Lick: Stage Dive 1 (17 page)

David came toward me. I took several hasty steps back, stumbling in my heels. He stopped and stared at me like I was a stranger.

“Baby, this is nothing,” he said. He reached for me again. I held my arms tight to my chest, guarding myself from harm. Too late.

“It was her? She’s the high school sweetheart?”

The familiar old muscle in his jaw went
pop
. “That was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter.”

“Jesus, David.”

“It has nothing to do with us.”

The more he spoke, the colder I felt. I did my best to ignore Ben and Martha hovering in the background.

David swore. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.”

I shook my head slowly. He grabbed my arms, stopping me from retreating any further. “What the fuck are you doing, Evelyn?”

“What are
you
doing, David? What have you done?”

“Nothing,” he said, teeth gritted. “I haven’t done a damn thing. You said you trusted me.”

“Why do you both still wear the earrings if it’s nothing?”

His hand flew to his ear, covering the offending items. “It’s not like that.”

“Why does she still work for you?”

“You said you trusted me,” he repeated.

“Why keep the house in Monterey all these years?”

“No,” he said and then stopped.

I stared at him, incredulous. “No? That’s it? That’s not enough. Was I supposed to just not see all this? Ignore it?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me,” I pleaded. His eyes looked right through me. I might as well not have spoken. My questions went unanswered, same as they ever had. “You can’t do it, can you?”

I took another step back and his face hardened to fury. His hands fisted at his sides. “Don’t you dare fucking leave me. You promised!”

I didn’t know him at all. I stared at him, transfixed, letting his anger wash over me. It couldn’t hope to pierce the hurt. Not a chance.

“You walk out of here and it’s over. Don’t you fucking think of coming back.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it. You’ll be nothing to me.”

Behind David, Ben’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Just as well. Even numb had its limits.

“Evelyn!” David snarled.

I slipped off the stupid shoes and went barefoot for my grand exit. Might as well be comfortable. Normally I’d never wear heels like that. There was nothing wrong with normal. I was long overdue for a huge heaping dose of it. I’d wrap myself in normal like it was cotton wool, protecting me from everything. I had the cafe to get back to, school to start thinking about. I had a life waiting.

A door slammed shut behind me. Something thumped against it on the other side. The sound of shouting was muted.

Outside the dressing room door Jimmy and Adrian were still deep in conversation. By which I mean Adrian spoke and Jimmy stared at the ceiling, grinning like a lunatic. I doubted a rocket ship could have reached Jimmy just then, he looked that high.

“Excuse me,” I said, butting in.

Adrian turned and frowned, the flash of bright teeth coming a moment too late. “Evelyn. Honey, I’m just in the middle of something here—”

“I’d like to go back to Portland now.”

“You would? Okay.” He rubbed his hands together. Ah, I’d pleased him. His smile was huge, genuine for once and glaringly bright. Headlights had nothing on him. He’d apparently been holding back previously.

“Sam!” he yelled.

The bodyguard appeared, weaving through the crowd with ease. “Mrs Ferris.”

“Miss Thomas,” Adrian corrected. “Would you mind seeing her safely returned to her home, thanks, Sam?”

The polite professional expression didn’t falter for a second. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

“Excellent.”

Jimmy started laughing, big belly laughs that shook his whole body. Then he started cackling, the noise vaguely reminiscent of the Wicked Witch of the West in
The Wizard of Oz
. If she’d been on crack or cocaine or whatever Jimmy had been digging into, of course.

These people, they made no sense.

I didn’t belong here. I’d never belonged here.

“This way.” Sam pressed a hand lightly to the small of my back, which was sufficient to get me moving. Time to go home, wake up from the too-good-to-be-true dream that had twisted into this warped nightmare.

The laughter got louder and louder, ringing in my ears, until suddenly it cut off. I turned in time to watch Jimmy slump to the ground, his slick suit a mess. One woman gasped. Another chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake,” growled Adrian, kneeling beside the unconscious man. He slapped at his face. “Jimmy. Jimmy!”

More burly bodyguards appeared, crowding around the fallen singer, blocking him from view.

“Not again,” Adrian ranted. “Get the doctor in here. Goddamn it, Jimmy.”

“Mrs Ferris?” asked Sam.

“Is he alright?”

Sam scowled at the scene. “He’s probably just passed out. It’s been happening a lot lately. Shall we go?”

“Get me out of here, Sam. Please.”

*

I was back in Portland before the sun rose. I didn’t cry on the trip. It was as if my brain had diagnosed the emergency and cauterized my emotions. I felt numb, as if Sam could swerve the car into the oncoming traffic and I wouldn’t utter a peep. I was done, frozen solid. We went via the mansion so Sam could collect my bag before heading to the airport. He put me on the jet and we flew to Portland. He got me off the jet and drove me home.

Sam insisted on carrying my bag, just like he’d insisted on calling me by my married name. The man did the best subtle, concerned sidelong glance I’d ever seen. Never said much, though, which I appreciated immensely.

I sleepwalked my sorry self up the stairs to the apartment Lauren and I shared. Home was a garlic-scented hallway courtesy of Mrs Lucia downstairs, constantly cooking. Peeling green wallpaper and worn wooden floorboards, scuffed and stained. Lucky I’d put the Converse on or my feet would have been full of splinters. This floor was nothing like the gloss and gleam of David’s house. You could see yourself in that sucker.

Shit. I didn’t want to think of him. All of those memories belonged in a box buried in the back of my mind. Never again would they see the light of day.

My key still fit the lock. It comforted me. I might as well have been missing for years instead of days. It hadn’t even been a week. I’d left early Thursday morning and now it was Tuesday. Less than six short days. That was insane. Everything felt different. I pushed open the door, being quiet because of the early hour. Lauren would be asleep. Or she might not be. I heard laughing.

She might, in fact, be spread out over our small breakfast table, giggling as some guy stuffed his head beneath one of the old oversized T-shirts she slept in. He buried his face in her cleavage and tickled her. Lauren squirmed, making all sorts of happy noises. Thankfully the guy’s pants were still on, whoever he was. They were really into it, didn’t notice our entry at all.

Sam stared at the far wall, avoiding the scene. Poor guy, the things he must have witnessed over the years.

“Hi,” I said. “Um, Lauren?”

Lauren screeched and rolled, twisting the guy up in her shirt as he fought to get free. If she accidentally strangled him, at least he’d go happy, given the view.

“Ev,” she panted. “You’re back.”

The guy finally liberated his face.

“Nathan?” I asked, stupefied. I cocked my head just to be sure, narrowed my eyes.

“Hi.” My brother raised one hand while pulling down Lauren’s shirt with the other. “How are you?”

“Fine, yeah,” I said. “Sam, this is my friend Lauren and my brother Nate. Guys, this is Sam.”

Sam did his polite nod and set down my bag. “Can I do anything else for you, Mrs Ferris?”

“No, Sam. Thank you for seeing me home.”

“You’re very welcome.” He looked to the door then back at me, a small wrinkle between his brows. I couldn’t be certain, but I think it was as close as Sam got to an actual frown. His facial expressions seemed limited. Restrained was probably a better word. He reached out and gave me a stiff pat on the back. Then he left, closing the door behind him.

My eyes heated, threatening tears. I blinked like crazy, holding it in. His kindness nearly cracked the numb, damn it. I couldn’t afford that yet.

“So, you two?” I asked.

“We’re together. Yes,” said Lauren, reaching behind her. Nate took her hand and held on tight. They actually looked good together. Though, seriously, how much stranger could things get? My world had changed. It felt different, though the small apartment looked the same. Things were pretty much where I’d left them. Lauren’s collection of demented porcelain cats still sat on a shelf collecting dust. Our cheap or second-hand furniture and turquoise blue walls hadn’t altered. Though I might never use the table again, considering what I’d seen. Lord knew what else they’d been up to on there.

I flexed my fingers, willing some life back into my limbs. “I thought you two hated each other?”

“We did,” confirmed Lauren. “But, you know … now we don’t. It’s a surprisingly uncomplicated story, actually. It just kind of happened while you were away.”

“Wow.”

“Nice dress,” said Lauren, looking me over.

“Thanks.”

“Valentino?”

I smoothed the blue fabric over my stomach. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a statement, matching it with the sneakers,” Lauren said. Then she gave Nate a look. They apparently already had the silent communication thing down because he tippy-toed off toward her bedroom. Interesting …

My best friend and my brother. And she’d never said a word. But then, there were plenty of things I hadn’t told her either. Maybe we were past the age of sharing every last little detail of our lives. How sad.

Loneliness and a healthy dose of self-pity cooled me right off and I wrapped my arms around myself.

Lauren came over and pried one of my hands loose. “Hon, what happened?”

I shook my head, warding off questions. “I can’t. Not yet.”

She joined me leaning against the wall. “I have ice cream.”

“What kind?”

“Triple choc. I was thinking of torturing your brother with it later in a sexually explicit manner.”

There went my vague interest in ice cream. I scrubbed my face with my hands. “Lauren, if you love me, you’ll never say anything like that to me ever again.”

“Sorry.”

I almost smiled. My mouth definitely came close to it but faltered at the last. “Nate makes you happy, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he really does. It just feels like … I don’t know, it’s like we’re in tune or something. Ever since the night he picked me up from your folks’ place we’ve pretty much been together. It feels right. He’s not angry like he used to be in high school. He’s given up his man-slut ways. He’s calmed down and grown up. Shit, out of the two of us he’s the sensible one.” She mock pouted. “But our days of sharing every last detail about our lives really are over, aren’t they?”

“I guess they are.”

“Ah, well. We’ll always have middle school.”

“Yeah.” I managed a smile.

“Hon, I’m sorry things went bad. I mean, that’s obviously why you’re back looking like shit in that absolutely exquisite dress.” She eyed up my gown with great lust.

“You can have it.” Hell, she could have all of the other stuff as well. I never wanted to touch any of it ever again. His jacket I’d left with Sam, the ring stuffed into a pocket. Sam would take care of it. See that it got back to him. My hand seemed bare without it, lighter. Lighter and freer should have gone together but they didn’t. Inside me sat a great weight. I’d been dragging my sorry ass around for hours now. Onto the plane. Off the plane. Into the car. Up the stairs. Neither time nor distance had helped so far.

“I want to hug you but you’re giving off that don’t-touch-me vibe,” she said, propping her hands on her slim hips. “Tell me what to do.”

“Sorry.” The smile I gave her was twisted and awful. I could feel it. “Later?”

“How much later? Because frankly, you look like you need it bad.”

I couldn’t stop the tears this time. They just started flowing, and once they started, they wouldn’t stop. I wiped at them uselessly, then just gave up and covered my face with my hands. “Fuck.”

Lauren threw her arms around me, held me tight. “Let it go.”

I did.

The woman was taking forever to order. Her eyes kept shifting between me and the menu as she leaned across the counter. I knew that look. I dreaded that look. I loved being in the café, with the aroma of coffee beans and the soothing blend of music and chatter. I loved the camaraderie we had going on behind the counter and the fact that the work kept my hands and brain busy. Weirdly enough, being a barista relaxed me. I was good at it. With my studies a constant struggle, I reveled in that fact. If everything ever hit the wall, I’d always have coffee to fall back on. It was the modern-day Portland equivalent of typing. The city ran on coffee beans and cafés. Coffee and beer were in our blood.

Lately, however, some customers had been a pain in the ass to deal with.

“You seem really familiar,” she started, much as they all did. “Weren’t you all over the internet a while back? Something to do with David Ferris?”

At least I didn’t flinch at his name anymore. And it had been days since I’d felt the urge to actually vomit. Definitely not pregnant, just getting annulled.

After the first few days of hiding in bed, crying my eyes out, I took every shift the café would give me to keep busy. I couldn’t mourn him forever. Pity my heart remained unconvinced. He was in my dreams every night when I closed my eyes. I had to chase him out of my mind a thousand times a day.

By the time I surfaced, the few lingering paparazzi had cleared off back to LA. Apparently Jimmy had gone into rehab. Lauren switched channels every time I walked in, but I couldn’t help but catch enough news to know what was going on. It seemed Stage Dive were being talked about everywhere. Someone had even asked me to sign a picture of David striding into the treatment facility, head hanging down and hands stuffed in his pockets. He’d looked so alone. Several times, I’d almost called him. Just to ask if he was okay. Just to hear his voice. How stupid was that? And what if I rang and Martha answered?

At any rate, Jimmy’s meltdown was much more interesting than me. I barely rated a mention on the news these days.

But people, customers, they drove me nuts. Outside of work, I’d become a complete shut-in. That had its own issues on account of my brother basically living with us now. People in love were sickening. It was a proven medical fact. Customers with speculation shining bright in their beady little eyes weren’t much better.

“You’re mistaken,” I told the nosy woman.

She gave me a coy look. “I don’t think so.”

Ten bucks said she was working her way up to asking me for his autograph. This would make the eighth attempt to obtain one today. Some of them wanted to take me home for intimate relations because, you know, rock star’s ex. My vagina clearly had to be something special. I sometimes wondered if they thought there was a little plaque on my inner thigh saying David Ferris had been there.

This chick, however, wasn’t checking me out. No, she wanted an autograph.

“Look,” she said, speculation turning to wheedling. “I wouldn’t ask, it’s just that I’m such a huge fan of his.”

“I can’t help you, sorry. We’re actually about to close. So would you like to order something before that happens?” I asked, pleasant smile firmly in place. Sam would have been proud of that smile, as fake as it was. But with my eyes I told the woman the truth. That I was all used up and I honestly had no fucks left to give. Especially when it came to David Ferris.

“Can you at least tell me if the band are really breaking up? Come on. Everyone’s saying an announcement’s going to be made any day now.”

“I don’t know anything about it. Would you liked to order something, or not?”

Further denial generally led to either anger or tears. She chose anger. A good choice, because tears annoyed the living hell out of me. I was sick of them, both on myself and others. Despite it being common knowledge that I’d been dumped, they still figured I had connections. Or so they hoped.

She did a fake little laugh. “There’s no need to be a bitch about it. Would letting me know what’s happening really have killed you?”

“Leave,” said my lovely manager, Ruby. “Right now. Get out.”

The woman switched to incredulous, mouth open wide. “What?”

“Amanda, call the cops.” Ruby stood tall beside me.

“On it, boss.” Amanda snapped open her cell and punched in the numbers, leveling the woman with her evil eye. Amanda, having moved on from being my high school’s sole lesbian, was studying drama. These confrontations were her favorite part of the day. They might have sapped my strength, but Amanda sucked all of her power from them. A dark, malevolent force, to be sure, but it was all hers and she reveled in it. “Yes, we’ve got a fake blonde with a bad tan giving us trouble, officer. I’m pretty certain I saw her at a frat party doing some serious underage drinking last week. I don’t want to say what happened after that but the footage is available on YouTube for your viewing pleasure if you’re over eighteen.”

“No wonder he dropped you. I saw the picture, your ass is wide as fucking Texas,” the woman sneered and then sped out of the café.

“Do you really have to stir them up?” I asked.

Amanda clucked her tongue. “Please. She started it.”

I’d heard worse than what she’d said. Way worse. Several times now I’d had to change my email address to stop the hate mail from flooding in. I had closed my Facebook account early on.

Still, I checked my butt to be sure. It was a close call, but I was pretty sure Texas was, in fact, wider.

“As far as I can tell you’re living on a diet of breath mints and lattes. Your ass is not a concern.” Amanda had long since forgiven me for the bad kiss back in high school, bless her. I was beyond lucky to have the friends I did. I really don’t know how I’d have made it through the last month without them.

“I eat.”

“Really? Whose jeans are those?”

I started cleaning the coffee machine because it really was getting on closing time. That, and for reasons of subject avoidance. Fact was, getting cheated on and lied to by rock ’n’ roll’s favorite son did make for quite the diet. Definitely not one I’d recommend. My sleep was shot to shit and I was tired all the time. I was depression’s bitch. Inside and out, I didn’t feel like me. The time I’d spent with David, the way it had changed things, was a constant agitation, an itch I couldn’t scratch. Partly because I lacked the power but also because I lacked the will. You could only sing “I Will Survive” so many times before the urge to throttle yourself took over.

“Lauren doesn’t wear these. Said they were the wrong shade of dark wash and that the placement of the back pockets made her look hippy. Apparently pocket placement matters.”

“And you started wearing that skinny cow’s clothes when?”

“Don’t call her that.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Please, she takes it as a compliment.”

True. “Well, I think the jeans are nice. Are you wiping down the tables or would you like me to?”

Amanda just sighed. “Jo and I want to thank you for helping us move last weekend. So we’re taking you out tonight. Drinking and dancing ahoy!”

“Oh.” Alcohol and me already had a bad reputation. “I don’t know.”

“I do.”

“I had plans to—”

“No you don’t. This is why I left it to the last minute to tell you. I knew you’d try to make excuses.” Amanda’s dark eyes brooked no nonsense. “Ruby, I’m taking our girl out for a night on the town.”

“Good idea,” Ruby called out from the kitchen. “Get her out of here. I’ll clean up.”

My practiced pleasant smile fell off my face. “But—”

“It’s the sad eyes,” said Ruby, confiscating my cleaning cloth. “I can’t bear them any longer. Please go out and have some fun.”

“Am I that much of a killjoy?” I asked, suddenly worried. I honestly thought I’d been putting on a good front. Their faces told me otherwise.

“No. You’re a normal twenty-one-year-old going through a break-up. You need to get back out there and reclaim your life.” Ruby was in her early thirties and soon to be wed. “Trust me. I know best. Go.”

“Or,” said Amanda, waggling a finger at me. “You could sit at home watching
Walk the Line
for the eight hundredth time while listening to your brother and best friend going hard at it in the room next door.”

When she put it like that … “Let’s go.”

*

“I want to be bi,” I announced, because it was important. A girl had to have goals. I pushed back my chair and rose to my feet. “Let’s dance. I love this song.”

“You love any song that’s not by the band who shall not be named.” Amanda laughed, following me through the crowd. Her girlfriend Jo just shook her head, clinging to her hand. Vodka was doubtless as bad an idea as tequila, but I did feel somewhat unwound, looser. It was good to get out and on an empty stomach three drinks went a long way, clearly. I did suspect Amanda had made at least one of them a double. It felt great to dance and laugh and let loose. Out of all of the getting over a break-up tactics I’d attempted, keeping busy worked best. But going out dancing and drinking all dressed up shouldn’t be mocked.

I tucked my hair behind my ears because my ponytail had started falling apart again. Perfect metaphor for my life. Nothing worked right since I’d gotten back from LA. Nothing lasted. Love was a lie and rock ’n’ roll sucked. Blah blah blah. Time for another drink.

And I’d been in the middle of making an important point.

“I’m serious,” I said. “I’m going bi. It’s my new plan.”

“I think that’s a great plan,” yelled Jo, moving next to me. Jo also worked at the café, which was how the two had met. She had long blue hair that was the envy of all.

Amanda rolled her eyes at me. “You’re not bi. Babe, don’t encourage her.”

Jo grinned, totally unrepentant. “Last week she wanted to be gay. Before that she talked monasteries. I think this is a constructive step toward her forgiving every penis-possessing human and moving on with her life.”

“I am moving on with my life,” I said.

“Which is why you two have been talking about him for the past four hours?” Amanda grinned, throwing her arms around Jo’s shoulders.

“We weren’t talking about him. We were insulting him. How do you say ‘useless stinking sheep fornicator’ in German again?” I asked, leaning in to be heard over the music. “That was my favorite.”

Jo and Amanda got busy close dancing and I let them go, unperturbed. Because I wasn’t afraid of being alone. I was action-packed full of single girl power. Fuck David Ferris. Fuck him good and hard.

The music all blended into one long time-bending beat and so long as I kept moving it was all perfect. Sweat slicked my neck and I popped another button on my dress, widening the neckline. I ignored the other people dancing around me. I shut my eyes, staying safe in my own little world. The alcohol had given me a nice buzz.

For some reason, the hands sliding over my hips didn’t bother me, even though they were uninvited. They went no further, made no demands on me. Their owner danced behind me, keeping a small safe distance between us. It was nice. Maybe the music had hypnotized me. Or maybe I had been lonely, because I didn’t fight it. Instead I relaxed against him. For all of the next song we stayed like that, melded together, moving. The beat slowed down and I raised my arms, linking my hands behind his neck. After a month of avoiding almost all human contact, my body woke. The short, soft hair at the back of his neck brushed over my fingers. Smooth, warm skin beneath.

God, it was so nice. I hadn’t realized how touch-starved I was.

I leaned my head back against him and he whispered something softly. Too soft for me to hear. The soft bristles on his cheek and jaw lightly prickled the side of my face. Hands slid over my ribs, up my arms. Calloused fingers lightly stroked the sensitive underside of my arms. His body was solid behind me, strong, but he kept his touch light, restrained. I wasn’t in the market for a rebound. My heart was too bruised for that, my mind too wary. I couldn’t bring myself to move away from him, however. It felt too good there.

“Evelyn,” he said, his lips teasing my ear.

My breath caught, my eyelids shot open. I turned to find David staring back at me. The long hair was gone. It was still longish on top but cut short at the sides. He could probably do a neat Elvis pompadour if the fancy took him. A short, dark beard covered his lower face.

“Y-you’re here,” I stuttered out. My tongue felt thick and useless inside my dry mouth. Christ, it was really him. Here in Portland. In the flesh.

“Yeah.” His blue eyes burned. He didn’t say anything else. Music kept playing, people kept moving. The world only stopped turning for me.

“Why?”

“Ev?” Amanda put a hand to my arm and I jumped, the spell broken. She gave David a quick glance and then her face screwed up in distaste. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

“It’s okay,” I said.

Her gaze moved between David and me. She didn’t really seem convinced. Fair enough.

“Amanda. Please.” I squeezed her fingers, nodded. After a moment she turned back to Jo who stared at David with open disbelief. And a healthy dose of star-struck. His new look made for a brilliant disguise. Unless you knew who you were looking for, of course.

I pushed through the crowd, getting the hell out of there. I knew he’d follow. Of course he would. It was no accident he was there, though I had no damn idea how he’d found me. I needed to get away from the heat and the noise so I could think straight. Down the back hallway past the men’s and women’s toilets. There, that was what I wanted. A big black door opened onto a back alleyway. Open night air. A few brave stars twinkled high overhead. Otherwise it was dark back here, damp from earlier summer rain. It was horrible and dirty and hateful. An ideal setting.

I might have been feeling a bit dramatic.

The door slammed shut behind David. He faced me, hands on hips. He opened his mouth to start talking and no, not happening. I snapped.

“Why are you here, David?”

“We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.”

He rubbed at his mouth. “Please. There’re things I have to tell you.”