Debut, p.27
Debut, page 27
“What do you suppose that portends?” Heather asked anxiously.
* * *
As they approached Arizona’s border with California, Heather’s phone vibrated. “Are we taking I-10 the whole way?”
“Yeah, why?” Steve asked.
“I just received a traffic alert.” Heather read the message on her phone. “Rollover accident reported on I-10 east of Indio. All westbound lanes closed. Expect delays.”
“East of Indio? Great.” Steve hit the top of his steering wheel in frustration. “That could add hours to our trip.”
“Can we make it to L.A. before midnight? I have a class tomorrow morning.”
“I doubt it. Traffic will be jammed for miles. Who knows how long it’ll take to clear?”
“Isn’t there another way?”
“I-10’s pretty much the one road connecting Phoenix and L.A. He considered it a moment longer. “Unless —”
“You have an idea?”
“Once, when I got bored driving the same route back and forth, I took an old road north of Joshua Tree. It runs parallel to the I-10, but it’s way—I mean seriously in the middle of nowhere. I doubt anyone would even bother with it. We could try.”
“If it’ll work,” said Heather.
“At least we won’t be stuck in a monster traffic jam having our insides grilled to a crisp.”
Steve’s description of the route was apt. After detouring at Blythe, the only sign of civilization they encountered along the way was tiny Moya Junction, consisting of a gas station and an agricultural inspection site, both of which were closed. Beyond that point, the open road stretched into the distance. As far as the eye could see, not a single building could be spotted anywhere. Along the entire stretch, they ran across precisely one other vehicle heading in the opposite direction. The experience profoundly contrasted with Heather’s time spent in densely populated Korea. She found it a marvel to behold, even if a bit intimidating.
The heat became impossible as the afternoon wore on, even with the open windows. The superheated air blowing in from the vents was withering. Heather fanned herself with a wadded tourist brochure she had procured from the lobby of the jet plane hangar.
“My air conditioner doesn’t work well, but it’s gotta be better than this,” Steve admitted.
“Please. Oh, please.”
They closed the windows and felt the air on their face. The result was mildly refreshing, but Heather questioned whether it was worth using, considering the windows had to be shut tight to feel anything.
After 20 minutes had passed, an oily, burning smell filled the enclosed compartment. “What is that?” she asked.
Steve didn’t respond, but he, too, noticed something amiss.
“It smells like—” she was unable to finish her sentence before the Gran Torino shuddered with a bone-jarring thud. The dashboard lights blinked on and off in quick succession. Smoke entered their lungs, forcing them to reopen the windows. Steve swerved into a wide spot of gravel beside the road.
“Get out!” He shouted. There was no mistaking the urgency in his voice. They both fled, doors flying open as they jumped. Heather watched flames lick from the engine compartment as the car rolled slowly to a halt yards away.
To her horror, she watched Steve return to the burning vehicle. “Be careful!”
He reached behind the driver’s seat, extracted an extinguisher, and popped open the hood. Steve ducked to avoid flames as they shot towards him. Five long blasts from the extinguisher, and the fire was out. Residual smoke wafted from the engine for several more minutes.
When it looked safe to approach, Heather peeked under the hood to assess the damage. Hoses and wires were melted. The engine was pitch black. “I guess we won’t be home soon?”
“That’s a safe bet.” Steve expressed his anger by tossing the extinguisher high in the air. It landed with a dull thud in the desert soil not far away.
It’s your fault. You pushed him to turn on the AC. Good job, Heather. Desperately, she hoped to remedy the situation by searching for a local area map on her phone. “There’s a town ahead called Gage. It doesn’t look far. We could walk.”
“Waste of time. Gage is a ghost town.” Steve looked exasperated. His shoulders slumped. “Let me put it this way. We’re standing in one of the candidate sites for the world’s first atomic bomb test. Don’t expect much in terms of civilization.” He double-checked his phone but wasn’t getting any signal. Heather offered hers instead.
Steve called the two service stations he could find anywhere within 100 miles. Not surprisingly, they were closed for Easter. He texted Dalton, who responded 12 minutes later. “Dalton and Toby say they can detour at Desert Station and swing round to pick us up,” said Steve.
“How long will that take?”
“His GPS is saying three hours without traffic. We have some waiting to do.” Heather didn’t complain. She felt guilty enough as it was.
Steve rigged a flimsy sunshade using an old blanket in the trunk to avoid heatstroke. The contraption was held in place by some c-stands from the video shoot. He encouraged Heather to drink lots of water for hydration. They huddled together in the meager shade, awaiting rescue.
“I have enough battery left on my phone to play one song. What would you pick?”
Heather pondered his question for a moment. “That’s impossible for me to answer,” she said. “I love so many; I could never settle on one. How about you?”
“Easy.” He pressed play. The song itself was deceptively simple. The performance aged like a fine wine. The musicianship unparalleled. She didn’t understand the Spanish lyrics but understood the singer’s intent. The song was a hauntingly beautiful expression of desire, reflecting a lifetime of struggle and pain. Set against the stark landscape in which she found herself, the experience created a visceral image that stuck with her long afterward. When it ended, Steve’s phone beeped a depleted battery warning.
“What was that?” asked Heather.
“A Cuban song called ‘Chan Chan’ by the Buena Vista Social Club. That single piece encapsulates the experience of living life like no other. Music in its purest form. The trumpet part slays me every time.”
Heather smiled as she contemplated Steve’s ability to appreciate beauty. “I can see why you’d pick that. Thanks for sharing.” Steve looked pleased with her response. Without saying another word, he leaned against the car. Within minutes, he was fast asleep. The experience of the weekend had pushed him to the edge of exhaustion.
The highway remained deserted.
Heather was left in solitude.
Now, at rest, she could assess the desert as never before. The sweet fragrance in the tranquil air drew her attention to the abundance and variety of wildflowers nearby. From the vantage point of a speeding car and set against the grand terrain, the tiny blossoms were lost in a blur of passing scenery. What she had so recently dismissed as desolate and bleak literally teemed with life upon closer inspection.
The pervasive silence of the desert, too, struck her as profound. It was at once ominous yet comforting. City life was positively cacophonous in comparison. She spent long minutes intentionally listening for a single sound, any sound at all, but heard little more than Steve’s irregular breathing and the beat of her own heart. The peace she felt in that moment was cathartic.
Her long reverie was eventually interrupted by the distant rumbling of an approaching freight. As it drew closer, the dull roar of its four linked locomotives woke Steve. The rail line it traversed lay yards away, allowing them to feel the vibrations of the diesel engines as much as they could hear them. On and on it passed, at one point stretching so far in either direction they could see neither end. A train hopper in a flaxen-hued bucket hat rode the well of an intermodal railcar. They waved as he passed, but the traveler seemed too preoccupied with his beer to acknowledge them. The desert’s tranquility gradually returned as the clickity-clack of the eastbound freight faded into the distance. With that moment of entertainment over, Steve attempted to resume his nap.
By that point, Heather had experienced enough silence. With knees tucked under her chin and arms wrapped around her legs, she spoke. “Remember at the Christmas party when you asked me why I didn’t become an idol?”
Steve immediately aborted his sleep attempt and sat upright. “Yeah,” he said eagerly.
“The first time I met him, the executive, was the evening of our investor meeting.”
25
AFTERMATH
Heather’s tale of being drugged by Mr. Lee left Steve in shock. “My God, what happened next?” he asked.
“I woke the next morning alone in the most luxurious bed I’d ever been in. The sunlight was pouring through the windows of this magnificent bedroom, with a lovely garden right outside the glass walls. It felt like a dream at first.”
Heather remained silent for a long moment. Steve had no desire to rush her as the memories came flooding back.
“From the sun’s position, it must’ve been early afternoon,” she continued. “I found myself completely naked under the covers. Mentally, I felt exhausted, not like I would have after a full night’s sleep. I was dizzy. Sounds echoed. The garden flowers were blooming, but I was emotionally detached as if viewing a painting on a wall. It’s hard to explain, Steve, but my entire body felt gone. Like my head was floating in space.”
“How did you escape?”
“Eventually, I forced myself up. It took every ounce of strength I had. I wanted to stay in that bed but was terrified of what would happen. I couldn’t find my clothes anywhere. A terrycloth robe had been placed on a nearby chair. It fit perfectly; I remember that. The agency didn’t allow us phones, and there wasn’t one in the room, so I had no choice but to venture out. When I saw a maid in the hallway, I called to her. ‘Do you know where my clothes are?’ She left without saying a word but returned with her supervisor, the gray-haired woman who had greeted me at the door the previous evening. She asked if there was anything wrong. Can you believe that? Anything wrong?”
“What did you say?”
“I demanded the return of my clothes and a ride to the dorm. The woman told me the closet had garments of all sizes. To take what I wanted. She also said my belongings could be transported to the house whenever I wished.”
“They expected you to stay there after that?”
“Crazy, huh? I didn’t see Mr. Lee at all that day. After much insisting, I finally convinced the woman to call a taxi. When I returned to the dorm, the girls burst into tears. They were worried sick. I was given permission to skip the evening rehearsals, but the agency’s CEO insisted I meet him in the morning.”
“What did he say? What did you say?”
“The first words out of his mouth were, ‘You, stupid, stupid girl. Do you want to bring this company to ruin?’”
“‘Sir, I’m not ruining anything,’ I responded. ‘I was assaulted.’”
“Then he goes, ‘What proof do you have any of that happened? Nobody will believe a word you say. Mr. Lee has been a godsend to this company. You’re nothing more than an overrated trainee who thinks too highly of herself. If you dare press this, your family will pay the price.’”
“What did he mean?” asked Steve.
“I assumed he meant Mr. Lee would use his connections to ruin my father’s career somehow.”
“Brutal. How did you respond?”
“I didn’t. I knew I was beaten. My spirit was destroyed. I felt beyond worthless. Besides, I was in no physical condition to resist. My body still suffered from the effects of the drug, aching like the flu, only worse. The whole first day, I vomited. I was nauseous for a week. Sleep was my one remedy. They cut me after missing several rehearsals, glad to be rid of a nuisance, no doubt. Grace left in solidarity. Effectively banished from the industry, we returned home to live with our parents until college started.”
“That’s a shocking story, Heather. I honestly don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry.”
Heather laughed, which surprised Steve. “You had nothing to do with it. Why be sorry?”
“That such terrible things happen to good people.”
“That’s life, Steve,” Heather concluded. “That’s life.”
“Did he, you know—”
“Rape me?”
Steve nodded.
“At first, I thought so. I still can’t remember anything after that drink. The next day, Grace and a non-industry friend snuck me to a clinic under a false name. They found no physical evidence of sexual assault but gave me an HIV prophylaxis and the morning-after pill to be sure. I didn’t report it to the police. I wanted to remain anonymous.”
“You must’ve been scared,” Steve said.
“I was terrified. Mr. Lee is connected. A nobody like me would have had no chance against him. Plus, there’s the victim-blaming.”
“You mean people saying you deserved it?”
“Exactly. ‘Why did you go to his house?’ ‘Why were you dressed that way?’ ‘You knew what you were doing.’ Or, worst of all, ‘You were trying to get money out of him.’ There’d be nothing to gain from reporting it. And my sanity to lose.”
“If he didn’t rape you, what was that all about?”
“I’ve spent many months contemplating that very question. My conclusion is Mr. Lee was after power, not sex. Men like him aren’t used to hearing the word ‘no’ and don’t react well when they do hear it. They prefer to keep their play toys complicit. Making me think I was raped was a power-play move. He’d have the final say regardless of my response.”
“That sounds plausible.”
“And in a perverted way, maybe he thought I’d be more receptive to a sponsorship arrangement if he could convince me I already paid the price. I don’t plan on asking him for details.”
“What do you mean, sponsorship arrangement?”
“Rumors abound that less reputable agencies float secret lists containing the names and asking prices of idols amenable to sponsorships. The more popular the idol, the higher the price.”
“God.”
“Dark stuff. See why I didn’t want to discuss this at the Christmas party?” She found a rock the size of a quarter and carved a circle in the dirt by her side. “I wanted to hate my old group when they debuted, but I didn’t. Why do you think that is?”
Steve shrugged his shoulders. “Your influence had a lasting effect even after you were gone.”
“If you say so.”
“Seriously, Heather, think about it. Grace specifically mentioned how you created a nurturing environment for the other trainees when, most times, it’s a cutthroat experience.”
“But I lost.”
“You did what you thought was right. You have nothing to be ashamed of. If that’s not winning, what is?”
“That’s not how the world usually views it.”
“It’s how it should be. And look at the big picture. Those gestures ripple far and wide. I, for one, will never forget you standing up for me against Arnie when you didn’t have to.”
Heather smiled. “I’m glad I did.”
Steve placed a hand on Heather’s shoulder. “It wasn’t long ago this happened. How are you doing now?”
“Some days are okay; others are a struggle. Pouring myself into music staves off the worst. Grace doesn’t leave me alone with my thoughts for long. Always keeping me busy.”
Steve pondered what he had just heard. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have known,” he said. “You’re so positive.”
“An idol’s job is to make people happy. I take that role seriously.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Laugh on the outside; cry on the inside.” She paused, then lifted her head. “That didn’t come out right. It makes me sound disingenuous. Truth is, I feel both at the same time.” Heather drew a smiley face, but it ended up having a straight line for a mouth and two Xs for eyes. “Most people view depression as an illness you recover from like a cold.” She tossed the rock away into the dirt. “‘Just be happy,’ they say to me as if that’ll cure it. But it’s more like a dreadful sense of isolation. Thoroughly crippling at times.” With her free hand, Heather erased the drawing. “By the way, this stays between us, okay? Only the girls know.” She looked to Steve for reassurance. He provided it with a nod.
“Your parents? Did you ever tell them what happened?”
“Never.” She shook her head firmly. “In my family, emotional problems are taboo. To seek professional treatment is to invite shame. As hard as it was to let my family regard me as a loser, it was miles better than telling them the truth.”
Minutes passed wordlessly. Remarkably, a small quail hopped from under a shrub to peck at a seed. The bird looked at the stranded pair with curiosity before scurrying away.
“Thanks for listening,” she said. “It means a lot.”
Before he could respond, they heard tires on gravel and a horn honking. Peeking over the car’s hood, Heather saw Dalton’s Tacoma barreling towards them. Toby leaned from the passenger window, waving. “They’re here, Steve! We can go home.”
26
A VISION IN LUCID COLOR
This time, the group arrived early at SIU’s movie theater. Having learned a lesson from the fall semester, the members of Made in Heaven now occupied prime seats at the student screenings. This was not mere happenstance. Steve had vowed to compensate for his earlier fiasco. As the designated student manager of the theater, he snuck the party down a locked stairwell in advance. The clandestine maneuver was perfectly timed to coincide with the official opening of the lobby doors, thus avoiding suspicion. Once they were seated, it took less than five minutes for the theater to fill.
Heather texted Steve, who by then had returned to his theater duties.
5:37 P.M. Heather: I hope you’re ready this time ;-).
5:38 P.M. Steve: Most def. I have 3 backup copies cached nearby. Intentional overkill.
