Best Of Everything Page 22

  The band talks animatedly on the ride to the stadium. They did their busking in downtown Concord and got rousted by the cops, which was a new experience. I don’t tell them that the fun, edgy sense of excitement of the borderline-outlaw behavior is the daily fear of someone underage living on the street.

  Melody seems disappointed there’s no Ashton hovering backstage during sound check. He mentioned at the end of the night that he’d be heading back to L.A. today, and reminded me twice I had his number. He’s a very cute and a sweet guy, but I’m never going to call, which I think he finally figured out. I consider giving the number to Melody, but why ruin her perfect maybe-or-maybe-not relationship with Sebastian by putting impossible choices in her path?

  We have a teriyaki chicken salad dinner in the dressing room, which is surprisingly good by tour food standards, and then it’s time for the show. Melody accompanies me to the stage and stands just out of view of the audience, her backstage pass glinting between her boobs like a CSI cop badge. Before I know it, we’ve done an encore and are offstage, toweling perspiration from our faces as the road crew rolls our gear away.

  Melody and I make our way back to the dressing room. We’re almost at the door when a voice I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to forget calls out from my right.

  “Sage!”

  It’s Ralph. I have no idea how he got past the guards. I look around for security but nobody’s nearby, and Melody’s just catching on to the idea that something’s wrong when he reaches me.

  “Nice of you to invite me to your show when you’re in town.”

  Wheels turn in my head with an audible click, and I realize what’s been nagging at me about the radio caller: it was Ralph, trying to disguise his voice. I’m sure of it, but my face stays frozen in place.

  “How did you get back here?”

  “I explained to the nice people that I’m your stepfather.” He grins, and it reminds me of vultures circling roadkill. “I must say, you’ve got everyone fooled.”

  “Melody? Go find Amber, would you? Or anyone.”

  Melody seems to get two inches taller. “Last time we met, you were trying to take a swing at her. What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t answer to cheap whores.”

  “Probably because you’re a broke-ass loser,” Melody fires back.

  Ralph visibly stiffens and takes a step forward. “You think you’re such hot shit, don’t you?”

  I don’t back down. “That was you on the radio, wasn’t it? You know they track the numbers, right?”

  “Moron,” Melody adds helpfully.

  I see a flicker of doubt in his eyes, and then he’s all anger and menace. “You little bitch–”

  I wave over a two-hundred-pound roadie, one of Bruno’s crew, and he sees the expression on my face as he approaches. He pulls his long black anodized aluminum flashlight from his belt, and I step back so I won’t get splattered with blood if it gets uglier.

  “What’s up, Sage?”

  “Hey, Tom. This clown managed to get backstage. Would you introduce him to security and make sure I never see him again?” I say, my voice a few notes higher than normal. “He’s threatening me.”

  Tom, whose bulk resembles an industrial freezer, grabs Ralph’s arm. “Time to say nighty-night, punkass.”

  Ralph tries to shrug off his grip, but that’s like trying to brush off an avalanche. His expression goes dark and he snarls at me. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not drunk and desperate, so to me you’re just some pathetic trailer trash who snuck backstage. Tom? Toss him. And ask security how this lowlife managed to get backstage in the first place.”

  Tom jerks Ralph roughly by the arm, and I can see his face flush at being manhandled. Tom could break Ralph in two without missing a beat, so it’s no contest. A uniformed security guard finally notices the altercation and rushes over, and then Ralph’s being hauled away, leaving me shaking.

  “Dude, what is up with psycho there?” Melody asks, unfazed.

  “He just frigging hates me. And today? The caller? That was him. I knew there was something familiar about the way he talked. Probably had a towel over the phone or something to muffle his voice.”

  “How did your mom ever put up with such a douche?”

  “She was drunk all the time,” I say. Simple.

  “I’ve never been that wasted. Ew.”

  “I know.” I watch Ralph being half-dragged to the exit, a sick feeling in my stomach. Memories of my mom’s diary spring to mind, where she tries to defend his behavior with elaborate rationalizations. Melody nailed it, no deep thinking required. The man’s a douche bag who views every success I have as a slap in the face. Which makes me want to continue doing well for years to come so the acid in his stomach eats him alive – the best revenge I can imagine.

  “Well, out with that garbage,” Melody says, eyeing her phone. She’s been taking photos of herself with everyone and anyone, and barraging social media with the images. “Oh. Crap.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a bunch of photos of us at the club up on Facebook. Check it out.” She hands me the phone, and there we are. I look like I’m practically sitting in Ashton’s lap. My heart sinks as I imagine how Derek’s going to feel when he sees them, which I know he will.

  I hand her back the phone and we return to the dressing room, where I call Derek. No answer. Of course not. It’s his first show – he was on three hours ago, so now he’s doing the backstage post-show thing, which can go all night. I leave a message, but feel like a dork while I do.

  “Hey. Hope you got the flowers. I’m sure you blew everyone away. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” I consider saying something about the photos, but decide not to. Anything will sound hollow and defensive. “Call me. My phone’s on.”

  I hang up and can feel myself deflate even as I turn to Melody. “Derek didn’t pick up. I hope his first show went well.”

  “I’m sure it did. He’s incredible.” But she sounds uninterested. I can only hope that the rest of the world’s reaction to Derek’s debut is more excited than Melody’s.

  “You’ve got Internet on your phone. See if you can find his video,” I ask.

  Two minutes later we’re watching him standing on a cliff, waves crashing below, his hair blown back as he sings his single. Melody looks hard at me.

  “Rowr. And you’ve got a piece of that?”

  “What did you think?”

  “He could be doing an in-flight instruction video and I’d want a copy for home use.”

  “I mean of the song.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s a hit, of course. I mean look at him. Seriously. How is that not going to be huge?”

  My heart swells. I hope she’s right. Derek deserves it. I can’t imagine a better future than the two of us together on equal footing.

  “He does look amazing.”

  “Beyond amazing,” Melody confirms. “I can see why you aren’t interested in Ashton. I mean, he’s a ten, but Derek’s like a whole ’nother level.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “Yes, he is.”

  Melody elbows me. “And look at you with your bad self. He’s all yours.”

  I consider my misgivings from the prior night and nod again, wishing Derek had answered his phone, or at least would call me back.

  Chapter 34

  The show finishes late. Bruno takes three encores, and Melody refuses to leave until we’ve chilled with him for an hour after the show, which he seems totally cool with. Part of me is seriously glad that she’s only going to be with me through Sacramento – much as I love her, hanging out with Melody is more exhausting than my public appearance schedule.

  The part where I’m all starstruck and have the urge to party till dawn has never hit me, but I can see it burning like a fever in Melody’s eyes. I completely get why it’s so exciting for her – she hasn’t had to do all the work to get here or seen the uglies behind the curtain,
so it’s all magical and party time for her. But for me it’s running a mental inventory of what I need to do tomorrow, which in this case is the two-hour drive to Sacramento, an appearance at a mall, sound check, then the show.

  And of course…the bus. I told the band earlier, and they were completely blown away. They’ve been on buses before, of course, but they had no expectation of moving up to that level so early in the tour.

  I call Derek again, but it goes to voice mail and I don’t leave a message. I decide to text instead and just send him two words: Miss you.

  I know it’s completely sappy, but for some reason tonight’s harder than most. I’d do anything to have him here beside me as I sit sipping soda while Melody knocks back champagne backstage, Bruno’s band and a bevy of girls lingering in the massive dressing room until all the booze is gone.

  “You going to hang with us again tonight?” Bruno asks halfheartedly, and Melody gives me a hopeful look.

  I shake my head. “No, thanks, Bruno. Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” I say, eyeing the girls.

  Melody leans into me. “Come on, Sage. We’re on tour.”

  I sigh. “No, Melody. I’m beat from last night. I want to hit it. If you want, you can stick around, but I’m outta here.”

  She does her best pout but stands. “No, I’ll go with you. I’m here to hang with you, even if that means staring at the motel ceiling.”

  “You’re a true friend.”

  “Remember that when you’re hiring property managers for your Malibu beach house.”

  My band is still in our dressing room, and Melody and I poke our heads in and say good night before heading for the exit. Amber’s talking to Bruno’s road manager near the stage door, and I tell her we’re calling it a night and ask her to see if our driver will give us a lift in the van back to the motel. She disappears for a few minutes, and when she returns, tells us the van will be by the exit in five minutes.

  Fortunately we’re not swarmed as we leave. There are barricades set up to contain the crowd and a line of burly security guards standing with arms crossed to keep anyone thinking about trying to get past the barrier from doing so. When the van arrives we slip into the back, and it grinds its way through the guard gate and onto the rear access road.

  “So what do you think? Day two of your tour?” I ask Melody.

  She stares through the window for a few seconds. “I kinda miss Sebastian.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  I completely sympathize with what Melody’s going through. The long-distance thing sucks big time, even if both people are completely committed to making it work. With Sebastian, where there’s an obvious question mark, even more so.

  The driver drops us off at the motel, which looks even sketchier at night, its few low-wattage lights giving it a decrepit air. We approach the courtyard entry and Melody points at the vending machine glowing at the far end of the row of doors.

  “I’ll see you at the room. I’m going to get a Coke. You want anything?”

  I shake my head. “Nah. It’ll just keep me up.”

  “I don’t see how you ever get to sleep. If I had to stand in front of thousands of people every night, I’d be a mess.”

  “I sleep like a baby.”

  We go our separate ways, the sound of traffic on the nearby freeway a dull roar even at the late hour, and I’ve got my key out and am getting ready to insert it into the lock when I sense someone behind me, their rushing footsteps causing my heart to skip a beat as I hurry to get the door open.

  A pair of strong hands grips me from behind, and then an arm slips around my neck, blocking my air supply so I can’t scream. I struggle and try to kick, but he’s way bigger than I am, and I’m starting to black out as he increases the pressure on my windpipe. A sharp spike of pain radiates from the rear of my ribcage when he punches me while strangling me, and I feel myself slipping into oblivion.

  Then I hear a sound like a sack hitting the ground, and I can breathe again. I drop to my knees, gasping, and I hear the sound again, along with Melody screaming.

  “Help! Anyone. Help! Rape!”

  I see her in the shadows and watch as she kicks the fallen man again – now I can make out that the sound is the hard wood sole of her mega platforms connecting with flesh. He continues trying to shield his head with one hand while he holds his crotch with the other, and it’s obvious he’s hurt.

  A door opens a few rooms down and a large Samoan man steps out, followed by an equally stout woman.

  “What’s going on here?” he demands, as more lights come on in the rooms and more doors open.

  I point to the fallen figure. “He attacked me,” I say, holding my throat, which I’m sure is red and will be bruising soon enough. “Tried to kill me. Strangled.”

  The Samoan stands over the man as the manager, a fifty-something guy who looks like a hard-scrap farmer from the Midwest, approaches.

  Melody glances at him. “Call 911.”

  He complies as the Samoan man kneels next to the fallen figure and does a quick check of his pockets. He holds up a buck knife and places it well away from the man, who groans.

  “What happened?” the manager asks after calling in the assault.

  “I was on my way into the room, and he grabbed me from behind. Choked and punched me,” I say.

  “And then I gave him my best soccer kick in the balls, from behind.” She lifts one of her feet, showing off the wooden wedge. “I’d bet they’re scrambled now.”

  A small crowd has already gathered by the time the first squad car makes it to the motel – apparently the police station is only a couple of minutes away. The two uniformed officers approach the man and, keeping him face down, cuff his hands behind his back. When they lift him to his feet, I gasp.

  “Ralph!” I blurt. He’s got blood running from the corner of his mouth.

  The younger of the two cops eyes me. “You know him?”

  I nod. “Yes. He’s my mother’s boyfriend. A total abusive prick.”

  “I presume you’re going to press charges?”

  “Absolutely. He tried to kill me.”

  The other officer takes Ralph to a second squad car that’s just rolled up while the first cop takes my statement. About a third of the way through, recognition dawns on him.

  “Wait. You’re the Sage who just played the Pavilion?”

  Melody nods and answers for me. “That’s right.”

  The cop looks over at the squad car with Ralph in it. “I’m afraid I need to ask you to come to the station.”

  “That’s fine,” I say.

  “We’ll need to take some photos of your injuries and have you see a doctor.”

  “Whatever. It’s not like I’m going to get any sleep tonight.”

  The Samoan man points to the knife. “He had that in his back pocket. It’ll have my prints on it – I found it and tossed it over there.” Another cop bags the knife.

  “Was it closed or open?”

  “Closed,” the man says.

  “Okay.” The cop sounds disappointed.

  On the way to the station, he asks me a few more questions. “You say he punched you, too?”

  “Yes. I can feel it bruising. You’ll have all the evidence you need.”

  Two hours later, after a brief visit to the emergency room so a doctor can confirm I’ll live, my injuries have been photographed and I’ve finished giving my statement. Amber’s now at the station with me, and the band’s out in the waiting area. Melody’s statement and mine will be enough for them to prosecute Ralph, although we’ll have to appear unless he goes for some sort of a plea bargain. I tell the police I’ll fly in from wherever I am on tour to testify – I don’t want Ralph walking around free, scheming his next attack on me, and I make that clear – I don’t mind going to court, and in fact would welcome the humiliation he’d be subjected to for attacking me.

  I send text messages to both Derek and Jeremy, so they don’t read about the event on the web first, an
d debate calling my dad, but decide it can wait until morning. I check the time – it’s 4:30 – and when we all return to the motel, I feel like a ton of bricks landed on me. It’s all I can do to get my clothes off and take a quick shower before I crawl into bed.

  “Melody… Thanks for saving me.”

  “Hey, I would have kicked him a lot more if I’d known who it was. But as it is, I nailed him good. He’s not going to be doing any bike riding anytime soon.”

  “I just can’t believe he’d try something like this. I mean, I sort of can, he’s a total freak, but to actually do it…”

  Melody switches off the bedside lamp and sighs. “There are a lot of sick bastards out there.”

  “There are. But how messed up is it that the most dangerous turns out to be your stepdad?”

  “You left home for a reason. He’s got a screw loose.” She gives me an evil smirk. “And now pancakes for balls.”

  “I hope they bury him under the jail.”

  “Pretty safe bet that trying to kill a celebrity who’s also a defenseless minor isn’t going to play well with a jury.”

  I sigh and close my eyes. “I hope not.”

  “I’ll be right next to you when it comes time to testify. Don’t worry. We’ll get him.”

  I remember the sound of her wooden soles slamming into Ralph and nod to myself.

  “Yeah. We will.”

  Chapter 35

  I wake up to my phone jangling. I groan and look at my watch – I’ve gotten four hours of sleep. I leap to answer it and a flash of pain from my ribs reminds me of the prior night’s drama. I reach my phone just as it stops ringing. I glance at the number and hit redial, and when Derek answers, I’ve never heard him sound so worried.

  “Jesus Christ, Sage. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. My throat’s a little sore and I feel like I went a couple of rounds, but I’ll make it.”

  “I got your text and saw the news on the web. That bastard is lucky I wasn’t there. I’d have killed him.”