Rock and a Hard Place (7 page)

The audience rocked to the music. Eager and
excited, they became putty in his hands. The moment came. The
guitars hit his key, the drum and cymbals crashed and the lights
exploded in color. In that same instant, Peter swung the mic stand
and nailed his opening note, his body taut with strength and
energy. His pure voice rose above the instruments; his lyrics hit
the back wall. He owned the stage. All eyes were on him. The night
was young and he was ready to rock.

Song after song the three moved with a
synchronicity only possible between blood brothers. They worked off
each other’s signals, and moved from individual highlights and
solos to unison movement. At times they delivered their carefully
crafted harmonies, singing together at one mic, their heads inches
apart. They exchanged silent communication. When they were on
stage, they displayed complete and utter harmony of movement,
thought and talent. They hummed with energy.

While Garrett and Adam awed with their
expert guitar stylings, Peter ramped things up with smoking stage
moves and vocals. He entertained the audience with his high energy.
He leapt off side stages, performed mic tricks, spins and slides.
His stage performance mesmerized the crowd.

Perspiration glistened over his body. His
mop of hair dripped with sweat. He whipped it to the side as he
belted each note. He left every ounce of energy on stage, he held
nothing back and the audience knew it. Peter peered out over the
thousands of fans and watched as the lights illuminated different
areas of the audience, revealing the enormous mass of humanity that
the three brothers, Jamieson, held in a spell. The experience of
sharing the personal music he created, never failed to intoxicate
him.

# # #

Libby slunk low in her folding chair and
buried her head in a copy of “The Great Gatsby”. What a dumb story.
Why was it considered a classic? At least the book helped her
appear a little less obvious as she sold tickets among the riotous
noise of the commons area.

True to her word, Miss Orman expected her to
sell bus tickets to the away football game that night. Some
cheerleader should be stuck at the table, not her. Football
sucked.

Nearby, the lunch ladies served up cardboard
tasting pizza and watered down turkey soup. For the granola heads,
limp lettuce awaited.

She’d sold a dozen or so tickets, but most
of the students ignored her. Libby became invisible to them months
earlier. Of course, she didn’t help the situation any by ever
trying to fit in. When she started school in Rockville, her heart
overflowed with grief and thoughts of the family she lost. Her
withdrawn personality mistakenly convinced the kids she was emo,
but even the emo kids found her eerily withdrawn. Libby’s only
problem, she suffered grief. But everything changed the day Peter
walked into her life. Now all she could concentrate on was him and
how unbelievable it was that he actually wanted to see her
again.

Since checking Peter out on the internet,
she thought of nothing else. When they talked at Parfrey’s Glen,
she thought he exaggerated the popularity of their band. In
reality, he’d understated it.

She couldn’t imagine why he wanted to see
her again on Saturday, but she wasn’t going to second guess his
sanity. She could barely wait to lay eyes on him again and make
sure she didn’t dream the whole thing up. The hours crept by so
slowly, she wanted to scream. If only she could figure out a way to
get his CD, then she could hear his voice and pretend he was near.
She needed a connection to him, some way to get a little closer.
But she had no money and no way to go to a store outside of school
hours to buy it.

Aunt Marge insisted she spend all her time
studying or at Parfrey’s Glen for the fresh air. She was paranoid
Libby might do something remotely normal like get a job, have
friends over, or god forbid have a date. Libby suspected her aunt
possessed other motives, but it never bothered her until now. She
was used to it. Libby never questioned authority, she always gave
in. She didn’t even care about not having a drivers license. It
wasn’t worth the hassle.

A group of freshman girls walked up and
bought tickets. They didn’t make any snide comments. They probably
didn’t know her background.

“
Thanks,” their chirpy
little voices said.

“
Yup,” Libby mumbled as
they walked away.

Libby picked up the crinkled bills and
smoothed them. Out of boredom she arranged them in the same
direction. As she flipped the bills around, it dawned on her she
held enough money to buy Peter’s CD. Her heart stopped for just a
moment as she contemplated the thought.

Stealing is wrong.

She placed the bills in the metal cash box
and closed it. She would not do it. She’d find another way.

Her determination wavered. The money would
solve her problem so fast. No one would miss a few dollars. In the
grand scheme of things seventeen dollars was nothing.

Never in her life had Libby taken anything
from anyone, but this was different. Her aunt only gave her enough
money for lunch, nothing more. If Libby needed clothing, her aunt
drove her to the thrift store to pick out a couple items. It
humiliated Libby to buy other people’s castoffs, but she couldn’t
get a job and she didn’t have access to money. Now that she thought
about it, she realized how much Aunt Marge controlled her life and
she didn’t like the taste of it.

The only way she could get Peter’s CD was to
be creative. Taking this money qualified.

She peered around the crowded commons area.
No one seemed to notice her, or the tempting cash box. She chewed
on her lip and tapped her toe against the table leg. After a minute
or so, she reached forward and opened the lid. Her pulse raced. She
grabbed a couple five dollar bills and a handful of ones.

She pulled her hand out, folded the bills
over a couple times and slid them into her back pocket. She kept
her head down. If she didn’t look at anyone, they wouldn’t look at
her. She sat rocking her foot back and forth counting the final
minutes until the bell. At last it rang and her ticket-selling
session ended.

Libby grabbed her books and the cash box and
walked to the front office. She was unaware of the eyes that
followed her.

The old secretary resembled a fossil. She
took the box from Libby. “Thank you, dear.”

Libby nodded and left, her head held low in
shame. The stolen money burned in her back pocket like a hot
coal.

Without hesitating, she went straight to her
locker, stuffed her books inside and grabbed her coat. She
swallowed down her guilt. She would not let her rule abiding
conscious get in the way. As the remaining students straggled to
their next class, Libby strode out the school doors.

Chapter 6

Libby’s worn out shoes padded through the
discount store. She wanted to go unnoticed, but the bright store
lights shone down revealing her presence. Guilt hung on her
shoulders like a heavy chain.

She found the entertainment section filled
with electronics, video games and DVDs. She searched one aisle and
then another. Nothing. Panic crept over her. She had little time to
return to school and catch her bus.

“
Can I help you?” A
middle-aged man with a big belly held a scanning device in his hand
and waited for her response.

“
Uh, yes.” She whispered,
then cleared her throat and spoke louder. “I was wondering where
you keep the CDs?” Desperation began to sink in. She needed the CD.
It had to be here. She had to have it.

“
Down this aisle on the
end.” He walked that direction, assuming she’d follow. She trailed
after him. Did he wonder why a high school kid was in the store
during the middle of the afternoon?

He turned the corner. “Country and show
tunes are on this side, rock and jazz on the other, new releases
are on the aisle end. Is there anything particular you’re looking
for?”

He waited. She didn’t want to confess her
purpose for being there. It might expose her true feelings, someone
might overhear. She glanced around, but found no audience. The man
followed her gaze. He raised his brows in question.

“
Jamieson?” she answered,
quieter than she meant to.

“
Their display is on the
end, you can’t miss it.” To Libby’s relief, he turned and went the
opposite direction.

Libby tried not to rush as she moved to the
aisle end. There stood a six-foot-tall cutout photo of a smiling
Peter, Garrett and Adam, advertising their latest CD. Libby stood
back in awe. Her hand reached out and touched the glossy cardboard
imitation of Peter. It was almost as good as the real thing. The
huge display dominated space next to a wall of Jamieson CDs. Copy
after copy featured Peter Jamieson smiling back at her.

Never in her wildest thoughts did she
imagine he was so famous. He gave none of it away when they’d been
together. She wanted to scream with joy. She picked up a plastic
encased CD, his handsome face exactly as she remembered. She
grinned back at him then cradled the coveted CD. The risk of
cutting classes and coming all this way was worth whatever
punishment Aunt Marge might dish out.

When Libby checked out, her hands shook as
she passed the stolen bills to the checker. She walked out of the
store and looked both directions to be sure no one watched. She
darted around the side of the store, and pulled her prize from the
bag. She ripped the packaging off as quickly as she could with her
still shaking hands. Then the clear tape wouldn’t let her by. She
picked at it, then used a nail file to lift the edge. Finally, she
won the battle. Inside the case lay a perfect, untouched CD, and a
glossy booklet containing lyrics and more pictures of Peter and his
brothers.

Her heart sang. She kissed the CD cover then
hugged it. Her eyes watered with giddy excitement. It belonged to
her! After a couple minutes of idol worship, she reluctantly tucked
it back in the bag and into her small pack. She rushed back to
school afraid she would miss the afternoon bus home or get caught
in the act of walking up to school as everyone else left.

Later back at Aunt Marge’s, Libby snuck up
to her room. She placed a chair against the door in case her aunt
came up. The rest of the afternoon and that night she poured over
the glossy booklet cover to cover, while listening to the CD
through oversized headphones she’d dug out of a box in the hall
closet. She recognized Peter’s amazing voice in every song and
still couldn’t believe she’d spent a sunny afternoon talking to him
just days before. Late in the night Libby drifted off with the
glorious sound of Peter’s voice lulling her to sleep. There were no
bad dreams that night.

# # #

“Dad, come on. It’s not even out of the
way.”

Peter continued to push. He refused to back
down. Garrett and Adam watched, eager to see who won the power
struggle. Why couldn’t anything in his life be private?

“
We’re already behind
schedule. We’ve got production meetings on the video shoot for
tomorrow, you boys have interviews and wardrobe fittings, plus I’ve
got some tour issues to iron out.”

Dad could be immovable at times. He wanted
life to be neat and tidy like his pleated Dockers and shoes with
tassels.

“
Just because this isn’t
important to you, doesn’t mean it isn’t important to me,” Peter
said. “I gave my word. That should be worth something.” He stood
his ground, waiting for the response he wanted. The only way to get
through to his dad was to out-logic him.

“
I don’t think it’s a good
idea to start letting girls influence your life. You’ve got plenty
of girls chasing after you on tour. What’s so different about this
one?”

“
That’s the point; she is
different. She’s not like all the other screaming fools. She’s
interesting and fun, and she doesn’t care about all the band stuff.
She never even heard of Jamieson before I told her.” Libby’s
friendship was like a special secret no one else knew about. No
publicist or paparazzi to spoil it. No outside interference could
get to them when they were at Parfrey’s Glen. Just two people
hanging out.

“
I thought everyone on the
planet knew us,” Adam piped in from the couch, as he clicked
through the camera’s stored photos.

Peter turned and fixed his little brother
with a stare.

“
Peter, it’s pouring rain
out there. If this girl has any sense, she won’t be standing in
this deluge waiting for you, and if she is, well that’s another
issue,” his dad said.

Peter turned to his mother. “Mom, please, ya
gotta help me out here.”

“
You know, Jett,” his
mother’s voice held that soothing, ‘I’m gonna get my way’ tone.
“We’ve always encouraged the boys to have lives outside of their
music. This is another chance for that.”

“
I was talking about
playing soccer, not chasing girls.”

“
If it’s so important to
him, why not let him spend some time with this girl? He’s
seventeen. If I recall correctly, you spent a lot of time with
girls at that age.”

Peter’s eyes darted from one parent to the
other as if watching a tennis match. He didn’t dare say a word to
distract them.

“
Well.” His dad
wavered.

Peter held his breath. His mom was good. She
knew how to handle the man.

“
What could it hurt? We’ll
fit everything in. We always do,” she added.

“
Alright, but no more than
an hour. I’m not sitting around in the rain waiting for Romeo
here.”