Chapter 2
Chapter Two
W hy hadn't I recognized him?
I lay on my back in bed, staring at the wall. The ceiling was cracked with holes in the plaster. One large hole had six long cracks emanating from the center, like a lop-sided spider. Our landlord had never seen fit to fix it.
We had been far away from the stage, and it had been five years. A person could change a lot in five years, especially in the transition from teenager to adult. His hair was longer now; he never wore it long. It had always been neatly trimmed on the sides, but now it fell over his shoulders, glossy and thick, the kind of hair that made girls jealous. Had he been growing it out for those five years?
I tried to do the math in my head. I'd been sixteen back then. Ren was two years older than me.
The day Ren turned eighteen, he stopped going to school. He stopped attending our after school music academy. None of his few friends had seen him in days. It wasn't until his parents starting calling around that we realized Ren had been missing for two weeks.
It took his parents more than fourteen days to realize he was gone.
After a cursory investigation, the police concluded there were no signs of foul play. His closet was half empty. The money his parents kept in a secret rainy day stash had been cleaned out. Most telling, his violin and its case were missing. He had just taken off. At eighteen, Ren was an adult and old enough that the police couldn't do anything when he disappeared. Adults can't run away from home, after all.
I rolled over on my bed and hugged a pillow to my chest.
Losing Ren had been almost devastating. I'd cried for days, wondering where he was and if he was okay. I'd tried messaging him, but he never answered. It turned out he'd left his cell phone sim card on his bedside table. He'd paid for whatever transportation got him out of the city with cash. He hadn't taken money out of an ATM, so there was no record of him on camera.
Ren had left without leaving a single trace. Not that the police had looked that hard. Once they decided he'd left without being coerced, the investigation stopped.
I thought it was odd how easily the search had been given up. Ren's parents were more than wealthy enough to keep the search going, to hire private investigators, to track him down—they just…didn't.
Everyone had been shocked when it happened. Ren seemed like such a good kid. He was a good student, on his school's soccer team, Vice-President of the student council. No one suspected he would be the type to run away. Despite the shock of it, within a few weeks it seemed like everyone had forgotten about him.
Everyone but me.
There were rumors about why he might have left and where he was going, but it was only ever idle chatter. No one ever knew how upset I was. I tried to keep it to myself.
There had never been anything between me and Ren. Not officially. We'd met when we were children and had attended the same music school for years. I considered him a friend.
I started noticing things about him when I turned sixteen—his strong, muscled forearms, dark, beautiful eyes, and when he smiled…
I rolled over to my other side and buried my face into the pillow.
Back then, Ren had rarely smiled. He had friends, or at least friendly acquaintances, and would never have been called an outsider. He just seemed closed-off somehow, withdrawn, never letting people close.
Except for me.
In the last year before he disappeared, I thought he'd finally started to open up. We would chat before and after our music lessons, just small talk, but every once in a while I'd say something he found amusing and his face would light up. It would only happen for a split second, but he'd smile before his lips would fall back into their usual somber expression. Seeing it made my heart sing for days afterward.
Boys didn't pay attention to me like that. I was just a friendless music nerd who spent all her time holed up in her room practicing. Ren seemed to like talking to me. Sometimes he would pause mid-sentence and just stare at me, and I wondered if maybe he liked me as more than a friend.
He had even driven me home a few times. The silence when he reached my house had always been slightly awkward. I'd wondered if he was ever going to kiss me. It never happened.
For a long time I had been too shy to say anything about it, too worried I'd been misreading his signals. Besides, he was always so busy with studying and sports and violin practice. There was no way he'd want to spend his scant free time with someone like me.
I remembered learning his birthday was coming up. A brilliant idea came to me. I would find out if there were any classical concerts going on and invite him to go with me. The concert tickets would be his birthday present. It wouldn't officially be a date, but it would be a way for me to show him my feelings without needing to say it out loud.
Then Ren turned eighteen and I never saw him again.
Until last night.
I sat up straight. I needed to see more of him. That brief encounter hadn't been enough. He was a famous rock star. There had to be tons of videos of Ren on the internet.
I was right. I searched for "Ren Feral Silence bassist" and over twenty million results came up. I clicked the first video I saw and sat back to watch.
It was an interview with the whole band. They were in a television studio with a well-known entertainment personality asking them questions. Behind them, a glass wall held back a horde of fans shouting and cheering and waving signs with the members' names.
The video was only a minute long, so it must have been a short clip taken from the whole segment. The title of the video was "Ren is my bias". It had been filmed a few years ago. How long had Feral Silence been together? Ren did look a bit younger in the video, his face less angular and his hair a bit shorter. Was this taken near the beginning of his music career?
I tugged my laptop closer and turned up the volume.
Ren sat between the lead singer and the drummer. He had turned around in his seat to wave and smile at the fans behind him. They jumped in excitement, hooting and shouting and vigorously jiggling around their signs and banners.
"It's great to see you guys so energetic," he called out. "Have you been waiting long?"
Several girls shouted out an answer, but their words were muffled through the glass. Two of them held up sleeping bags and pillows. They must have camped out overnight. Ren flashed them a smile.
"I hope we're worth the wait."
The crowd exploded with flailing arms and fervent nodding.
"Is that a yes?" he laughed.
"So Ren," the reporter began. He turned around and shifted forward, giving her his full attention. "How does it feel to have all this fan attention?"
"It's surreal. As a musician, you always hope that one day you'll have screaming fans, but this—" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the crowd, "—this is kind of nuts, you know? I think those two actually slept overnight." He pointed to the girls with the sleeping bags and they freaked out, eyes wide, jumping up and down on the spot as their idol singled them out.
"You do seem to have very dedicated fans."
"Our fans are the best." Ren's expression softened and his eyes shone brightly. "We owe them everything."
"Isn't it overwhelming at times? Surely you never expected this level of attention so quickly?"
"It can be," he admitted. "But I wouldn't change a thing."
"It must be a new experience for you. I heard you come from small town in the mid-west." My chest clenched at the reporter's words. "Did your friends and family back home ever guess you would grow up to be a famous rock star?"
Ren's easy smile faltered for a brief moment and his eyes flicked away, looking down. Then he lifted his head, perfectly composed. "I don't know if I'd call myself famous yet. Feral Silence is hardly a household name. As for grown up—" he shook his head and laughed.
"Ren's still just a baby." The lead singer reached over and ruffled his fingers through Ren's hair. "For a while he wasn't even old enough to drink at the clubs and bars we played at."
The reporter laughed along with the rest of the band and then the clip ended.
I sat back in my chair. The video only raised more questions. Why had he never contacted anyone from his previous life? He was a famous rock star. Any trouble he might have had would be nothing in the face of that. What in his life could possibly have been so bad he had to leave the way he had? Why had he left everyone?
Why had he left me?
The confident way he played his instruments on stage, the loving way he treated his fans, that bright smile he'd given me for a split second before recognition set in… He was cheerful. Upbeat. Those were words I never would have thought I'd use to talk about Ren.
Then again, the stories about Feral Silence made it sound like they basked in the adoration of their female fans. They took off their shirts during concerts and reached out into the audience to tease them and touch them. They actively encouraged fans to throw panties on stage and give out phone numbers.
I blew out a frustrated breath and leaned back in my computer chair, thinking it through. Was Ren really that type of guy? Was he really into the groupie thing?
Five years really could change a person.
I spent the next few hours watching videos of Ren, interviews and behind the scenes footage and of course his concerts. Feral Silence had played in dozens of countries around the world. A hint of envy struck me; I'd always dreamed of traveling around the world making music.
The more I watched him, the more entranced I became. That one live performance of his I'd watched hadn't been a fluke. He really was that talented. It wasn't just the violin and bass guitar either. He'd sat down at a piano and played lovely music quite a few times, too. He even got on the drums once, although he was laughing the whole time and clearly just messing around.
There was something else I found intriguing—more than intriguing.
Ren had really grown up.
He was taller, yes, but he had also filled out. His chest and shoulders were broad, his arms muscled. His face had lost its softness. It was like his cheekbones were chiseled out of stone, sharp yet dignified. I would have called him pretty if it wasn't for the strong set of his jaw and his firm lips.
I couldn't deny it. Ren was sexy as hell.
I became vaguely aware of heat centering between my legs, a slight throbbing at the apex of my thighs. I squirmed, trying to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away. My hand slowly drifted down without quite thinking about it. I pressed the palm of my hand between my legs and nearly whimpered at the jolt of pleasure that sang through me.
The tips of my fingers grazed my most sensitive spot. The friction of my panties only intensified the sensation. I gasped and choked it back, not wanting to make a sound out loud. I put more pressure on that spot, rubbing in circles, the heat within me rising.
My breathing became heavy, shallow. That sweet ache grew and grew. I moved my fingers faster and faster, closing my eyes. Soft brown eyes and a handsome face appeared behind my eyelids. I bit my lip to stifle a moan. My thighs clenched as pleasure washed over me, the throbbing hitting its peak and sending me over the edge.
I continued rubbing, slowly easing myself back down from the high until it was too much to take. I slumped down on my bed, trying to catch my breath.
Loud voices and the sound of cupboards opening and closing brought me back to myself with a start. My roommates were awake.
I pulled my hand away, blushing in the privacy of my room. I couldn't believe I'd done… that… while thinking about Ren.
Sure, I'd done it before, but I only ever thought of celebrities or random hot guys I had crushes on from afar. I'd never done it to someone I actually knew. The thought almost filled me with a sort of shame, like I'd done something naughty using Ren like that.
I gave myself a mental shake. Stupid. I bet thousands of girls had done what I'd done many times over. It was nothing to feel bad about.
It did make me wonder, though. With all those girls lusting over Ren, had any of them ever actually got their wish?
The thought made me burn with jealousy. I didn't like that feeling. I forced those thoughts away and continued searching online. I wanted to know more about Ren beyond his gorgeous face and tempting body. What was his personality like? I tried to push what I'd just done out of my mind.
After several minutes of surfing around, I found something interesting. It was a video from little more than a year ago. Ren was centered in the middle of the frame with a concert hall to his back. A voice from off the screen asked him questions.
"Ren, aside from the bass guitar, what other instruments do you play?"
Unlike the other videos I'd seen, he was dressed only in a collared shirt, no tailored jacket or tie. It was almost casual for him. Ren's glossy black hair was loose and falling over his shoulders.
"I play a few different instruments," he replied, "including piano and violin."
I knew that much. I wondered when Ren had developed a taste for the bass guitar.
"My parents insisted I take classical music lessons growing up."
The easy smile on his face had wavered, lips pressing together for a brief moment. Aside from that, there'd been no hint of the darkness that had overcome him in the first interview I'd seen.
"I can also pound away on the drums a bit," Ren said, continuing the interview, "but I'm no match for Morris."
"Is it true that the violin piece in Blue Storm is you?"
"Yeah, that was me playing the violin parts in Blue Storm. If you ever see me in concert, about halfway through the song I put down the bass and pull out my violin for a solo."
The camera panned over to the rest of the band, so I clicked to pause the video. I mulled over what I'd just seen. A few years ago, Ren clearly hadn't liked being asked about his past, but in this interview he talked about it without a second thought.
"Alright girl, spill it."
My thoughts were interrupted when the door to my bedroom swung open and hit the opposite wall with a thud. Jen and Natalie stood in the doorframe, arms crossed over their chests.
The three of us rented a small apartment together on the outskirts of the city. It took two buses to reach the subway line and wasn't the safest area, which is exactly why we could afford a three bedroom apartment. If we'd tried to get a place downtown near our music academy, we would have had to bunk together, crammed three to a bedroom.
I had been silent on our trip home the night before. The girls had been bursting with questions, but I was too overwhelmed by my discovery to answer any of them.
Ren was alive. He was safe, living in the same city as me, healthy and well.
He was also the bassist of a mega-famous rock band.
I'd gone straight to my room while my friends exchanged worried glances. They had left me alone all night. It was already noon the next day. It looked like they'd run out of patience. I hoisted myself up into a sitting position and let my legs dangle off the bed.
"Time for twenty questions?"
"Ivy, you can't just tell us you used to know one of the members of Feral Silence and not tell us the whole story." Jen's words were exasperated.
"I'm not sure it's my story to tell." Ren had left everything he'd ever known behind for a reason. Should I really be telling my friends about his personal life? "I told you, we used to go to the same music school back when we were kids." I didn't tell them we'd continued that friendship into our teenaged years.
"What did you mean, Ren disappeared?"
I shrugged. "He turned eighteen and took off."
"And you haven't been in touch since?"
"No. I had no idea what he's been doing since then."
"This is too crazy." Natalie flopped down on the bed next to me and nudged my shoulder. "So, your childhood sweetheart just happens to be a famous rock star, huh?"
"Childhood— What— I didn't—!" I sputtered the words as Natalie and Jen laughed. I felt even more embarrassed considering what I'd done to thoughts of Ren with the two of them just across the hall.
"So, you gonna meet up with him again now that you've run into each other?"
I had been wondering that myself. Would Ren want to be in contact with someone from the life he'd run away from? Although he had been shocked to see me, he had also seemed pleased. Would he want to see me again?
"He probably barely even remembers me. The last time we saw each other was five years ago. He must have forgotten all about me."
Natalie snorted. "From the way he acted after that concert? Yeah, I'd say he remembers you."
Even so, did I want to see him? I was attracted to him, yes, but what kind of crazy celebrity life would someone like him have? Fangirls and entourages and paparazzi—I had no interest in any of that. Besides…
"Even if I wanted to, I would have no idea how. He's famous. Tons of girls would die for a chance to meet him. It would be impossible."
Jen sat down on my other side and thrust a piece of paper in my face. I took it from her and examined it. It was a flyer with a photo of Feral Silence in concert with lines of text along the bottom.
"This just went up on their website. There's going to be a VIP fan meeting," Jen explained. "You have to make a short video about why you love Feral Silence and deserve to meet them in person. The guys are the ones who actually choose the winners. The prize is an invitation to a special meet and greet event next month. Natalie and I are entering."
I read the requirements on the flyer. It was just as Jen said.
Film a short one to two minute video about why you're the biggest fan of Feral Silence. Winners will be chosen personally by the band members.
"I don't think I can do this," I said. "I'm not their fan. I don't know anything about the band."
"You don't have to do a video about that," Natalie said. "All you have to do is get yourself on camera and give Ren a way to contact you."
"Do you really think he would?" I looked down at my lap and lowered the flyer. I didn't like the beseeching tone my voice had taken on.
"From the way he was looking at you last night?" Jen shared a grin with Natalie. "He'll definitely want to."
"How would I film it and make it look professional?" I asked.
"You don't need to," she replied. "It doesn't have to be some high budget artsy film piece. Just record yourself on your phone talking to Ren. I'm sure what you say won't actually matter once he sees you."
I thought about it quietly for a moment. I did want to see Ren again, if only to ask him why he left. I was worried, though. From the very brief time I'd seen him on stage and in person, I could tell he was different from the Ren I knew. How much had fame changed him?
I looked up from the flyer and met my friends' eyes.
"I'll do it."
"Uh, hi. I'm Ivy. I guess you know that, if you're watching. I mean, if Ren's watching. I don't actually know if you'll even see this. Um. I'm not really a fan of Feral Silence. Sorry. I thought I'd make this video because…because I want to see Ren again."
I felt so stupid babbling into my camera. I buried my hands in my face and groaned. Another bad take. I'd have to start over. Again.
"Hi. I'm Ivy. Ren, if you're watching this, I want you to know…I've missed you. I don't know why you left, but you seem happy now. That makes me happy for you. But I was really sad when you left. And no one knew why. Why, Ren? Why did you leave?"
No. I shook my head. I didn't want to waste my first message prying into his past.
I re-watched the ten previous videos I'd taken. They were all awful. I'd held my phone out at arm's length and focused on my face. I looked terrible that close up, every imperfection magnified, not to mention the angle gave me a double chin.
"I can't do this." I stalked out of my bedroom and into the kitchen where Jen and Natalie were preparing dinner: Alfredo pasta with veggies. We all pitched in for groceries to split the cost; food was cheaper in bulk. "I look awful on video and all my messages are stupid."
"You need help?" Natalie asked.
I lowered my head, embarrassed. All I had to do was speak into a camera. It should have been easy. "Yeah. I don't know what I'm doing."
Natalie turned the burner down on the pot of boiling water and Jen set aside the vegetable cutting board. Together, they marched me back into my bedroom.
"First things first, clean your room."
I blinked. "Clean?"
Jen nodded at the unmade bed, piles of laundry on the floor and empty cans of diet soda on my nightstand. "You don't want Ren to think you're a slob, do you?"
"No one's going to see my bedroom."
Natalie just tapped her foot in mock impatience, so I got started sweeping cans into a garbage bag and shoving my laundry into the closet, closing the door to hide it. As for my bed, I just threw a comforter over the mess of sheets, not bothering to actually make it.
"Is that better?"
"Good enough."
Natalie grabbed my phone and balanced it carefully on its side on my tall dresser, pointing the lens toward my computer desk. She tiptoed up and around to look at the screen. "Perfect. This'll give you a nice upper body shot. It's better than just pointing the thing at your face."
"I like the shirt you have on," Jen said. "Red is a good color on you." She rummaged through my makeup kit and pulled out blush and mascara. "Sit." She pointed at the chair. "We'll make you look gorgeous for Ren, don't you worry."
"I don't care about being gorgeous," I grumbled as Jen attacked my face with brushes and wands. "It's not like that." I shifted in my chair uncomfortably. I hadn't told the girls I thought there might have been something more between me and Ren. If only he hadn't disappeared on me. "We were just friends."
Jen and Natalie shared an amused look. They no doubt thought I was protesting too much.
"Write down what you want to say," Jen told me once my face was glowing. "No winging it."
"That's the hardest part. I don't know what to say."
"The contest is only open for a few days. You've got to do it now. So get thinking."
Jen swiveled me around in my computer chair and opened my laptop, clicking to bring up a blank text file. She stood back, waiting.
My hands hovered over the keyboard for several long moments before I dropped them into my lap. "It's no use. Everything I come up with sounds stupid."
"Just think about what you want to tell Ren. What would you say to him if he was here right now?"
I'd want to ask him why he left without telling anyone, without telling me. Didn't he care that I'd…that we'd all be worried about him?
I couldn't say that in the video. It was too personal, too soon—but maybe I could say something else.
I started typing away, jotting down my thoughts. I didn't hear Jen and Natalie leave the room.
When I had about 200 words, a little over a minute when spoken out loud, I leaned back in my chair, satisfied. This might actually work.
Hi Ren. It's me, Ivy.
I'm not making this video because I'm a fan of Feral Silence. Actually, that concert was the first time I'd heard of your band. But, I've become a fan of yours. Your solos are incredible. I don't know much about the bass guitar, but I can tell you've mastered that thing. I always knew you were talented, but the amount you've grown in the last five years…it's impressive.
I've grown, too. I'm attending the Academy of Orchestral Performance Studies, with a focus in performance and composition. I hope to one day work for a symphony and travel the world, just like you. Of course, I don't think I'll be doing it as a rock star.
When I saw you after that concert, I couldn't believe it. I didn't know if I was just imagining things at first. You were the last person I ever would have expected to see.
I never knew what happened to you. No one did. All I could do was hope that you were okay, that you were safe and happy. I always hoped someday that you would come home and regale me with stories of all your wild adventures.
I'd still like to hear those stories. I know a lot can change in five years, but some things don't. I miss you, Ren. I'd like to see you again.
I hope you want to see me, too.