Heavy Like the Drums
Let your demons play with mine
Let your demons play with mine
When it feels like it’s wrong, then it’s right
You tell yourself a lie
And believe it every time
Carolina walked toward Taylor as if in a daze. There were so many other fans milling around the sidewalk, but she couldn’t see them at all. Laura was still by her side, she knew, but no one else seemed to even exist.
“Hey,” she said dumbly when she reached him.
Taylor smiled. His teeth were blindingly white and he was so, so very tall—taller and more beautiful than even the most high quality fan site photos had led her to believe. “Hey, Carolina… Laura. It’s good to see you guys.”
“Yeah,” Carolina said, feeling her own smile spreading across her face.
For a moment, the two just stood, staring. Carolina couldn’t even begin to think, and the awkward smile on Taylor’s face seemed to imply that he felt the same way. His eyes were wide, and Carolina was certain he must be thinking the same thing she was. It wasn’t even about the celebrity thing—it was just the simple fact that this person who had lived inside a screen was real. Really, truly real.
What were they supposed to do with that knowledge now? They both seemed to be at a loss.
“I sent you a message earlier,” Carolina said dumbly, hating the words as soon as they left her mouth. Her tone was accusatory. Almost scolding. As though she had any right to expect anything from him.
Taylor’s smile didn’t falter, though an eyebrow lifted slightly. Carolina decided she was in love with every single quirk and expression of his face, unusually proportioned though it all might be. “I replied right before you came out here. Didn’t it go through?”
She shook her head, but pulled out her phone anyway. No new messages. She held it up for him to see.
He held up his in return, and sure enough, there was a message informing her of the after party.
“Oh,” she replied. “Well, no. I didn’t get it. We can stay tomorrow night, though, so if it would be better to do it then…”
Taylor nodded. “I think it might be. I’m pretty sure I’m required to at least make an appearance at the party, and I don’t know if we have a hotel or if we’re sleeping in the van or what.”
“You sound as tired as I feel,” Laura said.
“Yeah, you had a pretty long drive, huh?”
“About three hours,” Laura replied.
“Little over an hour for me,” Carolina added.
“So you girls are probably ready for bed?” Taylor remarked, pulling his cigarettes out and lighting up another. He raised an eyebrow and held the pack out to each of them. They both shook their heads, and Carolina shot Laura a glance that made her giggle slightly.
“Maybe soon,” Laura replied. “But we were kind of looking for somewhere to light up first.”
Taylor stared at her, then looked back at Carolina, eyes wide. “I mean, if you’re going to share, I can try to get the van keys. Or we can just do it right here.”
Carolina stared, arms crossed over her chest, waiting for someone else to declare smoking pot on the street corner a stupid idea. Then again, was it? When in California, she decided, and shrugged.
Taylor grinned. “Well, alright. Right here it is.”
Carolina rolled her eyes, but didn’t speak as Laura pulled a carefully rolled joint from her purse and lit it with Taylor’s lighter. She stared at his lips as he took a hit and tried to ignore his eyes on her as she took a hit of her own. It was strong, better than the stuff she was accustomed to back home.
It had been too long, Carolina decided, but then again, she had never really felt like a stoner. It was just another persona she had tried on, and though it hadn’t fit quite right, it had still been who she was—or seemed to be—for a while. It was like putting on an old outfit, and finding that it still fit, but somehow didn’t quite look right.
She tried to hide her cough as she exhaled, then passed the joint back to Laura.
“Smoking up with a librarian,” Taylor remarked. “Feels dirty.”
At this rate, Carolina feared she might sprain her eye muscles.
“Librarians are people, too,” she shot back, then admitted, “I really don’t smoke much anymore, though. We’re people, but we’re county employees.”
“Yeah, but I mean… just get a weed card. Anxiety or something.”
“Well, that would at least be believable,” Carolina replied. “I probably should. I forget that’s even an option.”
“It’s my favorite thing about California,” Taylor shot back. “That, and the politics.”
Carolina nodded. “It is nice that I could register green and actually have someone to vote for out here. Or at least have options in the democratic primary.”
“Yeah?” Taylor raised an eyebrow again.
Carolina could see that she had surprised him. He wasn’t willing to admit it, though, just like he hadn’t commented on her accent like she expected him to. It was a relief—a strange one. Since moving, she had learned to brace herself for it, to minimize the accent and the dialect as much as possible. Taylor hadn’t even flinched when he heard her voice. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe he didn’t mind. Likewise, he changed topics from politics quickly after confirming that Laura, too, supported Obama.
As the three of them passed the joint back and forth, Carolina found it harder and harder to speak. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was being in Taylor’s presence. Maybe it was the surreality of it all, knowing there were other fans still milling around who had surely noticed the three of them. It was all too much. She found herself inching closer and closer to Taylor, as though being near him would protect her somehow from her worries and anxieties. Maybe he would understand all the things she couldn’t say, like how much more time she wanted with him, time she knew she wouldn’t get.
“Alright, who’s got the pot?” A voice said. Carolina didn’t recognize the sound, but soon realized it was coming from Robert Schwartzman, who had materialized as if out of thin air. Another member of the band, whose name she couldn’t remember, was behind him.
“My new best friends, Carolina and Laura,” Taylor replied, offering the joint to Robert, who accepted it willingly.
The five of them made small talk, with Laura leading most of it, while they passed a second joint around.
Carolina’s mind felt hazier and hazier, and still she inched closer and closer to Taylor, wondering if anyone else—including him—even noticed.
“Hey, we’re gonna head over to the after party,” Robert said, clapping Taylor on the shoulder. “Make sure you find us later; Locke found us a hotel for free. It’s just one room for all of us, but it’s free.”
“Hope he doesn’t mind spooning with me,” Taylor replied, then turned back to Carolina and Laura. “You girls want to head over to the club?”
“Maybe just for a little while,” Carolina said. “I’m not as much of a partier as I used to be.”
Taylor eyed her. “I find that hard to believe.”
Carolina couldn’t formulate an answer to that.
The whole troupe of them began to walk down the street, and again Carolina wondered what they must all look like. She wondered what the other band members must think of her and Laura. Taylor hadn’t really introduced them—they were just two girls with weed. Did the band think they were groupies? Were they groupies? It was just all too much for Carolina to try to puzzle out on her own, and she had no desire to ask anyone how they saw her.
There were, unsurprisingly, a cluster of people gathered outside the club, the majority of them female. A few called out to Robert, and to Taylor—Locke or Hanson, Carolina wasn’t quite sure. One approached Taylor directly, positioning herself directly between Carolina and him, and she supposed that solved that riddle.
“Would you believe I have my old Hanson CD with me?” The girl asked. “Could you sign it for me?”
“Sure,” Taylor replied, flashing her an obviously practiced smile, even though his eyes still showed that he was caught off guard. The other girl didn’t seem to see it, although it seemed plain as day to Carolina. He glanced back at Carolina, his expression seeming to say she shouldn’t wait on him.
She offered Laura a shrug, then followed her into the club. It was teeming with bodies, all dancing to music that Carolina barely recognized. She found a spot along the wall and waited while Laura retrieved shots for both of them. She didn’t want to drink; she was already feeling the strong weed more than she wanted to. She needed her mind to be semi-clear to deal with being this close to Taylor. Then again, maybe not. Maybe it would be better if she had a few drinks. When she was drunk, she didn’t worry about embarrassing herself or saying the wrong thing. She often did, but it could always be blamed on the alcohol, and in any case, she wouldn’t feel the anxiety that accompanied trying to fit in. She could just exist in the moment and worry about the consequences later.
The shot burned, and so did Carolina’s thoughts as she waited… and waited… for Taylor to appear. The club had a number of rooms and alcoves, but she thought she was close enough to do the door that, were Taylor to walk in, she would see him.
She didn’t see him.
Three songs had played, at least. They all seemed to blur together. Laura went back for two more shots.
“I think I need some fresh air,” Carolina said, wiping away a drop a whiskey that had missed the mark.
Laura nodded. “We’ll both go. Safety in numbers.”
The two of them walked outside together. It was still oppressively warm, despite the late hour. Carolina sighed as she sat down on a ledge along the wall of the club. No Taylor in sight. Out of habit, she pulled her phone from her purse, and saw one new message notification. It had slipped in without her noticing in the noise of the club. She opened the message.
sacred fool: you in the club? the party’s not so bad
xcityofnightx: stepped outside for some fresh air
sacred fool: come back in and hang
She couldn’t say no to that; she didn’t even try. She showed the messages to Laura, then typed:
xcityofnightx: okay be there in a sec
They walked back into the club, showing their stamps to the bouncer as they went. They wiggled their way through the crowd, easily spotting Taylor’s blonde hair above the rest of the crowd. There was a gaggle of girls around him, looking obviously and suspiciously like fans. Carolina tried not to roll her eyes. She had been friendly to one of those girls in line before Laura arrived, and they were nice enough, but she couldn’t really relate to these girls who showed up in old Hanson tour t-shirts and spouted off endless trivia about Taylor. She wasn’t ever going to be one of them, and she didn’t want Taylor to think she was.
That was judgmental and unfair, Carolina knew, but after standing outside the club for so long, talking to Taylor like he was a normal human being, Carolina’s world had shifted. He really was a normal human being. The flirtatious party boy he appeared to be—he was nothing like that off stage. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in her, but Carolina couldn’t help thinking that it was more than that. He was someone real, with depth and emotion, and Carolina wanted that guy to like her. Not the one plastered on t-shirts. The real guy.
She brushed her hand over his arm as she walked by, just to get his attention, and smiled. He gave her a slight nod and a smile, and the other girls didn’t even seem to notice at all.
“Another drink?” Laura suggested.
“Rum and coke,” Carolina said, as if by reflex. It was always her drink of choice, because it was easy to order no matter how loud the bar or intoxicated the person ordering.
Carolina handed several bills to Laura, then found a spot by a high-top table, leaning her elbows heavily on it. It had been a long day and trying to figure out how to act around Taylor and a surprising number of other fans was proving difficult. She wasn’t prepared for any of this.
“Don’t look now, but…” Laura said, reappearing by her side. “Actually, do look now, because you’re not going to believe this shit.”
Carolina followed Laura’s nod toward the bar, and saw immediately what she meant. A familiar tall, thin figure had Taylor pinned up against the bar. With her stilettos, she was nearly his height, and one long leg was positioned between his. Her hand was on the back of his neck, and Carolina didn’t even want to know what she was whispering in his ear.
Judging by the look on his face, Taylor didn’t want to know either. When the girl shifted positions, Taylor glanced at Carolina over his shoulder.
“Do something,” Laura hissed.
“I can’t.” Carolina shook her head. “Remember her? She was one of those girls earlier, from the line for the show. Her name is Holland. I may sound crazy, but she’s doing this because of me. To prove a point. She can have him; I can’t. Why would I ever think I was pretty enough for him?”
“Well, she looks like a pathetic slut,” Laura remarked.
Carolina shrugged. “Whether it works on him or not, I’m not sure it matters. I can’t step in. He can’t know that this is about me. He can’t know that I know wannabe groupies like that And honestly, I didn’t even know she was… like that. All of those girls were just fun to go out drinking or go to a concert with; I didn’t really dig any deeper than that.”
“Maybe it’s just the alcohol, but man, she must have had a lot,” Laura replied.
“I just wish I could have–but there’s really nothing I can do.” Carolina shook her head, willing herself to look away.
Laura agreed that it was probably best not to intervene, and switched the topic to the anthology they had just submitted their final drafts for. Carolina listened, but she couldn’t stop watching. Taylor inched further and further down the bar, but Holland didn’t seem to notice or be deterred at all. Finally, Taylor rounded the corner and Robert appeared with Louie in tow. He was just good looking enough to catch Holland’s attention. While Carolina laughed, Taylor slipped out of her grasp and vanished.
“You know the worst part of that?” Carolina asked, pulling out her phone in hopes of another message from Taylor. “I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend.”
Laura shook her head. “It takes all kinds. Let’s get out of here.”
By the time the two had finished their drinks and worked their way through the crowd, Taylor had vanished again. For someone so tall, who naturally stood out in a crowd and drew attention to himself whether he was trying or not, he also seemed to become invisible at will. It was a skill Carolina wished she possessed.
As the two of them walked the block and a half to their hotel, Carolina couldn’t shake the images of Taylor and Holland from her mind. It was so obvious to her that he wasn’t interested, and that didn’t really compute. Holland was tall, thin and not terribly unattractive in the face; in Carolina’s experience, that was all men looked for. Short and soft around the edges, like she was, didn’t stand a chance against the model types.
Yet Taylor hadn’t been interested. He had all but run away, in fact. Carolina could only conclude that it wasn’t her looks, but her desperation, that drove him away. A rockstar who didn’t want a groupie? She supposed there was a first time for everything. But there wouldn’t, she realized, be a first time for the two of them if he thought she was just like Holland or any of the girls who were only interested in him because he was with the band.