I arrived home to find no-one had missed me in my absence. My mom was sat at the kitchen table with notes ready for her next broadcast, as Andy was frying something in a pan, humming. None of my stepbrothers were in sight as I swung through the front door, to my immense relief. I figured I didn't need any of them interrogating me as to where I'd been.
Without a word to either my mom or to Andy in the kitchen, I slunk upstairs, whispering quietly to myself in an attempt to fabricate a persuasive speech. I had to make them let me join Paul's agency, I had to. My encounter with Paul today had left me breathless, and wanting more. If I had had any addictions beforehand – to caffeine, to TV – they were nothing now. I had a new craving. For him.
"So Mom, I really think it would benefit everybody involved…"
"Hey, truant." My plans were interrupted in the form of Brad, who blockaded the top of the stairwell, his bulky body meaning there was no way for me to squeeze past him. I stopped, hand on hip, and scowled. "Does Mom know you cut class this afternoon?"
"No," I said, shortly, not even bothering to deny it. "And it's going to stay that way, thanks." I moved to climb the stairs again, but my stepbrother spoke again, this time with an expression on his face that I didn't like one bit.
"Why did you go?" he asked me, eyebrow cocked. "Was it to see your boyfriend?" He knew as well as I did that I didn't have a boyfriend, and exactly who I'd been to see. I hated that I was so predictable to him.
"I don't have a boyfriend," I replied, trying to look nonchalant. "So there – wrong answer, you leave with nothing, thanks for playing." I came face-to-face with him. "Will you move, please?" He ignored me.
"You went to meet Paul," he stated, blowing his protein-shake breath into my face. I grimaced in disgust, and stepped down a stair, fed-up with this game. Who did he think he was, my mother? "You went to meet Paul," Brad repeated. "Didn't you?"
I sighed. "If I tell you the truth, will you let me pass?" I asked, and he nodded slowly, like the big fat dumb jock he was. I put on a smile, the idea already forming in my head. "Alright then," I said. "I went-" I raised my leg. "to…" I wound it back, and dealt him a blow between the legs. "Sucker," I finished, and I stepped aside as he fell to his knees, hands cupping the offending area. One to Suze; Brad, zilch.
Ignoring his whines of agony, I locked myself in my room and turned on the laptop Doc had left in there from when he was showing me the various species of woodpecker. Like I had been listening at all to that conversation.
Signing in to IM, I saw there was only one person online. But that one person was enough for me.
PaulSlater: Have you asked her yet?
Fingers trembling, it took me a while to respond.
SUZE88: Not yet. I'm practising in the mirror first, ha, ha.
O.K, that was lame. And apparently, Paul didn't find it funny either.
PaulSlater has logged off.
Fine. I closed down the laptop and started on my homework, wondering what I'd missed in the two lessons I'd cut. My mind continued to wander as I robotically continued from Geometry to American History, hands working of their own accord as I searched my mind for images of Paul – Paul in his BMW, Paul that night at the back of the open mic club…
There was a knock on my bedroom door suddenly, and I jumped out of my reverie. Glancing at my clock I saw that I'd been doing homework for nearly two hours, and the sky outside had turned from a pleasant cornflower blue to a darker, sultry Persian. Evening was rolling in fast, and I still hadn't brought up the subject of Paul again with my mom.
"Come in," I called, and I placed my History essay to one side. Appearing at the door was my mom, who looked a little tentative as she pushed it open. "What's the matter, Mom?"
"There's a boy for you at the front door," she answered, and the expression on her face was one of surprise, as if in a normal world no boy would be calling for me. I had to admit, however, that I too was a little amazed. No boy even looked my way unless they had dropped something and I was standing by it, or they needed help with their schoolwork.
"Oh," I said, and I climbed off my bed, following her downstairs. As we rounded the corner to face the hallway below, my heart started pounding fervently. Was it…? Could it be…?
"Suze," Paul greeted me with a silky hand, encompassing my fingers with it and clinging on just a little bit longer than necessary. My heart fluttered, and watched in astonished silence as he turned to greet my mother. "Mrs. Ackerman, I presume," he said, and he kissed her hand. I couldn't believe he'd kissed her hand, much less remembered the fact that she was remarried. He was really pulling out the stops.
"What are you doing here?" I hissed at him as my mother led him into the living room, babbling about the house's history like the incompetent fool Paul had made us both. "Did you drive all the way from Monterey?"
"Suze, Suze," he only said, and he took the seat my mom offered him, along with a glass of water. "Mrs. Ackerman," he continued, and my mother flushed at the sound of her name. "I'm here to talk about your daughter. She's extraordinarily talented."
I blushed enormously, despite the fact that he had told me this himself only this afternoon. My mother stuttered with her words, only managing a faint "B-b-b-b…" before resorting to her husband for help. "Andy!"
My stepfather appeared in the doorway, holding a spatula dripping melted cheese. His eyes widened as he spotted Paul, and my mother gestured wildly for him to join us. I stuck my face in my hands, groaning at the mortification my family was causing me.
"You must be Mr. Ackerman," Paul acknowledged smoothly, and he reached inside his pristine jacket to slide a business card across the coffee table. "I'm Paul Slater, A&R representative at Juice, Inc., a local record label." My mom inspected the card briefly before passing it to Andy.
"I know who you are," she said, simply, and Andy intervened. "Yes!" he cried, tossing the card back onto the table. "Suze made a great song and dance of showing that business card you gave her to everyone in the neighbourhood…"
Oh. My. God.
Paul exchanged glances with me in amusement, and I gave him an apologetic smile. I had to give him some credit. If he still wanted me to join his label even after meeting my parents, he was truly a hero.
"I'm glad for her enthusiasm," Paul said, and I forced a smile in the direction of my mom. "I can only hope you two feel the same way about Susannah's potential career in the music industry."
"No," my mom argued at once, and she slammed a hand down on the coffee table. "Absolutely not. She has school!"
"We can provide tutors in the studio in between recording sessions, and backstage on the set when she's touring, if Susannah is unable to attend her current school," Paul offered. "But there will not be many occasions when she cannot attend school like any other normal seventeen year old." Ugh. He knows my age.
My mom faltered, but Andy still had plenty of gas. "That's what you say," he began, "but can we hold you to it? Susannah has college applications, and they're far more important than a maybe popstar career." Popstar? Ew.
"Andy, please-" I tried to intervene, but both my mother and stepfather held up open palms to silence me.
"That's final, Susie," my mother said, sternly. "You're not joining this young man's record label this year. Maybe after you've finished school, and maybe gotten a degree and you're out on your own somewhere…" I stood up, indignantly.
"I can't believe you won't even give Paul a chance!" I cried, and I tore out of the room, wiping away hot, childish tears with an embarrassed hand. It was stupid I was crying, but the prospect of never being within close proximity of Paul Slater – suave, smooth, sensual Paul Slater – made me simultaneously furious and devastated. I couldn't imagine it.
"Suze." Paul had chased after me, and his warm, soft fingers closed around my wrist to hold me still. My face reddened at the fact that he was seeing me crying, but he didn't acknowledge it out loud. Instead he laced his fingers with mine and kissed my fingertips quickly. "Suze," he said again, and I was instantly enticed by his urgent tone. "Be ready at midnight, with a packed bag. I'll come for you, and you can join Juice, Inc. with your parents' permission or not."
I gazed at him with wide eyes. "Really?" I gasped, and Paul nodded.
"You're eighteen in a few months, anyway," he said with a shrug. "And then you can sign your own contract." I could have thrown my arms around his neck and kissed him.
"Thank you," I breathed, and Paul smiled.
"Be ready at midnight," he warned me, and I nodded, exhilarated.
I would be ready long before then.
-x-
I sat on the roof, stuffed duffel bag to my left and stared as the silvery moon reflected off the red dome of the Basilica down by the school. It was my favourite view of Carmel, a view I had admired for as long as I had lived in the town, and before tonight, I was convinced that no view could top it.
Until I saw Paul's shiny BMW crawl silently round the corner into the cul-de-sac, and lie in wait on the edge of my driveway.
I scrambled off the rooftop and back in through my bedroom window, the soles of my shoes scuffing the cushion on the window seat. As stealthily as I could I crept across the landing, avoiding all the spots I knew that creaked and slid down the stairs till I hit the hallway.
Then came my biggest challenge.
Max, the family dog, lay stretched across the front door like a welcome mat, breathing in with a whistle and exhaling with a growl. Whilst it was extremely hilarious, I knew that if I put a foot wrong he would wake up in an instant and alert everyone to my plan. I was going to have to do this carefully.
In other words, through the back door.
Tip-toeing down the hallway to the kitchen, I slid open the door and crept through the kitchen, adjusting the weight of my duffel bag as I did so. I hadn't packed lightly – I wasn't exactly sure how long I would be gone – and it felt like it was getting heavier by the minute.
But suddenly everything felt weightless as I turned the key of the back door and released myself into the cool night air, finally free from the restraints of my house and everyone who lived there. I gave a little hop of celebration before quickly sprinting round the side of the house to the driveway, where Paul lay in wait with a smug smile as wide as my own.
"Congratulations," he said. "You're now on your way to stardom."
And as we pulled away and I got one last good look at 99, Pine Crest Road, I couldn't help hoping he was right.