Chapter 5
Lisanne didn’t see Daniel at all the following day—and he didn’t text her back.
Kirsty had accepted her explanation of being ‘tired’ without question, although she’d thrown Lisanne several penetrating glances. She’d shown her support by plying Lisanne with candy and cookies—no questions asked.
It wasn’t until Friday that she saw Daniel again. It was just before their shared Business class. Lisanne was keyed up, her apology prepared and practiced so she was sure she wouldn’t mumble, or have an embarrassing episode of word vomit.
But all her thoughts were sucked out along with the air in her body, when she saw him outside the lecture hall in a steamy liplock with a blonde girl.
Someone yelled out, “Get a room!” and Kirsty gave Lisanne a sympathetic look, squeezing her arm gently. But she didn’t say anything and Lisanne was grateful for that.
Kirsty led them to the back of the hall in the two empty seats next to Red T-shirt guy—Vin—then made the introductions.
“Hey, baby,” he said, gazing with warm eyes at Kirsty.
She kissed him quickly on the lips.
“Vin, this is my extremely talented and wonderful roommate, Lisanne.”
“Good to meet you, ‘extremely talented and wonderful’ roommate,” he said, with a smile. “Me and the guys are looking forward to hearing you sing on the weekend.”
Lisanne pinked up rapidly, throwing a desperate look at her friend.
Kirsty grinned back and Lisanne managed to mutter a strangled, “Thanks!”
Vin winked and hooked his arm around Kirsty’s shoulder.
Lisanne had to admit that he was kind of nice and, for a football player, not at all cocky. There were those dratted stereotypes again.
And he was obviously nuts about Kirsty. It would have been sweet—if it weren’t for the fact that it made Lisanne want to commit an act of violence on the nearest piece of furniture. But the innocent chairs blinked back at her with the benign air of planks of wood. Instead, she confined her violent impulses to stabbing the keyboard on her laptop as she set up a new doc file.
Daniel strolled in a few minutes later, a smear of lipstick on his left cheek. He did his usual trick of throwing his jacket onto one seat and his shoulder bag onto another. Lisanne ducked her head down. She didn’t want him to catch her staring. But when she looked up again, she saw his head turning toward the front and had the distinct impression that he’d been looking for her. But had he?
Professor Walden walked in and the lecture began. Lisanne managed to make some sensible notes but her attention was only half there, at best.
Fifty minutes later, Lisanne still hadn’t decided what to say to Daniel, but she didn’t get the chance either. As soon as the lecture finished, Kirsty claimed her attention by telling Vin all about Lisanne’s upcoming gig, and by the time she could get away without being too rude, Daniel had gone.
Her apology would have to remain unsaid: unless she wanted to be a coward and send it by text. So she took the simple way out.
She did nothing.
* * *
The weekend passed in a haze of rehearsals, homework, and spending time with Kirsty and her friends. Unfortunately, that meant spending time with the ghastly Shawna, too, but Lisanne had the pleasure of seeing that nobody else seemed to enjoy her company either. In fact, she distinctly saw Vin roll his eyes at some bitchy remark Shawna had made, and he’d winked when Lisanne caught his eye.
Vin and Kirsty were fast becoming inseparable, but Lisanne noticed that Kirsty made every effort to make time for her roommate, as well—she was more than grateful for that. Lisanne had come to the conclusion that being on her own sucked. Right now, she hated her own company as much as she hated her guilty thoughts.
She still hadn’t fixed the Daniel situation—a situation that she’d dug for herself—so she decided to man up and text him.
* L: library tomorrow? 4 pm? *
Okay, maybe ‘man up’ was putting it too strongly.
Daniel’s reply was even briefer.
* D: Fine *
Four letters and no winking smiley. Definitely no flirting or sexting. And, was he deliberately mimicking her words of a week ago: fine? If he was, Lisanne knew she deserved it. Her penance was to feel like shit and spend five bucks on chips and cookies. She owed him.
The next day, she took her place at their usual table, feeling anxious and uncomfortable. When someone touched her shoulder, she squealed and jumped.
Daniel slouched into the seat opposite her and muttered “Hi” without waiting for her to reply.
He looked tired, which was accentuated by the fact that he hadn’t shaved. She realized the stubble was hiding a dark bruise on one side of his jaw. Maybe he’d gotten into another fight.
She touched his hand lightly and he looked up at her.
“I’m sorry about last week. You’re right. I was being a bitch. Can we start over?”
He gave a lopsided smile.
“Yeah, sure. It’s not been the same without you yelling at me.”
Lisanne breathed out in a long, relieved sigh.
“I brought cookies and chips.”
“Do I get to eat any this week?”
“If you’re quick,” she said.
“I’m always quick.”
Lisanne raised an eyebrow, and Daniel’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d said.
“God! Don’t ever repeat that! I’ll completely deny saying it.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” she teased.
He nodded, his face serious.
“I know it is. Thanks.”
His tone surprised her and she had to look away from his intense gaze.
They worked peacefully, the only interruption being the rustle of illicit chip bags.
But when they finished up, there was no offer of coffee, no offer of a ride on Sirona, just a smile and a casual, “See ya next week.”
“Daniel, wait!”
But he’d already turned his back and was walking away. Lisanne leapt up from her chair, hearing it clatter backward as she tried to grab his arm.
Daniel turned around, surprised.
“What’s up?”
“Daniel, I … I…”
“What is it, LA?”
She was surprised to hear him use Roy’s silly nickname for her, but it gave her enough confidence to speak.
“Will you come—on Saturday? To the gig? I know you can’t … but … I’d like … will you?”
His mouth twisted in distaste and he shook his head.
“Lis, don’t…”
She immediately stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” she said, at once. “That was selfish of me. I’m sorry.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face in frustration.
“I just … I can’t…” he said, his voice tense, as if he was in pain.
“I know. I’m sorry. Really. Forget I said anything. I … I’ll see you in class on Friday.”
He nodded, but didn’t reply. As he walked from the library, Lisanne could see that his shoulders were slumped and his head hung down, as if pulled by a great weight.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid and cruel, her conscience chided.
Sighing and internally berating herself, she stuffed the rest of the cookies and chips into her bag, piled up her books and laptop, and dragged herself back to her room—where she proceeded to finish the cookies, and went to bed feeling nauseous.
* * *
But on Thursday morning, Lisanne woke up feeling worse. She was bathed in sweat, her throat was dry, and her tongue felt as if it had been lying at the bottom of a parrot’s cage.
She made a rush for the bathroom, then crawled back to bed, groaning loudly. She could just about manage to drink water without throwing up. She turned off her phone and slept for several more hours. At the end of the school day, Kirsty arrived and was horrified to see the sweaty, shivering mess.
“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” she said, angrily. “Jeez! You look horrible.”
Lisanne moaned and clutched her stomach.
Kirsty sat on the edge of her bed and felt Lisanne’s forehead.
“Ugh, you’re all clammy, but you’re not too hot. I think it’s just stomach flu. Stay in bed and I’ll make you some herbal tea. My mom always makes it with ginger—it’s good for settling bad stomachs.”
Kirsty wanted to cancel her own plans for the evening, but Lisanne insisted that all she needed to do was sleep, and that it would be as boring as hell for Kirsty to stay in and watch her.
They agreed on a compromise: Kirsty would go for dinner with Vin as planned, but come back by 10 pm to check on the patient. She was as good as her word, dosing Lisanne with more herbal tea, and fortifying her with crackers.
By Friday, Lisanne was feeling a little better, but Kirsty decided for her that another day resting in bed would seal the deal.
“Besides,” she insisted, “you want to be well for the gig. We can’t have you throwing up on stage—that would be too much like punk rock.”
As she walked out of the dorm room to their Business class, Kirsty called over her shoulder, “I’ll say ‘hi’ to Daniel for you,” then laughed as she saw Lisanne’s jaw drop.
Twenty minutes later, Lisanne was just falling asleep again when her cell phone beeped, waking her thoroughly.
Irritated, she opened the message. Her heart gave a happy jolt when she saw it was from Daniel.
* D: heard you sick? You need anything? Can come by after this? *
A smile lit her up from the inside out. He wanted to make her feel better. He cared about her. And then the realization hit. If he came over, he’d see her looking like a reject from a drug ed video—or something that had been dug up and ought to be reburied. Her longing to see him warred with her vanity. Vanity won.
Gritting her teeth, she sent a text back.
* L: Thanx. Feel gross but better than yesterday. Won’t subject u to fugly parade. LA xx *
* D: Am open-minded ;) Seriously—you need anything? *
He was so sweet.
* L: I’m good. Kirsty looking after me like momma bear. See you next week? LA xx *
* D: ok. Be good *
Daniel had told her to ‘be good’. She sighed—as if she’d ever been anything else. She wanted to be just a little bit bad. Or rather, she wanted to have a little bit of bad—a Daniel-shaped slice of wickedness. Just a small taste. Or a large one.
She sighed again.
By Saturday, she was feeling semi-human, which was a huge step up.
“Well, you don’t look too gross,” was Kirsty’s verdict.
Lisanne suspected she was being kind.
But she managed to eat some breakfast, and had soup and a roll for lunch.
Operation ‘Make Lisanne Look Smoking Hot’ began four hours before the gig. Kirsty had wanted to start earlier, citing stomach flu ickyness required drastic action, but Lisanne had taken herself off to a practice room in the music block to warm up her voice by singing scales—something she absolutely refused to do in front of Kirsty.
Lisanne’s nerves, never particularly resilient, were tap dancing up and down her spine, sending quivering shudders throughout her entire body.
When her cell phone started beeping every 30 seconds with texts from Kirsty, Lisanne dragged herself back to the dorm room.
It was a nightmarish version of Dress Up Barbie, where every lotion, potion, spray and powder in Kirsty’s scarily comprehensive makeup arsenal, was lavished on Lisanne. Three hours of pampering was followed by Kirsty unveiling the outfit she’d decided should adorn her creation.
“I can’t wear that!” gasped Lisanne, shocked beyond words.
She stared at the dress that Kirsty was holding out like a proud game show hostess. Well, calling it a ‘dress’ would have been a vast exaggeration: it was more like a scrap of material with bondage style leather laces up the side. It was strapless, backless and damn near skirtless.
“Nonsense,” said Kirsty, firmly. “You’ll look amazing. You’ll look hot. Daniel won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”
“He won’t be there,” Lisanne answered, sadly.
“What? Why the hell not?!”
Lisanne shrugged, feeling guilty and knowing that Kirsty couldn’t possibly understand his reasons. She wondered again at the price Daniel paid, when everyone assumed he behaved like a jerk.
“Um, I think he was busy,” she replied, lamely.
Kirsty muttered something under her breath, and thrust a pair of knee-high boots at Lisanne. This time, she didn’t even try to argue, but wondered if you could get vertigo from five inch heels.
Lisanne sat on the bed, taking deep breaths to try and quell her nerves—if only a little—while Kirsty poured herself into a deep red halter top and skinny jeans.
Her cell beeped and she glanced at the message, hoping it would be from Daniel. But it wasn’t.
* Wish I could be there. Break a leg! Rodney xx *
Lisanne smiled to herself, happy that her high school friend had remembered it was her big night, and was about to reply when a knock at the door had her heart thumping painfully.
“Hey! Two gorgeous girls,” said Vin, with a surprised look.
He swept Kirsty into a hug but she yelled out, “Don’t smudge my lipstick.”
He laughed.
“Okay, okay! I don’t won’t to get my ass kicked. Lookin’ good, ladies. Your chariot awaits.”
Kirsty took his arm, and he offered his other to Lisanne.
Gratefully, she hooked her hand through his, and hung on for dear life as she tottered toward his car.
Luke, CJ and Manek, three of his football buddies, were already squeezed into the back seat. Lisanne had no option but to hop onto Kirsty’s knee in the passenger seat.
Luke sighed.
“Oh man, that is so close to one of my fantasies coming true.”
Kirsty snorted.
“From what I’ve heard, fantasies are the only things you’ve got coming—true or otherwise.”
The others laughed and Lisanne managed a weak smile. She felt as sick as a dog.
They parked half a block away from the club and Lisanne had an entourage to escort her to the back door.
Unfortunately, that meant that they had to walk past the waiting line. They all turned when someone called Kirsty’s name.
Shawna.
Ugh.
“I called your cell like a thousand times,” she said to Kirsty, accusingly.
“Oh, I must have put it on silent by mistake,” came the even reply.
But Shawna wasn’t put off that easily, and threaded her arm through CJ’s. He looked rather surprised and raised his eyebrows at Vin, but didn’t say anything.
“This is so cool!” said Kirsty, as the bouncer escorted them in through the back. “It’s like being VIPs! Well, Lis, you are a VIP tonight. See you out front, honey. Knock ‘em dead!”
Kissing Lisanne on the cheek, Kirsty whispered in her ear, “Deep breathing, sweetie. You know you’re great—you just have to show everyone else now.”
She gave her another hug, and vanished toward the front of the club where the noise was increasing decibel by decibel.
Lisanne felt a tiny bit relieved when she saw Roy.
“Whoa, baby girl! You scrub up good. Phew! You look too hot to handle. How you doin’?”
“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she said, honestly.
“Nah, you’ll be fine. As soon as you set foot on that stage, you’ll be awesome.”
* * *
Daniel stood outside the club, sucking hard on his smoke. He’d been watching from across the street when Lisanne had arrived. His eyes had almost dropped out of his head and rolled into the gutter along with his thoughts, when he saw her barely there dress and sky-high heels. He had to admit she looked pretty damn hot. Not at all like the shy girl that he met every week in the library. Although he kind of liked her, too.
He wasn’t pleased to see her linking arms with a couple of jocks. Nor had he been able to tell which of them she was with, and that bugged the shit out of him.
He dropped his cigarette to the pavement and ground it out with his heel. His chest felt tight with frustration, and he wanted to spew bitter words and rant at the powers that be.
Some days he could almost accept the hand he’d been dealt. Shit happens. Sometimes you were at the back of the line, but sometimes you were right at the front. Some days he could just say to hell with it, to hell with everyone, and get on with his life. But some days he wanted to snarl and yell and scream his fury at the unfairness of it all.
Today was one of those days.
When Lisanne had asked Daniel to come to the club to see her, he’d felt physically sick. He’d wanted to run and hide, and it had taken everything he’d had to remain standing talking to her in the library. She had no idea what she was asking of him: how could she?
Torture could be so innocent.
Slowly, reluctantly, Daniel made his way to the front of the line, passing irritated clubbers as they waited impatiently. The doorman waved him along without a second glance, and Daniel made his way toward the bar.
He would need a drink if he was going to get through the evening without hitting something. Or someone.
A couple of girls eye-fucked him from the opposite end of the bar, but he didn’t return their interest.
Ordering a bourbon and beer chaser, he waited for the change in ambience that would announce the arrival of the live music.
He made his way to the back of the crowded room and stood aloof—watching but not joining in, seeing but not caring. He really fucking hadn’t wanted to come tonight, but he hadn’t been able to stay away either.
He could feel the adrenaline building in the club, the atmosphere thickening like smoke. He knew how she’d be feeling now: that heavy tension that could only be released by letting the music flow through you, letting it pull all the threads of your body to weave a tapestry of sound.
He watched as trembling legs carried her onto the stage, her terrified eyes shooting left and right, as if she was searching for somewhere to hide. She stood hunched over the microphone, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He could see that the crowd was undecided whether or not they’d accept the terrified-looking girl, who hung onto the microphone as if it would save her from an angry mob.
But then the bass throbbed into life, and Daniel could feel the vibrations of the drum kit pulse through his body.
And she started to sing.
Her face lit up and she began to breathe. It was like watching a flower open and turn its face to the sun. She poured her heart and soul into the song as she commanded the stage.
He stood alone, watching the crowd, watching her, feeling the music through his body—hearing nothing.
Daniel pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her lifting her voice, the crowd beneath her howling their delight.
And then he turned and left. It was too much. And it was far, far too little.
* * *
Everyone agreed that Lisanne’s debut had been a triumph.
They’d started with Etta, then rocked into Adele’s Rolling in the Deep, which had people leaping up and down, chilled out with Hey Love by Quadron, tried out some of their own material which had been amazing, and finished with some indie classics and, of course, Alicia Keys Fallin’. They hadn’t attempted Dirrty and, bearing in mind what she’d been wearing, Lisanne was relieved.
She was covered in sweat, half her makeup rubbed off onto her hands, exhausted and exhilarated—her body was buzzing.
“You were awesome, Lisanne!” shouted Kirsty, barging into the shabby dressing room and hugging her senseless.
“Way to go, Lis!” said Vin, joining in the group hug and kissing her on the cheek.
Lisanne smiled and grinned and said all the right things.
She’d loved being up on the stage. She’d loved hearing the cheers of the crowd as her voice hit every high note. She was happy Kirsty had been there to see it all and see her through it. She was glad that Vin and his friends had approved and toasted her with bottles of beer. She was delirious that it had gone well, and she was relieved that Roy and the guys had given her a universal thumbs up. But through it all, she’d hoped that Daniel would come.
She’d scanned the crowd but couldn’t find his face.
That was okay. That was fine. She hadn’t really expected him to come. She should never have asked.
* * *
When Daniel cut the engine outside his house, he felt wrung out. He hadn’t been back to the club for a live music night since … well, not for a long while.
He climbed the steps to his house, not surprised that the front door was hanging wide open, people he didn’t recognize spilling out onto the street. They could have been friends of Zef’s, or they could have been customers. Sometimes it was the same thing.
He swiped a six-pack from a table, not caring who it belonged to, and trudged up the stairs to his room.
He stared with distaste at the girl asleep—or passed out—in the hallway.
Thank fuck he had his own bathroom that he could keep locked; otherwise living there would have been intolerable.
He opened the bedroom door using his key, and locked it behind him again. He was vaguely aware of music thumping through the house because of the vibrations that traveled up through the floor. It was the only advantage to being deaf: noise couldn’t keep him awake at night. It was a small mercy—but something was better than nothing.
He snapped the tab on the first beer and drank it down in one go. Then he turned on his laptop and downloaded the photograph of Lisanne from his camera phone. Damn, if she didn’t look hot in that outfit, but seeing her sing—he’d never seen anyone look more beautiful. She looked like she fit inside her own skin. He hadn’t seen her so at ease before—she glowed.
He printed out the picture and stuck it on his notice board among the photographs of his family. Then he turned off his laptop, toed off his boots and sat in the dark, drinking beer until sleep or oblivion took him.