Freefall (29 page)

Lyle came up to me while I was handling one of the prewash hoses. “It’s your turn for a break,” he said, holding out a soda.

I shook my head. After being up most of the night, I was trying to work through my exhaustion, afraid that stopping would mean not being able to start again. Lyle wasn’t having it, though. “Seth, drink the Coke. And I don’t want to see you back here for at least fifteen minutes.”

“Fine.”

I handed my job off to him and I went around back. Leaning against the building, I guzzled my second Coke of the day and waited for another temporary lifting of the cloudiness in my head. I had exactly one goal: stay awake long enough to get through my shift and the gig. After that I was going to crash.

As I was tossing the empty bottle in the bin, a red Miata came rolling around the corner. And, to my surprise, Mrs. Dalloway was behind the wheel. I’d never stopped to think about what she drove, but if I had, I probably would have pictured some regular old sedan or minivan. This was kind of impressive. I mean, a Miata isn’t the end-all of cool or anything, but it’s more styling than I would have expected of her.

After she’d pulled up next to one of the vacuums and got out to punch the payment code into the machine, I yelled, “Hey, Mrs. D.!”

She glanced around all confused, and then, spotting me, smiled in her crinkly nosed way. “Hi there, Dick! So good to see you.” I was sure she was going to make a comment about the black eye, but instead she said, “I’ve been told that you won’t be back in class until next Thursday?”

I nodded. “Yeah, Thursday.”

“We’re all going to miss you,” she said. “In a class as small as yours, it makes a huge difference when one person is gone.”

I knew she wasn’t speaking for everyone with the
missing-me stuff, but I couldn’t help wondering whether Rosetta missed me. Because, God, I missed
her
. The way she bit her lip when she was nervous, the flowery scent of her hair, her pretty laugh, the off-the-wall stuff she said. I missed holding her. And kissing her. And just being with her.

Right then I mentally changed my plan for the rest of my day: get through my shift, play the gig, find Rosetta, and get her to listen to my side of things.

Mrs. D. yanked on the vacuum hose to get ready to go to town on her interior. It wasn’t hard to use, but she was making it
look
hard. I still had a few minutes before I needed to head back to work, so I went over. “Here, let me give you a hand with that.”

She hesitated. “No, it’s fine.”

“No, really. I work here. It’s part of my job to keep customers from busting up the equipment.”

Laughing way louder than my comment deserved, she handed it over. While I started the vacuum, she spoke up so I could hear her over the engine. “So tonight’s the big night for your band, right?”

“How’d you know about that?”

“Alex was talking about it in class. Yesterday he asked us all to attend, saying that if you have a big crowd, the place will be more likely to have you back. And he was also collecting ideas from us to help with your lead singer’s stage fright.”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t help smiling. Typical Xander.

“Did he get any good ideas?” I asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Managing stage fright is so individual, and each person has to try different strategies until they find something that works for them. It took a long time, but I’m in a good place with mine.”

I glanced up. “You have stage fright?”

“Yes. Well, I’m not a performer, but I do have a terrible fear of public speaking. I’m fine with one-on-one, but put me in front of a group and I’m an absolute mess.”

“But you’re a teacher! That’s what you do all day.”

She laughed. “I know. It sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

“Kind of, yeah. What tip did you offer up?”

“Proper breathing is key. You want to make sure you’re taking breaths from deep in your abdomen. If you do it wrong and breathe from your chest instead, you can hyperventilate and make it much worse for yourself.” She put one hand on her chest and the other on her belly. “See? You can check to see if you’re doing it correctly by which of your hands rises and falls as you breathe. You want to make sure it’s the lower one.”

“Okay,” I said, imagining how stupid I’d look onstage with my hands pressed on my body like that. “Anything else?”

“Well, the other thing I find consistently helpful is scanning the room for someone with a friendly face and focusing on them until I’m calm. I’m sure it worries the heck out of
them
,
but after a few seconds, I’m usually ready to get started. And that’s it!”

Breathing right and focusing on a friendly face? That’s
all
it took for her?

I popped the trunk and ran the vacuum through the whole area in about twenty seconds flat. Easy enough.

“Looks like you’re all set here,” I said, hanging up the hose. “Your car’s clean inside and out.”

“I appreciate the help, Dick.”

“No problem. But, you know, outside of your class most people call me Seth.”

She smiled. “Actually, I
did
know that, Seth McCoy.”

Of course she did.

8:45
P.M.

Daniel took a seat next to me on the hood of the Mustang and pulled out his special flask. “How are you guys holding up?” he asked, opening the built-in side holder for smokes.

“I feel good,” Brody said from my other side.

“I feel like shit,” I said.

Laughing, Daniel lit up. The bulb above Good Times’s back door was burned out and the nearest streetlight was way out front, so his orange-tipped joint was the brightest source of light around. He took a hit and then held it out for me.

I shook my head. Honestly, I kind of did want to get stoned with him. But the last thing I needed was weed-induced paranoia added to my queasiness and jitters.

Scratching at the 8 Ball had finished sound check around eight—which was before most people had started showing up—and Brody and I had been hiding near the Dumpsters ever since. Taku and Xander kept coming out every few minutes to make sure Brody hadn’t run away, but, oddly, Brody was the calmest of us all. At least all this stage fright research was helping
someone
out.

After a few more tokes, Daniel put out the joint and snapped the “secret” compartment shut again. “By the way,” he said to me, “Eckman’s looking for you, so I’d better go let her know you’re out here.”

“Right,” I said. “Or you could
not
do that.”

Not that it mattered much to me one way or the other, but I kind of wanted to stress out in peace.

“I’ll think about it,” Daniel said. “It’s hard to resist that girl’s incredible charm, though. And by ‘charm,’ I mean ‘rack,’ of course.”

Brody snorted.

Daniel pushed himself off the car. “Dick, you look like you’re either dead or on your way there,” he said, pressing his flask into my hand. “You’ve stressed out like this before every show you’ve ever played, and you know what? You always get it together and kick ass. I’ll see you in there.”

He disappeared through the back door.

“Is that true?” Brody asked. “You’re always tense like this before gigs?”

I nodded. “And Daniel knows that
this
”—I held up the flask—“is how I used to cope with my stage fright.”

“So the truth comes out,” Brody said, smiling. “And here I’d thought you were being so cool about my lame freak-out because you were practicing that fake empathy stuff from your class.”

“No way. My empathy was real.”

Brody nodded toward the flask. “Let me check that out.”

As I was handing it over, the back door flew open again. Even in the dark, it was easy to recognize the chick heading toward Brody and me.

“Looks like Daniel really
can’t
resist Kendall’s ‘charm.’” Brody said, standing. “Be right back. I’m going to grab something out of my car.”

As he was walking away, Kendall came up to me. “You’ll never guess who called me a bitch today,” she said, placing her hands on my knees.

I shouldn’t have been surprised by her huge smile or by the fact that she was acting, well, the annoying way she’d been acting toward me for years. And yet here I was, surprised.

“I have no clue,” I said, sliding her hands off and scooting farther back on the car. “Who?”

“Rosetta Vaughn.”

Oh, the nausea. Having Kendall spring this on me on top of my headache, nerves, and queasiness was too much.

“What did you do to her?”

Kendall settled beside me on the car. “Nothing
bad
. I just told her everything about Carr and me. About the true reason I asked you to homecoming. About what I said to Carr about her. And what didn’t happen with you and me that I’d let you believe
did
happen. She knows all of it now.”

I waited for her to go on, but she sat there, obviously enjoying keeping me in suspense.

“So, what did she
say
?” I prompted.

“Oh, right.” Kendall waved her hand like it was no big deal. “Well, she was somewhat shocked to find out about Carr. She said I was a bitch for not telling you the truth about your virginity sooner. And then I said
she
was a bitch for not taking your calls.”

“Great.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Kendall said, patting my leg. “It’s all good now. We had it out and we’re fine. But the best part—the part that matters to you—is that she feels horrible, she misses you like crazy, and she hopes you’ll give her another chance.”

“She said all that?”

“Well, no. But I could tell she was thinking it. You should go see her tonight. After you’re done here, I mean.”

I let out my breath, and relief flowed through me, starting at my stomach and sort of branching out in all directions
from there. It honestly couldn’t have worked out much better for me. Unless . . .

“What if you’re wrong?” I asked, tensing again.

Kendall looked into my eyes. “I’m
not
wrong.”

Another big exhale. Kendall had done some screwed-up shit lately. We both had. But she’d come through for me on this, and now I had another reason to look forward to the gig being over. I was going to find Rosetta, who—if Kendall had it right—missed me like crazy.

Taku came busting out the back door. “Where’s Brody?” he called to me, looking around all panicked.

“He’s at his car. He’ll be back in a second.”

Taku puffed on his inhaler. It was the first time I’d seen him use it without Brody reminding him. “We’re on in five or fewer,” he said, running past me.

“All right,” I said, somehow managing to sound cool and casual when I was feeling anything but.

I stood and Kendall did the same.

“I just noticed, you seem sober,” she said, as we walked toward the back door. “Is it true?”

“It’s true.” I held up one of my shaking hands so she could witness my jitters for herself.

“This is so
totally
the opposite of how you were for your last show.”

“Don’t I know it,” I said, sighing.

She reached for the door to go in, but I touched her arm. “Hey, Kendall. Thanks. You know, for everything.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome. You know, for everything.”

Then she disappeared inside, and someone poked my back. I turned to face Brody and Taku.

“I read about this,” Brody said, holding out a chunk of bubble gum for me. “Concentrate on chewing when we get onstage. Slow and methodical. It’s supposed to help with the nerves.”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Gum is the answer?”

Brody shrugged. “It’s no worse than Xander’s ideas, right?”

On cue, Xander came outside. “Are you guys ready? Because we’re on!”

I pulled out the Magic 8 Ball. “Don’t you want to ask if we’re going to play a decent set?”

“Nah,” he said, smiling. “I think we all know the outlook is good.”

Taku went in after him and held the door open for Brody and me, but I needed another second or two . . . or million.

My heart was skipping beats as I shoved the 8 ball back in my pocket. Then I peeled the paper wrapper off the red gum rectangle, popped it into my mouth, and started chewing.

Brody pulled Daniel’s flask out of his back pocket. “Oh, hey. You want this?”

“What for?” I pointed at my mouth. “I already have magical, nerve-calming watermelon Bubble Yum.”

He set the flask on the ground against the wall. “Okay, then. I think it’s
time for us to go play the successful gig I’ve been visualizing nonstop for the past few days.”

I followed him inside.

9:01
P.M.

Dive-bar-quality stage lights were shining in my eyes, electronic equipment sounds were humming in my ears, and the weight of my bass was pulling so hard that I was going to be dragged through the stage floor any second now.

I hadn’t looked at the rest of the band.

I hadn’t looked at the crowd.

They were out there, though. All of them. Staring at me. I knew it. I could feel it.

They were watching the dude with the scary black eye. The dude who could hardly keep his instrument from slipping out of his trembling hands. The dude who was
choking
even though the set hadn’t even started.

I chomped on watermelon gum like my life depended on it.

I took the deepest abdomen breaths I could manage.

I tried to run through every piece of stage fright advice I’d ever heard.

Except . . . my mind was 100 percent blank.

I had nothing.

Nothing
.

I needed something.

Something, something, something!

Shit, shit, fuck, fuck. Christ, damn, hell.

And then it came to me. A friendly face. I needed to find one. Fast.

I glanced up.

Front and center: Vicki, Pete, Eric, Garrison.

Not too bad.

Farther back: Brittany, Tara, Lorraine, a few other chicks from IC class.

Getting better.

Way back: Mom and Kendall.

Good.

Next to them: Daniel trying to look down Kendall’s top.

Pathetic.

Then I noticed
her
.

Near the middle and off to the side, staring up with an expression of friendliness, excitement, and, above all, hope.