Opening Act Page 14

  And he’d sobbed.

  Byron Pennington, her mentor, had bawled like a baby.

  And when, after a few minutes, she’d reached across the table to comfort him, he’d reared back and snarled at her, like some kind of vicious raptor. “I don’t need you,” he’d said with a sneer. “I don’t need your airs and your pretenses, that way you have of making people feel like you’re doing them some kind of fucking favor when they put themselves on the line for you. Do you know how many times I’ve risked my own neck to get you ahead? And all the thanks I’ve ever gotten for it is that attitude you have that it’s the goddamn least I can do.”

  She’d felt that one, felt it against her face like a blast of radioactive wind. It almost flayed the skin from her skull.

  “That’s not true,” she’d said, leaning back in her chair as though recoiling from a frontal assault. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, I’ve always said—”

  “Oh,” he’d interrupted her with a dismissive wave of his hand, “you’re always on form, I’ll give you that. You dot your i’s and cross your t’s, and say please and thank you and speak when you’re spoken to. No one can fault you on that. But,” he’d continued, leaning across the table, like a panther preparing to pounce on its kill, “it doesn’t begin to hide the egoism at your core. The massive sense of entitlement that makes you feel every good thing that happens to you is something you’re owed. Well, fine, then.” He’d abruptly sat back and pushed his chair away from the table. “Go your own way. You’re so fucking confident. Let’s see how you do without some idiot mentor running on ahead, clearing away all the obstacles for you so that you never even know they were there.”

  By this time, Loni had been unable to speak. She had been so completely taken aback by the ferocity of his attack—by the fact that he was attacking her at all—that she’d had to focus merely on breathing. She’d felt, honestly, as though she might pass out—just fall out of her chair in a mortified swoon and lay in a heap on the floor.

  After he’d gotten up and stormed out—leaving her with the bill, she didn’t fail to notice—she’d sat for a long time, just recovering from the shock and horror of it all and trying to pull herself together so that she could get up from the table and walk home without trembling like a leaf. But it was a hard job. Her mind kept boomeranging back to all the terrible things he’d said—the accusations, the condemnations. Was it possible that he really thought of her that way? Was it possible she really was that way? If what he’d said of her was even remotely true—if someone she’d considered her friend and protector could say such things about her—then what about the people in her life she was even less bound to? Zee, for instance; what did she think of her, in her private moments?

  The thought of Zee reminded Loni of yet another mortification to come. She’d have to tell her about her morning with Shay. She couldn’t begin to imagine how Zee would react to that. The girl had spent weeks plotting to meet and seduce him, and then at the crucial moment Shay had targeted Loni instead—completely shutting Zee out. That had to have been humiliating for her. If what Lockwood Mott had implied was true, she’d left the party an emotional wreck. The news that Shay and Loni ultimately did hook up wasn’t going to help. The truth was, Loni had barely spared a thought for Zee the whole time she had been with Shay. What did that say about her? Well, whatever Zee might think about her, she was going to think worse of her now.

  And that wasn’t even factoring in the possibility that her morning’s adventure with Shay wasn’t just a one-off. She’d felt something solid spring up between them—a kind of foundation on which anything might be built. A friendship, a romance—who knew? She couldn’t be certain, and didn’t even like to risk hoping, but she wanted to keep herself open to all possibilities.

  It was that—the thought of some kind of ongoing bond with Shay—that eventually gave her the strength to pay the bill, get up, and make her way home. He was, after all, the reason she’d turned Byron down to begin with. Whether she and Shay went any further than they had this morning, he’d shown her that there was more to life than following a plan in lockstep. There were opportunities she’d never suspected, a wonderful randomness that she wanted to embrace. It was exhilarating to think about, but the thought of Byron kept getting in the way, shooting her back into the scene at the coffeehouse and horrifying her anew. She had to get past that—cry it out of her system—before she could move on.

  When she’d finally reached home, Zee was there, almost as if she’d been waiting. But Loni couldn’t talk to her now, couldn’t even risk looking at her. Zee might see the guilt on her face. Her confession would have to wait till after she’d had her catharsis.

  Now, at last, all cried out and feeling ready to get up and face the new world she’d created for herself, Loni rose from her damp pillows and went out to tell Zee everything that had happened.

  But Zee was no longer there.

  CHAPTER 11

  The film Lockwood had chosen was a revelation for Zee. It was a Japanese martial arts movie set in the sixteenth century. It was a perfect combination of romantic chick flick and violent action film. The hero was a disgraced aristocrat still in love with the woman he’d been promised to since childhood, who was now engaged to a corrupt imperial official. There were powerful scenes where the hero and the woman communicated their still fervent love for each other across a crowded room with the smallest of gestures: a raised eyebrow, a sudden turn of the wrist, a barely audible gasp. And then there were scenes where the hero hideously disemboweled the official’s minions in massive, slow-motion sword fights. Both Lockwood and Zee left the theater feeling completely satisfied.

  Zee was feeling so good that she agreed to Lockwood’s suggestion of an after-movie drink. They found a congenial-looking bar, where Zee ordered a light beer and Lockwood a stout. They tried to discuss the movie for a while, but it rapidly became comical. It was as though they’d seen entirely different films. So they naturally segued into other topics, and Zee asked whether Lockwood was ready for the tour.

  “Not so much,” he said, after licking a foam mustache from off the surface of his real one. “Still not leaving for another, what, ten days?”

  “But you’ll be gone for months,” Zee said, in awe of his casualness.

  He shrugged. “We get a week off at the midpoint, when I imagine we’ll all come back here and catch our breath. But otherwise, yeah, almost five months on the road.”

  “Haven’t you got, like, lists of things you need to pack and buy and arrange and whatever?”

  He chuckled. “Nah. I mean, I probably should. But I know what’s gonna happen. Two days before, I’ll just start shoving crap into a couple duffel bags, and when they’re full, that’ll be it. I’ll just go from there, and whatever happens, happens.”

  Zee shook her head. “That’s crazy. You have to start thinking about things like, I don’t know, weather. I mean, you could conceivably run into snow before you’re through. Do you have boots? And a parka? Also, what if you’re invited to some kind of Hollywood agent party or something? You’ll need a jacket, probably a designer one, and some really hot shoes…”

  Lockwood raised the palm of his hand to her. “Enough. You’re starting to give me heart palpitations.”

  “I’m only trying to help. If you want, I can come over and show you how to sort through your—”

  He gave a little yelp, interrupting her, then laughed and said, “Congratulations, you’ve just hit on the one way you can invite yourself back to a guy’s place and be sure of getting turned down.”

  She smiled at that but blushed a little, too. She didn’t want to encourage any reference to an attraction between them. She was aware she’d led him down that path before, but she was off it now, and she wanted him off it, too. Fortunately, he saved her the trouble of changing the subject by growing suddenly serious himself. “Listen,” he said. “I hate to bring this up…I don’t want to upset you.”

  Suddenly she wasn’t so sure
a change of subject was a good thing. “What?”

  “It’s just…Shay told me he hooked up with your roommate this morning.” He gave her a wary, sidelong look. “Maybe you already knew that. But the thing is, it apparently didn’t end so well, and he feels bad and wants to explain things. Make it right. But he has no way of getting in touch with her. He doesn’t even know her last name.”

  “It’s Merr—” Zee began, almost reflexively, before stopping herself. If Shay didn’t know Loni’s last name, she wasn’t going to be the one to pass it along to him.

  Lockwood saw this, and his mouth stretched into a tight little smile. She could almost hear him thinking, Okay, so that’s the way it still is.

  For some reason, this triggered a flash of anger. She took up her glass, then downed a mouthful of beer, and when she’d swallowed it she looked at him with as much easygoing sweetness as she could manage.

  “Oh, really,” she said, “you should just tell him not to bother. The thing is, you guys aren’t the only ones bolting from this hick town. Loni’s leaving, too. In just a couple weeks she’s moving to California with a man she’s been on-and-off with for years.” With her forefinger, she drew a little squiggle in the condensation on the side of her glass. “Her old professor. I’m sorry for Shay, but I’m pretty sure he was just one last fling for Loni before she settles down to being half of a boring old academic couple.” She looked at Lockwood with dewy eyes. “You’ll let him down easy, won’t you?”

  He cocked his head at her, as though slightly surprised by her answer. Probably he’d expected her to fall to pieces or something. Which, granted, she’d sort of done just last night when Shay had made it clear his interest in her was only as an avenue to her roommate. But she’d been a little bit drunk then and was taken off guard. Neither one of those things was the case now, and she smiled at Lockwood to reassure him.

  “I’ll let him down easy,” he said, smiling back. “Don’t you worry about Shay Dayton. Dude always lands on his feet.”

  “So I imagine,” she said, making the squiggle on the glass more elaborate. “I mean, it’s not like he’ll be lonely or anything.” She shot him a meaningful glance. “From what I understand, there’s this woman…Pernita, I think is her name?”

  Lockwood actually blanched a little. “Yeah. Pernita Hasque.” He picked up his glass and took an extra long swallow of beer, as though the mention of Pernita’s name required it. “I figured you might’ve heard about her,” he continued, after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “She had a little run-in with your roomie, I understand.”

  You understand wrong, Zee thought, but of course she kept this to herself. “Loni’s not bothered by it,” she said, and that, of course was true—but only because Loni didn’t know about it.

  “Well, good,” said Lockwood with a sigh. “She’s the daughter of our manager, the guy who put the tour together. Kinda important we keep her happy. Shay ever blows it with her, who knows, we might find ourselves stranded in Idaho or something.”

  Zee laughed. “Oh, come on now,” she said. But the wheels in her mind were turning. Is this true? Is Pernita just someone he has to put up with because of the band? Because if that’s true…

  But then she caught herself. No, no, she wouldn’t go down that rabbit hole again. Shay had made his feelings about Zee perfectly clear. She’d never lay herself out for that kind of rejection ever again.

  “Well,” said Lockwood, sitting back and slapping his thighs. “I told him I’d give it a shot. My duty’s done, my conscience is clean.”

  “Doesn’t really sound like there’s any destiny there,” agreed Zee. “Loni’s going west with her adoring professor. Shay’s heading east with his…whatever she is.”

  Lockwood laughed. “Cross between a dominatrix and an organ grinder. With him as the monkey.”

  She pursed her lips in pretend disapproval. “That’s terrible.”

  “Hey, I’m not complaining,” he said, shrugging. “Works out for me, anyway.”

  Zee took another sip of her beer. “Yeah. Just as well nothing happens to complicate any of that.” She noticed that Lockwood’s glass was now empty. “Another one? My treat. As thanks for the movie.”

  Loni was in her room, idly flitting about online, when she heard the front door open. Zee must finally be home. She looked out the window. It was dark.

  She went out to greet her. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Zee said, letting her purse slide off her shoulder onto a chair. Then she went to the sofa, dropped onto it, and started unlacing her shoes. There was something in her manner—a little wobbliness—that led Loni to believe she’d had a drink or two. Well, good. That might help take the edge off what Loni had to tell her.

  “How are you feeling?” she said, taking the chair opposite her, with the coffee table between them.

  Zee freed her left foot from its shoe and set to work on the right. “Fine,” she said, and she smiled kind of woozily. “Went to the movies with…with a friend.” She grunted as she tugged at the shoe. “Couple beers afterwards. Time is it?”

  Loni glanced at the chicken clock in the kitchen. “Ten to nine.”

  “Wow. Day disappeared, dinnit?” She laughed a little.

  “Well,” said Loni, beginning the careful approach to the subject of Shay Dayton, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. You seemed pretty upset last night.”

  Zee leaned back, draped her hands over her stomach, and sighed. “Yeah. Had better evenings.”

  “Lockwood Mott…he didn’t tell me anything, but he sort of hinted that something at the party upset you.”

  Zee made a flapping noise with her lips, as if it couldn’t be less important. “Done now,” she said.

  “I’m guessing,” said Loni, preparing to utter The Name, “it had to do with Shay Dayton.”

  Zee actually laughed and gave Loni a merry look. “Wow, you are a total genius detective. What were your clues? Was it that I spent all night talking about him and then actually threw myself at him, or was there something else that totally hit you over the head?”

  “All right,” said Loni with a smile. “Yeah, of course it was obvious. Look, I’m sorry I’m even bringing it up. It’s just, there’s something I have to tell you…”

  “Really,” she said, waving a hand at her. “Don’t bother. Everything I’ve found out since, I’m not gonna waste any more time being all Shay, Shay, Shay.”

  Loni paused. “ ‘Everything you’ve found out since’?”

  “Yeah. Kinda embarrassing. Turns out I’m, like, the last one to know.”

  “Know what?” Loni casually crossed her legs, trying hard to act like this wasn’t something she was intensely interested to hear.

  “What, you can’t guess?” Zee shrugged. “Only that he’s pretty much catted around the entire town. Bagged himself a boatload of bimbos in every freakin’ zip code. And the kicker is,” she added, while beginning to play with a loose thread on her shirt, “he’s already in a steady relationship.”

  Loni felt the color drain from her face—felt it disappear, like water running from a leaky pitcher. “He…he already has a…”

  “Yeah,” she said with a little scoff. “Should’ve figured. It’s the daughter of the guy who manages the band. New York debutante type. Pernita Hasque. Man, name like that, you don’t need to ask any more questions, right?”

  Loni cocked her head. “They’re…they’re a couple?”

  “Apparently so. She’s going on tour with them and everything.”

  “But…all those other women…” Loni felt something like a plaintive cry threatening to take over her voice.

  Zee flapped her lips again. “Rock star, Loni. It’s what they do. Guess the gal who wants the ring has to put up with the running around.” Suddenly she sat up. “Kinda hungry. We got anything in the fridge? Or maybe order a pizza?”

  Loni could barely speak. By a great effort of will, she was able to get out the words, “Not for me, thanks,” and then got to her feet a
nd returned to her room. She had just enough fortitude to shut the door behind her before she once again collapsed into a heap on her pillows.

  What an idiot she’d been! What a stupid, ignorant, willful little moron.

  True, she hadn’t really counted on her romance with Shay Dayton going any further than it had, but she’d really thought it might. And even if it didn’t, that very possibility made so many other things seem possible, too.

  And now…now she knew that there never was a possibility. She’d fooled herself. Let herself be fooled. Shay Dayton had showed her what a stupid naïf she really was. He’d just sent her the signals he’d figured she’d wanted, and she’d eaten them up with a spoon and asked for more, please. He’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted from her, and now he was heading off on the road to superstardom, leaving her behind, devastated, having closed the door on the only road open to her.

  How many women, she wondered, had fallen into this same trap? How many had let a dazzling smile and lightning-blue eyes woo them into lowering their guards? How many had let a few lines implying respect and admiration trick them into believing they were respected and admired? God, Loni had even made the first move. She wasn’t just a victim, she was a willing accomplice in her own victimization. And worst of all, she’d burned her bridges behind her. How could she possibly go back to Byron now and tell him she’d changed her mind? She didn’t even want to. The things he’d said to her, she couldn’t ever forget them—certainly never forgive.

  Suddenly, the walls around her seemed to close in—to suffocate her. All the lives she’d lived in this single day; the futures she’d projected for herself one after another; the array of selves she’d tried on like gloves, admired, and set aside; all were gone now. She had nothing left. No allies, no mentors, no friends, no lovers—no choices and no confidence. She was utterly and completely alone.

  A few hours earlier, Shay had entered the Mambo Room.

  Pernita had said to meet her there at six thirty. He was deliberately twenty minutes late. In fact, he’d spent most of the past half hour in a bar two blocks away, having a drink to pass the time. He wasn’t going to show up until he was damn good and ready.