Sold Out (18 page)

So now I’m really torn. Is it right to keep something like this a secret? But if I can’t tell anyone, who do I go to for advice? I guess the place to start is with God.

Okay, I realize that you can’t force anyone to do something against her will—well, not without breaking the law (like Taylor Russell has done). And I know after eight long days of begging and pleading and even threatening that Allie is not going to tell her mother. Just as she is not going to go to the police and report Taylor’s attempted rape. At first I was really upset by this. It feels so wrong to me. I even asked Allie if she’s sure that she’s doing what God wants her to do. “What if you’re disobeying God?” I asked her as we drove home from church yesterday.

“Believe me, I’ve prayed about this, Chloe. I really have. And this is what comes to me. First off, it’s partly my fault—”

“Oh, Allie!”

“Just hear me out. I’m not saying it IS my fault. I don’t go in for that blame-the-girl crud. But I am saying that I allowed myself to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person.”

I nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. But just the
same, it really is Taylor’s fault for acting like such a jerk-face.”

“Duh. Tell me something I don’t know. But the thing is, I had a choice in the matter, and I made a bad choice. I think I need to learn something from it.”

“But why don’t you think God wants you to tell your mom?”

“What good would that do her right now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Honestly, I think she has enough on her hands with my dad and this babysitter lady who’s not taking very good care of Davie. I mean, there’s absolutely nothing she can do about this whole thing—other than to worry and feel bad. Why should I put her through that?”

I shrugged.

Then she poked me in the arm. “Well, what about you? Would you tell your parents if it had happened to you?”

I had to think about that. I never even considered telling them about the jerk in middle school who pressured me for sex, then ruined my life with lies. But maybe I should’ve. “I don’t know, Allie.”

“Some things aren’t just plain black and white.”

“Maybe not. But what about Taylor? How come he gets off free as a bird?”

“Yeah, that’s what bugs me.”

“Well, it bugs me too. I know that God doesn’t want us to take our own revenge.” I kind of laughed. “Not that I don’t have a few ideas.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“But it seems wrong that Taylor is free to walk the streets and possibly do it again. Maybe even succeed next time.”

“Yeah. I feel bad about that too.”

“But not bad enough to go to the police?”

“It’s like I’ve already said, Chloe, he didn’t actually rape me. I don’t have any evidence. It would be his word against mine. And what good would it really do? You know what they put girls through who make charges like that? I saw this TV movie once, and it was really awful—and she’d actually been raped. I’m just not sure I’d want to go through all that.”

I nodded. “Yeah, to be honest, I guess I wouldn’t either. But there should be some way to warn others about Taylor.”

“Yeah, like maybe take out an ad in the paper.”

I laughed. “Yeah, a full page one with his photo on it, saying: Beware of dangerous rapist, Taylor Russell. He may look good and say all the right things, but he’s a big fat phony.”

She laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Or maybe we could do a billboard, that enormous one right next to the freeway entrance with all the spotlights.”

“Bet that’d cost a fortune. If it wasn’t illegal I could do some graffiti on the side of the school, make it really artistic, you know? Just a gentle warning to all the girls at Harrison High. N
o
big deal.”

I laughed. “Yeah, then you’d be locked up for vandalism and Taylor would still be on the prowl.”

“But maybe the girls would be more careful with guys like him.” Allie sighed. “Honestly, I wish there was a way to tell people without actually going around and saying it.”

“He’d probably sue you for slander if you did. His dad’s a lawyer, you know.”

“It figures. I just wish we could do something anonymous, Chloe.”

“Like what?”

“Not something just to be mean. I really don’t believe God wants me to do something out of revenge. But I guess I do feel responsible to warn other girls like me.”

“Yeah, it makes me wonder if he’s gotten away with it before.”

“Hey, what if I wrote an anonymous letter and sent it to a bunch of girls at school and asked them to get the word around?”

I thought about it. “You know, that might actually work.”

So we went to my house and carefully con structed
a short letter to warn girls about the dangers of dating Taylor Russell and other boys like him. Allie dictated and I typed. We revised it several times to keep it brief and to the point. No sense in getting melodramatic.

“It’s kind of like how the apostles wrote letters,” I said as we printed the copies out. “I mean, what we’re saying here is completely true and for the girls’ own good if they take it to heart.”

“Yeah.” Allie smiled as she continued making the list of girls to send the letter to. “It feels so much better knowing that I’m doing something to prevent this from happening again.”

Then we got out the phone book, and while Allie read the addresses aloud, I typed them into my computer’s label format program. After everything was printed out, we deleted all the original files—just in case Taylor’s dad tried to trace this back to us someday, which seemed highly unlikely, but added to the suspense.

“That’s the first time I’ve been thankful that I don’t have a PC,” said Allie, laughing. “Taylor won’t be able to accuse me of doing this.”

“I feel like we should be in a spy movie.”

Then I borrowed my mom’s car and we drove over to the next town (part of our undercover routine), bought a box of legal-sized envelopes, then went back to the car and stuffed them and put labels on. Then we went to the post office and
bought stamps from the machine (no witnesses), stamped the envelopes, and put them in the slot. We thought it was covertly clever to have them mailed from another town. Then we went home in time to get ready for practice.

Willy and Laura both seem relieved that things are returning to normal now. Willy’s got us practicing every day again until we go to Nashville. And Allie used “breaking up with Taylor” as her excuse for falling apart the other day, and it seemed to satisfy both of them. But I expect the word will be getting around (to Laura and everyone else) that Taylor is a jerk, although we didn’t send Laura a letter. We felt pretty certain that she was too smart to go out with a creep like Taylor. Besides, she’s still smitten with Ryan anyway.

So even though Allie didn’t handle things the way I thought she should (at least initially), I think what she did was right—for her. It was really her choice, and who am I to question what she believes God is saying to her? She did assure me, however, that she does plan to tell her mom about the whole thing—someday, when the timing seems right. I’ve got to respect her for that.

We’re on our way to Nashville again. This time with Willy and Elise as our chaperones, and little Davie along for the ride. It’s kind of weird, but I feel older this time, more mature somehow. And Allie and Laura seem older to me too. How is this possible in only one month’s time?

Maybe it’s because we know what to expect now. Or maybe our confidence level has increased as a result of the legal contract that proclaims in bold black and white that we are now “professional musicians.” And yet, at the same time, I think I might need to pinch myself—to see if this is all really real.

But just as I’m questioning reality, little Davie comes down the aisle and pours a whole bag of peanuts right into my lap, and I remember that, yes, this is real.

Cesar came over to my house last night, and we sat and talked about everything for a long time.
We’ve decided that we’re going to keep in touch through letters—yes, old-fashioned hand-written letters. It was his idea since I didn’t think I’d have much access to a computer to do e-mail. But I think it’s a lovely idea. And I already started writing him one during this flight. Allie made fun of me when she saw what I was doing. But then she apologized and said it was probably just because she was jealous.

“I wish I’d had the sense to pick out a better boyfriend,” she whispered (since her mom was sitting right in front of us).

“Hey, at least you learned something from it,” I reminded her.

She smiled. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about what Caitlin said to our youth group last week.”

“You mean about not dating?” I still wasn’t sure what I thought about this whole abstaining from dating thing. I mean, it’s one thing to abstain from sex—and I’m for sure doing that—but the dating thing still isn’t too clear to me. I’m asking God to show me what’s best for me. But from where I’m sitting, I honestly don’t see anything wrong with my relationship with Cesar. Believe it or not, we haven’t even kissed yet.

Allie nodded. “I really gave some serious thought to her challenge. In fact, I called her up a couple days ago, and we had this nice long talk about the whole thing.”

“Did you tell her about Taylor?”

“Not in so many words, but I hinted at a bad relationship.”

“So are you going to become like Caitlin?” I could hear the teasing tone in my voice, and instantly regretted it. “Not that it would be so bad. Caitlin is pretty cool.”

“Well, I’m praying about it.” She leaned back and sighed. “And to be honest, it sounds like a smart way to go right now. Especially since I’ve already shown that I’m not the best judge of character—especially when it comes to really cute guys.” She giggled. “You know, like Jeremy Baxter…”

“Oh, no.” I groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re getting a crush on the lead guitar player of Iron Cross. You haven’t even met him.”

“I know. But he is so cute.”

Here we go again, I’m thinking. “Well, maybe you’re right.”

“Huh?”

“Maybe you should consider Caitlin’s challenge.”

She playfully punched me in the arm, but I think she knows I only have her best interests at heart. And it hurt me a lot to witness her pain all because of a stupid, selfish, totally depraved boy. I just don’t want to see her going through anything like that ever again.

Especially when I think of everything that God has in store for us—why would we want to do anything to jeopardize this great ride? When I consider the doors He’s kicking open for us, the amazing journey He’s taking us on, and how He might use our music to touch lives…Well, why take chances with that?

It was a long, grueling two weeks in Nashville. We thought we’d never get done. I guess we should be grateful that we had absolutely no idea (well, maybe Willy did) how much harder it is to do a professional recording than the simple little demo we did last spring. Long hours, working late into the night, countless retakes—it was like a music marathon.

We came prepared with about thirty songs we felt pretty comfortable with, and the powers that be then selected their top fifteen favorites just based on the lyrics alone. At first I wasn’t too pleased with some of the songs that were cut, but Willy explained that it had to do with balancing the album, and I realized that we’d have to trust them on this.

Naturally, all the songs were written by me and arranged by Willy, well, along with a little help from the producers and mixers. Everybody’s an expert. Actually, the suggestions we received were mostly pretty helpful. One morning they tried to do a photo shoot while we were recording. Talk about a circus! But somehow it all worked out.

The editing and mixing should be finished by now, and according to Willy, the CD is being fast-track produced and we may even have copies by the end of the month. Omega is really breaking the speed barriers on this one. Willy said it has more to do with Iron Cross than us—since they’re in dire need of a warm-up band. But even that remains to be seen. Eric Green said that if we don’t make the grade on the road, it’ll all be for nothing. High stakes. Still, he assured us, “You girls have the right stuff.” I hope he’s right.

Anyway, we were so thankful to be done. After we got home, Laura slept for two whole days, and Allie said she doesn’t care if we ever make another CD—ever! Elise said she thought it was like giving birth—you’d forget about the pain when the time came to do it all over again. I’m not really sure what she means since I’ve never had a baby, but I hope she’s right about forgetting about it.

We got to enjoy a few brief and blissful days at home, and then it was time to hit the road again for our very first concert tour. Family and friends gathered in front of our church, where our tour motor coach was parked, to tell us goodbye.

But before we got on the RV, Willy gave us a sweet little speech. “I know I’m not your dad,” he began, “but I guess I think of you girls as the
closest thing to my very own daughters. So you can count on me to act as protective as a real dad, maybe even more so.” He glanced toward our families and grinned. “And you know I’ve promised your parents that I’ll do my best to keep you girls in line.”

“That’s a big promise, Willy,” I teased and the three of us giggled.

He nodded. “I realize that. I also know that going on the road is tough on musicians. It’s been the ruin of many.” He shook his head sadly. “Including yours truly. But I’ve learned my lessons the hard way. And you girls are way ahead of the game already. You’ve got God leading your way. And you’ve got lots of good people all around you who care about you and believe in you. We’re all very proud of you, and we know that you won’t do anything to let us down. God bless Redemption!” he shouted, raising his fist in the air.

Our friends and family clapped and cheered at this, then everyone quieted down as Pastor Tony led us all in a prayer. After that we whooped like wild things as we boarded our big shiny RV, waving and blowing kisses to the small crowd of onlookers like we thought we were real celebrities—which we do not.

Eric was right on about our touring accommodations. Very nice. It looked like a great big
Greyhound bus on the outside, only nicer, but had all the comforts of home on the inside—TV, VCR, CD player, microwave, full kitchen, fairly roomy bathroom, comfortable beds and seating—the works! Oh, I suppose it could feel cramped in here after a few months, but right now it feels as though we’re just taking off for some really great vacation.

The driver is a large African-American woman named Rosy. At first she seemed a little gruff and almost scary, but now I can see it’s just a surface thing. Underneath it she’s got this really tender heart. I know this because I sat up with her talking until pretty late last night while the others were asleep. She told me about how she’d been married to a real jerk who used to “knock her around after he’d been drinking.” They had a little girl named Violet, but then the girl got sick and died, and Rosy decided to just “up and leave the jerk behind.”

She borrowed enough money to put herself through truck driving school—and now here she is. She’s also a Christian and doesn’t mind sharing her faith with anyone she meets along the way.

I told her I’m glad that she’s our driver and I hope that we don’t make her too crazy with our music and noise and general goofiness. She laughed and said, “I just pretend that my Violet’s
along with us. She would be about your age by now. I think she’d enjoy the ride.”

I think she would too. Our schedule looks fairly busy with a lot of road in between stops, but Rosy makes good time on the highway. During the day, we practice, play games, and watch videos, as well as chase after Davie. So far so good, but it’s only been two days.

Our first real concert is tomorrow. “Just a county fair,” Willy said. But hey, it’s the big times to us, and we’ll play for the fair goers no differently than if we were performing at Madison Square Garden in front of thousands.

We’ve all agreed that whatever we do with our music, we are going to do it all out for God. No holding back. Even if only three people show up to watch us tomorrow, we’ll give them their money’s worth. And if they got in for free, we’ll play even harder.

Oh, I know it might be tough to maintain these high standards, but I believe God will help us to do our best. And maybe in time, our concerts will all be “sold out.” It could happen. Who knows?

In the meantime, I know that I am totally “sold out.” Sold out on God, that is!