Authors: Kailin Gow
“
You said
that you loved me/but I'm not sure
I've
been burned by you before.”
My voice hardly sounded like my own. Eerily echoing out of the
microphone, it was louder than I was used to. Stronger. Filled with a magic
that seemed to transform it from the voice of a nervous, eighteen-year-old girl
into something far greater. A voice that could affect each and every one of
these people, a voice that could get inside their heads and hearts and make
them dance like their lives depended on it. The sweat was pouring down my body
and I could catch a glimpse of sweat, too, on the faces of my bandmates, who
were rapt in concentration, lost in the music. And I was lost, too – wandering
through a labyrinth of sound, trying to find my way out of this energy, this
power, this beautiful music that at once belonged to me and yet was something
wholly other, some great mystery I had only just begun to learn how to unfold.
The song was catchy – mesmerizing, even – but it was more than that. Its beauty
haunted me – now more than ever. I had written the lyrics – they were part of
me, etched on my heart.
But
the music....
I
hadn't written that alone. Some chord changes, some waverings of my voice –
those I had come up with on my own. Those seemed familiar to me, even natural.
But every now and then I changed key, or switched to a minor chord, or the
sound of an A diminished wailed over the amplifiers – and then I remembered.
Remembered that I hadn't written this song by myself. That another voice,
another mind, was here in the room with me, even though he was so far away...
Danny...
My
heart ached, even now. But I couldn't let myself think about that. Not when I
had to put on a brave face in front of so many thousands – even tens of
thousands – of people. Not when I had to convince them that I was more than
just Keith Knight's protege daughter. I had to convince them that I was a rock
star.
And
from the wild sounds of their applause, it sounded like I was succeeding. When
the song came to an end my voice was hoarse, husky. But even now it was filled
with joy. Being onstage was exhilarating for me, for all of us. Only when I was
singing did I truly feel as if I were home. And the audience picked up on that.
They knew it as well as I did – that I was where I belonged, right here in the
O2 arena, opening for My Bloody Valentine.
Six
months ago we could never have dreamed this would happen. Six months ago, I was
just starting college at USC, trying to fit in, trying to convince myself I
wanted a normal life. But a lot had changed since then.
“Ladies
and gentlemen,” I began, my voice hardly wavering. “I give you – the Never
Knights.”
The
crowd was riotous with joy. I recognized a few faces – celebrities I'd seen on
the covers of British tabloids, aspiring reality stars and minor members of the
Royal Family. But most of the crowd was full of strangers. A blessed relief, I
thought, after LA – where the club scene was dominated by the same few faces,
the same familiar smiles. Here everyone was new – the whole scene was wild, was
different. Nobody knew us here; nobody had seen my pictures on TMZ or Gawker.
They were willing to accept us on one thing along: the music.
“I'm
Neve Knight, on vocals.” The crowd responded almost immediately to me, a
writhing mass of applause, of adoration.
You could get drunk on this
, I
thought to myself, feeling myself bathed in the glow of their love. I felt
dizzy just standing there before them. I was reeling – exhausted. And yet I
wouldn't have given this up for anything in the world.
“And
this is Steve Saint Clair, on drums...” I remembered how it had been only a few
months ago, giving this same speech in a nightclub in Los Angeles. How much
younger we had been then. Before the night everything changed. Before I'd met
him
.
Shiny new stage name aside, Steve was still the same as ever. Gawky, charming,
with an indomitably goofy smile that made girls giggle and swoon at the same
time. He was the most solid of the lot of us – the only one who had come
through the latest drama unscathed. Steve had never worried about anything but
the band – he was the only one, for all his one-night stands, who never let his
relationships come between him and the band. Something I knew I couldn't say
for myself.
“And
Lucky Luc, on keyboards.” The girls went wild as Luc fixed his soulful
chocolate-brown stare on the audience.
Lucky Luc
,
all right...
I
thought. Our agent had picked the name – figured that a guy with killer looks
like his had the luck of one in a million. But I knew that beneath Luc's
movie-star good looks there lay a veneer of darkness, of sadness I was unable
to crack. Luc hadn't been as violent as Kyle when he'd found out that Danny and
I were dating. He hadn't threatened to leave the band overtly – as Kyle had
done. But I'd seen the pain I caused in those deep brown eyes. I'd seen how
hard it was for him to agree to stay, knowing that the girl he'd kissed in a
moment of weakness, the girl he'd finally admitted his feelings to after so
many years keeping it quiet, was in love with someone else. I couldn't talk to
him about it, of course. We'd agreed to act like it never happened – to forget
that kiss. But I knew that things weren't as they were between us. Whatever Luc
felt for me, it hadn't gone away. And when he turned that classic, heart-melting
stare upon me, it was getting even harder for me to catch my breath.
“And,
on bass guitar, Kyle X.” The other boys had changed their names for reasons of
fame and fortune – because they wanted to re-invent themselves in the manner of
their rock icons, taking on stage names that meant something to them. But in
changing his name, I knew, Kyle Jostens was doing more than playing a part. He
was running away from something. Running from the father whose name he bore,
the father who had shot his mother, who was serving twenty to life in a federal
penitentiary in California. But then again, Kyle was always running. From the
pain – from the terror of abandonment, that had set in the day he lost the only
family he'd ever known in a single, fell swoop. For years I'd been Kyle's
family, his confidante. Like a sister to him.
But
no more. He'd admitted his feelings for me – more than that, he'd let his
desire for me get between the band. Threatened to walk out if Danny Blue stayed
another day. I'd done what was necessary to make him stay – I'd apologized,
cried, bitten down my pride and my anger and admitted I was wrong to fall for
Danny Blue, even as my heart still told me I was right.
He'd
agreed, in the end, to stay. Slowly, grudgingly. But he'd agreed nonetheless.
But on one terrible condition.
“Geoff
Galaxy, on guitars.” It was hard even to form the words. Once upon a time,
Geoff had been a true part of the band, one of our best friends. But for years
now, drugs and alcohol had worked their way into Geoff's system, making him a
mere shadow of the man he was. Geoff was still heart-breakingly beautiful; his
shaved head and glinting earring still gave him the appearance of a dissolute
pirate. And now that his hand had healed, he played guitar as well as he ever
did. But something about him didn't sit right with me. It wasn't just the way
he looked at me – smirking, predatory, as if he knew the real reason we invited
him back into the band. It was the knowledge that cocaine and – no doubt –
heroin had burned away some portion of humanity in his brain; the knowledge
that the dangerous, devil-may-care persona he projected onstage was more than
just an act.
Geoff
was a ticking time bomb, and everybody knew it.
But
in the absence of Danny Blue, he was the only chance we had. My heart sank as I
remembered how Danny had once stood where Geoff was standing now, his smile
genuine, his face unscarred by the ravages of drugs and drink. It had been a
month since Danny had graciously stepped down from the band, knowing it was the
only way to reconcile me and Kyle. And during that month I hadn't stopped
missing him.
My
heart skipped a beat as I remembered.
Tonight.
Tonight Danny's semester
ended – his TA-ing gig at USC over for the semester. Tonight he was coming to
London to celebrate Christmas and New Year's with me. I'd taken the year off to
go touring – meaning that both of the obstacles between me and Danny had been
removed in one fell swoop. He was no longer my band mate and no longer my TA.
That
should have made things easy. Instead, we had an ocean between us. And hadn't
seen each other in a month. Until tonight...
“Well
done,” a gorgeous black woman with long, curly hair and a killer smile
approached us. She was Cassandra Curry, the PR machine RRR had appointed for us
shortly after signing us to their label. But she looked every inch the rock
star. “A great start to your touring season. But the press is going to want
photos. Look candid, okay guys?” She looked me up and down. “White leather
dress,” she assessed my clothing. “Vivienne Westwood?”
I
nodded, stunned at the breadth of her knowledge.
“Not
a bad choice,” she smiled. “Shows off your skin. And the spikey boots are a
nice touch, too. Although normally I avoid Cavalli's winter collections.” She
nodded. “I'll put them both on the label's tab. Fashion's part of marketing,
after all.”
She
led us across a red carpet. The crowd passed over us in a blur – a whirl of
screams, applause, autographs, blown kisses – and then we were safely
backstage, digging into an enormous cake the venue had provided for us.
Kyle
looked utterly exhausted. His bright blue eyes shone with joy – but I could see
the melancholy within. Things hadn't been the same with us since our fight.
He'd shown me a side of himself I'd never wanted to see – a crazed, obsessive
darkness that I could forgive, but not forget. Kyle did more than love me – he
needed
me. And it was this need, a need I could never fulfill, that made things so
terrible between us.
“Congratulations,
Neve,” he said in a small voice. “We've always dreamed about this, you know.
Ever since we were kids. Performing in London. Birthplace of punk rock. And at
the O2 arena, no less, opening for My Bloody Valentine...”
“I
know!”
We'd made it.
We'd lived the dream. In that moment I wanted so
badly for things to go back the way to they used to be, for Kyle and I to be
normal with each other again. I couldn't resist it. I let my arms surround him,
hugging him tightly, the way I'd done in the old days.
Wishing it could be
the way it was in the old days.
I pressed his head to mine. “We did it.”
I
felt his body tense up. I felt his breathing grow shallow. No sooner did he
turn his baby-blue eyes to mine than I knew it had been a mistake. Our faces
were close – painfully close. And I knew then that I'd given him hope.
“Neve...”
he said hoarsely, his voice ragged with emotion.
I
immediately stepped away. “Kyle, I'm so sorry...” I said as quickly as I could.
“Was that weird? I didn't mean to be weird...”
I
couldn't give him hope. Not now. Not with Danny on his way to Heathrow as we
spoke.
“No,
I'm sorry...” Kyle looked down. “I've been a jerk, Neve, I know that. I knew
that when I signed up for the band again. That you're with Danny now. I get
that. I respect it. But that doesn't mean it's not still hard. I can't just
turn off my feelings like a tap.” He smiled wanly, trying hard to look
nonchalant. “But for your sake. For the sake of the band. I have to try.”
“I
know, Kyle.” I tried to give him a “buddy” pat on the shoulder. “We'll keep
things professional from now on.”
“As
if that would help,” he muttered under his breath. “I just need time, Neve.
That's all. Time to get used to this.”
I
nodded. “I understand.”
Steve
interrupted our reverie, turning up with a girl on each arm.
Typical Steve,
I
thought. Clearly he wasn't hung up on emotional drama. “These two want to come
back to our suite,” he smiled. “But I can't give them both the attention they
deserve.” He looked the girls up and down. “How about I bring along my friend
Kyle here!”
Their
enthusiastic moans made it clear what they thought of this proposal.
“So,
Kyle can join us? Will you, Kyle?”
Kyle
looked at me for a second, holding my gaze. I could feel his anguish, and even
now it had the power to move me.
“Yeah,
sure,” Kyle said, moving away and following Steve.
No
sooner had he gone than my phone rang. My heart leaped at the name on my caller
ID: DANNY BLUE.
“Hello,
love.” His voice still had the power to galvanize me. “I've graded all the term
papers – all twenty-five of them. And you know what that means?”
My
body began to tingle.
“I've
got nothing to do for the next leg of the flight except think about you. I'm
sitting in Dublin airport right now, waiting for my connecting flight. If all
goes well, I'll have you in my arms in a few short hours.”
“Dublin,
already?”
“Good
winds,” said Danny. “We got in early. Now I suggest you take a nap, love.
Because you're not getting any sleep tonight.”
His
voice made me tremble with desire.