “You’re not listening to me. Do whatever you want, but if you turn down this job and end up regretting it, that’s on you. I’m done being your excuse.”

“Cara, please don’t be like this,” I said. I wanted to beg, to get down on my knees and will her to understand that I couldn’t do this. Not when just thinking about it made me feel so awful.

“Can you just leave?” she said, looking away from me. “I want to be alone right now.”

I stared at her, trying to understand how things had suddenly gone so wrong. “Yeah, sure,” I finally said, my voice cracking.

Then I picked up the book I’d been reading and was gone.

Nothing could drown out the sound of Cara’s voice, how it had been laden with anger, but the scream of Bionic Bone’s front man, Freddie K, blaring from my stereo came pretty close. Since our fight, I couldn’t stop thinking about what she said.

“
Stella
!
”

There was movement at the edge of my peripherals, and I glanced up to see Drew. He was standing in the doorway of my bedroom, waving his hands to get my attention. He looked exasperated, and I wondered how long he had been standing there before I noticed him.

“
What
?
” I shouted over the music. Drew’s lips moved as he said something, but I couldn’t make out his words. “
What
?
” I yelled again.

Rolling his eyes, Drew stormed across my room and paused my iPod, cutting Freddie K off midshriek. “Why do you listen to that stuff?” he asked, grimacing as he twisted his finger in his ear.

I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a year’s worth of old photos spread out on the carpet around me. When we moved to Rochester, I had dumped everything into boxes, and now I was sorting through the mess, organizing by date as a way to distract myself. “I find it calming,” I said, looking back down at my work. “How was orientation?”

“It was fun. Took a tour of campus, figured out my schedule. That sort of stuff,” Drew said. “What about you? How was your day?”

My back stiffened when he changed the subject to me. “It was fine.” I picked up another photograph and took a moment to examine it so he wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable I felt. “Nothing exciting. Ate lunch with Dad. Binged on Netflix.”

“Stella,” Drew said. “I already spoke with Cara.”

“Oh.” Setting the picture down on a stack of black-and-whites, I sighed. “And she told you everything?”

Drew crossed his arms as he leaned against my dresser. “Pretty much.”

“So you’re here to yell at me?” When I’d decided to defer from school, Drew had made his disapproval quite clear. He liked to remind me every time an opportunity presented itself, and I had a feeling this would be one of those occasions.

“Why would I yell at you?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Because you think I’m being stupid?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Rocket.”

“But?” With my siblings, there was always a “but.”

“This is what makes you happy,” he said, gesturing at the collection of memories that blanketed the floor. “I’m struggling to understand why you would turn down a job where you can do what you love.”

I didn’t have a response, at least not one he wanted to hear, so I lowered my gaze. “Being here with Cara is more important.”

“No,” Drew said, and the force in his voice made me glance back up. He pushed away from the dresser and crouched down next to me. “I’m not saying Cara isn’t important, but forget about her for a second. Pretend she isn’t sick. Would you still turn down the job?”

His question bore down on me, and I closed my eyes as if it would help me avoid answering. “Why does that even matter?”

“Because you’re asking the wrong question.”

“Yeah?” I said, my eyes snapping open. “And what question should I be asking, Drew?”

“Ask yourself what you’re so afraid of.”

His response shut me up, and I pressed my face into my hands as I shook my head. “How do you expect me to answer that?”

“You should take the job,” he said. “Otherwise you’re never going to figure that out.” He squeezed my shoulder and then left me with my thoughts.

• • •

I looked at my alarm clock. “Ugh, come on,” I groaned.

Grabbing my pillow, I fluffed it up and flipped onto my other side, trying to find a comfortable position in bed. It was past midnight and I was trying to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t slow down or allow me to drift off.

Since our fight, I’d avoided Cara. I knocked on her bedroom in the morning to try to patch things up, but she refused to talk to me “unless,” she said, “you’re here to tell me you accepted Paul’s offer.” In fact, she was so mad that she threatened to never speak to me again unless I took the job. I hadn’t, but I hadn’t declined either. Regardless, she kicked me out.

Three full days later, and I was no closer to knowing whether I should stay or go. All I needed to do was choose, and even though I’d never been an indecisive person, any attempt to make up my mind seemed futile. Decision-making had always been so straightforward for me: yes or no, black or white, Pepsi or Coke. Maybe that was because I was impulsive, jumping into things headfirst and listening to my heart. But what was I supposed to do when my heart wanted two conflicting things?

Ask
yourself
what
you’re so afraid of.

Drew’s question kept swimming through my thoughts, and as hard as I tried to drown out his words, they refused to sink, instead choosing to tread the turbulent surface of my mind with fierce determination.

“Dammit!” I said and threw off my covers when I realized sleeping was pointless. As I climbed out of bed, I stepped on something sharp—probably a hair clip—and a colorful string of swear words erupted from my mouth.

My room had fallen into neglect over the past three days, and I was sick of it. I flipped the light on, squinting as my eyes adjusted, and then started cleaning at random. My collection of post-hardcore CDs, which normally lived in a stack next to my stereo, was strewn across my desk. I had yanked them out while searching for Bionic Bones the other night. It took me a few minutes to order them the way I liked, all-time favorites to least, and then I moved on to my clothes. It looked like my dresser had vomited onto the floor. Not knowing what was dirty, I sniff-tested everything I picked up, folding some items and chucking others into the hamper.

I worked in a heated sort of manner, tearing around my room like a Happy Meal wind-up toy that would lose steam at any moment. When I’d finally burned through my frustration, there was a slick layer of sweat on my forehead, but my room was restored to its normal organization.

“Stella?” Drew pushed open my bedroom door, blinking as he adjusted to the light. He didn’t bother to cover his yawn. “What are you doing?”

“Crap. Did I wake you?” I glanced at the clock again: 2:17 a.m.

He nodded. “You were slamming drawers and stuff.”

“Sorry. I went on a midnight, can’t-sleep-for-the-life-of-me cleaning spree.”

“That’s chill. I thought maybe—” Drew stopped and lifted an eyebrow. “Stella, are you…packing?”

“Packing?” I repeated with a frown. “No.” But then I looked at my bed and saw what Drew did.

Five neat piles of clothes covered the basics: shirts, shorts, underwear, and so on; my camera bag was packed with all my equipment, camera resting beside it; a colorful collection of eye shadow and lipstick was inside my zebra-print makeup bag; and last was a Ziploc bag full of my favorite jewelry. All I needed now was a suitcase.

“I-I…” I was more than speechless, so I just stood there feeling my heart slam repeatedly into my chest. How had I done all this without realizing?

Drew noticed my sharp mood shift and took a step toward me. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said quickly and held up his hand. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I was just curious.”

“It’s not okay,” I exclaimed and pointed at the stuff on my bed. “How can it be okay when I didn’t even realize I was doing that? My head is all over the place, Drew. The more I try to make up my mind, the more anxious I get, and I can literally feel my heart stressing itself out.”

“I’m sorry,” Drew said and pulled me into his arms. “Just take a few deep breaths.”

So I listened to him. In and out I breathed. The first few lungfuls were shaky, and it took me a few minutes to calm down, but with my head buried in Drew’s shoulder, I could hear the
thump-thump
of his heartbeat and I focused on that.

Finally, I worked up the courage to mumble into his shirt: “How am I supposed to do this?”

“Do what?” he asked and pulled away so he could see me.

“Leave,” I said, my voice cracking. “Be on my own.”

Drew tilted his head as he worked out what I meant, while I looked away. I’d missed a sock while cleaning. It was poking out from under my bed, and I concentrated on its crumpled form instead of my embarrassment. Drew probably thought I was being silly, because what eighteen-year-old was afraid of leaving home?

“You know,” he said, sitting on the end of the bed and pulling me down next to him, “I’m nervous too.”

I swallowed and turned back to him. “Nervous?”

“About going to college.”

“You are?” What did Drew have to be nervous about? He would only be a quick drive away from home, and we would see him every weekend.

“How could I not be?” he said. “I mean, what if I’m not smart enough, or my roommate is a weirdo? And what will happen if I don’t make any friends and miss home too much?”

“So don’t go,” I said, even though I knew I was being ridiculous.

Drew laughed. “I’m excited to leave,” he told me. “The nerves—that’s all part of the experience. You just gotta trust that the good will make up for the scary.”

This made sense, but something still wasn’t sitting right with me. “I was excited when Paul first called me,” I admitted, “but then I thought about being away from you and Cara, and I panicked. It’s always been us, together.”

Drew smiled. “The Three Musketeers.”

“Exactly.”

“It’ll still be the three of us,” Drew said, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Being in different places won’t change that.”

“I know,” I said, staring blankly ahead of me.

“Even if you were on the moon.” He held out his pinkie. “I promise.”

Drew was right. The nerves I felt about leaving home were just that—nerves. Which would be manageable except for the awful, nagging feeling that I just couldn’t shake.

It was like this: I’m standing on the shore looking out at the ocean. It’s all a bit familiar, maybe because I’m reminded of the coast in South Carolina. The sun’s beating down on me, and the more I start to sweat, the more I want to peel off my clothes and dive in. But there are all these signs posted along the beach warning swimmers of deadly rip currents. Sure, the water looks peaceful enough, but even though I can’t see the danger below the surface, it’s still lying in wait to sweep me away.

That’s how I felt about accepting Paul’s job offer. I couldn’t put my finger on what was bothering me so much—it was a blind spot, the danger under the calm. But I knew it was there, and I was terrified of drowning in it. Then again, taking a photography job wasn’t comparable to swimming in treacherous waters. Doing something for myself wasn’t going to kill me.

I’d asked myself what I was so afraid of, but I drew a blank every time. And that was almost as terrifying as the thought of leaving. So even though it felt wrong, there was only one thing left for me to do—take another piece of my brother’s advice. Because if I didn’t accept the job, I’d never figure out what really was lurking below the surface.

I slowly wrapped my pinkie around his. “I think I should call Paul.”

“You should,” Drew said and laughed, “but you might want to wait until morning. I doubt he’d appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night.”

I had no clue what Paul looked like. We’d only spoken on the phone three times: once when he called to offer me a job, another when I called to accept, and the final time to make arrangements for me to fly out and join the band when they were in Miami. In spite of that, I knew exactly who he was when I stepped into the hotel lobby. He was sitting on one of the many lounging couches and speaking animatedly on the phone. His hair was a deep red, and he was wearing a lime-green shirt that, amazingly, managed not to clash. It was the way he was smiling and waving his free hand that identified him; somehow his mannerisms perfectly matched the voice I remembered from our conversations.

As I approached, he must have recognized me too, because his eyes lit up and he snapped his phone shut. “Stella, darling,” he exclaimed, rising from his seat to greet me. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“You too.” I set down my suitcase. “I’m excited to be here.”

“Wonderful, wonderful,” he said, clapping his hands together. “We have loads to talk about, but I bet you’re starving after your flight. Why don’t we sit down and have something to eat?” Paul gestured in the direction of the hotel restaurant.

I’d been too nervous to eat breakfast, and the complimentary peanuts on the plane were stale and crumbly, so I’d thrown them out even though I was hungry. Now my stomach was protesting the neglect. “That’d be great.”

We were seated quickly, and after looking over the menu, I decided on breakfast for dinner. I ordered a plate of Southwest scrambled eggs, bacon, wheat toast, and a large glass of orange juice, while Paul went with chicken dumpling soup. I was starting on my last triangle of toast when he pushed his bowl away and pulled a folder out of his briefcase. My name was written across the top in bold letters.

“Let’s see,” he said, mumbling to himself.

Inside was a collection of papers. Paul emailed me the information a few days earlier, but he went over it again to make sure everything made sense. First, he detailed my job responsibilities and what was expected of me. Then he explained my pay. Not only would I received a salary, but Paul would purchase each picture I used on the blog. When I first saw the number in his email I thought it was a mistake, but here it was again and I tried not to gawk—I could pay my way through college if I continued to work for the band.

There were pages of paperwork to read through and dotted lines to sign. By the time we finished, it was nearly nine, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. It had been a long day.

“Sorry to keep you so long,” Paul said, shuffling everything together and stuffing it back inside the folder. “But now that all the boring stuff is out of the way, you can focus on the fun part. Are you excited about tomorrow?”

“I’m a bit nervous actually,” I admitted.

It wasn’t an official work day, but Paul had arranged for me to shadow the band. He wanted me to get a sense of what a typical day on tour was like. I didn’t even have to take pictures if I didn’t want to. All that was required was for me to show up on time and go along for the ride. Even so, my stomach wouldn’t settle.

Yes, I’d decided to accept the job, but I was still nervous about starting something new without Cara and Drew. On top of that, there was Oliver. Would things be weird between us? The thought of seeing him in the morning made the food I’d just eaten slosh around in my stomach.

“Don’t worry,” Paul told me. “Knowing the boys, they’ll make you feel right at home.”

I didn’t find this very reassuring—one of those boys was the reason why I felt nervous. Not sure how to respond, I smiled and agreed. “I don’t doubt it.”

After that, Paul provided me with the information I needed to check in to the hotel. Twenty minutes later, I was unlocking the door to my room. Flipping on the lights, I dropped my suitcase and kicked off my shoes with a sigh. My feet ached and I was beyond exhausted, but I wanted to be prepared for the morning, so despite the fact that the gigantic king bed was calling my name, I forced myself to take a quick shower, set out my clothes, and—even though I didn’t need it—pack my camera bag. I wasn’t going anywhere without it. Only then did I set my alarm and climb under the covers.

Every muscle in my body ached from a long day of travel, and I’d thought I would drift off instantly. Instead, I stared at the ceiling. Alone and without any distractions, my mind wouldn’t stop thinking, spinning, fearing, because tomorrow I would see Oliver again.

We’d left off on a beautiful note.

In Chicago, when our paths crossed, I’d spent one exciting night with Oliver. It had been dazzling and so completely unexpected that it made me see stars. Then we parted ways, like I always knew we would, and in the morning the stars cleared from my vision. I was a little sad at first, especially when I wondered what things would’ve been like if Oliver was a regular guy and we’d met under different circumstances, but I wasn’t going to be unrealistic. We both had our own lives to live, which were on two completely different paths. I didn’t know if I’d upset him by not calling, but I had to do what was best for me.

Now, by some seriously comical twist of fate, my path had moved in his direction again. Our lives were suddenly intertwined, at least for the next two months, and I had no idea what to expect. Would things be like before, or had our time together only been exciting because we’d thought it was limited?

Either way, I was about to find out.

• • •

I was exactly two minutes early. Paul had told me to meet the band at six o’clock, and as I stepped off the elevator, my phone flashed “five fifty-eight.” My aim was to arrive ten minutes early since it was my first day, but I’d ended up changing twice when I had an outfit crisis.

Anyone who was sane was still sleeping, so the lobby was relatively empty. To be precise, three other people were present—the front-desk receptionist who was typing something into the computer, a janitor emptying the garbage, and a woman who was reading on the couch where I’d met with Paul last night.

None of the Heartbreakers or their employees were present, and my empty stomach rolled. I knew it was just nerves, but part of me worried that I’d somehow messed up the time and the band was already gone. I checked my phone again—now it was six.
Get
some
caffeine
and
chill
out
, I told myself and headed toward the continental breakfast.
They’re probably just running late.

As I stepped inside the small sunroom connected to the lobby, I twisted my nose stud between my fingers and took deep breaths. On the far wall was a service station with pastries, cereal, hard-boiled eggs, and a basket of assorted fruit. Ignoring the food, I went straight for the coffee machine. I was so focused on pouring my drink that I didn’t notice who was sitting at one of the tables behind me. When I turned back around, I nearly dropped my coffee.

He was reading something out of a magazine, and whatever it was put a scowl on his face. Next to him were a plate with an untouched glazed doughnut and a to-go cup with a tea bag dangling over the side. His wavy brown hair was messier than I’d last seen it, like he hadn’t bothered to brush it when he got up, and there were circles under his eyes.

“Oliv—” My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Oliver.”

His head popped up. He blinked at me a few times, his mouth parting slightly, almost as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. After three long seconds, he scrambled to his feet.

“Stella, hey!”

“Hi yourself,” I said and offered him a tentative smile.

He smiled too and slid his dog tag back and forth on its chain. “It’s good to see you.” Then, before I knew what was happening, he wrapped his arms around me. It was the world’s quickest hug, but it still made me grin.

“Yeah,” I said, hiding the small smile with my hand. “You too.”

Before either of us could think of something else to say, someone shouted my name—or at least a very strange version of my name.

“Stella Ella Bella Bear!” JJ called out. I easily spotted him across the empty room, waving his hands as he tried to catch my attention. “You’re finally here!”

Xander stood next to him, his red-blond hair matted in the back—a style my brother called “pillow syndrome.” He yawned and removed his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Hey, guys,” I said, and when JJ reached me, he pulled me into a hug that lifted me clear off the ground. I couldn’t help but laugh. His friendly welcome helped ease some of the nerves that were making me jumpy.

“Like the nickname I’ve been working on?” JJ asked. “Now that you’re an honorary member of the band, I thought you needed one.”

“Um, it’s a little long,” I told him.

“I thought that might be a problem,” JJ said and shook his head like he knew better. “All right, just Bear then.”

“Since when do we have nicknames?” Oliver asked before I could tell JJ I preferred that he call me Stella. The only people who had pet names for me were Cara and Drew, and I didn’t want to get homesick already.

“Since always,” JJ said, smirking at Oliver.

“How come I don’t have one?”

“Oh, you have plenty. Tubsy Malone and Asshat are my personal favorites, but there’s Turd Burger, Douchenozzle, and Butt Nugget,” JJ said. Xander’s shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh.

“Don’t forget Dipshit,” Alec said, materializing behind Oliver. I nearly choked when I heard his voice—I’d never heard Alec openly insult any of the guys—but Oliver was unfazed and flashed his friend the middle finger. “Courtney’s waiting for us,” Alec continued, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. “Time to go.”

Oliver grabbed his tea and gave JJ the untouched doughnut, but he left the magazine sitting on the table. For a split second, I eyed it up as everyone followed Alec into the lobby. I was curious to know what had upset Oliver, and before I could change my mind, I snatched it off the table and shoved it inside my camera bag.

“Stella!” Paul said when he saw me. He was standing by the revolving front door with a tall, blond woman I recognized as the band’s manager. “You’re already here, wonderful. There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to. Stella, meet Courtney. She’s the Heartbreakers’ very lovely, very hard-working tour manager. Courtney, this is Stella. She’s the new photographer I hired to work on the blog I was telling you about.”

Courtney turned to me, and her eyebrows slid up when she saw me. “I remember you,” she said with an amused smile.

“You two have already met?” Paul asked.

“In Chicago, but I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself.” Courtney tucked the clipboard she was holding under her arm and extended her hand. “I’m Courtney Stiller, the band’s makeshift mom.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said as she shook my hand.

“You too,” she said, and then she was back to business. “Is that everything then, Paul? I’ll make sure to take good care of Stella today, but we really do need to get moving.”

“That’s fine,” he responded. “I was just here for introductions. I have a meeting in fifteen. Stella, you have my number in case you need anything. Boys, you better be nice to my new girl or else.”

“I’m hurt, Paul,” JJ said, placing a hand on his heart after he shoved the rest of the doughnut in his mouth. There was a bit of glaze left on his lip, but he quickly licked it away. “When have we ever been anything but nice?”

Paul gave JJ a look, but then his phone was ringing and he was gone.

“Okay, crazies,” Courtney said. “Move out.”

The boys grumbled and made a fuss, but they actually listened to Courtney’s direction. I was seriously impressed—this woman had the command of a drill sergeant. She got everyone outside quickly, and then we all piled into the town car waiting at the curb. I was the last to climb in, and there were only two spots left: one by Oliver on the other side of the car and the other next to the door. The car started to move and my decision was made for me. I toppled into the seat next to Xander.

“Breakfast,” Courtney said, producing four bananas from her tote bag. She gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Stella. I completely forgot you were joining us today.”

“No worries,” I said, waving her off. “I’m not much of a breakfast person.”

“That’s not healthy, you know,” Xander told me as he meticulously peeled away the yellow skin. “Eating breakfast gets your metabolism going.”

“Amd it’s belicious,” JJ said, half the banana already shoved in his mouth.

Courtney immediately started reviewing the day’s schedule. I tried to pay as close attention as I could, but I could feel Oliver watching me. When the car came to a stop at an intersection, he got up.

“Scoot over,” he told Xander and squeezed in between us. Once he clicked on his seat belt, he passed me his banana. “Here,” he said. “Who knows when we’ll eat lunch today. You might need it.”

“What about you?”

Oliver shrugged. “Never been much of a potassium fan myself. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, thanks.” I tucked the piece of fruit into my camera bag where it wouldn’t be crushed, and tried not to smile. I knew it was only a piece of fruit, but I couldn’t help but feel like it was a sign of what was to come, as if we were meant all along to have more time together than just one night.

“—and after the radio interview, we’re heading across town for the sound check. If I remember correctly, a group of contest winners will be there to listen, and you’ll have to do a quick meet-and-greet. But then it’s straight to hair and makeup. Show starts at nine. Am I forgetting anything?”

“Yeah,” JJ said. “Do you enjoy being a slave driver?”

Courtney didn’t miss a beat. “I live for it. Anything else?”

“About the radio interview,” Alec said, and I turned to watch him. “Is there a list of questions? So we”—he paused and his gaze flickered to me—“um, know what to expect?”

“Oh yes! I have it here somewhere.” Courtney dug around in her tote again and retrieved a piece of paper. “After what happened last time, I insisted on reviewing the questions beforehand, and I also made it clear that you four will not be answering any questions about breakup rumors—” She stopped.