Taylor glanced at the clock on the wall before picking up the phone and quickly dialing. If it was 8 in Spokane, it was 10 in Tulsa. Although it was a Monday night and she would be close to getting into bed, he figured he'd give Randy a ring anyhow. The phone rang twice before her familiar voice said, "Hello?"
"My sweet! My love! My obsession!" Taylor crooned. "Lia! Is that you, my darling? My dear? Goddess of all of my naughty, vulgar fantasies!"
Randy cackled delightedly. "I'm sure Lia would love that! She would promptly tell you to get a life. Now I, on the other hand, am willing to listen to your praise all night. When will you get over that sick flight of fancy and realize that I am your one true love?"
Taylor pretended to weep. "Alack the day! Woe is me! Does my angelic Lia not love me?"
"Nope!" Randy laughed. "I thought you had a concert tonight..."
"I do," he said, quickly sobering up. "I've got 7 minutes until curtain. I refuse to go on without a word of luck from my passion lady."
"Passion lady?" Randy asked. "Are you running out of cunning nicknames?"
"I've been reading the dictionary less and less," he said in a shrugging tone. "Do you have anything better for me?"
"You could just call me Randy," she offered.
"Where's the fun in that?" he asked.
"You consider reading the dictionary fun?" she asked.
"Don't tease me," he said, imitating a southern belle. "I'm a lady of prestige, and you are but a mere slave. Go, you, and leave me to my primping."
She smiled. She wondered if he could hear her smiling. "I love you, Taylor."
"Hey, hey, hey," he said. He called out to one of the passing stage crew. "HEY! DID YA HEAR THAT? SHE SAID SHE LOVES ME!"
She laughed. What she couldn't hear was the stage crew member's reply of, "Which 'she' are you referring to? They ALL say they love you!"
Taylor grinned and turned back to the phone. "I love you, too, my flaming queen of desire."
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, uh, my hunka hunka burnin' love."
"Oooh, that was pathetic," he said. "And you say my nicknames are bad."
"I thought it was a good attempt," she sniffed. "And how long is it 'til curtain? I can't talk to you all night."
"I wish," Taylor mumbled. "I've got...3 minutes. Wish me luck and I'll be off."
"Good luck," she said.
"Now blow me a kiss." He heard the loud smacking of her lips, and her blowing air loudly out of her mouth.
"Was that okay?" she asked.
"Perfect," he replied.
"I hope you're not late because of me," she said.
"If I'm late, I'm late," he replied. "I never regret a moment I spend with you."
"Aw, how sweet?" she said. "Now how am I supposed to top that?"
"Just say you love me and you'll never cheat on me with one of those Moffat boys and I'll be a happy man," he said.
She laughed again. "I love you, and I'll never cheat on you with Scott or Dave or Bob or Clint. Especially not Scott. Not because I've ever done anything with Scott, but..."
"You're such a gooseberry," he chided.
"I love you," she whispered again. "Call me when the show is over?"
"You'll be asleep," he said.
"I don't care," she replied.
"Goodnight, my divine love," he said. "I'll still be here when you wake up..."
"And if you're not?" she asked, her throat closing up.
"You know how the song goes," he told her.
"That was so cliché," she said. "You sound like one of those little teenybopper fan stories..."
"I'll be here," he repeated. He ignored one of the guys from his crew telling him that he had 30 seconds until curtain.
"I miss you already," she sniffed.
"I love you, Randy," he told her. "I've gotta go."
"Goodbye," she said.
"Goodnight, sleep tight," he said. "Don't let the bedbugs bite..."
"I won't," she told him. "Bye. I love you."
"We're eventually going to have to terminate this conversation," Taylor laughed.
She laughed as well. "I know. Okay. E-mail me. Goodbye."
"Everyday," he promised. "Goodbye, Randy." She carefully placed the phone back on the hook. Her eyes were watering. She already missed him, and he'd only been gone one day.
The audience was hyped. Taylor felt the rush of adrenaline. He looked at Isaac, who was obviously in his own little world. Zac was tapping away on the drums. It felt so good to be doing the show, even when he felt horrible about having to say goodbye to Randy for so long. He reminded himself that in a year she would be all his, and nobody else's.
She watched him, a beautiful girl in a sea of mediocre girls. An intelligent person amongst many other stupid people. She felt her superiority keenly standing there amidst them. She didn't smile. He was hers. She didn't laugh. He said there was someone else. She didn't clap or sing along. If she couldn't have him, no one else ever would. Together until the end, right, Taylor? she thought bitterly.
The metal detector had so easily been fooled. She'd merely had to say that her retainer was the cause for the alarm to go off. Was it? Of course not. She didn't even have a retainer, those idiotic guards. Why did they hire these half-wits to work in places like this? Didn't they realize it was a good way to end up with her precious Taylor being killed? Morons, all of them, she chastised.
The gun felt so cool in her hand...
Taylor belted out the familiar lyrics. The first concert of the world tour, and it was going great. He looked out to the audience. He was down before he even heard the shot. Most people hadn't heard it over the din of screaming fans and the music that poured out over the speakers. It wasn't until they realized that Taylor had stopped singing that they began to panic. People near the girl who had shot Taylor were now freaking out, all running to try to get away from her. She was crying and screaming simultaneously. "DON'T YOU SEE?!" she shouted. "YOU WERE MINE, TAYLOR! I DID IT ONLY BECAUSE I LOVED YOU! WE'LL BE TOGETHER NOW! SHE WON'T BE THERE ANYMORE! I WILL!"
The hysteria grew as she stuck the barrel of the handgun into her mouth. One shot later, it was over. The guards were now rushing people out. Mass chaos had broken loose. The brothers of the victim, who was now sprawled on his back upon the stage, were crying and screaming. Emergency aid staff was coming onto the stage. His mother fought to get to the stage door, shouting to Jessica to watch the younger ones.
The music was gone. Now only terrified shrieks rang through the gargantuan auditorium.
Randy woke up at six o'clock. It was a half-hour earlier than her usual wake-up time, but she shrugged it off and went to take a shower. Once she'd gotten out, her radio alarm was honking at her to get out of bed. Too late, she thought, dabbing at her hair with a towel. She'd let it air dry today. She didn't feel like fooling with it, as usual. She turned on her radio. A song by some new group called Hemophiliac pounded through her room. She liked her music loud and heavy. Taylor always hated her taste in music.
She began to browse her closet, and found a pair of jeans and a dark sweater. Perfect for the cool December weather. She reminded herself that Lia would be coming in that day from college. Had the semester passed so quickly? After dressing herself, she dug through her sock drawer for a pair of decent socks. She had sat down and was pulling them on when the announcement came.
"The world of Pop and Rock-n-roll will never be the same again. 18-year-old Taylor Hanson of the teen sensation band Hanson was tragically shot and killed last night at Spokane, Washington. It was the opening concert of Hanson's world tour that was supposed to be going on through the fall. The tour has been cancelled, and the remaining members of his family are returning home to bury his body in their hometown of Tulsa. Our thoughts, prayers, and condolences are with them in their hour of loss."
She forgot the task of putting on her shoes, and tore out the door. She raced down the stairs and into the kitchen. There her mother and father sat at the breakfast table, still in their pajamas. They both looked up as she appeared. "Oh, sweetheart," her mother murmured, her blue eyes full of tears.
"Mom?" she asked.
"Baby, the Hansons called us the first thing this morning," her father said. "They had some terrible news for us."
"No," she said, backing away from her parents.
"Taylor was shot at the concert last night, honey," her mother told her. "He was hit directly in the heart. It was a fan; she was out of her mind. She shot herself. Baby, they tried everything, but Taylor just didn't last."
"No," Randy repeated. "NO!"
"I know this is hard, sweetie," her mother said, getting to her feet. "The Hansons said that the funeral was going to be on Thursday, and they want you to come and ride up to the church with them. Diana told me that Taylor would have wanted it that way."
"Don't talk like that about Taylor!" Randy screamed. "You just wait. He's going to call me tonight, Mom, and he's going to say this is all some horrible mistake! Or a joke!"
"Taylor's dead, honey," her father said in a gentle voice. "He's not coming back."
"He is!" she shrilled. "He promised! He said he would be here this morning! In two months!"
"Oh, Randy..." Her mother reached out and tried to stroke her face. Randy quickly slapped her hand away.
"Don't touch me!" she shouted. "Don't even talk to me! I can't believe you would even insinuate that Taylor might be dead. That's just morbid, Mother."
She then spun on her heel and ran back up to her room. She pulled on her shoes, and mechanically went through the motions of preparing for school. At 7:40 she headed out the door and got in her car so she would make it to school on time. The day was eerie.
People stared at her in the halls. Every so often someone would stop and tell her how sorry they were or how much they liked Taylor. Teachers and her friends would ask her how she was doing. She snappishly told them she was fine. "Why would I not be fine?" she would ask peevishly. "There is nothing to be 'not fine' about."
By the end of the day, she was exhausted. She skipped out on the class meeting they were having that was to help plan what the seniors would contribute to the holiday formal that was coming up on Saturday. She remembered that she wasn't going to the dance anyway, because Taylor was going to be out of town. At home, there were flowers and foods everywhere. In her room, it was worse. There were cards and balloons along with vases of roses and other flowers. She rolled her eyes and tried to clear them out of her room as best she could. She took them downstairs and sat them on the dining room table. Her mother suddenly appeared out of the den.
"Hey, Randy," she said softly. "How was school?"
"Fine," Randy intoned. "What are all of these flowers and things doing in my room? I don't want them. Can you please find something else to do with them?"
Belinda nodded solemnly. "Of course I can. The Hansons called again. They wanted to know if you were riding with them on Thursday."
"What on earth for?" Randy asked.
"To go to the funeral," her mother said. "You are going, aren't you?"
"Why not?" Randy said lightly. "It should be a lot of fun when Taylor comes in and announces that it's all a big hoax."
Her mother sighed, obviously troubled. "Randy, Taylor really is dead."
"No, he's not," Randy informed her calmly. "Everyone says he is, but I know that he's not. He can't be. He promised me that he'd be here when I woke up this morning. He'll be back in 2 months for a visit. This whole thing was probably just a scheme he cooked up so that he wouldn't have to go on tour. So that he could spend time with me. We're going to get married this fall..."
"You were?!" her mother exclaimed.
"We are," Randy sniffed. "There's nothing that will stop that. Not even a stunt like this."
Belinda threw up her hands. "Fine, Randy. Fine. Dinner will be ready in 2 hours. I hope that by then I've found a place for all of these flowers..."
Randy nodded and watched her mother disappear again into the den. She went up to her room. She closed the door behind her, and looked around. Everything here reeked of Taylor. Tears welled in her eyes, and she fell back onto her bed. She hugged her pillow and curled into a ball. "Please, Taylor," she whispered. "Please tell me that this is a joke..."
She sobbed herself into exhaustion. Sleep finally overcame her.