Remember Me: Music For The Heart: Book 4

by Starr, Faith

  The bottle of scotch trembled in my hand. Some spilled on it as I poured it. I finished off the drink and handed it to the customer.

  “Come on, Lizzie. How ‘bout a Maria for me?”

  See? He’s not going anywhere.

  On the bright side, he had used my real name. I considered it progress on his part in regard to respecting the boundary I had set.

  “A bloody Maria, coming up.” I didn’t give him an ounce of eye contact.

  “Thank you. I didn’t want to have to complain about poor service.”

  I could barely swallow. Perspiration covered my neck. I wiped my brow. A full-blown panic attack set in. I held on to the bar and steadied my breath. All I wanted to do was flee but I couldn’t. I’d have to ride the panic train out to its finish. The shit feelings would pass. They always did.

  My nose tickled, so I wiped it, not realizing I did so with the hand the scotch had spilled on. Some of the liquor got on my upper lip. Without thinking, my tongue shot out of my mouth and licked it off.

  Heaven.

  Relief swept through me.

  Not heaven. Hell. Because that itty-bitty taste had me wanting more.

  With shaking extremities, I prepared the asshole his stupid drink. The ordeal left me feeling lightheaded beyond belief.

  I filled a shot glass with orange juice and chugged it down. Then drank another. I hadn’t eaten in hours, so my blood sugar was probably in the gutter.

  “Tequila Sunrise.”

  “Margarita.”

  “Double Martini. Three olives.”

  “Southside.”

  The orders were flying at me. I couldn’t think straight. All of the drinks sounded the same. I couldn’t remember what alcohol went in what drink.

  How do I make a Southside again?

  Fuck!

  Take a deep breath... Drink some vodka… I can do this… The rum is right there… Make one drink then the next… A drink will help calm your nerves. You know you want it. Nobody will find out. Go on... Take a sip.

  NO!

  I sprinted to the back exit of the club and flew out the heavy door. I sat on the dirty concrete and prayed, my body curled tight into itself.

  “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

  I repeated the serenity prayer over and over as tears dripped on my skirt. My body shivered, and it wasn’t due to coldness. In fact, it was humid as hell outside.

  I continued to pray until the craving subsided. Ryan had been right. At what point did my mental health come before anything else?

  “What’s going on out here?” Robert asked, holding the back door to the club open. “Mike’s wondering where you are. Obviously, you’re not behind the bar where you’re supposed to be. You can’t walk away on a whim and disappear without telling anyone. And cigarette breaks in this area are off-limits.” Dickhead. I didn’t even smoke. “Now please get your sweet ass back inside and behind the bar.”

  I rose, fed up with his shit, and dusted my backside. “I’ll tell you where my sweet ass is going. Home. I was hired as a server. Not as a bartender. I don’t know how many times I’ve reiterated this, yet you still keep asking. Rather, demanding, that I bartend. If you want me to serve beverages, I’d be more than happy to. But I won’t do it from behind a bar.”

  “Think about what you’re saying, Lizzie. You’re putting me in a precarious position with your little threat.”

  “It’s not a threat. It’s the way it is. Take it or leave it.”

  “You can collect your purse and call it a night. Don’t bother coming back.”

  I brushed past him.

  He grunted behind me.

  “Where are you going?” Mike asked when he saw me collecting my purse from underneath the bar.

  “Home.”

  “Home? Why? What happened? And more importantly, are you okay? Your coloring is pale.”

  “I’m fine… Well, I will be. I’m sorry to put you in a bind, Mike, but I’m taking back control of my life. Starting now. I’ll see you around.”

  “What does that mean? Will you be here tomorrow night?”

  “For Staffer Sunday? Not a chance in hell.” I smiled, the first one I’d given in hours.

  With a slight wave goodbye, I pushed through the crowd to get to the front doors and strode past Isabella and Sabrina at the hostess stand.

  “Lizzie, where are you off to? Another date with Ryan in a public pool?” Isabella chuckled.

  Don’t react. She’s trying to get a rise out of you. Ignore her.

  I did exactly that.

  Steady strides got me to my car.

  “Where are you going, spicy girl? I never got my drink.”

  Oh for heaven’s sake!

  “Mike will be more than happy to make it for you.”

  “I’d rather you do it.” He sped up until he was walking alongside me.

  “Please let me be and go back inside. You’re going to miss the main event. I heard it’s going to be something.” Maybe distracting him would work.

  My eyes scanned the area for Peter or Dave. Neither bouncer was anywhere in sight. Dammit!

  “I don’t give a flying fuck about the main event unless you’re it.”

  I pressed the button on my key fob to unlock my doors. He slammed the car door shut when I opened it.

  “Not so fast, spicy girl. I’ve been very patient with you. But I’m starting to lose my cool.”

  I pushed the alarm button on the key fob. The siren blared. My head- and taillights flickered on and off. People took pictures of the chaos with their phones, yet not a one helped me. I knew who would.

  God, I need you right now.

  Dave came running and restrained the asshole so I could get inside my car. Breathing frantically, I said a quick thanks, turned the engine on, and sped out of the parking lot, leaving skid marks behind.

  Once in the clear, I thanked my Higher Power, both silently and aloud. I had a lot to be grateful for. My sobriety for one thing. My newfound freedom, another.

  25

  Ryan

  Clearing out my grandfather’s room at the center tore me up inside. It took everything I had to keep my emotions in check. My focus was to get in and get out. No dilly-dallying.

  My gracious mother had given me the honors of packing his stuff, telling me she couldn’t bear to walk inside the center without seeing her father there. And I could? It fucking ripped my heart to shreds.

  Sunday was Lizzie’s day off, so that’s when I went. I didn’t want to chance bumping into her. Not responding to her texts made me the biggest asshole on the planet. Deep down, I couldn’t do it yet. I hadn’t had a wink of sleep, and my feelings were a jumbled mess. I didn’t have it in me to deal with anything else that might trigger more of them. Therefore, the Lizzie situation would have to wait. But I couldn’t postpone it for long since I was leaving. That alone created another level of tension. I’d be expected to perform in front of thousands of fans wearing a smile yet inside I’d be carrying a heavy heart filled with grief over losing the most important man in my life.

  Most of the stuff in my grandpa’s room got tossed in the trash. I had hung posters with pictures of the family—most of them the two of us doing different things throughout my life. Those got trashed too. The only thing I kept was the pendant he always wore. It had been an anniversary gift from my grandmother. My mother could have everything else, including the belongings he had on his person at the hospital before his passing.

  After leaving, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Going to my apartment and being alone with my thoughts wasn’t an option. Nor did I want to hang out with the guys. When my mood went to a dark place, I preferred to keep to myself, yet, ironically, I didn’t want to be alone. Quite a dilemma I faced.

  My aunt was staying with the folks which scratched their house as a possibility. Seeing my mom and aunt mourning would for sure set me off again.


  Knowing Mason would be home, I texted him and asked if I could come by. Of course, he agreed.

  “You look like shit, bro.”

  “At least I have a reason to.”

  He smirked at my comment. “Come in.”

  We went into the living room and hung tight on the couches. I reclined, letting my head fall on the back cushion.

  “Want a beer?”

  “No, thanks.” Interesting that since Lizzie had told me about her trouble with alcohol, I had no desire to touch the stuff.

  “When’s the funeral?”

  “Tomorrow morning. Ten o’ clock. My mother wants the four of us to be pallbearers. I don’t know who else she asked, nor do I care.”

  “We’ll be there. Are you going to make a speech or say anything?”

  “Nope. I told my grandfather how I felt before he passed. I don’t need to say or prove anything to a room full of people I have no relationship with. I know how I feel. My grandpa knew. That’s all that matters.”

  He raised a brow. “How does your mom feel about that?”

  He too understood what a pain in the ass she could be.

  “She’s upset with me for a change.”

  “Did you tell that girl, Lizzie, about it? Will she be there too?”

  “She doesn’t even know my grandfather died. I got the call about him falling while she and I were at the resort. The last twenty-four hours have been a total nightmare, other than being with her.” I clasped my hands behind my head. “Fast forward to today when I had to clean out his room at the center. I’m not emotionally prepared to deal with anything else right now.”

  “I get it, but maybe you should at least fill her in on the situation. It would be the right thing to do. I mean, she was there when you got the call that he got hurt. And she works at the center and knew him personally.”

  “I will. Wonder if the center told her. I doubt it because she’s not on shift again until tomorrow.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t do your usual, Ryan.”

  I took offense to his comment. I raised my hand to stop him from going further. “Let me deal with this in my own way. This is a big one for me.”

  “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut for now. But understand that when your head clears up, it might be too late. She might not be willing to hear an explanation or an apology.”

  “Listen to you. I find it funny that you and the guys were all about me not getting into anything serious because we were going back on the road. And now here you are telling me the complete opposite and encouraging me to go after her. What gives?”

  “You said she made you happy. That’s enough for me.”

  “Right now, I’m not feeling so jolly. Please forgive me if I’m not jumping up and down for joy. I’m trying to get a grip on all of this.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. Whatever you need, say it, and it’s done.”

  “Show up tomorrow morning with the guys.”

  “Forward me the information, and I’ll make sure we’re all there.”

  I did so straightaway because my thoughts were so scattered, I’d forget if I waited until later.

  “We hit the road soon. You think you’ll be okay to go?” He shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

  “Ask me again when I board the bus.”

  He sighed.

  “Want to do something? Maybe shoot pool?”

  I could tell he was grasping at straws because he didn’t know how to handle me in this state.

  “Actually, shooting pool would be a perfect distraction from all this shit.”

  He had converted his dining room into a pool room, figuring he didn’t entertain anyone other than the guys and me, so why not make use of the space he had and make it functional.

  We played a few rounds, kicked back on the couch gaming, ordered in pizza, and watched a few movies. I still didn’t want to go home. How my eyes remained open was a mystery in itself. But they did. As long as I forced myself to do things, and keep my thoughts occupied, I could function. But as soon as I took a pause or had a quiet moment, the overwhelming feelings of loss would hit with a vengeance. How were humans supposed to deal with this crap? It hurt so fucking much. It was no different from the loss I’d suffered years ago.

  My shit mood didn’t go unnoticed. Mason told me to stay over. It wasn’t a question either. He texted the guys and told them to meet at his apartment the following morning for the funeral. He gave them a reminder to be dressed in black suits. That part he could’ve left out. Then again, when it came to Nick and Jonas, one never knew what to expect. The plan was we would drive to my apartment, so I could get dressed. Then we’d attend the service and burial together.

  I slept for shit. Interestingly enough, the funeral wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated. I think a part of me felt grateful I had been blessed with a final opportunity to speak to my grandfather.

  My mother and aunt were wrecks. It added to the sadness of the day. My mom may not have been the most stable and attentive of parents after everything had gone down years ago, but she was still my mother, and I truly wanted the best for her.

  When the service ended, a Mercedes bus drove the immediate family to the cemetery. I chose to ride with the guys. They were my immediate family members, my brothers.

  Mason’s phone signaled a text. He didn’t bother to check it—just turned it to silent mode. It reminded the rest of us to do the same with ours. It was fortunate none of us had received a call during the service. That would have sucked.

  I basically went through the motions, hugging people I didn’t know and accepting their condolences. The guys remained by my side for support.

  At the conclusion of the funeral, attendees were invited back to my parent’s house. The entire thing was morbidly depressing. I wanted out. The guys agreed. I told my parents we were taking off. I could only handle being in that environment for so long.

  “Ryan.” My mother pulled me aside before I left the house. “Here’s the necklace you wanted. I know there are other things my father had specified in his will that he wanted you to have. There will also be money. I’m not sure how much. He never told me. Once the lawyer gets everything settled, we’ll know more.”

  “Thanks. This and the pendant are all I want.” I had enough cash in the bank. Material things meant nothing to me. They didn’t replace the people they belonged to.

  “It’s your decision. I want you to know I love you very much.” She pulled me in for a hug, getting my shirt wet with her tears.

  I kept my shit together long enough to say goodbye without breaking down. That would have to come later, in private.

  “I love you too.”

  We separated, and I found the guys.

  “Where to?” Nick asked from the back seat of Mason’s truck after we left my childhood home.

  “I’m game for working on music.”

  “Are you shitting me? Your family is grieving inside the house. We can’t use your garage,” Jonas shot back.

  “Yes, we can. The room is soundproofed. No one will know we’re in there. Thanks for suggesting it, Jonas. I hadn’t meant for us to play in the garage, but I’m all for the idea. It’s exactly where I want to be right now. My grandfather would want me to do something I loved. Something we both loved. Me performing. Him listening.”

  I didn’t get a rebuttal from anyone in the truck.

  Mason made a U-turn and drove back to the house. He parked in the same spot we had vacated.

  We let ourselves in the garage through the side entrance and got right to it.

  “What do you want to work on?” Mason strummed lightly on his kit.

  “I’ve been playing around with some lyrics I wrote. We can build upon them, add more to the melody. I’m open to suggestions.”

  We played well into the night. My parents had no clue we were in that part of the house, which made the experience that much better. The best part was me and the guys had another song to add to our playlist once it was fine-tuned and rec
orded.

  My spirits were higher leaving the house than they were coming into it.

  Mason, Nick, and Jonas’s phones all signaled a text during the drive to my apartment.

  “Shit,” Jonas mumbled in the backseat.

  “Fuck,” Nick spat out not a second later.

  “What’s up?” I asked, peering back at them. Camilla must have been upset about something for a change. Bad day for her to vent. I had a short fuse as it was. “What does Camilla want?”

  “Shit,” Jonas said again.

  “Fuck,” Nick repeated.

  “What are all the shits and fucks about?” I was getting more wound up by the second.

  Mason waited until we came to a red light. We had the no texting and driving pact between us.

  “Crap,” he muttered.

  “Now you?”

  “Umm, Ryan?” Mason directed his attention at me from behind the wheel. “Have you checked your phone?”

  “No. I’ve had it silenced, same as you guys. I don’t want to be bothered so haven’t turned the ringer back on.”

  “You, uh, might want to check your text messages.”

  “It’s not good, bro,” Nick said.

  “I double that,” Jonas added.

  Mason spoke. “Camilla sent a group text. She couldn’t get in touch with you and hoped one of us would forward you a message.”

  “Pain in my ass. Give me a second to open it up.”

  “You might want to hurry,” Nick advised.

  “What the hell is going on?” I asked.

  “Seems the paparazzi took pictures of your girlfriend. I’m assuming it’s your girlfriend. We haven’t personally met yet, but it only makes sense it would be her.” Nick spoke with concern.

  Panic set in. My heart was beating at hyper speed, and I didn’t even have details yet. I finally got the text opened. “Fuck!”

  “Told you,” Nick said.

  “It looks like she’s leaving the club. Who is the guy next to her?”

  “Shit! I don’t know who that dirtbag is, but you can clearly see she’s pissed off about him being so close to her.”

  “Reports from various sources say, ‘It is confirmed Ryan Josephs’s mystery woman is a hired escort. She was seen leaving a strip club with an unknown and intoxicated man in the late-night hours, getting into her car.’”