by Grace James
“Thank you,” I said quietly as I sat down to my food.
“You’re welcome.” She smiled at me.
“Where’s Mel?” I asked.
“Considering it’s almost noon, I’d say she’s probably been at her internship for, oh let’s see, around four hours now.”
“Oh, crap!” I put my forehead in my hand. “I totally forgot she was doing that. I’m such a bad friend! I was going to get her some ‘good luck’ muffins for her first day.”
“Well, you definitely missed the boat then, her first day was two days ago.”
“Oh God,” I groaned.
“It’s okay Care Bear, she understands.”
“Care Bear?” I looked up at her in disgust. “Not that again.”
“Stop with the big eyed cat from Shrek look and I’ll stop with the Care Bear nickname, deal?”
“Fine,” I grumbled.
She grinned. “Good. Now eat your sandwich.”
Half an hour later, I left my apartment for the first time in weeks and went to work. Strangely enough, it didn’t actually suck as much as I thought it would. In fact, it gave my mind something else to focus on, other than my internal misery, and I figured any kind of distraction was a good thing.
Hayley drove me home again afterward, and I made her stop at a bakery on the way so that I could pick up some cupcakes for Mel, a belated ‘good luck’ gesture for her internship, combined with a ‘sorry for being a bitch and missing your first day’ peace offering.
When Hayley and I walked into the apartment, Mel was in her usual spot on the couch. “Hey awesome roomie,” I said. “Cupcake?” I placed the tray down on the coffee table in front of her and she leant forward to read the messages that I’d had written out in pink frosting.
“Never seen the word ‘beyatch’ written on a cupcake before,” she mused with a smile, picking it up.
“The woman in the bakery wouldn’t write B-I-T-C-H, she said it was disrespectful,” Hayley informed her, as she and I picked up a cupcake each and joined Mel on the couch.
Mel burst out laughing. “But ‘beyatch’ was okay?”
“We didn’t question it,” Hayley grinned.
“Sorry for forgetting about your internship, that was crappy of me,” I said contritely. “And I’m sorry for being a snappy hermit ‘beyatch’ the last couple of weeks.”
She smiled at me. “It’s okay, you had your reasons.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“These babies make up for it,” she said, licking frosting off her fingers.
“So, tell me about the internship,” I said. “How’s it going?”
Mel’s face lit up as she started telling us about the therapist she was working for, and regaling us with little stories about the sessions that she had been allowed to sit in on.
Hearing how an ‘anonymous patient’ liked to make models of all of his ex-girlfriends out of cheese, and then melt them under the grill, made me feel marginally better about my own mental health.
123
Soon after Hayley pulled me out of my self-induced incarceration, she left to go join the guys (or, more specifically, Derren) on tour. I gave her a ride to the airport and tried to be genuinely happy for her as she practically bounced with excitement in the passenger seat. She saw straight through my act, of course.
“Amy, when you fake smile you look creepy,” she said accusingly as we pulled up outside Departures.
I scoffed. “Hey! I do not! And this isn’t fake.” I got out of the car and walked around to the trunk to help her with her luggage.
“Yes it is,” she hoisted her duffel bag on to her shoulder and shot me a scathing look. “You forget how well I know you.” She drew a circle in the air in front of my face. “This? Totally fake and totally creepy.”
I laughed a little and rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine, you got me. I do want to be happy for you though,” I said as I handed her another, smaller, duffle bag before I closed the trunk.
“I know,” she smiled. “But at least when I’m out there with them you’ll have eyes and ears on the ground.”
I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”
“You know, Mel’s theory? About Groupie Land and a certain lead singer not going there?”
My breath caught and a feeling of nausea rolled inside me at the images of him and them that crashed through my mind. I shook my head. “No. No, Hayley I don’t want to know –”
“But –”
“No,” I said forcefully. I honestly didn’t think I could handle hearing that Mel’s theory was, in fact, total bullshit. I’d rather just stay in the dark.
Hayley looked at me searchingly for a moment before she reluctantly agreed not to ‘report back’ on Blake’s behavior.
After she left, the weeks rolled by slowly. I worked a lot, I took on extra shifts; I went out with Mel – for dinner, to the movies, whatever; I busied myself as much as possible during the day so that by the time I fell into bed I was exhausted.
But I cried myself to sleep every night.
And I still dreamt of him.
124
Blake’s eyes were fixed on mine, so intense that it was like they could see into my soul. I could see every sapphire fleck that shimmered in the glacial turquoise of his irises; I saw the deep blackness of his pupils flare wider as he lowered his forehead to mine. As our heads touched, I felt his naked body flex against me and the slippery head of his thick shaft push inside of me. I gasped and wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
I needed all of him, I couldn’t wait.
He slid inside slowly, letting out a low groan as he seated himself to the root.
“I miss you,” I whispered.
He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, an abrasive, buzzing sound filled the room. I gasped with shock at the same instant I felt the pressure inside me ease, like he was pulling out of me, only he wasn’t, he was fading away.
And then he was gone.
My eyes snapped open, and I was alone in my darkened bedroom once more, bitter tears of disappointment already trailing onto my pillow.
The buzzing sound started again and I realized that my cell phone was vibrating on my nightstand. I reached out and picked it up, blinking the sleep out of my eyes as the screen came into view.
Holy shit.
It was him.
I blinked at the phone, hardly daring to believe that Blake was actually calling me after all the weeks of radio silence. I was just about to answer it when I stopped myself.
What the hell was I thinking? What good could possibly come from talking to him?
I just want to hear his voice, Inner (and fairly pathetic) Amy murmured.
As I stared at the screen, the call went to voicemail. Only for his name to flash on the screen a moment later as he called again. I was pretty much sweating by that point; my heart was pounding with just the thought of answering the call, but again I let it go to voicemail.
I clutched the phone tightly, willing him to call again even though I knew I probably wouldn’t answer that one either – but just the knowledge that he was calling me, that he was thinking about me, was like salve to a wound.
A minute later, my phone buzzed again; he’d left me a voicemail.
My heart was still pounding as I held the phone to my ear and listened.
“Hey, Princess.” Blake’s voice was quiet and gritty; the sound of his nickname for me rolling off of his tongue sent tingles through me. “Sorry for calling you so late. I guess you’re probably sleeping...or maybe you’re just ignoring me – yeah, that’s probably it, right?” There was a puff down the line and I could imagine him letting out a wry snort. “Yeah, if I were you, I’d probably ignore me too.” He paused and I heard the sound of liquid sloshing in a bottle. I was pretty confident that meant that this was a drunk dial. He sighed before he continued. “We fucked this whole thing up pretty good, didn’t we? I mean, shit, did we EVER.”
My mouth dropped open with i
ndignation at the implication that we were both equally responsible for this mess at the same time that Rational Amy conceded that he had a point.
When he spoke again, his voice held a new intensity. “But I’m sorry for my part. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. He sighed again. “You went back to him and I thought...dammit, all I could SEE was you and him together. Every time I closed my fucking eyes, I saw you WITH him...” The bottle sloshed again. “But you didn’t, did you? We talked about you, Princess. He told me. You went back to him, but you didn’t fuck him, did you?”
As I tried to wrap my head around how that particular conversation would have gone, I heard him bark a bitter laugh.
“That’s the fucking sucker punch, right? That’s what separates us and makes me worse, isn’t it? Shit…” He paused for so long that I almost hung up, but then he suddenly spoke again, his voice tired. “I can’t stop loving you, Princess.”
I told myself to just delete the message, but instead I replayed it again and again, just to hear his voice, just to hear him say he loved me, no matter how begrudgingly he’d said it. Over the next few days, I must have listened to that message fifty times.
Then he called again.
It was the same deal as last time. The buzzing of my cell woke me in the early hours of the morning. When the voicemail came through, I didn’t even hesitate for a second before I listened to it.
“So, today I finally grew a pair and asked Hayley about you. Know what she said? Nothing. Not a fucking thing.”
I sent a silent thought of thanks to Hayley. The last thing I wanted was for Blake to have any idea how broken I’d been, how broken I still was.
“I just wanna know if you’re okay…‘cause I’m not okay. And the fucked up thing is, if you’re not okay either, then this isn’t over. If you’re still mad and upset, then it’s NOT over. ‘Cause if it was over, we wouldn’t feel anything…”
As he trailed off, I gritted my teeth. Because he was right; as much as I hated to admit it to myself, as much as I had claimed the contrary over and over again, I still didn’t really think of us as over. But I knew that I damn well should.
“I’m mad at you, Princess,” he said after a moment, and my temper flared at the audacity of that statement.
He was mad at me?!
I mean – just – what?!
His voice was hard and angry as he continued. “The ONLY fucking thing I ever asked you to do was NOT lie to me. And you did. You fucking lied about everything.” I heard him take a deep breath and when he spoke again his voice was more controlled, although the steel remained. “You should’ve talked to me, told me the truth and just fucking TRUSTED me like I trusted you. I could’ve figured it all out. Connor – everything. I’ve been dealing with his bullshit for YEARS. If you’d just trusted me, none of this would’ve happened.”
My hand tightened around the phone, I almost threw it across the room in my fury at his words.
Everything I had done, I had done to keep Connor from doing something stupid; I had done it to keep Blake from losing someone else. The futility of it all was laughable, but still, my intentions had been good – incredibly misguided, but good all the same.
But here he was, telling me what I should have done.
And the worst part about it? He was freaking right.
Blake’s voice was softer when he left his parting shot. “But I love you, Princess, and I’m so fucking sorry for what I did – and you KNOW that’s the truth.”
He left more messages after that. Every few days, my phone would wake me in the middle of the night and I would let it go to voicemail before listening to the message immediately, like an addict desperate for a hit.
Some of the messages were more of the same. He was sorry for what he did. He loved me. He wished that we’d both done things differently.
But some of the time they were softer, sadder.
“Hey, Princess. Lost count of how many times I’ve called you now but I know it’s a lot. I wonder if you’re listening to these messages or if you’re just deleting them…fuck, I hope you’re listening. Anyway, I’m sitting in the parking lot of some arena. I can’t even remember which one – shit, I can’t even remember which city I’m in – but the moon’s bright tonight, like it was that weekend.”
I knew immediately which weekend he was talking about. There was only one weekend, after all. The weekend. That one perfect moment in time before everything went to hell.
“I just wish you’d talk to me. Or just let me know that you’re hearing me?” He sighed and it sounded like defeat. “But whether you’re listening to this or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I love you, and I miss you.”
After I listened to that message, I almost caved and called him back. I stared at his name in my contacts list for a full half an hour before I turned my phone off and shoved it in the draw of my nightstand.
I couldn’t call him back; I didn’t trust myself. Because, if I’m honest, he was wearing me down. With every voicemail I got, my resolve crumbled a little more.
I wanted to forgive him. Hell, I think I actually was forgiving him by that point. If I actually spoke to him, I wasn’t sure that I could stop myself from just giving in…
But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t let myself do that. If I did that, I was the biggest fool on the planet, right? He had proven to me that he was nothing more than a man-whore. Okay, so he ‘loved’ me, but what kind of love was that? What kind of love meant that you went out of your way to hurt the other person?
But YOU hurt him first, a voice murmured inside my head. If he’d done the same thing to you, would you have been a good enough person NOT to want to hurt him right back? Isn’t that what you’re doing RIGHT NOW by not talking to him? Hurting him? Deliberately? In the only way you can?
I really didn’t have an answer for that, but one thing I did know was that if I spoke to him, I was lost, because I wasn’t strong enough to walk away from him again.
So I didn’t call him, and the next time he called me, I still didn’t answer.
125
I dumped two teaspoons of sugar in my coffee and settled at the kitchen table as Hayley’s chirpy voice sounded through my cell.
“Hey, Care Bear!”
“Hey Hayls!” I ignored that horrific pet name she used and tried to sound upbeat. “How’s it going? You having fun?”
“Yes! Miami is AWESOME!” she practically shrieked.
“Yeah?”
“Yes! If I ever get married, I’m having my bachelorette party here! It’s AMAZING!”
I smiled. “Sounds like you’re having a great time.”
“I really am! Apart from the sleeping arrangements – my back is KILLING ME from sleeping in that stupid van. So anyway, how are you doing?”
“Fine.” I brushed off her question the same way I did every time she or Mel asked it.
“Okay…that’s good.” She didn’t sound at all convinced.
“Look, Hayley, I need to ask you something. Can you talk? I mean, without being overheard?”
“Yeah. The guys are in an interview right now then they have sound check so I’m just chilling on the beach. Seriously, Amy. Bachelorette party. HERE. If I ever get married.”
“Hint received loud and clear,” I chuckled.
“Good. So, what’s your question?” she asked, although the cadence of her voice suggested she already sort of suspected she knew why I had called.
“Um, okay…” I hesitated, starting to dread the answer even before I asked the question. “Okay, remember Mel’s theory?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, has he?”
“You mean has Blake gone to Groupie Land?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you didn’t wanna know?” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice.
I sighed and rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see me. “I changed my mind. I just – I need to know.”
“No, Amy, he hasn’t.”
“You’re posit
ive about that? Just because you haven’t seen him do it, doesn’t mean he hasn’t done it,” I pressed, refusing to believe what she was saying straight off the bat.
“Oh, come on! Give me some credit! I’ve been watching him like a hawk. And besides, we’re living in a tiny van together, if he was visiting Groupie Land every night, I would’ve picked up on it. I’m actually pretty sure groupies are the furthest thing from his mind right now. Connor’s giving him hell over it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…in the interests of full disclosure, Connor HAS been visiting Groupie Land and he wants his ‘wingman’ to go with him…” I could hear the cringe in her voice. “Should I not have told you that?”
“No, it’s fine, I honestly don’t care what Connor does,” I told her sincerely. In fact, until she had just mentioned Connor, I’d barely given him a second thought. A part of me felt a tiny bit guilty for that.
“Good,” she sighed in relief.
“But Blake hasn’t? You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I swear, Amy, all he does when he’s not on stage or doing promo is scribble in that ratty notepad of his or play his guitar.”
“Oh,” I murmured as relief flooded through me.
But at the same instant that a spark of hope ignited inside me, it was snuffed out by my self-doubt.
Because I still didn’t trust myself.
The memory of Connor’s betrayals were still fresh in my mind, and more specifically, the memories of all the times that I had chosen to believe in him despite all the evidence pointing to the fact that he was a cheating scumbag.
I’d been burned by a Maxwell one too many times to believe that I could trust my judgment when it came to Blake.
So when he called again that night, I still didn’t answer.
126
On the day that Sons of Sinners arrived back in Las Vegas after their tour ended, I was working the late, late shift at Realm Records. And I was trying not to think about the fact that Blake was now in the same city as me for the first time in months – and what that could mean.