Fame Hound

Crash

Standing next to my bed, Tommy stares right back at me. He's trying to look relaxed, but I see the tension in his arms. He's not backing down.

"I'm not calling in the chip on the lie," he says, reading my mind. "I want you to admit the real reason you told it. Because if you won't tell me then that means you haven't told anybody. And I'm guessing that's why you grew ladyballs and started PMSing last year."

"Oh, for the love of—"

"No, really," he says darkly. "You think I haven't noticed you stomping around like a two-year-old with sugar withdrawal? 'Cause I noticed. And that shit's getting old. I thought it was because Kelly broke up with you. But she didn't, right? Isn't that what you just recently remembered to tell me? So I'm calling in my chip and you're telling me."

I just glare at him, until Dan's voice booms from the adjoining room. "Crash? Is that you?"

Tommy looks at the door like it just grew a face. "Who the fuck is in there?"

"Dan," I mutter.

Tommy rolls his eyes, but after a sigh, he strolls over and opens the door.

"Tony!" Dan bellows at him, like a drunk uncle on Christmas.

"It's Tommy, actually," Tommy mutters.

I run my hand through my bed hair and have to pull the gown closed behind me, but I follow Tommy across the cold linoleum into the next room. My blood starts thrumming in my ears. Will Kelly be there?

As it swings into view, it turns out Dan's room is a mirror image of mine, right down to the computer station next to the bed. Except for one distinct difference: Dan sits mostly upright, propped on pillows in the adjustable bed, beaming.

"Crash! How are you?" His cheeks are a little flushed. With excitement? Or is he high on pain meds?

The curtains are pulled, so everything's a bit dark. But I can make out Kelly on the other side of the bed. "Dan, please," she hisses.

"Great to see you, boys! How are you feeling, Champ?" he asks, ignoring her. "I heard a pretty nurse in your room this morning, sounded like she was enjoying herself."

"What—?"

"Tony! Sorry I didn't recognize you yesterday. Grown up a little since middle school—bet the girls haven't though, huh? Huh?"

"It's Tommy."

Kelly looks so horrified, normally I'd laugh my ass off. But Dan's no joke.

"Do we know you?" I ask innocently, just to piss him off.

Dan's face goes red. Kelly jumps in. "He's, uh, on medication, Dan. So he doesn't remember."

Dan's smile creeps back up. "That why you threw up all over the place, son? Don't worry about it. Just pay for my dry-cleaning."

In the five years I've known him, Dan has rarely smiled, and never laughed. And he never acted like I was anything but a snot-nosed, perverted kid who wanted to sully his precious stepdaughter.

Dan smirks. "I'd forgotten what a smart-ass you are, Crash," he says.

Kelly and I look at each other in mutual shock. I've never met anyone more resistant to using my chosen name than Dan Berkstram. Kelly told him years ago that I hate my real name, Cassius. Even Mom calls me Crash.

Dan never cared. Until now.

I sniff. Rub my nose, and sniff again. I'm not even looking at Tommy, but he knows our signal for a fame-hound. He plays along.

"You coming down with a cold, Crash?"

In general terms, I'm no longer surprised by the ridiculous ways people give us special treatment or act strangely because we're famous. But seeing Kelly's notoriously sour and controlling stepfather fall prey to fame--and he has a particularly nasty case—is either surreal or terrifying. Probably both.

"I'll get you a tissue!" Kelly darts around the bed and out of the room.

Dan waits until she closes the door, then leans in. "She didn't want me to tell you boys this—you know how sensitive she is—but she's sure been missing you. Doesn't do anything but sit around with homework or playing that stupid guitar—no offense, obviously it isn't stupid when you play it—so I'd be grateful if you boys wouldn't disappear again. Maybe once we're all back on our feet, you can come over for dinner? She's an okay cook. It'll fill you up anyway. Can't imagine you get much good cooking when you're on the road so much."

Tommy and I just stare. We have a private chef with us on tour.

In the casual tone I recognize from yesterday before he showed me the video, Tommy asks, "What about her other friends?" I shoot him a look.

Dan snorts. "Her friends all ditched her after you guys left. Guess they only liked her because of you—"

"What?"

Dan smiles like he's eager to share. I feel sick to my stomach. "Yeah, once they found out you boys cut all ties, they all bailed."

"Even Lacie?"

"Yup. You're the first friends she's had over since her mom died."

He makes it sound like he would have welcomed people if only there'd been people to welcome. But we know the truth. Dan rarely lets Kelly out from under his thumb. And never lets her have friends over when he's not there.

I wonder if my expression is as impassive as Tommy's. I'm getting very, very nervous that I've hurt Kelly even worse than I thought. They all bailed on her? Why would they do that? Kelly was never one of the popular girls, but she always had friends. Lots of friends. Didn't she?

Or is Dan just saying they disappeared to get us to his house?

"I'm sorry about that welcome yesterday," he says, perhaps realizing we aren't excited about his news. "I just didn't recognize you, is all. Thought we had some trouble. But you boys are welcome anytime. Any time at all. If I'm not there, stick around. Always love to catch up with Kelly's old friends! God knows she doesn't have any new ones!"

"Dan?" Standing in the doorway, a box of tissues in her hand, face bright red, Kelly looks from Dan to Tommy, to me, then runs into the hall.