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LILY
Whenwestepoffstage,Brody is not there, and all the joy the endorphins from the show had given me are suddenly gone.
However, there are two security men posted where he should be. They talk briefly to each other, and one of them, bald and mustachioed, comes to escort me back to the dressing room.
“This way, Ms. Rockwell,” he says, in a forced deep baritone. “The boss wants to see you.”
I raise an eyebrow and look at the boys. Half of them have stopped to wait for me. But I, completely oblivious, just waive a hand and say, “We’re going to see Brody! Be right back!”
My boys seem to accept it, and just leave while the security officer and I head downstairs on our way out.
“What’s Brody doing?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“He has a surprise for you,” he says, in the same forced low pitch.
We walk the passage through the bleachers and suddenly, we’re out in open air.
“Where’s Brody,exactly?” I say, my earlier bad feeling coming back in full force.
“Just keep walking, Ms. Rockwell,” he speaks again, his voice breaking in the middle, not supporting the stress on his vocal cords.
“Why are you speaking like that?” I say as he places a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s my voice, miss.”
“I’m a music teacher. I can recognize a forced voice when I hear one,” I say.
We’re now in the parking lot, and he opens the passenger door of a blue coupe and waits for me to enter without saying a word.
“Where do you want me to go?” I plead, looking from him to the open door, which resembles a black hole and the last place I want to go.
He inserts his right hand in his blazer, and pulls out his gun, pointing it at me with a morbid smile on his lips, “Just enter, Lily.”
He speaks with his normal voice, and the chills down my spine let me know I am in a horrible situation. “Ben…?”
“I’m not Ben!” But he is, the alterations to his facial hair, different tone of voice, and his shaved head were just enough to disguise him.
“Get in the car!”
Shaking, I oblige, passing by that loaded barrel while saying a mental prayer for my life.
I go in and strap on my seatbelt, expecting some erratic driving. I find myself wrong, at least at first, because he backs the car out in a calm and polite manner, probably so he doesn’t raise any suspicions.
“What do you want?” I ask only when we hit the road.
“What I’ve always wanted, Lily…” he says. “You!”
I wince, feeling tears begin to choke me. “Please… Brody is going to find you!” I say.
“Ha!” Ben laughs. “Brody is too busy with my damn loser brother!”
“…Brother?” I ask, feeling immensely confused. “What are you talking about, Ben?”
“I am not Ben!” he yells, red-faced, but then quickly becomes apologetic. “I’m sorry, Lily, I’m sorry! I’m justtiredof being confused with him!”
Now I’m fully crying now, but he seems unmoved.
“Then who are you?” I finally choke out, “And why are you doing this to Ben, and to me?”
