1. The Call by Astarael
2. Interview From Hell by Astarael
3. Close Encounters with the Porcelain God by Astarael
4. Are You Questioning MY Sanity? by Astarael
Chapter 1
The Call
The phone rang again and I shot daggers at Mike Cronin, who shook his head. My cell had been ringing off and on for fifteen minutes, but I wasn't allowed to answer it until the interview was over. Where the heck had that stupid rule come from?
"-your next appearance?" the girl who was interviewing us asked. I wasn't paying attention. The interviews seemed rather pointless to me at this point. Always the same questions. No, I didn't have a girlfriend right now. Yes, I wear briefs. What the hell does that have to do with our music?
Frustrated, I stood abruptly, with every intention of answering the call. The girl looked startled.
"Ashley!" someone hissed at me. Jacob grabbed at my arm, but let go when I sent him the same look Mike had received just moments before. I stalked over to the pile of phones and picked mine up. I was amazed that whoever it was hadn't hung up by now.
"Ashley," Mike said warningly, obviously pissed. I ignored him. At least I only had to deal with one Mike, since Mike Morin was who-knows-where on some business thing.
"Hello?"
"Hey Ash." The voice belonged to Jeremy. I could tell that something was wrong.
"What's up?" I asked, frowning. I was worried about Jeremy, but I was also trying to ignore the disturbing memory that his voice triggered in the back of my mind. Why couldn't I think of my friend without remembering that?
"Where are you?" I pushed the thought away and tried to recall what city we were supposed to be in today. After a while, they all tended to blend together.
"New York," my mouth said. Wow, I guess we were. My mouth seemed to be a couple steps faster than my brain today, as I'd already figured out during the interview.
"City?" Were we in New York City? I looked out a large window in the building we were being tortured in.
"Yeah, I guess." For a minute there was no reply, and I had to fight to keep my mind from wandering in the wrong direction. Instead, I concentrated on his odd behavior. Normally he would have teased me about not being sure of where I was. Something was definitely off. "Jeremy, you okay?"
"Mmmm…." I heard him sigh. Translation: No, definitely not okay. "Ash, could you do me a favor?"
"Anything," I said seriously.
"I gotta get out of here." His tone was pleading.
"Your dad?" The memory returned violently, and I tried to fight it. Don't you dare think about it, I told myself.
"Yeah." I closed my eyes, trying to block the unwelcome thoughts. His dad. Don't think about it. His dad. His dad was scum. He had been for the nine years I'd known him. He'd come home plastered several times a week and end up beating the crap out of his two children. I'd always known when it was a bad night, because Jeremy and Kimberly, his little sister, would crawl through my window, bruised and bloody. I would clean them up and they would crash in my room for the rest of the night, only to head back home early the next morning. I was the only one who knew. Their mom was long gone. And I had just left them. I knew it must be really hard, now that they had no one to help them.
Guilt weighed heavily on me. "What do you need? Plane tickets? Anything, just ask."
"I can't pay."
"That's fine, I'll send you two." He didn't have to explain anything, we understood each other perfectly. My mom used to joke that we didn't even need to talk because we could read each other's minds.
"Do you think I can get a flight out of Redding?"
"I don't know, I'll check. If not, I'll call you and get one out of Sacramento, how 'bout that?"
"Yeah, that'll work. Give me an hour to get through the airport, and one for packing. And I gotta get Kim out of school." I glanced at my watch. It was almost noon.
"What time is it there?"
"About nine."
"Okay, then I'll get you two tickets for a flight to New York sometime after eleven-thirty your time, 'k? They'll be waiting for you at the airport."
"I owe you, man."
"Naw, this is for all the times you bailed our butts out of the trouble I got us into. Just get here in one piece, that's all I want." No, I want to forget it. That's all I want. I want for it never to have happened.
"I'll try." I could hear his relieved grin. "Thanks, Ash."
"Welcome." I tried to grin back. Don't think about it. "I'll see you at the airport. And say hi to Kim for me."
"Okay, will do. "
"'Bye."
"See ya."
Beep. I could feel Mike's eyes boring into the back of my head. Dang, I was in for it.
Chapter 2
Interview From Hell
I could feel Mike's eyes boring into the back of my head. Dang, I was in for it.
"Ashley, I want to talk to you after the interview."
"Why not now?" I asked hopefully. If I could get the lecture over with now, I could also miss more of the interview from hell. No way I was going to be able to concentrate anyway.
"After the interview," he said firmly, giving me a small push toward the table where everyone else was sitting. As I walked over there with the slowest pace I could muster, I wondered if the interview was going to last forever. I needed to buy the tickets, and soon. Surely it wouldn't, couldn't, last too much longer. This girl may be the most annoying person in the world, but even she couldn't drag it out that long. It had better be over by 12:30 at the latest.
I took a seat in the cheap plastic chair and placed my elbows on the table. Propping my head up on my hands, I ignored the looks the guys were giving me. I returned the wide grin the girl sent me with a lukewarm smile of my own. She resumed her never-ending prattle and I mentally checked out. Maybe I should have asked Mike before inviting Jeremy and Kim to New York. Where would they stay? The hotel we were staying at was totally full. I think we'd made reservations a couple of months ago, in fact. I guess I could share with Jeremy, and Kim could…erm. Well, maybe Jeremy and Kim could share my room and I could stay with…no, nobody would want to share their room. I guess Kim could get the bed, and Jeremy and I could take the floor. A bit uncomfortable, but it wasn't like we hadn't done it before, when-
"Ash." I winced at Jake's sharp elbow in my side and looked up quickly. Everyone was looking at me. Wonderful.
"Ashley, what would be your perfect date?" I could tell by her annoyed tone that it probably wasn't the first time she'd asked me. My mouth once again went on autopilot, this time my saving grace. I think I said something about a candle-lit dinner, or…I honestly don't know. Explain to me again exactly what this had to do with our music?
"What's your favorite type of girl?" The question was directed at me again. I guessed that she must be reading the same questions off a list for each one of us. Judging from the bored expressions the guys wore, I was probably right.
She cleared her throat and I realized that I'd drifted off again. Oops. "Umm, I don't know. What do you mean?" I mentally kicked myself for sounding so incredibly retarded. She sent me a look that said she agreed with the retarded part. I gave her the most innocent expression I could find. Mental note: I was running low on my stock of those.
"What kind of girl do you like best?" She spoke very slooooowly, like I was stupid or something. Now where would she get that idea? I debated asking her to write it down for me. Seriously, if I hadn't understood the first question, how would rephrasing it like that have helped me? I wisely chose not to voice my opinion. Instead, I settled with the suddenly enlightened look. Ohhhh, when you put it that way, I thought sarcastically. Looking around for inspiration, I caught Mike's glare instead. The look of Death, with a capital D.
"I like, um, girls…" Well, I'm glad we've established that. "Who…." That was going nowhere fast. Oookay, time for a new tactic. It's called BS and I'm gonna pull it straight out of you-know-where. "Erm. Usually, I prefer girls with a good sense of humor, who can relax and let loose once in a while, and…yeah." Simple answer for stupid question. What was I supposed to say? I like girls with big hooters? I'm sure whatever magazine this girl was from would love that. Still, she looked somewhat satisfied with my answer, so I chose to leave it at that. When I saw her turn her attention to her next victim – Trevor - I plopped my head in my hands in frustration and tried to muffle my sigh. Through my fingers I saw Dan and Eric exchange bewildered, irritated, and worried expressions. Not worried about me, mind you, but more like, what-the-heck-are-we-gonna-do-to-fix-the-mess-he's-made worried. How nice.
I rubbed my hands over my face, almost as if wiping the emotion off my face, and ended up cupping them around my chin again. For a moment I stared at the table blankly, embarrassed, and still very frustrated. What the heck was I gonna do with Jeremy and Kim? Take them on tour with us? I'm sure Mike and Mike would love that. But I couldn't leave them there, with their…father. Disgust flitted across my face as I thought of Mr. Austin, but I erased it quickly, realizing that Dan and Eric were still looking at me uncomfortably.
"So, Trevor, describe your perfect date…"
I was halfway tempted to zone out again, but common sense told me I needed to get with the conversation. It couldn't last much longer, could it? I scratched my wrist, discreetly trying to check my watch. It was just 12:08. Great.
I glanced up to make sure no one had seen me look, only to catch Dan's knowing smirk. I sent him a small, lop-sided smile in return, then turned my attention back to the girl. She'd just fired a question at Eric, and, judging by the look on his face, it had been loaded.
"I'd really prefer not to discuss that right now, thanks," he told her. "It's not a very…comfortable subject for me right now."
"I understand," she replied, smiling fakely. Like hell she did. Her gaze swept over the table, and landed on me. Maybe she was impressed that I was actually paying attention now. But I doubt it.
She looked back at her list. Please say you're done, I thought hopefully. Ran out of questions? Come on, please. "Ashley…." No such luck. Why am I not surprised?
"Who is your role model? Who inspired you to become a musician?"
Wow, one I could answer. Thank God for autopilots. "Definitely my mom. She did so much for me. She taught me how to play the piano, and she encouraged me to go for whatever I wanted. Also, a friend of mine who was my acting teacher, my voice coach, and music teacher. My mentor, really. He helped me learn how to play guitar, and gave me my first guitar." I grinned. "Well, he tried to give it to me. I paid him a dollar for it." But she probably couldn't give a flying flip about that, so…back to the subject. "But, um, yeah. Both he and my mom helped me get where I am now." The girl nodded, writing quickly. Maybe I'd be partially redeemed. Ha, maybe not. She probably hated my guts. But, honestly, what did it matter? Some journalist from some magazine I'd never even heard of dislikes me? I wish that was the worst of my problems.
Problems…. One was standing over there by the door at that moment, looking very unhappy with me. I'll give you a hint, his name's Mike.
One…was about a million miles away. But if I let myself think about him for just a second, I could feel him right next to me, hitting me, touching me again. My body tensed up involuntarily at the thought, and a chill ran up my spine. Before, I'd always heard that phrase and thought, how cliché. 'A chill ran up my spine.' Who does that ever happen to, anyway? But now I knew how it felt, and it was rather unnerving. Especially when I remembered the reason it happened. I felt a lone ghost hand touch my stomach, move up my chest. I shuddered at the memory, and tried to shake off the feeling. Suddenly my shirt was too close, too restricting. It was touching me, why wouldn't it stop touching me? I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down before I totally freaked out. I'm sure Mike wouldn't appreciate it if I had a nuclear meltdown in front of this magazine writer. As my head cleared, I felt the adrenaline rushing through my body. When would this interview end? I wanted out. I want out, lemme out. Don't freak, don't freak. Deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. Inhale, exhale. Chill, just chill. He's not here, he never will be here. Nothing to freak out about.
I want out.
Chapter 3
Close Encounters with the Porcelain God
I want out. I looked to see the girl standing up, offering her hand to Trevor. Thank God! She feigned another smile and friendly goodbye as she shook everyone's hands. When she took mine, it took all of my willpower not to jerk back at the touch. For a split second, my ears roared, and the adrenaline rush returned. Heart pounding, I quickly finished the handshake, and stepped back shakily. Jake clapped a hand on my shoulder, intending to guide me over to Mike, but I cringed away and he quickly removed the offending body part. I didn't need help anyway, I could easily walk over to Mike myself. Right.
Chill Ashley, I told myself. Just freakin' chill. I could feel my legs start to shake. When it reached my hands, I shoved them into my jeans pockets, but yanked them back out again when I felt them touch my hips. I hadn't felt like this in quite a while. Why was this happening now? Oh yeah, Jeremy. Sometimes just talking to him reminded me. Heck, right now just thinking about him reminded me. But he could also help me. He and Kim were the only ones who knew. And I guess his dad, but he probably didn't even remember. He didn't have a clue, which was fine with me. I, certainly, would never forget.
A hand clamping onto my arm dragged me out of my thoughts and toward the door.
"Don’t touch me!" I gasped, wrenching away from a startled Mike. Afraid, I stared at him for a moment, not really seeing him. Instead, the face of Jeremy's dad filled my vision. A second later the angry face was replaced by Mike's confused one. Realizing that I had freaked out on him, I quickly moved my gaze to the floor. I'd have to say that the new carpet was nice, but I would have definitely picked a darker shade to match the-
"Ashley?" His tone was questioning, but gentle, like he was scared that I would go postal again. Which, I guess, was a reasonably valid fear, seeing as how I had little control over my reactions at the moment. I shook my head and continued to look at the carpet. Who the heck used bright pink carpet to accompany a wallpaper decorated with magenta flowers and dark green leaves? I mean, I wasn't a designer, but even I knew-
"Ash?" Dammit, quit interrupting my thoughts! I looked up sharply, to see five guys looking at me worriedly. The thought crossed my mind that I should be glad that the journalist had already left. Yes, okay, so I'm glad. But I hastily decided that I should be more concerned with finding a bathroom to puke in. My stomach was doing some kind of dance and I felt safe to say that it wasn't one that our choreographers had taught us.
"Bathroom?" I asked quietly, trying not to open my mouth any more than need be. It might have been the tone of voice I used, or maybe the way all the color had drained out of my face, that clued them into the fact that I needed to find a bathroom, and fast. Eric and Trevor each grabbed an arm and began to half-drag me out the door and into the hall. I was almost tempted to protest against their touch, but decided against that, seeing as how I wasn't totally sure that my shaking legs would support me anyway. I became positive that they wouldn't when I lost all control of my muscles. I felt Eric and Trevor stagger momentarily under the unexpected dead weight that they were suddenly carrying, but then move faster down the hall. I hoped they knew where they were going, because my stomach informed me that my breakfast would be revisiting us all soon, and I obviously had no say in it.
"Shit, Ashley!" I heard someone mutter behind me. Probably Jacob. I could tell he wasn't angry, just concerned. I could try to explain to them that I was okay, but I knew better than to open my mouth. Plus, I had a sneaking suspicion that I wasn't, right now.
I closed my eyes for a second, and opened them again when I felt my knees gently touch down on a cold tile floor. No more of that nasty pink carpet, that was good. Ooooh, toilet, that was even better. And just in the nick of time, it seemed. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I closed my eyes again. I didn't much feel like watching the contents of my stomach splash into the toilet, thankyouverymuch. I felt a cool hand on my forehead, supporting my head, and one on my back. I'd heard a saying once that a friend would hold your head for you while you puked, but only a true friend would do it while covered in your vomit. Well, Eric was being a good friend for me right now, so I wouldn't hold him to the true friend part. I'm sure he'd appreciate that.
"Shhh, shhhhh. It's okay, you're okay." I wondered why he was saying that until I realized that I was shaking all over. Ooookay, great. When my stomach finally let me know that it was finished, I straightened slowly. I thought it rather rude of it to not inform me of this unscheduled performance ahead of time. I mean, I could have at least penciled it in on my calendar. Jeez, manners today.
"You got it, Ash?" I think he was asking me if I could stand. Judging on how hard I was trembling, I shook my head. "Can I help?" I guess he wasn't sure if I'd let him touch me anymore. I nodded, figuring that my earlier crisis was over. Nothing else to see here people, keep moving.
He gently slid his arms under mine and lifted, so that I was in a standing position. I tried to straighten my legs, but they didn't obey. What was it with my body today? Apparently it had decided to let me know in no uncertain terms that I was not in control here. Lesson learned, thanks.
"Can you stand up?" I tried again, this time actually succeeding in taking on some of my weight before my knees buckled. If it hadn't been for Eric, I would have been eating bathroom tiles for the rest of my life. Once again, he pulled me out of my nose dive, and I found myself wrapped in his arms. Outside of this type of situation, I would have been rather uncomfortable in this position. Okay, so I was, a little, but far be it for me to complain. After all, he had just saved my ass twice in a row.
Grunting under my weight, he dragged me out of the stall and through a door. When he carefully set me down, I felt carpet under my head and realized I was lying in the hallway outside the bathroom. With five other guys crowding around me. How embarrassing. I closed my eyes, wishing I could disappear. Exhaustion washed over me. Sleep. Sleep would be good, too.
. But as sleep was an inconsiderate no-show, I struggled to sit up, then realized that that probably wasn't the greatest of ideas. My head spun for a moment, slowly clearing. Everybody was looking at me. Had I been alone on stage performing, and not crouched in some hallway outside a bathroom, that might not be such a bad thing. But at the moment, it was one of the last things on my wish list.
"You okay, Ash?" Dan was asking.
"Need help?" I heard someone say.
"Maybe you should just sit there for a few more minutes," Mike advised. Yeah, give me a laptop and credit card so I could book that flight and I would, gladly. No, I didn't specify that the credit card had to be mine. Yours would work, too.
"Mmmm," I replied out loud. No sense in wasting words. I held up a hand, hoping someone would get the hint. Jacob took it, lifting me up.
"Thanks," I said, trying to catch my balance. Two more hands on my shoulders steadied me.
"I'm good, thanks." Trevor's look said that he wasn't so sure, but the hands left my shoulders. "I gotta do something. Mike, can I talk to you?" This time the look on everyone's faces informed me that I was signing my own death certificate. "Alone?" Signed, sealed, and delivered.
"Ummm, sure." At Mike's reply, I turned to find a private place to have our little chat, and lost my balance. I staggered and fell against the wall before more hands grabbed me and held me upright.
"Uh, thanks," I said in the direction of the majority of the hands. A few let go and I became painfully aware of one on my chest, still holding me up. No, don't think about it. Bad idea. Very, very bad idea. I propped myself up on the wall and turned to Mike. The hands went away as the guys discreetly drifted off, giving Mike and I the requested privacy. I crossed my arms over my chest protectively and looked at him squarely. It then occurred to me that I didn't know exactly what to say.