Chapter 3
Chapter Three
O nce the contest video was submitted, I tried to forget about the whole thing. Worrying about it wouldn't change the outcome, and besides, I needed to focus on school. I was working on a degree in music with a focus on performance and composition. On top of all the practicing and performing, I also needed to study history and theory, not to mention writing papers and essays.
I didn't mind the book work, really. I just felt like my time would have been better spent practicing and developing my skills as a cellist. No one was going to care if I knew which year wire-wound strings were invented during an audition for a spot in an orchestra.
Despite my best efforts, I apparently didn't do a good enough job of putting the contest out of my mind.
My academic advisor, Professor Temsah, emailed me and asked if we could have a meeting. It was the same week the contest results were going to be announced. I didn't put two and two together until I'd taken a seat across from him at his desk.
"Ivy, I'm concerned," were the first words out of his mouth, wasting no time.
"About what?" My grades were fine, my work was continually praised and my last test performance had been flawless.
Or so I thought.
"Over the last few weeks I've noticed a change in you. You're less focused. Your movements haven't been as fluid as they should be. The others haven't noticed, but I have. I know you can do better."
Although I'd tried not to think about Ren and the video, my thoughts still wandered sometimes, wondering whether he'd watched it yet, whether he was happy to see me, whether he would choose me. I didn't think it would affect my playing.
"I'm sorry. I'm just a little distracted right now. I'll try to do better."
My advisor nodded, looking satisfied. "I also asked to see you for another reason. Payment for your latest tuition installment will be due soon."
I winced. That was something else I'd been trying not to think about.
"As I'm sure you're aware, there are several scholarships for students in need that you may be eligible for."
"I've been applying to as many as I can."
"Do you have a back -up plan in place if none of them pan out?"
I nodded silently, not wanting to lie out loud.
The academy was expensive. I'd managed to win scholarships and grants for my first few years, but competition was fierce and the committees that decided who got funding often preferred freshmen over juniors or seniors.
I had enough money saved up from working every summer, but my mom had called and told me she and my dad were at risk of losing their house. They didn't outright ask for a loan, but how could I not help them?
I still had a few applications out to grant committees I was hoping to hear back from. The truth was that I just didn't have the money for next semester's tuition anymore. If I didn't get any of the scholarships I'd applied to, I'd have to drop out.
"I'll have the money in time," I told him.
"Excellent. It would be a waste if someone with your potential was forced to leave without finishing your degree."
Tears stung the back of my eyes. I thanked Temsah for meeting with me and left as quickly as I could.
My mother had been laid off from her job after twenty years. My father had been trying to get his small business off the ground for more than a decade. We were okay as long as we could live off my mom's salary, but now they were barely making ends meet. Both sets of grandparents lived in retirement homes and subsisted almost entirely on their pensions. There was no extra money to lend.
I'd worked a part-time job through high school and got a job every summer, but my classes were so time-intensive that I couldn't work during the school year.
My money had been quickly depleted. Scholarships paid for school, not living expenses, and even though I shared an apartment, rent and groceries and other necessities quickly added up.
I wandered through the school in a daze, wheeling my cello case behind me, its heaviness feeling very familiar.
I didn't want to leave. I'd worked so hard to get in! I was one of the best students in the school. The Academy of Orchestral Performance Studies, colloquially called Opus Academy as a play on words for Magnum Opus, was a small college with a great reputation. Many of its teachers were world-renowned and its students went on to have successful careers in music. Graduating from Opus would give me the best shot at achieving my dreams.
Not to mention the thought of going back home a failure and a drop out was like a kick to the stomach.
No. I couldn't let that happen. I would just have to find some way to make money fast. Not every job had daytime work hours. Maybe I could hook up with a tutoring company and teach music lessons after school, or busk on street corners and subway stations, maybe find someone looking for a session musician. There had to be some money in that, right? I even thought about retail or flipping burgers if it came down to it. It would cut into my practice time, but that was okay. I'd just sleep less at night.
I felt better armed with a plan. I just needed to make some money on the side and all my problems would be solved.
All my problems except for one.
I still had no idea if a certain famous rock star wanted to see me again. The only reason I'd even gone to that concert was because Natalie had an extra ticket and guilted me into tagging along, but that didn't seem to matter anymore.
On the way home, I grabbed a few of those free daily newspapers that are always left forgotten on subway seats, hoping to go through the classified ads. Maybe something would jump out at me. I pulled out my phone at one of the aboveground subway stops, hoping to do a cursory search online and see if anything turned up.
Before I'd even opened a browser I got an email notification. I didn't think twice before opening it, expecting spam.
From: [email protected]
Re: VIP Fan Meeting contest entry
My heart skipped a beat and I nearly choked on my own tongue. They wouldn't be emailing me if I hadn't won, right? They wouldn't personally contact each losing entry, would they?
With shaking hands, I tapped to open the email.
Congratulations!
You have been chosen as one of the winners of the Feral Silence VIP Fan Meeting. Your winning video was personally selected by the members themselves for showcasing your love of Feral Silence.
Even with the adrenaline flowing through my veins, I couldn't hold back a snort. This was clearly a form email sent to all the winners. I certainly hadn't professed my love for anyone in the video.
The rest of the email contained details about the when and where of the meeting, including information on what we were allowed to bring and what was prohibited—No to home-baked goods of any kind, yes to giving non-food gifts, no to filming, yes to photos.
I had to wonder how many mishaps they'd had at previous fan meetings to necessitate those rules. Did someone get food poisoning from bad cookies?
By the time I read through the instructions half a dozen times, it finally sunk in.
After five years, I would finally get to see Ren again. On the other hand, after five years I would be seeing Ren again. I was torn between joy and terror.
How much had he changed? How much had I? Would we even have anything in common anymore? Anything to say to each other?
Besides, he was a celebrity now and I was still just some music geek. He had thousands and thousands of fans, most of them girls, some of them no doubt very pretty, probably throwing themselves at him on a daily basis. There was nothing particularly special or unique about me aside from my higher-than-average cello skills. That would hardly be impressive to someone as talented as Ren.
The more I thought about it, the more depressed I became. By the time I reached my apartment, I was considering just forgetting about the whole thing.
Natalie came home to find me brooding on the living room sofa. I hadn't even bothered to put my bag or cello away; they sat by the front door.
"What's wrong?" she asked immediately, throwing her purse on the kitchen table and hurrying to sit next to me.
"I heard back from the contest."
Her face dropped. "So they've already made their decision. That's too bad. I didn't get an email either."
"I did get an email. They chose me."
Her face lit up for a second, then she frowned, giving me a concerned look. "Why aren't you excited?"
"It's been so long, Nat. What if things are different? What if he's different? So much can change in five years."
"You've been watching his videos. Do you think he's changed?"
Yes , I thought to myself silently. It didn't seem like a bad change, though. Ren seemed happier. More open. But…
"The way celebrities act on camera isn't always the way they act in private. For all I know, he's got a huge ego, tons of groupies and a drug problem."
Natalie laughed. "Are you serious? You're really going to pull out those old rock star stereotypes?" She slapped me on the back and shook her head. "You're worrying too much. It's just a fan meeting. Go talk to him and find out what he's like! If you don't like the way he acts, you never have to see him again."
"I might not, anyway. Who knows what he was thinking when he chose my video? He might just be curious about things back home and want to pump me for information. He might not even care about me at all."
"I thought you said you were just friends," she said with a sly smile.
I flushed and looked away. "We are. Were."
"Look, just meet him first. Worry about the rest later."
Easier said than done.
I woke up with butterflies in my stomach on the day of the fan meeting.
I couldn't pinpoint any one emotion in the dozens I was feeling—some combination of nerves, excitement, dread and anger.
Nerves, excitement and dread I could understand.
But the anger? That was new.
I hadn't realized how angry I was until I started thinking about what to say to Ren.
Ren had just disappeared, left without saying a word to anyone. No one knew where he was, what he was doing, or even if he was still alive. Here he was living it up as a famous celebrity and he didn't even have the decency to tell anybody back home that he was more than just fine.
Maybe it was shock and relief after finding out he was okay that hid the anger. But now, with our second meeting approaching, I could feel a ball of outrage making my chest clench up.
"Don't blow up at him in front of everyone, okay?" Jen said, worry in her voice. "He probably had his reasons, even if you don't know what they were."
"You don't want to cause a scene," Natalie said. "Or they'll throw you out."
"I'm not going to cause a scene." I shoved my arms into my jacket in sharp jerking motions and stomped into my boots without undoing the laces. "I'm just going to ask him why he never bothered to tell me he wasn't dead in a gutter somewhere."
"This is supposed to be a fun day," Natalie reminded me. "An exciting day. You're reuniting with your long lost love."
"Stop. I told you, it's not like that."
"But you wanted it to be, right?"
I focused on zipping my jacket and didn't respond.
Jen flung her arms around me, squeezing tight. "Just think about how happy he's going to be when he finally sees you again."
Her reassurance helped calm some of my irritation, the tension in my muscles slowly unwinding.
Unfortunately, as my anger dwindled, anxiety took its place.
"What if he doesn't want to see me?" I asked, muffled into her shoulder. "What if it's all a mistake? What if he never even saw my video and I was chosen by some random staff member? What should I even say to him?" My voice rose in pitch with every panicked word.
"You don't have to say anything," Jen said. "Let him do the talking. You told him what you wanted to say in your video. Ball's in his court now."
The tightness in my chest eased bit by bit.
"Okay." I straightened my back and forced a determined expression on my face. "There's nothing to be worried about. This is just a meeting between friends. We'll chat and catch up and everything will be fine."
"Hey, can you do me a favor?" Natalie asked.
"Of course."
She flushed a little. "When you see Morris, can you tell him thank you for taking a picture with me? I know he doesn't always like doing selfies."
I let out a small laugh. "Sure Nat, I'll tell him."
She looked embarrassed and pleased at the same time.
As I left the apartment, it struck me for the first time that Natalie and Jen were probably jealous I was going to get so close to their favorite band. They hadn't said a single unkind word or shown any resentment, though. I would have to find a way to repay their kindness and understanding.
I used the GPS on my phone to find out where the fan meeting would take place. It was downtown somewhere in an area I wasn't familiar with. To my surprise, the map was leading me to a swanky part of town where all the rich executives lived in their multi-million dollar condos.
I arrived at the address to find a nice restaurant with a sign outside indicating I should head upstairs. The sign didn't have the band's name on it, just the words "VIP Attendees Please Proceed to Second Floor." I guess they didn't want uninvited guests to crash the party.
With every step, the butterflies in my stomach took wing and flapped around madly. I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. At the top of the stairs stood a very tall and intimidating looking woman with a clipboard and an earpiece. I gave her my name and she made a mark on her paper before pushing open the door and letting me inside.
The top floor had been set up to look like a lounge, with comfy seating and tables full of hors d'oeuvres. There were already several dozen people milling around, some chatting to each other, some sitting alone staring at their phones.
I was surprised to see a wide variety of people—men and women even as old as their thirties and forties. I'd half expected to find the place full of hyperactive squealing teenagers. There were a few of them, of course, all crowded together in a corner giggling and shrieking at random, but for the most part the atmosphere in the room was calm and orderly.
It made sense. Of course the fans that attended concerts and waited for them backstage were going to be younger. Most people eventually outgrow the desire to stand for hours to get eardrums blasted and end up smelling of smoke and beer. One could enjoy a band's music without following their every move. Feral Silence was a hardcore rock band after all, not a teenybopper boy band.
I stood awkwardly in the doorway and surveyed the room before making a beeline for the food. I wasn't hungry, but it would give me something to do. I spent a few long moments pretending to decide which snack to get, hoping to stall long enough that I wouldn't need to actually talk to anyone.
It didn't work. A young man soon approached me from behind, nearly sending me jumping into the ceiling.
"Hey, sorry!" He held a hand up to indicate he meant no harm. "Just thought I'd make small talk with another fan."
Great.
He looked to be a few years older than me, definitely not in his thirties. Floppy brown hair fell over his forehead, almost covering his light blue eyes. His earnest smile gave him a boy next door look. He was pretty cute in his green collared shirt and dark denim jeans. He stuck out a hand for a handshake that I accepted.
"I'm Mark."
"Ivy."
His eyes widened.
"Not the Ivy?"
I tilted my head, confused. "Um…?"
"The one everyone's been talking about. It's all over the internet. Some girl named Ivy made a move on Ren after one of his concerts. Basically threw herself at him. The bodyguards had to jump in and save him."
What?
"That… wasn't me. I mean, I did see Ren after a concert once, but all we did was say hi."
He looked at me skeptically.
"It's true. My two friends were there and they can vouch for me."
"I guess fan rumors can sometimes get exaggerated."
So now I had a hoard of fangirls pissed off at me and spreading lies—exactly what I didn't want to have happen. I just wanted to see Ren again without getting caught up in his celebrity lifestyle.
The mood in the room changed before I could reply, conversations hushing and people shifting positions to face the front of the room. I turned to see what everyone was staring at.
A young woman dressed in a smart black skirt and blazer had appeared from a side door, talking on her cell phone.
"Awesome, it's going to start soon," Mark said.
"How do you know?"
"That's Audio Ailey."
"Who?"
He gave me a look. "How do you not know Ailey? She was a famous music reviewer who now works for the band. Everyone knows who she is."
"Oh." Maybe a real fan of Feral Silence would know. I didn't want to admit I'd never heard of them until a month ago.
"Attention everyone!" she called, lowering her phone. We all went silent. "We're about to start. If you could all please line up in order of your tickets, I'll bring the guys out."
Ticket order? I couldn't remember being given any number. I quickly pulled out my phone and brought up the email frantically, then relaxed. There it was. Sixty-two. I looked around and counted about fifty or sixty people. Would I be near the end? We all shuffled into a vaguely ordered line that snaked around the room in an M shape, leaving me at the very back. I was last.
"You'll get a few moments to take a photo with each band member, shake their hands and say a few words. Please don't linger too long. We want each person to have a fair chance to see the guys. We'll have bodyguards standing by, so please don't break any of the rules we sent you." She lifted her cell phone to her ear. "Alright, bring them out."
The band members filed in one by one. I had been so caught up in my worries that I'd forgotten it wasn't just Ren I'd be meeting. I'd have to talk to the whole band.
I tried to put a name to each of their faces; I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of them by not knowing who they were.
The lead singer with the wavy blond hair, almost curly and falling over his forehead, came out first. He was dressed casually in ripped jeans and sneakers. His t-shirt drew my attention—there was an odd monster-like cartoon character on it holding something circular in its outstretched hands and words came out of his mouth in a bubble. I couldn't tell what it said from where I was standing.
Kell. That was his name. He flashed us all a big grin and waved.
Next came Jayce, the guitarist. Leather pants, but no leather jacket, and a t-shirt covering a well-defined chest. The smirk on his face was almost so cocky that it was off-putting, but damn if it wasn't just plain sexy.
Morris walked out after Jayce, tall and broad with bulging arm muscles and a serious expression on his face. I wondered if he ever smiled. He didn't look scary, exactly, just…austere. His expression almost reminded me of what Ren used to look like.
Ren. He hadn't come out yet. The other three were already in place at the front of the room, bodyguards at their sides. Was he not going to be here today? Was he sick?
Worry tore at my stomach until the side door finally swung open and Ren stepped out. My lungs seized up. In his tailored black suit jacket, and dress shirt open at the collar, he was just as handsome as I remembered. I nearly gulped at that hint of bare chest.
He had a smile on his face, but it didn't look as easy as I'd seen in all his videos. It was almost strained, a small wrinkle set between his eyebrows. His eyes darted back and forth among the crowd, as if seeking something. Was he looking for me? His eyes never fell on me at the back of the line. He took his place in next to Morris.
"Alright, number one, you're up."
The line moved slowly as each fan took their time with the band. There was chatting and laughter and a fair bit of squealing, no doubt from the teenagers. If I listened closely, I could make out some pieces of conversation.
"I'm so glad you guys are going to be touring again," a middle-aged woman said. I assumed she was talking to Kell.
"It's really great to be back on stage with the guys." Kell replied. The sincerity and enthusiasm in his voice couldn't be faked. "But are you telling me you didn't enjoy my solo stuff?"
"No! I loved your solo stuff!" the woman gushed. Kell's voice held a wicked note as he continued to tease her about not being a fan of his and waxed poetic about the superiority of his solo work. He was either full of himself or putting on an act, but I couldn't tell which.
"Your acoustic songs are, like, so awesome. I mean, like, wow, you know? They're just the best."
I assumed from the speech pattern that the fan up front was a teenaged girl. Jayce replied in a low rumble and I heard the girl let out a short, high-pitched squeak.
The line was moving slowly, but I could finally see the band members through the queue of bodies. A twenty-something woman was talking quietly with Morris, both her hands clasped tightly in one of his.
Morris was nodding slightly, paying rapt attention to whatever she was telling him. She tilted her head and his lips turned up very slightly at the corners for a brief second in an almost-smile. He replied, his voice too low for me to hear, and patted her on the shoulder, his hand almost comically large on her thin frame. Then again, Morris was massive enough to dwarf almost anyone, regardless of size.
I tried to catch of glimpse of Ren, but there were just too many bodies between us.
I thought the butterflies would become more and more agitated every time the line moved closer, but instead I felt an odd sense of calm wash over me.
Whatever happened, our meeting would be over within a matter of minutes and I could move on with my life. An hour from now it would be over and I'd have nothing else to worry about. It was almost freeing.
There were only two more people in front of me. I thought about what I should say to the other members—maybe just tell them how much I enjoyed their concert? That was pretty safe. Every rock star probably liked getting his ego stroked. That was probably especially true for their lead singer.
Finally, it was my turn. The person in front of me moved on from Kell to Jayce and I was ushered forward.
The first thing I noticed was the picture on his t-shirt. The monster was holding out a plate with treats and the word bubble coming out of his mouth said, "Come to the dark side. We have cookies." I couldn't help but crack a smile.
"You like it?"
I looked up and met deep blue eyes crinkled at the corners in good humor. Now that I was in front of him, one of Ren's friends and a super famous rock star, I didn't know what to say.
"Uh, yeah. It's a neat shirt."
"Thanks! I got it for two bucks. A total steal. You want a picture?" Kell held out his hand for my phone and I handed it over without thinking. He pressed himself next to me and snapped a pic. "There! Now you can make all your friends die of jealousy."
I was at a loss for words, but it didn't matter, because the next thing out of his mouth shocked me silent.
"So what's the deal with you and Ren?"
I gaped, mouth open.
"You're Ivy, right? You made that video for Ren. You're the girl that knocked him speechless after our concert a month ago." Kell was content to fill up my silence with chatter. "I've never seen Ren act like that. Nothing fazes him, you know? But seeing you, man, he just about lost it." Kell's eyes lost their charming glint as he gave me a piercing stare. "So why'd you make that video?"
"I just…I wanted to see Ren again." I stuttered my reply, a bit unnerved by that penetrating stare. Kell nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer
"I guess I don't have to ask who your favorite is." He sighed, mood changing instantly to over-the-top melodrama. "It would be nice if I could have such a pretty girl tell me she was my number one fan."
"I—" I had no idea how to react to this guy. Was he for real?
"Stop with the dramatics."
The fan talking with Jayce had moved on to Morris. Jayce punched Kell on the shoulder before focusing his attention on me.
"Thanks for coming." The guitarist of Feral Silence gave me a slow look up and down, a smoldering gaze that caused a flush to rise to my cheeks. It was like he was undressing me and licking every inch of my body with just his eyes. "We really appreciate the support of fans like you."
I cleared my throat and tried to calm my rising heartbeat. There was charisma, and then there was charisma , and this guy had an abundance of it.
"My friends are huge fans. That's how I found out about you guys."
"Tell your friends we're very grateful for their devotion."
"Their names are Natalie and Jen. They also entered this contest, but didn't win." I got a brilliant idea. "Instead of a picture with me, could I record a video of you saying hello to them?"
Jayce loved the idea. I snuck a look around to make sure the security guards weren't paying attention. I pointed my phone at him and recorded his short message.
"Hi Natalie and Jen. I wanted to thank you personally for all your love and support. None of us would be here if it wasn't for fans like you. I'm sorry you couldn't come to our fan meeting, but hopefully you'll make the next one."
He gave the camera a provocative smile, his narrowed eyes and full lips practically inviting the camera to have sex with him.
I tapped to stop the video and coughed. "Yeah, that's good."
I was still in a Jayce-induced haze when I found myself face to face with Morris. Or maybe it was more accurate to say face to chest. The man's size was impressive, all muscle and bulk without an ounce of fat on him. He stared down at me impassively.
"My friend Natalie wanted me to tell you thanks for taking a picture with her because she knows you don't always like to do that." I blurted the sentence out in one breath.
The corners of Morris' lips tilted up slightly, then fell back into a somber expression. I was relieved he was amused and not irritated by my babbling.
"Your friend Natalie is very welcome." His words were quiet and subdued, but the soft look in his eyes kept them from being too intimidating. "You're a friend of Ren's?"
How much had Ren told them about me? About his past? I decided to go with the simple explanation.
"We used to go to the same music school when we were younger." I didn't mention Ren's disappearance or those brief moments between us when I thought maybe we could be something more. "I haven't seen him in a long time."
Morris nodded briefly before patting me on the shoulder. He leaned down and spoke his next words in a quiet voice.
"He misses you."
My breath caught in my throat, but I didn't have time to respond because the person in front of me was ushered away by a bodyguard, leaving Ren free for the next fan.
Me.