Chapter 15
Levi
When I finally leave the closet, I have the lyrics of the song completely etched into every corner of my brain, but I know the real work begins tomorrow.
..which is good because I’m once again starving.
At the top of the stairs, I check all corners before riding the handrail down to the bottom.
I would have thrived here as a kid. The thought stops me.
Nah, kids belong in the dirt of a wide-open field.
At least that’s what this kid needs. “I wanna look at the horizon and not see a building standing tall.” The lyric inserts itself into the debate.
Maybe Jan was onto something, and I mean, Tate is nothing short of a creative genius.
Not that I would dare say that to her face.
I make large strides through the foyer towards the kitchen, every step echoing.
Empty. Second time today, but this time I’m not as happy.
I pull open the door to the fridge, feeling everything but inspired to cook, but there’s a beer.
This is dinner, I guess. I pull it out and head towards the drawer I saw a bottle opener in.
Once the cap’s off, I tip my head back and let the first crisp sip burn as the liquid funnels down my throat. Ahh.
When my head levels back, my eyes catch something through the window.
People. People everywhere. Definitely more than the twenty-five contestants left.
They have all three bonfires going and..
. I squint to see better through the dusk.
“A keg?” I let myself outside and the roar of chatter pushes me back.
I scan the sea of people, fighting through the waves of unidentifiable faces till I come to the furthest patio set where Tate, Clay, and Gabriella are all sitting.
It’s the same place we all sat the first night here.
“Ayeee, Levi, haven’t seen you all day, my man. What’s going on?” Clay stands to greet me, giving me his signature one clap on the back. “I see you found my beers,” he says, smiling down at the bottle before taking his seat again.
“Where have you been?” Gabriella asks with narrowed eyes, the wheels in her head turning.
“Actually,” my smile cracks as I sit down, “your closet.”
“My closet?!” Her once cool demeanor is replaced with alarmed concern. “What were you doing in my closet?”
“Our,” Tate corrects, holding up a finger.
Gabriella makes something like a low growl under her breath. “Our. What were you doing in our closet.”
“I said he could use it to practice his set. Every other room in the house seems to echo. Well, every room that I’ve been in,” Tate says, responding for me.
“Did you not pay attention at all during the home tour I gave you?” Gabriella asks, redirecting her focus to me.
I think back to the first day. Tate on the driveway. Her butter-yellow outfit and sour gummy worms. The way I defaulted to teasing her. And then Gabriella. Wearing some kind of black masking tape tube dress that didn’t cover much.
“I was distracted.”
She huffs a frustrated breath. “Well, Levi, if you were listening, you would have heard the part where I told you the guest house has a private studio. Soundproof and everything.” She makes a gesture like ta-da, shaking her hands by her head.
“No way! You didn’t tell me that.”
“I did too. Right after the second swimming pool.”
I shake my head like a dog who just got out of a bath. “That would have been way better than practicing inside that uterus you guys call a bedroom.”
Clay starts aspirating he’s laughing so hard, and Tate has her hands pressed into her face.
“What? Don’t tell me you guys haven’t thought the same thing. That’s exactly how I envision it looking.”
“How often do you envision a uterus, Levi?” Gabriella asks, nearly purring.
“Yeah, I’m not touching that topic with you.”
She makes a mock sad face before downing whatever was left in her red solo cup.
“Who are all these people?”
Clay leans forward, elbows on knees. “Someone invited some friends from LA, who then invited more friends, and on, and on, and on. Now, here we are. A house party on a Sunday. Lord, help us.”
I glance around, not at all interested in engaging. “Who wants to go check out this studio?”
“Me!” Tate responds first, and the rest follow.
“Lead the way, Miss Gabriella.”
***
The guest house is really the size of my mom’s house back home, but it’s outfitted for a performer. Small bathroom, kitchenette, and closet laundry off the second bedroom, but in the very back of the house is a studio with a soundproof booth and everything. Clay and Tate look as shocked as I am.
“Wait, Gabby, are we allowed to be in here?”
“It’s Gabriella, and I think so?”
“What do you mean you think so,” I press. I want to question her further, but a phone starts vibrating. Tate’s. I watch as she reaches into her baggy pockets and pulls it out.
“Oh, I have to take this. Don’t say anything important without me.”
“When do we ever?” Gabriella laughs. Tate rolls her eyes and turns to walk towards the corner of the room, but still in listening distance.
“Hi, Daddy!” she answers.
“Oooh, Daddy! Who’s that? He sounds hot!” Gabriella gushes.
I look over at Tate, her expression pinched and red with embarrassment before she shoots Gabriella a dirty look and walks to another part of the house. I look back at Gabriella and all I see is red.
“Gabriella, do you ever just stop talking!” Leave her alone!” The words run from my mouth rushed and abrupt. My mouth hasn’t even closed before I’m shoved off-center. Clay.
“What was that?!”
“You can’t yell at girls, man.”
“Oh, the morality police is here.” A huff of laughter rolls out of me, and I feel it happening.
..I feel uncontrolled anger taking over.
Rage. Slithering its way from my center, pulling at the muscles in my arms, neck, and jawline.
“Clay, good ole Clay. Wants to win to buy his girlfriend an engagement ring but spends all his time with two other girls,” I seethe, moving closer.
Close enough to head-butt him if it comes to it.
“Levi, stop!”
My eyes move towards the small voice behind him.
Gabriella. Not the confident, loud Gabriella, but the softer version.
Maybe who she really is. I wish it was enough to stop the train, but as part of my brain tries to convince me it is, Clay blurts out, “You’d better step back, cowboy.
” Followed by another shove, this one with heart, and I’m once again all in.
I twist my cap backwards and start towards him.
My fingers curl up into my palms at my side; I’m going to finish this thing.
Halfway there, I feel something small gnawing in my stomach.
Something like a little paw... Tate is no longer on the phone, she’s in front of me, and the gnawing feeling is actually just her hand.
That’s at least what my brain’s reporting as truth, and I feel myself start to settle, which is alarming.
I hold on to the last bits of anger I can find.
“Move, Tate.”
“No.”
I look down at her again. She moves her hand from my abdomen only to then place it on her hip like my mom does right before she’s about to let me have it.
“Tate, you’re, like...two pounds wet. I could easily move you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, but you won’t.” Her chin tips up in confidence, eyes looking right into mine.
The anger’s gone, now replaced with sober clarity. I look around at Clay, then Gabriella. Remorse sweeps over me. “I’m sorry for snapping. That was wrong.”
“All good, Levi,” Gabriella says, and I believe her.
Tate makes a throat-clearing sound, drawing my attention back to her.
She’s flicking her eyes to the other side of her.
Towards Clay. What? I mouth, just to watch her try harder.
She combines an eye-flick with a tight nod of her head towards him.
It makes me laugh, but my apology tour is over.
I have nothing to say to Clay. He pushed me.
Twice. He’s suddenly taking up the small space between me and Tate.
I prepare myself for this to go either way.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry I laid hands on you. That wasn’t cool. I let my anger get the best of me and I hope you can forgive me.” He smiles and holds out his hand. It’s sincere and mature, making me feel a whole two years old.
“Of course. I, uh, I’m sorry too, for what I said about you. I was just upset.” Accepting his hand, I pull him into a half-hug.
“All good, and hey, you’re not wrong. I’m actually going to head back in for the night.”
“Oh, Clay, don’t go,” Tate whines.
“I’m actually going to head out too,” Gabriella says, walking around the bunch of us. “Walk me in?” she asks, looking at Clay.
“Gladly.”
And they’re both gone.