Tone Deaf(5)

“Oh,” I say lamely.

Jace cocks his head. “Are you English? You sound like it.”

Tony speaks up. “No. Jace, she’s . . . deaf. ” He cringes as he says it and shoots me an apologetic look.

I’m about to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, but then I see Jace’s expression change. His smile disappears. His chiseled jaw snaps shut. His eyes narrow into an accusing glare. And he’s staring. Right. At. Me.

“Oh,” he says, echoing my previous response in cold mockery. He whips his gaze to Tony, and without even trying to hide the words his lips form, he says, “Today of all days you want me to deal with some deaf chick? Seriously?”

“Take it easy, Jace,” Arrow says. “It was a random raffle, it’s not like anyone knew.”

I edge back a few steps. I’m used to all types of frustrating reactions to my deafness—pity, concern, ignorance. But hostility? This is a new one.

I cross my arms over my chest and straighten my shoulders. Just because I can’t pull off an intimidating look doesn’t mean I’m going to cower. I scan Jace over, mentally cursing as I take in his all-too-familiar body language—clenched fist, tight jaw, wide stance. He’s officially pissed, and I officially need to get the hell out of here.

“She’s the winner, Jace,” Tony says firmly. “Just give her the tour and be done with it, okay?”

Jace doesn’t reply; he just keeps glaring at me, like he thinks that if he glares hard enough, I’ll explode into bits of pitiful, useless dust. My eyes keep shifting to his clenched fist, watching for even the slightest twitch. My instincts scream at me to bolt, but fear claws at my brain, setting off all sorts of sirens and turning my legs shaky.

“Do you sign?” Jace demands.

Arrow groans and elbows his bandmate in the side, sharper this time. Jace cusses and shoots him a dirty look. Then his attention is back to me, giving me an even dirtier look.

“Dude, let’s go,” Arrow says. “If you’re not going to give her the tour, just leave the girl alone.”

Jace ignores Arrow, his eyes laser-focused on me. “I asked you a question. Do you sign?”

I nod, unsure how else to respond. “Yeah. I sign.”

His lips curve into a tight smile that looks more like a snarl. “Then read this.” Jace holds up both his middle fingers, points them at me, and then turns away. He strides off without another word, his fists still clenched and his shoulders stiff with tension. Arrow pauses just long enough to give me a pitying look, then hurries after Jace.

I stare after them in shock. For a second, warm relief floods me as Jace disappears around the corner. Then the warmth rises into heat, and my face burns with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Tony places a comforting hand on my shoulder, and I shrug him away.

He shakes his head, a mortified expression widening his eyes. “I’m so, so sorry about that.”

“What the hell is his problem?”

How dare Jace treat me like that? I don’t even know him, and he’s just going to act like I’m a freak? That’s not right. Not right at all.

“He can be, um . . .” Tony nervously shuffles his feet and clears his throat. “Touchy.”

“He’s a total *,” I snap. I point to Tony. “I want out of here, okay? Forget the tour. Take me to the closest exit.”

I grit my teeth and take a deep breath through my nose, trying to keep from exploding. But, seriously, what just happened? Jace puts up with dreamy girls who are completely obsessed with him, yet he refuses to offer even a shred of respect to me. A normal, non-obsessive girl who just happens to be deaf.

“Here,” Tony says, and he nods toward the stairs we’d used before. “Let’s go.” He walks toward the steps and then falters. I almost bump into him, and a curse erupts from between my gritted teeth. Tony bites at his lip. “Maybe . . . maybe one of the other band members could give you a tour? Arrow is a nice guy, and I’m sure he’d love to do it.”

I shake my head. “No. Thanks, but definitely not.”

Tony opens his mouth in a sigh and guides me away from the stage. Away from the humiliation, the hurtful words, the obscene gestures.

But the anger stays.





3


JACE


I BLAST THE latest Fall Out Boy album through my headphones, letting the pounding bass beat down the dark memories clawing at my mind. I force a couple of deep breaths and try to focus on my laptop, clicking through Twitter and reading the messages left by fans:

Rocking out downtown at the @ToneDeaf concert! Still can’t believe I scored tickets!! #biggestfan #truelove

i’ve got the new @ToneDeaf album on repeat. #love i’m sooooo jealous of every1 at the LA concert!

Maybe if I tweet @ToneDeaf, Jace will reply . . . ;) #hopeful #futurehusband #love

I scoff at the last one and mute the girl’s profile. It’s strange how often I hear that word thrown at me—“love.” Fans love my music, love my lyrics, love my looks, love everything about me. Everything except the actual me. They don’t know me, and that’s how I like it.

Of course, that doesn’t let me off the hook when it comes to Tony’s strictly enforced marketing efforts. Successful bands require fans, and fans require attention. It’s a simple equation that forces me to spend at least a couple hours every week answering messages on social media.