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  A lowered sedan with opaque windows creeps down the street, a booming bass beat echoing from inside. Everything Sebastian says is accurate: I’m not really comfortable with any of this. Because of that, I don’t own it. It seems fake to me, so I treat it as an illusion, and that’s coming through in the performance.

  I need to get back to that place where I was that morning I first met Derek, where I was the tough, rebellious street scrapper who was doing it for real. Now I feel like a trained monkey going through the motions. And Sebastian’s just told me that it’s not cutting it. He’s a legend in the music business, and I’d have to be an idiot to ignore his feedback.

  I may be many things, but I’m no idiot.

  We go back inside and I thank Sebastian and Terry for coming, sending the clear message that I want to be alone with my group. Once they leave, I sit down with the band, explain the problem, and enlist them to help solve it.

  We spend the next hour retooling two songs, and by the time we’re done I’m happy with the direction. It feels more real to me, not like an act, which means that it will be real to the audience as well.

  Maybe the secret, if there is one, is to just do what feels right and ignore everyone else. Fans of my music want into my world, not the other way around. I didn’t go out trying to impress with my talent – I just sang songs I liked because I had no friends and my life was crap and all I had was my guitar and my music.

  So now, instead of trying to be a performer, I’ll do something way, way harder.

  The band’s gone and the room’s empty. I lift my phone and eye myself in the screen. It’s going to be tough, but I’ve only got one option. My whispered voice startles me in the quiet as I talk to my reflection.

  “I’m going to be me.”

  Chapter 8

  I get to the apartment and collapse on the bed, drained from the long day. After brushing my teeth, I pull on some sweats and fish my phone out of my jacket. Derek answers in seconds.

  “Hey,” I say. “Sorry I’m calling so late.”

  “No problem. Any more fallout from the radio thing?”

  “I haven’t even checked. Been in rehearsal.” I tell him about Sebastian’s visit and my revelation.

  “Go with your gut, Sage. Got you this far.”

  “Thanks, Derek.” I pause, trying to remember what else I wanted to tell him. “Oh! I almost forgot. Terry says that she may have you on a leg of the tour with me!”

  “That’s awesome. When will you know for sure?”

  “It’s kind of like baking a cake. You can’t rush it.”

  “So…when?”

  “Maybe a week or so,” I guess, wishing I had a more concrete answer.

  “Well, that’s better than nothing. It would be way cool if it happens.”

  “How are your rehearsals going?” I ask.

  “Not nearly as exciting as yours. My band’s pretty solid. Can’t complain. The players are really good.”

  “Have you thought about flying out here for a couple days?”

  “Believe me, that’s all I think about. But my manager has my schedule packed right now. I’m hoping in a couple of weeks or so…” He doesn’t sound convincing.

  “How’s…your son?”

  “I saw him this afternoon. He’s…I don’t know. I mean, he’s a baby. He cries. Poops. Makes random noises.”

  “And mom?”

  “There’s nothing to tell. She’s looking for a job and a place. But it’s not easy. She never graduated, so she doesn’t have a lot of choices…”

  “How is she going to pay for a place if she doesn’t have a job?”

  He sighs. “We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

  “We?” I can’t help myself. I mean, I know I should just let it go, but I can’t.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I guess I don’t. Is it now ‘we’ instead of ‘her’? Because when I was in New York, you and I were we, and she was…her.”

  “Sage, she doesn’t have much money – only what she was able to borrow from her mom. So I’m going to have to lend her the cash for a place to stay. I can’t have my son living in a shelter. You know my background – that’s not going to happen as long as I can do something about it.”

  “You’re living in a roach motel to save money, but you can afford to get her a place of her own?” I can feel the blood rushing to my face. “Are you sure you’re over her, Derek?”

  “Of course. Look, it’s not my ideal situation either, okay? But this isn’t about her. It’s about Jason. I wish she wasn’t part of the deal, but she is. Sage…that has nothing to do with you and me. You understand that, don’t you?”

  I take a deep breath and remember my father’s words. A decent man steps up and takes care of his responsibilities. “Sounds like it’s going to be a lot for you to handle, Derek. Supporting a kid and his mom. What would you do if you were still…if we were still on the street?”

  “Well, in that case, she wouldn’t have seen me on TV and I’d never have known about Jason.”

  I don’t say I would have preferred it that way. Although I would have. Not the living in sewers and eating rat-tail soup part, of course. But the Derek-all-to-myself part sounds perfect.

  Unfortunately I don’t run the universe, so I need to suck it up, just as he’s doing.

  “Can’t turn back the clock. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” I say, opting to follow my dad’s advice.

  “I really appreciate that, Sage. And yes, this is taking some getting used to from my end. An appearance here and there doesn’t go as far as when we were doing three a week and each pocketing big money. And more often now they’re to push the record, meaning I don’t get paid for them, so it’s going to be tight until I go on tour.”

  “Have I mentioned this sucks?”

  “You might have.”

  “It does. Especially you there and me here. That’s the worst.”

  “I know. I miss you every minute of the day, Sage. All I can think about is you, our time together, how you feel in my arms…”

  The hard center of my heart melts as his words hit home. This is the man I was making love with just a couple of nights before, experiencing passion and joy I’d never imagined. And he feels the same as I do. All my frustration and anger over the Lisa situation aside, he wants me as much as I want him.

  My hand reaches for my shoulder, to my new tattoo. I close my eyes and imagine his rock-hard body next to mine, his smooth skin and incredible green eyes caressing me as we move together. My breath catches in my throat at the memory, and I’m transported back to my bed in New York, where heaven on earth was mine for a few brief hours.

  “I miss you too, Derek, more than anything. I do, and I want to be with you. I’m sorry for being a brat about Lisa and Jason. I’m just being selfish, I know. I want you all to myself.”

  “I’m all yours, Sage. Every bit of me. You’re all I want.”

  “I know. We’ll make this happen. Life just got in the way.”

  “We will, Sage. I promise you.”

  “I’m counting on it, Derek. Whatever happens, I’m with you.” I laugh, because if I don’t, I’ll start bawling. “I even have a tattoo to prove it. Property of Derek.”

  “Mine’s bigger. Says…what does that say? Stage? Rage?”

  I smile. “Night, Derek. I’ve got an early one.”

  “Me too. Good night, Sage.”

  I wait for him to hang up, and he doesn’t. After fifteen seconds, I sigh. “Hang up.”

  “Okay.”

  He doesn’t.

  Three minutes later, we’re still saying good night, and my phone dies, the battery depleted, the cosmos making the hard decision for us.

  Chapter 9

  The following day Ruby has three appearances for me: interviews on two different radio programs, followed by a TV talk show that focuses on family infighting, abuse, and trailer trash drama. I’m dreading all of this, but it’s clear that neither Ruby
nor the record company particularly care about my preferences. If I can stay in the public eye, for whatever reason, until release date, that’s a big win, because nobody buys your record if they don’t remember you. At least that’s the way Ruby explains it as we drive to the first station, located near Koreatown.

  The hosts of the first radio show are a pair of lame comedians stuck with the post-drive time slot. As I listen to their banter on the radio as we approach the building, I wonder how much of my target audience actually tunes in for these clowns, whose act consists of mainly tired one-liners and wacky sound effects.

  “Are these guys for real? I know morticians who are funnier,” I comment.

  Ruby rolls her eyes. “Remember, be nice. You’re young, fresh, and innocent. And sweet. You know the answers to all the questions they’re likely to ask. You’ll be fine.”

  “Just seems like a big fat waste of time.”

  “Well, maybe, but you never know who’s listening, right?”

  “Mmm, okay. I already agreed. You don’t need to sell me.”

  The pair’s grilling turns out to be about as low stress as any interview I’ve done to date. They ask me about the record, my start on the street, the audition process, working with a star producer. I’m on for twenty minutes, all of it pleasant and relaxed.

  The next radio interview is a woman who wants to talk music – influences, my approach to arranging songs, how I pick my tunes, and so on. It’s the kind of one-on-one I enjoy, with someone who actually understands what goes into being a recording artist and all the heavy lifting that takes place behind the scenes. At the end of the slot she asks me to perform a song for her, but I have to beg off – my wrist is still in crap shape and not strong enough to go for a whole song. That transitions into some questions about the accident, which I answer honestly, and I feel a twinge of guilt that I haven’t seen June for a while.

  Ruby and I have lunch at a sushi place near the TV studio and then go to the green room for Jesse Silverton’s The Real Truth show, which is nothing more than a Jerry Springer rehash, according to Melody, who watches way more television than I do. She has to explain to me what the reference even means, and the sinking feeling I had when I first heard about it intensifies. It’s another host whose audience expects controversy and melodrama, and I reiterate to Ruby that I won’t discuss my personal life.

  “We made that clear, Sage. They know the rules,” Ruby assures me, which means nothing. Shows like this thrive on breaking the rules.

  The stage manager comes to get me and we approach the sound stage. There’s a ton of applause, the live studio audience coached by a technician in a headset, and then Jesse Silverton introduces me and there’s more clapping. I jog onto the stage, waving, exuding youthful exuberance as I’ve been told to, and she rises to hug me before indicating a seat next to hers. I say hi to the stern-looking African American man in the next chair and offer the audience a big smile with another wave.

  “So. Sage! You’re finally here. I’ve been trying to get you on for, like, ever,” the woman says, and I smile again. There’s lie number one, and she’s just getting warmed up. The call to have me on came in last evening.

  “It’s great to be here,” I say, a suitably tame response.

  “You’re kind of a big deal nowadays, aren’t you?”

  I shrug. “I’m so busy in the studio and preparing for my tour, I wouldn’t know.”

  Warm applause. I’m relaxing. The audience is on my side.

  “That doesn’t leave a lot of time for anything but music, does it?”

  I’m not sure where this is going, so I sigh and shake my head. “That’s kinda what I signed up for. Most people don’t realize how much goes into making a record.”

  “Hmm. I’ll bet. You know, I heard you on the radio yesterday,” she says, her tone completely fake-friendly. I try not to stiffen, but I’m now on high alert.

  “Yeah, I do appearances here and there.”

  “Well, that one was a doozy. You basically cut Don Simons to confetti on his show. I wanted to personally give you a high five for that.” Jesse leans over and does exactly that, and the audience goes nuts. “I’ve got a clip queued up for those who missed it. Check it out.”

  It’s forty-five seconds of the most painful live interview I’ve ever done, and when it’s over, the crowd gives me a standing ovation. I wonder if they’re going to give me a parade and the keys to the city, but something tells me not to let down my guard, and I know I was right when she goes for the throat in the next sentence.

  “So, Sage, what was all that about? I agree it was way over the line, the way he was going after you, but I have to admit I’m curious. I mean, the whole mystery woman with the baby thing is straight out of a soap opera.”

  “Like I told Don, I don’t discuss my personal life,” I say, the color rising to my cheeks.

  “Right. But that’s kind of a public moment, you have to admit. Will you give us a hint which of the rumors are true?”

  When I smile this time, the skin on my face feels tight. “I don’t have time for gossip. People can believe whatever they want. They generally do anyway, right?”

  “Can you at least tell us what you were doing in New York?”

  “I had some record business to take care of. With the album releasing and the big tour starting soon, there’s a lot going on.”

  “Ah, so it wasn’t to see Derek? I mean, you obviously were with him…”

  “He had an appearance that night and I went with him. We were a team for the first half of the talent show, if you followed it. I always try to see what he’s up to when I’m on the East Coast.” I’m proud of that little bit of truth mixed in with a shit ton of deflection. I’m about ten seconds from ending the interview, and Jesse must see it in my eyes because she gets back on script.

  “So, tell us a little about the new album. When will it be out, and what do you have planned?”

  I go into my well-rehearsed pitch, and by the time I’m done, I can tell she knows we’re at a stalemate. She silently concedes defeat and thanks me for coming, and then it’s over and the next guest is being escorted onto the soundstage – a starlet who’s mainly famous for her multiple DUIs and bouts with rehab.

  When I get back to the green room, Ruby’s standing, ready to leave. The starlet is on the monitor, assuring Jesse that this time she’s really clean and sober, for a whole ten days. I tune out. “You ready?” I ask.

  “Yes. You handled that beautifully, by the way.”

  “So much for knowing the rules, huh?”

  “You fielded it like a pro. The audience loved you for it.”

  I stare at her. “I don’t want to do any more of these, Ruby. The straight-up interviews and the talk shows, sure. But the controversy hounds? I’m out.”

  We walk in silence to her car. When we’re both strapped in and the engine’s purring, she turns to me. “I won’t book anymore of these, Sage. I agree. It’s humiliating, and it’s just a matter of time until something blows up in our faces. I want you to know they promised me on a stack of Bibles to stay away from anything personal. So I wasn’t trying to trick you.”

  “Amazing. People lie.”

  “Well, it’s certainly true that some people’s idea of the truth is…more elastic than others.”

  She drops me off at the apartment. I have a few hours to kill before rehearsal, so I call Derek and I’m happy when he picks up.

  “I was just thinking of calling you,” he says.

  “That’s good, because I’m thinking about calling you every minute of the day.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Just got done with some appearances. How about you?”

  “Had kind of a rough one so far.” He sounds down.

  “Yeah? What happened?”

  “I talked to my manager. He suggested I get a paternity test for Jason.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. I wasn’t sure, but he talked me into it. So I saw Lisa today and told
her I wanted the test done. It, um, didn’t go over so well.”

  My eyes narrow and I sit up. “What does that mean?”

  “It means she was totally insulted and refused. It got pretty nasty.”

  I’ll bet. “Where did you leave it?”

  “I told her that if she expected me to pay for our son, I needed to be sure he was mine. That seems totally reasonable to me…but she didn’t see it that way. She turned it into me calling her a slut. Or she tried to. I left it with the test as a condition for me doing anything more – helping her with an apartment, paying her bills.”

  “Is she going to do it?”

  “I don’t know. She said she’d think about it.”

  I feel a flush of hope. “You need to insist, Derek. If it was me in her position, I wouldn’t hesitate. What reason could she have for refusing? The bruised feelings thing only plays for a little while. She’s the one claiming Jason’s your kid. She needs to prove it.”

  Derek is quiet for several seconds. “I know. I just feel kind of guilty. I mean, if he is my son, it will seem like I sort of tried to weasel out of my responsibility with the test.”

  “What? No way. You’re just trying to do the right thing, and you want to be sure. That’s not anything to be guilty about. It’s smart. Like I said, if I was the one with a child I was claiming was yours, I’d have no problem with a test.” I remember the photos of Lisa from the websites. “Unless…unless I knew there was a chance you weren’t really the father.”

  “That’s kind of what I’m thinking. Like maybe, you know…maybe she hasn’t been completely honest about what was going on in her life around that time.”

  “Derek, you’re a celebrity now. To someone with nothing, you’re a star. That means you’re a target.”

  “You sound like my brother. I just got off the phone with him. He was a hundred percent on the test being a condition.”

  “I knew I liked your bro.” I hesitate. “So how long will it take?”

  “I’m going to talk to her again tonight. I want to get it done tomorrow. We should know pretty soon afterwards.”