25
Poor Frederick. —Persuasion
Remember how Rosie called Benwick a black hole for happiness? She could be describing me right now. It’s the day of the rehearsal dinner, and I’m wallowing in my misery. I flew back on Wednesday so excited to be back and see April. And like an eager beaver, I texted her as soon as my plane landed.
freddy
I’m back in LA. Want to grab burritos and watch the sunset tonight?
april
Welcome home! ?????
I wish! I have plans tonight
I was disappointed, but I could deal with waiting till our usual late-night phone call. But when I called, she didn’t answer. Still, I wasn’t too worried. She could be out late or busy. I remind myself that I’m not always available.
The gut punch came the next day. I saw the pictures on TMZ with the headline: “Wedding Forecasted for April Rain: Singer Introduces Boyfriend to Her Famous Father.” The photos were of April and Johnny going to dinner with her dad. The blurb suggested that the Elliot family might be planning more than one wedding.
I know celebrity gossip can’t be relied on. But reading that article shook me. I began to wonder if my growing hope that April is as interested in me as I am in her is only wishful thinking. I’ve felt so comfortable and connected during our phone calls, I assumed that she was on the same page. But we have never talked about us. April really could be dating Johnny. I’ve seen her on actual dates with the guy. Plus, he offered to host her sister’s wedding, which is no small favor. How many times has she been to his Malibu ranch? The thought makes me ill. Meanwhile, I’ve been crisscrossing the country in a tour bus all summer. Have I been delusional in thinking I had a chance? And to top it all off, the article ended with a damning photo—a blurry pic of Johnny Love kissing April goodnight on her doorstep.
I spent most of the Rosarito surfing trip totally wasted. I don’t surf drunk, or at least not that drunk. But once the sun went down, I hit the tequila—hard. The last three days have been a haze, pretending to have fun while I am slowly dying inside.
We returned late this morning, and I am useless. My phone dings. To soften the noise, I throw a pillow over it. It dings again. My head hurts too much for this. I pick up my phone to silence it and see the text is from April.
april
Can you bring your guitar tonight?
april
I’d like to run through our song
freddy
Sure.
I don’t know why her message irritates me. Or I do know, and I don’t want to think about it. I can’t say how many nights I fell asleep dreaming of the moment I would see her again. In my mind, she’d fall into my arms, and we would kiss, and all our misunderstandings would evaporate like the marine layer during sunrise. But, in reality, she’s been going out with Johnny Love and planning her sister’s wedding and possibly hers. I am both crushed and mortified, embarrassed that I could have read things so wrong. So, no! I’m not looking forward to this rehearsal dinner where we are going to tramp around Johnny effing Love’s effing Malibu ranch.
***
My heart sinks at the sight of Johnny’s gorgeous home—a sprawling hacienda with gleaming white stucco and an orange-tiled roof. Bright bougainvillea spills over the stucco walls. The 1920s structure has obviously been recently restored and exudes immaculate charm. Everything looks freshly painted and well cared for. There are no cracks or rust or weeds. Currently suffering through my own remodel, I know how much this sort of renovation costs. Apparently, Johnny Love is not only excessively handsome but ridiculously rich. I hate him with the fury of a thousand burning suns.
I’m late because of traffic. And because I spent the hour I should have spent getting ready, feeling sorry for myself and looking at old pictures of April, regretting nearly every decision I’ve made since she’s moved back to LA.
I’ve already received several texts—one from April, and another from Carlos asking where I am. With directions from a gardener, I find everyone behind the house on the vast grassy slope with a view of the ocean. It’s a million-dollar view. No, make that a 50 million-dollar view. I’m ready to curse Johnny some more but remind myself that despite the ocean view, this house is a good 20 minutes from the beach, not ideal for surfing. The wedding party stands in the shade of several live oaks.
“Finally,” April mutters when she spies me sauntering up to the group. “It’s almost our turn.”
I nod casually and put out my arm for her to take. The moment she places her hand on me, my whole body becomes alert. I stare straight ahead with my shoulders rigid, desperate to hide my reaction to her touch. The area for the ceremony is marked on the grassy hillside with stakes and string, including the aisle we are walking down.
“I’m glad you made it,” April says tentatively.
“Right.” Not bothering to hide my bitterness. April gives me a confused look.
“Freddy, April, you’re walking too fast.” September hollers from the front. “And would it kill you to smile?”
“Seriously,” says Carlos. “Freddy, you’re glowering.”
“Am I?” I ask April.
“Maybe a little,” she whispers. “Are you upset?”
“Should I be?”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do dinner the other night.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Oh... okay. It was an important dinner. Freddy, I have big news.”
I close my eyes and brace myself for the worst. What if the gossip sites are right? I realize now that despite all my sulking, I never completely believed the gossip. Could April really be engaged to Johnny? She always wanted to be married. Until she didn’t. I glance at her hand. There’s no ring. I exhale a sigh of relief.
We’ve reached the half-finished bower where the ceremony will take place tomorrow. We separate and take our places on opposite sides of the site; other bridesmaids and groomsmen fill in between us. All my focus goes into keeping my face a stony mask. I break a little when the two flower girls dance down the aisle, stopping for a minute to look at a shiny black beetle. A harried Mrs. Musgrove leads them to the front.
April finds me when it’s all over. The sky has softened to a faded blue, so pale it’s almost golden. “Do you have ten minutes to practice?”
“Um, sure. My guitar is in my car.”
“Great, I’ll come with you. I have stuff to tell you.”
My stomach clenches. “Shoot.”
“I did it! I told my dad about my business.”
I stop and turn to her. She’s wearing an emerald silk jumpsuit, which makes her eyes look especially green.
“April!!! That’s huge!” My instinct is to hug her, but I have no idea where we stand. So, I don’t.
“Right!” She walks with me to my car. “It was easier because he is already talking about getting a job.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep, Johnny Love wants him to host this dating show. It’s absolutely ridiculous. Bridgerton meets The Bachelor , but you know my dad.”
“It’s perfect,” I say. No matter how much I dislike Johnny, I have to admit the job sounds made for Dean Elliot.
I take my guitar out of the car, and we walk to the house, which looks even more charming as the sky darkens and the windows begin to glow with inside light.
“This is a great place,” I say, feeling generous.
April scrunches her nose. “I guess. It’s a bit much.”
“You don’t like the gorgeous mansion and ocean views.”
“I like the ocean views. And the house is nice, but it’s not for me.”
“Huh?” I could ask more. I want to ask more, but we’ve entered the house, and Johnny’s waiting to greet us. He has the disapproving look of a father waiting up for his daughter returning late from a date.
“April!” He hugs her, which seems a bit much since he must have seen her when she arrived this afternoon. Of course, maybe he wasn’t home. I don’t know.
He greets me with a stiff head nod. “Freddy.”
I nod back. “Johnny.”
April looks between us with a bemused smile.
“Johnny, is there a private place Freddy and I can practice? We want the song to be a surprise.”
“How about the library?” He leads us to another pristine room with terracotta floors, thick Persian rugs, and shelves of leatherbound books. The fireplace, framed with Spanish tiles, holds a tidy pile of fresh-hewn pine.
April takes in every detail with her eyes alight.
“Will this do?” Johnny asks with a knowing smile.
“Oh, yes!” says April.
“Wonderful, I need to check in on Remington before the dinner. Please excuse me.”
“Yes, thank you,” April replies, still staring at the two stories of bookshelves.
Johnny leaves, shutting the door softly.
“He’s a good dad,” I say. Yes, I’m fishing. I’m also trying not to be a jealous jerk. Which I am in my heart of hearts. But, hey, I’m trying.
“I think so,” says April, her eyes still dreamy as she wanders about the room, lovingly stroking her fingers against the spines of the books. She sits in a leather chair. “Can you believe this place?”
“It’s like the library in Beauty and the Beast .”
“You would say that.” She laughs. “You always caught my Disney princess references.”
“Kai chose the movies.”
“You don’t fool me, Freddy West. I happen to know you watch chick flicks on your own.”
“I don’t have to answer that.”
“No, because I already know that secret.” April smiles right at me, loosening the knot in my chest a little.
“Shall we?” She strums her guitar.
I take a minute to tune mine.
And then we begin. My voice is raw and shaky, while April’s is clear and cool as an evening wind. At first, I can’t look at her. I don’t know where we stand and am scared to show her my feelings. But when singing a duet, you have to look at your partner, occasionally. And when her eyes catch mine, she smiles wide. She’s so pretty, my heart aches.
When the song ends, we are both quiet. The room was full of sun when we first entered, but it is now filled with dusky light and shadows. It feels smaller and more intimate.
“That was okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she nods. She glances away shyly. “It was good.”
“Yeah, good.”
She looks at me, her eyes searching. “Freddy, we need to talk.”
“We do.”
She checks her watch. “Maybe later tonight?”
“I’d like that.”
“Me too.” She places her guitar gently on the couch, like tucking a child in bed. “I better hurry. September will be freaking out.”
She heads to the door. Before she steps out, I call her name. “Rainy.” She turns her hand on the handle. “I’m proud of you for standing up to your dad.”
“Thanks, Freddy.” She opens her mouth to say something else, then thinks better of it and leaves the room.
I sit in one of the uber-comfy chairs. I have a lot to think about. Singing with April just now was... I don’t know. The tabloids say she’s dating Johnny. He acts like they’re dating. But April... maybe it is only wishful thinking. But it felt like... I don’t know. I run my hands through my hair. The attraction is still there. And it’s not one-sided.
The rehearsal dinner is being served in the barn; it’s nothing like any barn I’ve ever seen, which is a good thing because if there were any hay in here, it would quickly catch on fire. Tall candelabras on each table illuminate the room. April told me about this outrageous request by September. She complained about ordering the candles and the labor required to light them. I hate to admit that it works. The lighting is dim and romantic and very flattering. The candlelight flickers on the china and crystal set on the round tables.
April sits between her father and sister at the main table and across from Johnny Love. What is he doing at the main table? He’s not family. If anyone other than family should be there, it would be me. I’m the best man.
Flossman punches me on the shoulder. “Tough luck with Rosie. Kind of like at Skee-ball.” For a moment, I am completely befuddled.
Daisy translates for me. “He thinks you might be cut up over Rosie dating Benwick.”
“I just found out,” said Flossman. “I thought she went to New Jersey to visit you.”
“Mom and Dad were shocked,” says Daisy. “They had been so excited about her dating you.”
I am chagrined by how many people, especially those in the Musgrove family, thought I was actually dating Rosie.
“I’m totally cool with Benwick and Rosie,” I say to Flossman. I really need to learn this guy’s real name. Maybe Flossman is his last name? That would be something. If your last name were Flossman, you couldn’t consider any career besides dentistry.
“Yeah.” Daisy gives me a wink. “Rosie told me all about who you really like.”
“Did she?” I’m not sure how much Rosie knows. I haven’t said anything. But Benwick is a smart dude, and I haven’t been trying to hide my many texts and messages to and from April. He may have also noticed the uptick in April Rain songs played in the touring van. Rosie seemed to get some perverse pleasure in showing me clips of April at the bachelorette party. Videos in which she dances with a shirtless Johnny Love. Yeah, maybe Rosie suspects.
“Is that so?” Is all I give Daisy.
“I approve. Don’t tell Rosie, but you’re making the better choice.”
“I agree,” says Flossman. “I’ve always been an April Rain fan.”
Sheesh, Flossman knows how I feel about April, and I still don’t know his first name.
“Join the club,” I say.
“So, is it official?” asks Daisy.
“Not even,” I say in a lower voice.
“That’s right. I saw pictures of her and Johnny making out,” says Daisy. For the record, that’s not how I would describe the photo taken at the Elliot doorstep, but yeah, it doesn’t look good.
I find my seat at the same table with Flossman and Daisy, an aunt and uncle of April’s, and three young women who I assume are daughters.
“Hi! I’m Lettie Benson, April’s cousin.” I find it telling that she refers to herself as April’s cousin, not September’s. “These are my parents: Frank and Darlene, and my sisters, Gretta and Tilly.”
We make small talk. Frank is a professor at Iowa State, and Darlene makes costumes for the local theater.
“What do you do? Freddy,” Frank asks after telling me all about his study of birds.
“I am a performer.”
“Like the theater?” asks Darlene.
“Dad!! Mom!!” Gretta interrupts. “Freddy is famous. He might be more famous than April.”
“Forgive me,” Frank apologizes. “I don’t keep up with popular culture.”
“I don’t mind,” I say. “I like it when people don’t know who I am.”
“But Dad should know... we listen to your music ALL the time,” says Gretta.
“It’s true,” chimes in Lettie. “I introduced them to it. I was April’s roommate at school. You should know Freddy West albums were basically all she listened to.”
“Is that so?” I like this cousin.
I look across the room to see Rainy laughing at something Johnny Love said.
“Stop staring.” Rosie elbows me in the side. “It’s rude.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Let me rephrase that. Stop brooding.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“Probably just heartsick about me ditching you for the lead singer of the Dead Chickens,” quips Rosie.
“Is that public?” I ask.
Rosie sits beside me. Benwick takes the open seat next to her. “Benny and I went out last night and...” she winks at me. “We were not discreet.” She hands me her phone with a photo of the two of them at a nightclub. Whoa! She’s not kidding. They are full-on making out against a brick wall. Though I don’t see how anyone would recognize either of them. But then I scroll down to another picture of the two of them walking hand in hand in the same clothes as the snogging couple. There’s also a picture of me looking all pathetic as the wronged boyfriend. I excel at looking heartsick.
“It’s already doing wonders for Bori’s music,” she tells me, casually placing an arm around Benwick’s waist as he sidles up to her. He has a wide smile that has absolutely nothing to do with music sales. He hands her a drink. “His downloads have tripled.”
“That’s great news.” I wonder vaguely what this fake breakup has done for my sales. I find, I don’t much care.
“I would appreciate it if you made it clear to a few people...” she fake coughs, “my dad... that you were never into me. It would make them more accepting of Benny.” She pulls Benwick in closer for another sloppy kiss.
“I’ll be sure to do that.” Though the task doesn’t appeal to me. “Excuse me, sir. You know how I blatantly flirted with your daughter? Yeah, it was all to make my ex jealous.” Nope, not looking forward to that conversation at all.
After the servers clear the salad plates, Rosie turns to me. “I saw the news today about April and Johnny. I’m sorry,” she adds in a gentler tone. “I was hoping it would work out for you two.”
“It’s just gossip.” I try to sound casual. “Like all the stories about you and I.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” She puts her hand on mine and squeezes it. I look across the room and see Johnny sitting next to April. They’re smiling at each other. In the candlelight, she beams with appreciation. Rosie and Daisy watch me, their eyes full of pity. Their sympathy strangles me. It’s the blue ring box behind my storm door all over again. Dean Elliot smiles at Johnny and slaps him on the back. With his Botoxed face, bleached hair, and too-white veneers, Johnny is good enough for Dean Elliot and his daughter. But me, with my shaggy hair, brown skin and tattoos, I do not make the cut. He probably knows I grew up in a cinder block house with chickens in the yard.
I scoot my chair back and stand up without saying a word. With long strides, I leave the room. I cannot get off Johnny Love’s property fast enough.