Concealed
Teasing
I’ve met a lot of fans over the years but none I’ve felt such a kinship with like Amanda. I glanced out my window as I hung up my high school diploma. Her light was off but I could see Minnie watching the street below before flopping down on what I assumed was her bed.
Though it was probably a little mean, it was funny to watch Amanda be so embarrassed today. I wondered what it would be like if I had been invited into David Bowie’s personal home if he was still alive. I’d probably be just like her: red in the face, finding it hard to talk, and shifting like I had ants in my pants. I hadn’t gotten the chance to meet him before he died but he was my main inspiration for getting started as a musician.
I finished and leaned out my window, looking below. Kids were riding around on their bikes, chasing after the ice cream truck. An old couple was walking two Bichons down my side of the street, stopping to clean up the mess the dogs made on my yard. My next door neighbor was mowing his lawn and I cringed. I had forgotten to ask my dad about the lawnmower!
I jogged downstairs and grabbed two bottles of Miller Lite from my fridge. I locked the house door and strolled over to my neighbor. When he saw me, he turned his lawnmower off and we both smiled.
“I come with an offering,” I said, “and hopefully something to cover up my embarrassment.”
He popped the tab. “What do you mean?” he asked, panting a little.
“I have no idea how to work my lawnmower,” I said and he laughed.
“Is that all?” he asked. He held his hand out. “Bart Jackson.”
“Cameron Drake,” I said and shook his hand back.
“Well, for the Miller Lite, I’ll gladly show you how to work your mower.”
“Thanks,” I said.
We went around to my backyard where I had a shed set aside for the mower and weed whacker which I also didn’t know how to use.
“You moved her from LA, right?” he asked as I pulled the mower out.
“Yeah. My dad gave me this relic,” I added.
It was a push mower and Bart laughed.
“That is a bit of an old one,” he agreed. “He didn’t have a riding one?”
“Nope,” I said, drinking the beer and he did the same.
“Well, push mowers are easy enough,” he said. “You pour the gas in here and pull on this to get it goin’. After that, it’s just like vacuuming only you don’t have to pull back.”
I nodded. “Seems simple enough,” I said and he grinned.
“Let me know the first time you mow,” he said. “I think you’ll find it’s not that easy.”
“Bart!” a woman yelled. “I said by 8, you rotten husband!”
Bart cringed. “The wife beckons.”
I laughed and shook his hand again, walking back around to the front.
“Thanks for telling me how to use it.”
“Of course,” he said and smiled innocently at the older woman on the porch.
“Miller Lite?” she asked dangerously and Bart laughed.
“He was helping me out,” I said.
“Poor boy doesn’t know how to use a mower,” he said.
The woman rolled her eyes. “Oh, just get back to mowin’ the lawn, Mr. Jackson. I have guests comin’ in less than 24 hours!”
He sighed when she was back in the house. “In-laws,” he said with a shudder. “Never get ‘em.”
I laughed again. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Have a good evening, Mr. Jackson.”
“You, too.”
I stepped over their hedges as he started up the riding mower again. I went back inside and looked around my house. It felt… empty. After the pad I had back in LA, this was quiet. All I could hear was Bart’s mower and the kids outside. Would it be like this all the time? I doubted I’d get used to it.
-
The next morning, I had a taste of home. Outside my window, I heard a loud beeping. I groaned and stumbled to it, pulling my curtain to the side. It was a school bus backing up. I watched, yawning, and remembered when I was in school and had to ride the bus. It was miserable. All the kids teased me for my over-sized glasses and messy hair.
I scoffed. They weren’t teasing me anymore. I ran into a couple of my old bullies two months ago and they practically pissed themselves, wanting my autograph.
Across the street, I saw Kari get in her car with her husband and son. I blinked. They were leaving Amanda home alone? I remembered her saying she had seizures. I would be nervous about that….
Just as I was going to get dressed, though, a car pulled in. A woman got out and hugged Kari. She was in a business suit with a briefcase. She had to be in her early 30’s and I had a wild thought that she was a social worker then remembered Amanda was nearly 24 years old.
I shook my head and flopped back into bed, hoping to get a couple more hours of sleep in. I was still getting used to the time change.
“No,” I moaned when my phone started to ring just as I was drifting off. I didn’t recognize the number but the area code was 405. “Hello?” I mumbled.
“Cameron Drake?” a woman asked and I heard a weird noise in the background.
“Yeah,” I yawned. “Who’s this?”
“My name is Rhonda Knapp and I-”
“Hang up the damn phone,” I heard a familiar voice hiss and started to smirk.
“Well, good morning to you, too, Amanda,” I said and heard her groan. I chuckled. “How’d you get my number, Miss Knapp?” I added nervously.
“I’m Amanda’s agent,” she answered. “It’s my job to get my hands on this kind of info.”
I sighed heavily. “All right, how much do you want to keep my number private?”
She laughed. “Nothing. I’m calling to thank you for those publishers.”
“As much as I appreciate your gratitude, couldn’t it have waited until after seven in the morning?”
“I told you,” Amanda snapped.
“Shit. You’re really from LA, aren’t you? Oops. I thought she was lying.”
“She talkin’ about me a lot?” I asked, knowing I was on speaker and I could see Amanda’s red face.
“Just hang up the phone,” Amanda moaned. “God this is mortifying.”
Rhonda laughed again. “She just said you were here from LA, that’s all. Well, I’m going to call these publishers today and try to get something set up for her. Thanks again, Mr. Drake.”
“Does this mean I get to go back to sleep?” I asked.
“Yes,” Amanda said quickly. “Bye.”
She hung up and I laughed, looking through my window. I knew they weren’t in her room but it was fun to make fun of her. I closed my eyes but got a text.
I hope you don’t expect brownies after that.
I just sent back a winking emoji and turned over to fall back asleep.
-
I was in my studio, trying to mix, when my doorbell rang. I pulled a shirt on and jogged downstairs.
“Jim,” I said in surprise.
Amanda’s brother was leaning on the pillar across from my door. His eyebrows were lifted.
“We need to talk,” he said and I frowned, stepping to the side and letting him in.
He sat at my dining room table but I stayed standing.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“My sister,” he answered. “I hope you know that, if you even plan on looking at her you’ll have to go through me.”
My arms fell from being crossed. I sat down slowly, absolutely floored by the young man in front of me.
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you’ve been talking to her,” he said. “I also know you let her in your house yesterday. That girl’s been through enough.”
I leaned back, crossing my arms again. “First, from what I understand, you hate her.”
He rolled his eyes. “Just because I hate her doesn’t mean she’s not my sister.”
“Second,” I continued, “she’s a big girl. Besides, I just want to be friends.”
“Liar,” he snapped.
“Why do you hate her so much?” I asked.
He scoffed. “Because she asked for everything she’s gettin’,” he said harshly. I frowned. “If she hadn’t been such a victim in high school, none of this would’ve happened.”
“What happened?”
He stood up. “I was never here,” he said threateningly. “But remember this: I’m sick of listening to her seizures. If she has some over you, I’ll make you pay.”
I was even more confused as he stormed out of my house. I understood protective family members; my brother always had been. For Jim to be like this over Amanda, though, was a shocker.
“Just because I hate her doesn’t mean she’s not my sister.”
So there’s some love in there after all….
Though it was probably a little mean, it was funny to watch Amanda be so embarrassed today. I wondered what it would be like if I had been invited into David Bowie’s personal home if he was still alive. I’d probably be just like her: red in the face, finding it hard to talk, and shifting like I had ants in my pants. I hadn’t gotten the chance to meet him before he died but he was my main inspiration for getting started as a musician.
I finished and leaned out my window, looking below. Kids were riding around on their bikes, chasing after the ice cream truck. An old couple was walking two Bichons down my side of the street, stopping to clean up the mess the dogs made on my yard. My next door neighbor was mowing his lawn and I cringed. I had forgotten to ask my dad about the lawnmower!
I jogged downstairs and grabbed two bottles of Miller Lite from my fridge. I locked the house door and strolled over to my neighbor. When he saw me, he turned his lawnmower off and we both smiled.
“I come with an offering,” I said, “and hopefully something to cover up my embarrassment.”
He popped the tab. “What do you mean?” he asked, panting a little.
“I have no idea how to work my lawnmower,” I said and he laughed.
“Is that all?” he asked. He held his hand out. “Bart Jackson.”
“Cameron Drake,” I said and shook his hand back.
“Well, for the Miller Lite, I’ll gladly show you how to work your mower.”
“Thanks,” I said.
We went around to my backyard where I had a shed set aside for the mower and weed whacker which I also didn’t know how to use.
“You moved her from LA, right?” he asked as I pulled the mower out.
“Yeah. My dad gave me this relic,” I added.
It was a push mower and Bart laughed.
“That is a bit of an old one,” he agreed. “He didn’t have a riding one?”
“Nope,” I said, drinking the beer and he did the same.
“Well, push mowers are easy enough,” he said. “You pour the gas in here and pull on this to get it goin’. After that, it’s just like vacuuming only you don’t have to pull back.”
I nodded. “Seems simple enough,” I said and he grinned.
“Let me know the first time you mow,” he said. “I think you’ll find it’s not that easy.”
“Bart!” a woman yelled. “I said by 8, you rotten husband!”
Bart cringed. “The wife beckons.”
I laughed and shook his hand again, walking back around to the front.
“Thanks for telling me how to use it.”
“Of course,” he said and smiled innocently at the older woman on the porch.
“Miller Lite?” she asked dangerously and Bart laughed.
“He was helping me out,” I said.
“Poor boy doesn’t know how to use a mower,” he said.
The woman rolled her eyes. “Oh, just get back to mowin’ the lawn, Mr. Jackson. I have guests comin’ in less than 24 hours!”
He sighed when she was back in the house. “In-laws,” he said with a shudder. “Never get ‘em.”
I laughed again. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Have a good evening, Mr. Jackson.”
“You, too.”
I stepped over their hedges as he started up the riding mower again. I went back inside and looked around my house. It felt… empty. After the pad I had back in LA, this was quiet. All I could hear was Bart’s mower and the kids outside. Would it be like this all the time? I doubted I’d get used to it.
-
The next morning, I had a taste of home. Outside my window, I heard a loud beeping. I groaned and stumbled to it, pulling my curtain to the side. It was a school bus backing up. I watched, yawning, and remembered when I was in school and had to ride the bus. It was miserable. All the kids teased me for my over-sized glasses and messy hair.
I scoffed. They weren’t teasing me anymore. I ran into a couple of my old bullies two months ago and they practically pissed themselves, wanting my autograph.
Across the street, I saw Kari get in her car with her husband and son. I blinked. They were leaving Amanda home alone? I remembered her saying she had seizures. I would be nervous about that….
Just as I was going to get dressed, though, a car pulled in. A woman got out and hugged Kari. She was in a business suit with a briefcase. She had to be in her early 30’s and I had a wild thought that she was a social worker then remembered Amanda was nearly 24 years old.
I shook my head and flopped back into bed, hoping to get a couple more hours of sleep in. I was still getting used to the time change.
“No,” I moaned when my phone started to ring just as I was drifting off. I didn’t recognize the number but the area code was 405. “Hello?” I mumbled.
“Cameron Drake?” a woman asked and I heard a weird noise in the background.
“Yeah,” I yawned. “Who’s this?”
“My name is Rhonda Knapp and I-”
“Hang up the damn phone,” I heard a familiar voice hiss and started to smirk.
“Well, good morning to you, too, Amanda,” I said and heard her groan. I chuckled. “How’d you get my number, Miss Knapp?” I added nervously.
“I’m Amanda’s agent,” she answered. “It’s my job to get my hands on this kind of info.”
I sighed heavily. “All right, how much do you want to keep my number private?”
She laughed. “Nothing. I’m calling to thank you for those publishers.”
“As much as I appreciate your gratitude, couldn’t it have waited until after seven in the morning?”
“I told you,” Amanda snapped.
“Shit. You’re really from LA, aren’t you? Oops. I thought she was lying.”
“She talkin’ about me a lot?” I asked, knowing I was on speaker and I could see Amanda’s red face.
“Just hang up the phone,” Amanda moaned. “God this is mortifying.”
Rhonda laughed again. “She just said you were here from LA, that’s all. Well, I’m going to call these publishers today and try to get something set up for her. Thanks again, Mr. Drake.”
“Does this mean I get to go back to sleep?” I asked.
“Yes,” Amanda said quickly. “Bye.”
She hung up and I laughed, looking through my window. I knew they weren’t in her room but it was fun to make fun of her. I closed my eyes but got a text.
I hope you don’t expect brownies after that.
I just sent back a winking emoji and turned over to fall back asleep.
-
I was in my studio, trying to mix, when my doorbell rang. I pulled a shirt on and jogged downstairs.
“Jim,” I said in surprise.
Amanda’s brother was leaning on the pillar across from my door. His eyebrows were lifted.
“We need to talk,” he said and I frowned, stepping to the side and letting him in.
He sat at my dining room table but I stayed standing.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“My sister,” he answered. “I hope you know that, if you even plan on looking at her you’ll have to go through me.”
My arms fell from being crossed. I sat down slowly, absolutely floored by the young man in front of me.
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you’ve been talking to her,” he said. “I also know you let her in your house yesterday. That girl’s been through enough.”
I leaned back, crossing my arms again. “First, from what I understand, you hate her.”
He rolled his eyes. “Just because I hate her doesn’t mean she’s not my sister.”
“Second,” I continued, “she’s a big girl. Besides, I just want to be friends.”
“Liar,” he snapped.
“Why do you hate her so much?” I asked.
He scoffed. “Because she asked for everything she’s gettin’,” he said harshly. I frowned. “If she hadn’t been such a victim in high school, none of this would’ve happened.”
“What happened?”
He stood up. “I was never here,” he said threateningly. “But remember this: I’m sick of listening to her seizures. If she has some over you, I’ll make you pay.”
I was even more confused as he stormed out of my house. I understood protective family members; my brother always had been. For Jim to be like this over Amanda, though, was a shocker.
“Just because I hate her doesn’t mean she’s not my sister.”
So there’s some love in there after all….