You'd Be Mine(50)
I slump against the car seat, leaning my head back, my eyes closing. “Trina—” I try again.
She clears her throat, cutting me off. “Nothing you could say to me right now will fix this, Clay. You are eighteen years old. That’s too young to be legally allowed to do anything you were doing last night and too old to feed me your bullshit excuses.”
She sticks her keys in the ignition but turns to me before starting the car, exhaling again. Her bottom lip quivers, and she bites down hard, turning it white, before trying to speak. “As you know, I don’t have kids. I have you and Fitz and even the Willows. I realize my exterior is all business, but I do care, Clay. I am very sorry for what they said about your brother. That wasn’t right. In fact, the only thing I’m not blaming you for is punching that kid for what he said.”
I don’t have words. All my resentment from earlier falls flat at my manager’s loss of composure. It’s impossible to hold on to your edge in the face of Trina Hamilton crying.
I’m sick to death of being me, but a faraway part of me realizes the futility of being anyone else. I swallow against the vomit creeping up the back of my throat.
“Where are we going now?”
“We have a month left. Tickets are paid for, and for now, the label wants the tour to go on.”
“So we’re going to Boston.”
Acid swells again, burning my sinuses. How much longer can I do this?
And worse, how many more people will I hurt before I can wash my hands of this tour?
19
Annie
saturday, july 20
boston, massachusetts
Things change after Indiana. After my visit to Jefferson’s hometown. The cemetery. Taps. All of it plays out in my brain on a loop. We return to our tour, we’re back onstage, and I’m in the studio just as before, but everything is different.
Because I’m different. All the possibility and potential I’d secretly harbored have been locked away far below the surface, where they’ll stay. It can keep that tiny bit of admiration I cling to for my parents’ company in the Land of Unwanted and Dangerous Emotions.
I’m also locking away my lady parts. Their objection is fierce, but what can I do? They’re clearly working against me. Stupid magic Levi’s.
Onstage, all will be the same as it ever was. I’ll play my part even if it kills me. It’s what professionals do. But offstage, I’ve been pulling away. No more late-night drinks shared in hotel rooms. No more band bonding or home visits for this girl. I have a month left, and I intend to make it out alive.
I’m crouched on a carpeted step inside a soundproof room in Boston at a satellite studio my label has procured for me last minute. Kacey and Jason are inside the booth, but I can’t see them behind the one-way glass.
“This is something new I’ve written,” I say simply, strumming. I wrote it this week. It’s the first time I’ve played it for anyone. In all honesty, the album is done. We have enough tracks to be getting on with, but I have a feeling about this song. Sometimes you write something you know is meant to be shared. It’s something I can’t possibly say, but something that must be said anyway.
I close my eyes as my fingers find the right chords. In my mind, there he stands: his airy smile, his sensual hips, his whiskey voice.
The lyrics pour out of me in one painful lurch after another.
He was her bleeding heart,
Her soul, her whole life
Her shady hollow
Her beg, steal, and borrow
He was her best friend
Her downfall, her untimely end
He was her too-handsome man
Without a plan
Her railcar screaming off the line
And if I wanted, you’d be mine
My glittering dawn
My twilight con
My overflowing cup
Of whiskey and wrong
My sweet release My most, my least
My aching everything
My forbidden retreat
But if I close my eyes
And wish it all away
Pretend I’m someone else,
Pretend I’m here to stay
Gave us half a chance,
Let my stupid heart decide
There’s no doubt in my mind,
You’d be mine
She was his pedestal
Her voice, his siren’s call
She was his beauty queen idol,
His Southern belle of the ball
She was his grass is always green,
His never in-between
His burning house
His no way out
His everything’s fine
And you’d be mine
My glittering dawn
My twilight con
My overflowing cup
Of whiskey and wrong
My sweet release
My most, my least
My aching everything
My forbidden retreat
But if I close my eyes And wish it all away
Pretend I’m someone else,
Pretend I’m here to stay
Gave us half a chance,
Let my stupid heart decide
There’s no doubt in my mind,
You’d be mine
They were coasting, clutching, screeching through life Eyes and hands only for each other
But they forgot,
Or maybe never cared
About me
The three