The Girl Who Became a Beatle Read online

  21

  There were tons of messages for me when I got back to the hotel. Mom. Dad. Julian. Bradley. Trey.

  Bradley wanted to let me know that I just had to come to the set that evening, around seven-ish. He was going to give me that surprise he had mentioned the first time we talked, when I was still back in Twin Oaks. That was an intriguing thing to ponder (what could it possibly be?), but I moved on to the other messages. Mom needed an outfit for the Grammys and wanted to know if I’d like to go shopping with her. Dad wanted to talk to me. So did Julian. As for Trey, all his message said was, “Trey. Call me.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to talk to Trey, so I ignored his message. Mom wasn’t in her room. Neither was Julian. Dad was. He asked if I’d like to go for a walk.

  Sunset Boulevard, with its never-ending traffic and aggressive billboards, isn’t exactly the best place for a stroll and a chat, so Dad asked Abernathy to take us somewhere nice and quiet. Abernathy pondered that for a moment, then drove us to a place called the Griffith Observatory, a cool-looking white building, with a ’50s science-fictiony vibe and a white dome, that sits high on a hill overlooking the city.

  It was nearing sunset when we got there. Dad was silent at first as we walked slowly around the observatory. He looked all bottled up, like he was going to burst with whatever was inside him. I figured I’d let him start the conversation. Eventually, he did.

  “Your mom and I were a mismatch from the start, you know.”

  Whoa. Not what I was expecting. Especially considering that Dad never talked about Mom after she left. He took the divorce that hard. Still did. It was a while before he spoke again. “But … Laura was so different from anyone I’d ever known. Opposites attract and all that.”

  Uhhh, yeah. Since meeting Bradley, I kind of knew what Dad was talking about. I also knew that Mom and Dad had met one night at a gig that he was playing somewhere in Pennsylvania, but that’s about all I knew about their relationship, and that had come from Mom, not Dad.

  We stopped at a spot behind the observatory. The lights of L.A. were beginning their nightly twinkling display of restless energy.

  “I don’t want to make it sound like we never had any good times,” Dad continued. “We did. At first. Mom loved it when the band was on the road. Even if it was just the bar circuit. She traveled with me every trip. It was after I stopped playing and took a teaching job that she got restless.”

  “So you should have never had me.” The words just slipped out. But it seemed to be where this conversation was heading.

  “Don’t ever think that, Regina. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That’s the God’s truth.” I didn’t know what to say to that. But it felt good, hearing Dad say it. “As for your mom? I know she loves you. It might not have seemed that way to you sometimes these past years. But she was never the mothering type. It’s not her fault. Just the way she is.”

  “Yeah, that’s what she told me.”

  “She did?” Dad looked totally surprised.

  “Just last night. The way she put it was, she’s been waiting for me to grow up.”

  Dad actually smiled when he heard that. But then he got serious again. After a bit, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I got the impression he was winding up to say something important.

  “What I really wanted to talk to you about, Regina, was … when I saw you at the Shrine today? With Madonna and Edge and Taylor and all the others? Not to mention onstage. You looked so happy. You looked like … you were right where you belonged.”

  Wow. Another surprising statement from Dad.

  “Hard as it is for me to say this, I can’t expect you to leave all this and go back to Twin Oaks. I’ve been trying to keep things as normal as possible for you. I think that’s important. But, if I’m honest, I want you home for selfish reasons as much as anything.”

  Selfish? What did that mean?

  “If none of this had happened?” Dad explained. “If you were a normal high school kid? You’d be leaving home for college before I knew it, anyway. I wouldn’t be trying to stop you from doing that. So why should I be trying to stop you from staying here in L.A.? That’s what I’ve been asking myself. And the answer is, because I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

  I felt like I could cry when Dad said that.

  “So maybe it is time for you to go solo. I mean, yeah, of course I wish the whole Lorna thing hadn’t happened. And all the bad feelings with the group. But I’ve played in enough bands to know that’s par for the course. It’s a rare band that gets along, believe me.”

  Looking at the ever-increasing lights of the city below, Dad and I were silent.

  “So if you decide that you want to move here and buy a home and live with your mom? I’m not going to try to stop you anymore. And I promise I’ll do everything I can to get along with Mom. I want to be welcome when I come to visit, after all.”

  Dad didn’t say anything else after that. He had said what he had to say, and I could tell how hard it was for him. When I glanced sideways at him, I could see the red glow of the dying sun reflected in a tear that threatened to fall from his eye.

  I quickly looked away. I didn’t want to see my dad all emotional like that. Besides how bad it made me feel, I didn’t want anything murking things up at that point. I had made my decision. I was staying in L.A. and that was that. Dad had even just given me his blessing.

  But still, did things have to end this way? With me and Julian and me and Lorna fighting and everyone getting all worked up? And a tear that looked like a burst of fire in the corner of my dad’s eye?

  22

  When Abernathy drove past the Starbucks near our hotel, I saw Julian sitting at a table near the window. I had a little time before heading off to the P.C.H. set, so after arriving at the Sheraton, I kissed Dad, told him I’d see him later, and walked to Starbucks.

  I hesitated before going in. After my talk with Dad, I was wary of what might happen with Julian. But he had called me and wanted to talk about something, and I wasn’t going to just ignore him.

  Like the last time, Julian was immersed in his notebook and didn’t see me walk across the coffee shop toward his table.

  “Hi,” I said when I arrived, but didn’t sit down.

  “Oh … yeah. Hi.” Julian looked disoriented. Like he didn’t know where he was.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know how you do this, Julian.” He gave me a perplexed look. “Work on songs in a place like this. I need total silence.”

  Julian nodded. For some reason, he looked like I’d just given him a problem to solve instead of commenting on his work habits.

  “Want to sit down?” he finally asked. “I called you back after you’d called me back, but you weren’t in your room.”

  I sat. Julian stared at his notebook, then closed it. He looked nervous. Well, not nervous, exactly, but something was going on in that head of his.

  “What did you want to talk about?” I asked.

  Julian didn’t answer right away. It was like he’d forgotten what he had called me about. “Well, here’s the thing, Regina. This has been such a crazy week, you know?” I nodded. “I mean…” Julian laughed suddenly.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know where to start, really. Your amnesia. Your catfight with Lorna. The Grammy rehearsal. Was that intense, or what?”

  “Which? The Grammy rehearsal or my fight with Lorna?”

  “Both. But I was referring to the Grammy rehearsal.”

  “It was intense,” I agreed.

  “All the concerts we’ve played didn’t even come close. I don’t know about you, but I felt like … a real rock star up there.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “But at the same time…”

  Silence.

  “I’m listening, Julian.”

  “Well, I felt uncomfortable up there. On the Shrine stage.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I feel like I’m riding on your co
attails.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s not. I’ve been feeling that way for a while now. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I want you to know it’s OK with me if you go your own way. It’ll force me to concentrate on my own stuff. And that’s a good thing. I’ve been needing a good kick in the butt.”

  What’s going on here? I thought. First Dad. Now Julian. It’s like they’re both opening the door for me and saying, “Go! Leave us! It’s OK.” I couldn’t figure out why they’d changed all of a sudden.

  I guess Julian saw that I was kind of perplexed, because then he said, “I just don’t want to fight anymore, you know? I mean, I feel really bad about yesterday. All you did was offer to help with my lyrics, and I was a total shit about it. If I’m honest, Regina? I’ve just been jealous, that’s all. So is Lorna. It’s hard being around someone so talented. Someone who grabs all the heat.”

  I stared at my hot chocolate. Julian made me uncomfortable, talking about how talented I was.

  “So … we’ll do the Grammys. We’ll do the tour next year. Then you strike out on your own. I’ll strike out on mine.”

  I admired Julian for his guts and courage. That’s what it takes, after all, to put yourself out there, creatively speaking.

  “Julian?” There was something I was wondering about. Don’t ask this question, part of me warned. But a bigger part of me needed to know.

  “What?”

  “I told you the truth about my amnesia.” Julian studied me, waiting for my question. “I guess what I’m wondering is, when we were together? How was it?” Julian pushed back a lock of his unruly hair. He shifted in his seat. He avoided looking at me. “I’m sorry. It’s not a fair question.”

  “It was good,” Julian said suddenly. Then he looked me right in the eye. “No, it was great, Regina. But hey, it wasn’t meant to be, right? I shouldn’t have said that about Bradley. Him getting his hooks in you and all that. He seems like an OK guy. Sort of.”

  I stared out the window at a street musician a little ways down the street, playing an oboe. I needed to focus on something other than Julian for a minute so I could compose myself. I told you this was dangerous territory. And it really was. Like seeing my dad cry, thinking about Julian and me together made things murky.

  Murky. Not good.

  Clarity. Good.

  Since making my decision not to go back to Twin Oaks, I’d achieved clarity. So just keep things with Julian strictly professional, I told myself.

  “Can I see your song?” I asked.

  Julian considered my request, then opened his notebook to the proper page and slid it across the table to me. As I read the lyrics to his new song, I could sense Julian fidgeting in his seat. As it turned out, he didn’t need to get all uptight.

  “They’re very good lyrics, Julian.” I wasn’t just saying that, either. They were personal and dealt with being an artist and how vulnerable that makes you feel but how you can’t help choosing the creative life. It chooses you.

  “You really think so?” Julian asked tentatively. It was like he didn’t believe me. Julian’s response made me wonder if creative people ever get over their insecurity.

  “Yes, I do think so. They’re different and original and personal. You were right. You don’t need my help.”

  “I didn’t really mean that, Regina. If you have any suggestions…”

  I studied the lyrics again, then said, “I don’t. You nailed it.” Julian smiled. He could tell that I meant it. I suddenly noticed the clock on the wall over Julian’s shoulder. “Gosh. I have to go.”

  “Tell Bradley I said hi.”

  There was no malice or sarcasm in Julian’s voice when he said that. “I will.” I slid Julian’s notebook back to him. “Going back to the hotel?”

  “No, Hayley’s meeting me here in a few.”

  “Tell her I said hi.” I was hoping there wasn’t any sarcasm in my voice when I said that.

  “I will,” Julian said.

  “So … see you tomorrow.”

  “At the Grammys. Where a good time will be had by all.”

  I smiled, gave Julian a wave, and headed for the exit. I got out of there just in time. If I’d stayed just a moment longer, Julian might have seen that it was my turn to cry. Which I definitely didn’t want him to see. I wiped a tear away as I walked past the oboe player. Then I stopped, retraced my steps, took out a hundred-dollar bill, and dropped it in his case.

  23

  “There she is!”

  Andy, the second AD, gave me a big grin and a high five when he saw me outside the Warner Brothers soundstage, where they film the interior scenes of P.C.H.

  “Andy,” I replied pointedly.

  “You remembered!” Andy seemed genuinely pleased. “Brad’s in his trailer. Just around the corner.” Andy walked off, chatting into his headset, which made him look like he was talking to himself.

  I have to say, there’s a real buzz on a film set. And a buzz is just what I needed to take my mind off being with Dad and Julian and all of the emotions that were stirred up as a result of talking to them. When I found Bradley in his trailer, he pushed aside all of the script rewrites on his couch to make space for me to sit.

  “So what’s with this surprise?” I asked as soon as I had settled in next to him.

  “Before we get to that … you were great on the Tonight Show last night.”

  “Thanks. What’s the surprise?”

  Bradley just smiled.

  “C’mon, Bradley.”

  “It’s a good one.”

  “OK. What is it?”

  Bradley raised his eyebrows mysteriously.

  “Don’t do this to me,” I pleaded.

  Finally, Bradley relented and said, “Ready for your close-up?”

  * * *

  What Bradley meant by “close-up” was me, acting in a scene with him, on the number-one-rated teen show on television. He had talked to the producer and director the week before, and they thought it would be terrific if I’d do it. With all the press about Bradley and me, I guess they figured, cool! Why not?

  I surprised myself by how quickly I said yes to the cameo. I mean, a few days before? No way would I have done it. But I’d grown a little, confidence-wise, since arriving in L.A. So that felt kind of good.

  Turns out there was lots to do to get me ready for my big scene. Andy took me to the wardrobe trailer and introduced me to Stacy. She made it clear that she was the costume designer, as opposed to one of the set costumers, who worked under her. She was pretty intense and serious about creating the totally new, this-is-what-the-teens-will-be-wearing-after-they-see-the-fashions-on-our-show outfits.

  I wasn’t sure that I liked my fashion rags of the near future after I’d been fitted in them. They were kind of tarty and nothing like I’d ever worn in real life. You’re just role-playing, Regina. That’s what I reminded myself. Besides, it felt like I was dressing up for Halloween or something.

  After my wardrobe fitting, Andy escorted me to the hair/makeup trailer. It’s difficult not to feel like a star when you’re coddled and cooed over while sitting in a makeup chair, let me tell you. I’d had a taste of that while we were making the video, but this was first class in comparison.

  Charlene, the makeup person—who looked like she could be a model or actress herself—and Lawrence—the hairstylist, who looked like he would be right at home on one of those reality top-model runway shows (OK, I’ll admit I watch them from time to time)—descended on me like I was a famous rock star or something. (Oh, that’s right. I was!)

  “Nice cheekbones.”

  “The hair’s all wrong. Sorry, darling, but it is!”

  “We’ll cover that blemish, no problem.” (What can I say? Even rock stars get zits.)

  “Very pretty eyes.”

  It was whirlwind makeover time, the end result being a strange-looking person staring back at me from the mirror. I mean, really. Who was that girl? The clot
hes, hair, and makeup had transformed me into an alternate version of myself. Scrap alternate version. “Myself” had totally disappeared into the “mirror” Regina, with her heavy blush makeup, raccoon eyes, and new-style do. The girl in the mirror was so different from how I normally looked that I didn’t know how to process it. Halloween, indeed!

  Andy returned to the trailer after about a half hour and announced I was “needed on set.” It was time for …

  Lights!

  Cameras!

  Action!

  Well, not much action. Not at first, anyway. For the next three hours I stood around on the soundstage, waiting for them to finish the scene before mine, which took place in a fake classroom. After that, I was led to a fake version of a high school hallway, the setting for my scene with Bradley.

  The director, who was the same person I’d seen on the beach, was a rail-thin, hyper kinda guy who looked to be somewhere in his thirties. He introduced himself, told me how thrilled everyone was to have me on P.C.H., then explained the scene that I was going to be in.

  Bradley and I would be at his locker, talking between classes. I was supposed to act like I was totally in love with him. Melissa would then appear out of the crowd of students in the hallway and walk up to us. After giving me a look that could kill, Melissa would slam Bradley’s locker shut, take him by the arm, and lead him off down the hall.

  That’s when I had my big line. “I’ll see you in geography, Zane!” The director told me to say the line like my entire life depended on seeing Zane in geography. I nodded and kinda frowned to show that I was really serious about all this as the director explained the scene to me.

  After that, it was time for rehearsal. We ran through the scene a couple times, then we had to wait for half an hour or so for the lighting crew to set up the lights for the scene. Two girls and a guy—stand-ins—took our places by the locker so the cameraman could see how the light would look on our faces.

  I was really nervous as I waited to do the scene. Bradley and Melissa were the total opposite, joking and talking about the upcoming weekend. When we were told everything was ready, Bradley took me by the hand and led me down the fake school hallway to the locker.