Page 31 of Rocked: The Price of Dreams

I shook my head and giggled. No matter how much the guys had grown and had morphed into good-looking men, they were still my best friends. But now...they were my hot best friends. The chords in my heart twanged. I wasn’t sexually attracted to them. Not in any way. Or any of the other guys at school. I didn’t like girls either. Was there something wrong with me? But wait! I didn’t want to be distracted by boys. They’d only get in the way of music. It was a good thing I lacked raging hormones. It allowed me to stay focused on our career.

“What about me? Should I change my hair? Wear more makeup?” Would those things help our image?

“Nope.” Kyle shook his head and smiled. “Your hair is gorgeous long, and you wear just the right amount of makeup when you put it on.”

“Total rock star, Gem.” Hunter nodded, then raised a saucy eyebrow. “But you could wear shorter skirts. You’ve got great legs. Show them off.”

I gave him a weird look like he was crazy. “I already wear miniskirts and shorts.”

“I know.” He grinned. “But they could be shorter.”

“Ew! Perv.” I flicked my guitar pick at him, hitting him in the forehead.

Kyle chuckled. “If we’re gonna be rock stars, maybe we do need to amp up our look. Dress the part.”

“Now I’m down for that.” Hunter’s eyes lit up. He loved his fashion and found the best bargains. “Let’s head to the thrift store when we get home and see what we can find. We need to rock on and off stage. Dress in leather and loud pants and ripped jeans. Gem, you’d look hot in little tanks and bra-top things. We need something trendier than just our screen-printed T-shirts.”

I retied my hair into a ponytail. We weren’t teenyboppers anymore, so hotting up our image wouldn’t hurt. “Sounds awesome. But I don’t want to wear black all the time. I like color and bling.”

I loved sequins and sparkles and rhinestones, and every color under the sun except pink. It was too girly, and it was all my mother ever wore. So no to anything in that shade.

“I’ll make sure you look hot, Gem.” Hunter winked and threw me a mischievous grin. “I promise. I can’t wait for the day when designers are begging us to wear their clothes, and we have fancy suits for award shows and a gazillion outfits for tour.”

“Oh, that would be super cool.” My chest filled with hope, my head flooded with more dreams. “One day. It’ll happen.”

“Let’s just stick with thrift stores for now.” Kyle chuckled. “We can barely afford that.”

That was Kyle. Always keeping Hunter and I grounded. We were the perfect team.

We spent four weeks swimming, writing new songs and spending time with Kade, Kyle’s cousin who’d joined us for a few days. Kyle took us to all his favorite places around Amagansett and East Hampton to eat ice cream, have the best fish and chips, and the most amazing burgers, but eventually we had to head home. For the remainder of our vacation, we worked at our part-time jobs, hung out with friends down at the creek, performed at our regular family tavern gig, and lined up more events to play at. In mid-August, two weeks before the start of school, we trekked all the way to New York to audition for America’s Got Talent. After hanging around all day and playing in front of the producers, we didn’t even make the first cut. Screw ’em. They didn’t know what they were missing out on.

By the end of summer, we had twenty thousand followers on YouTube thanks to one of our songs taking off. Our number of likes and views grew every day and so did our excitement. We had one year of school left. We’d had no interest from the record labels we’d sent demos to, so the three of us made a new plan—save as much money as we could from our jobs and our gigs, finish senior year, then move to New York. We’d be able to play at bigger venues and bars, get to more open-mic nights, go indie and record our own album.

But at the start of senior year, everything changed.

Again.

Chapter 12

September 2009

Two weeks into the first term of senior year, I walked into my house at seven p.m. I’d just done a long, boring shift at the grocery store, and I was hungry and had homework to do. But moans and groans drifted from my mom’s bedroom, across the small living room and into the kitchen. Ergh! She was at it again. But it couldn’t have been with Derek. He was in Pittsburgh.

My chest ached. Even though Derek wasn’t around much, I liked him. He was a good stepdad who deserved better than my mom.

I stuffed my earbuds into my ears and turned up the music on my iPod Touch that the guys had given to me for my birthday in May. After dumping my bag on the dining table, I ventured over to the kitchen to find something to eat. I opened the cupboards and my stomach grumbled in anticipation. But there was barely anything on the shelves—dry pasta, Cheerios, canned tomatoes, rice. I opened the freezer—no microwave meals. Fridge—nothing fresh. Mom had forgotten to do the grocery shopping again. She often ate at the tavern and left me to fend for myself.

I grabbed the cereal out of the pantry and the milk from the fridge. After filling a bowl, I plonked down at the table and ripped out my homework. Science. When in my life would I ever need this crap? Kyle should be here to help. He was the smart one. Well...he was above average in every subject except math. Hunter and I struggled for every grade. We just aimed to pass.

I opened my school diary to see what work I had to do when the stars I’d drawn around next month’s event caught my eye. Butterflies skipped through my stomach. After countless emails, phone calls, and what may have been deemed by some as harassment of event planners, we’d been booked to play at the Princeton Tigers ice hockey season opening celebrations. It was no huge football shindig, but this would be our biggest performance to date, playing in front of more than one thousand people. Who needed chemistry when the guys and I had a string of gigs booked over the next couple of months?

But if I wanted to get out of this town at the end of senior year... I had to passevery subject. I needed to graduate.

As I sat at the table working through the formulas, the door to my mom’s room swung open. Mom, with her silky fuchsia kimono draping off one shoulder and her tousled peroxide blonde hair falling around her neck, leaned against the doorjamb and laughed.

“Oh, Nolan. You’re so funny.” She tilted her head to the side, allowing the balding man to nuzzle her neck. “We need to do this more often. When can I see you again?”

At least Nolan had clothes on...somewhat. His button-down business shirt hung open. His undone tie dangled around his neck. With an I’ve-just-been-fucked grin curling his lips, he zipped up his suit pants.

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