Shadow of a Girl

by Shannon Greenland

  “What?” I cautiously ask.

  Silently, he reaches around and slides his hand up under my shirt. I want to jerk away, but I can’t. I’m frozen. No. What is he doing? His fingers trace a few of my scars, and all the air backs up in my lungs.

  “How did you get these?” he quietly asks.

  My brain whirls in panic. How does he know they’re there? Did he see them when I was thrashing around? Did he feel them when he was comforting me just now? How?

  His brows furrow in disbelief, in pain, in horror at what I know he’s realizing. “Eve?”

  His expression, his fingers still on my back—they both rip through me in terror. I’m not ready for him to know about that. I’m not ready. I jerk back, and his hand falls to the mattress.

  West reaches for me. “Eve.”

  “Just…” I scramble back. “Just leave me alone.”

  He lifts his hands. “Tell me what happened. Who did that to you?”

  “Go.” I shake my head. “Please.”

  West doesn’t move and instead just looks at me.

  Tears press my eyes again, and I focus on keeping them dry. “Please,” my voice cracks.

  “Eve—”

  “Go!”

  With a heavy sigh, he gets up and walks to the door. I watch him, both wanting him to stay and needing him to go. At the door he pauses, like he might say something, and instead walks right on out.

  It’s what I wanted him to do. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I stay up the rest of the night, my brain spiraling with the whole thing. Me. Him. This. Us. I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to figure out how to get out of being in so deep with me. It would be for the best—us calling it quits. Not even I can handle my own baggage. How can I expect someone else to? Plus, I’m not even who I say I am.

  Finally at five I get up. I just want to get out of here. I want to get back to the road. To Anne. To my hotel room. My solitary life. To the safety that existed in my private world before I let West in.

  “You’re up,” he says, walking right in my open door.

  I nod. “Do you mind if we go?”

  “And not say bye to my family?” His jaw hardens. “That’s rude.”

  It is rude, but I just don’t think I can face them.

  He sighs and shakes his head. “Fine, but I’m going to at least wake up my Gramma and say bye.”

  Gideon no longer has power over you. This is what I remind myself as I channel strength and independence—the two things I know I need to get me back on track. But even as I try to channel those two things, I know I’m kidding myself. He does have power over me, and I think he probably always will.

  I climb into the passenger side, West puts the car in gear, and we head south back to Orlando.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asks.

  I shake my head, and with a sigh he flips on the radio. How stupid was I thinking I could have some sort of normalcy? What was I even thinking getting involved with West? I don’t know what’s worse…hopelessness or having a taste of what’s good before it’s snatched away and ugly reality takes its place.

  Two hours go by filled only by him driving, me staring out the window, and the radio filling the car. We don’t speak. We don’t even look at each other. It’s awful.

  As we pull into the hotel, my phone vibrates with an email from Bluma, and I breathe out a sigh of relief at finally getting her response.

  I make a beeline to the elevator and the security of my room. West just stands in the lobby and stares after me. I’m just as confused as he looks, but I want to read her email in private.

  As soon as I’m in my room, I bring it up.

  Can’t talk. It’s not safe.

  Oh, God, no. What does that mean? Please don’t let Bluma be in trouble.

  Are you okay? I respond back and just stare at the phone, waiting, waiting, waiting.

  But nothing comes in.

  Why are you avoiding me? This is the text I get from West the next day as we’re travelling from Orlando up to Indianapolis. I’m in one to the Tech Vans. I just couldn’t bring myself to ride on the Mack Daddy bus after everything that happened.

  Anne sits beside me, and I catch her glancing at my phone. I ignore her and type back, Just need some time.

  He doesn’t send me anything back, and I bring up my email inbox and stare at it the whole rest of the way. But still nothing comes in from Bluma.

  When we get to Indianapolis I get off the van and glance up to see West standing across the parking lot staring at me, looking so confused and hurt that I almost go to him. Almost. But neither one of us makes a move, and then he turns first and walks away.

  If I could be somebody else, anybody, I would. West is better off without me. All I’ve done is lie to him. Lie to everybody. A pang rips through me with it all. What will he do if he ever finds out? You’re real. And that’s not easy to find in this business. That’s what he said to me, and I scoff as I recall his words.

  I’m not real at all. Maybe the best thing all around is to just disappear again. Run. It is what I do best.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I’m okay.

  Stop emailing me.

  I’ll explain when we talk.

  This comes in from Bluma the next morning, and I read it over. And over. And over again.

  She’s okay. She’s. Okay.

  In my periphery I see Anne approaching and tuck my phone away.

  “What the hell is going on with you?” she demands.

  “Nothing.”

  She narrows her pierced brows. “Oh, really? Then why, I ask, have you gone from sucking faces behind a soundboard to openly ignoring West?”

  I take a step back. “Who said I’m ignoring West?”

  “You’re something else.” Anne throws her hands up. “Now you’re going to deny it?”

  I turn away, grab a cable, and start coiling it, more to give my hands something to do than anything else.

  “I asked West what was going on,” she says.

  My hands still. Oh, no, did he tell her what he saw? What he felt?

  She points at me. “Ah-hah! You don’t like that I talked to him, do you?”

  I go back to coiling and ignore the pain wrenching around within me. “I don’t care if you talked to him.”

  “I call bullshit.”

  I shoot her a look, but I really want to ask her what he said.

  Anne plants her hands on her hips. “Did that bastard try something?”

  “No!” Oh my God, I don’t want anybody to think that.

  “Do you want to know what he said when I asked him what was going on?”

  I pick up another cable, pretending an indifference I absolutely do not feel.

  “He said you guys had a little disagreement about something personal, and that was it.”

  “Oh…” I think that through. “Listen, I told West I need some time. Now you can be a good friend and accept that, or not. Either way, it’s what I’ve decided. This is about me, not him.”

  Just admitting that makes me feel weary.

  Anne gives me a very long look. “All right. I’m always on your side. But know that West is hurt. I can tell. Whatever happened is about him, too.” She points a finger at me. “And I swear to God, if you disappear on me, I will hunt your ass down and kick it across whatever state I find you in. Got it? And I mean that with every ounce of love in my cynical heart.”

  I chuckle, despite the whole situation. “Got it.” Anne knows me too well.

  Whatever happened is about him, too. Anne’s words seem to be all I can think about the next hour as I work with Ford soldering connectors.

  “All good?” he asks, and I nod. “All right, I’ll be at the soundboard if you need me.” With that, he heads off.

  I double, triple check my work before I put one connector down and start on another.

  “You slacking around this place?”

  I jump and almost burn
myself with the soldering iron.

  West cringes. “Sorry.”

  “Th-that’s okay,” I answer.

  I consider making an excuse and getting out of here, but I know that’s idiotic of me. This conversation’s inevitable, so I look up at him, and neither one of us moves for a few seconds as we hesitantly study each other.

  “How are you?” he finally asks, and his voice works its way through me, warming me, waking me.

  I start to get up, and he immediately moves, kneeling down in front of me. “I missed you on our big bus,” he tells me.

  I go back to soldering, noting my hands are shaking now. “I decided to ride with Tech.”

  He reaches out to hold one of the wires that is shaking in my grip, and I concentrate all my energy on not burning him. The scent of melted copper wafts around us, and I let go of the connector, and he puts it aside.

  “Can we talk now?” he asks, picking up a new wire and handing it to me.

  I take a breath. “West… I think you and I should cool things. Okay?”

  He doesn’t immediately respond, then says, “I see.”

  We stay that way for a few seconds, him kneeling in front of me, me sitting, and him holding a wire while I solder it to a new connector.

  All kinds of awkwardness floats in the air between us, and I just don’t know what to do. As usual the wrong thing comes out, “I can do this by myself.”

  He lets go of the wire and drops his head. Out of the side of my eyes, I see him shaking it in what can only be frustration and disappointment. “Why are you shutting me out?” he demands.

  “I’m not, okay?” Although I know full well I am.

  “No, it’s not okay.” He shoves to his feet. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why won’t you just talk to me?”

  I clench my jaw against the tears I suddenly feel inside.

  “Is it about your back? I don’t care. Do you hear me?”

  Sucking in a breath, I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes so I don’t have to look at the pain on his face.

  “I don’t care,” he repeats. “Just talk to me.”

  His voice, his words, they pull at me, but I shake my head and groan, “Just go away.”

  “Fuck,” he hisses, and I wince. “I don’t need this shit.”

  I hear him turn, and I take my hands down to watch him walk away. With each step he takes something deeper and deeper aches inside of me.

  At the exit door, he glances back, his face hard, and I blink my blurry vision. He’s better off without me, I tell myself. Yet everything in me says differently. And way down deep in me I wish he would’ve just pulled me into his arms and insisted everything’s going to be okay.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  In the days that follow West doesn’t say a word to me. Not a look. Nor a text. Nothing. With every silent moment between us, a knot forms thicker and wider right under my ribs. Even yesterday when I was eating lasagna, I thought of our lunch in Little Italy.

  “All yours,” Ford says.

  I cock my right ear toward the stage, listening closely, then reach with my left hand to adjust the mid-range on the equalization rack. I glance over to Ford to see if I’m right, and he gives an affirmative nod.

  Swelling with pride, I slowly make the adjustment. I can’t believe he’s letting me mix one of the songs.

  I take a step back and survey the Chicago crowd. It’s snowing outside, and I’m surprised so many people actually showed up. A lot in fact. But they’ve been subdued all night, no broken barriers, no girls fainting, no people sneaking into the restricted areas, no flying bras.

  The set ends and into his mike, West says, “We’re going to do a little something different tonight. I hear there are two very special girls that turn six today. Can I have Lexi and Maya on stage?”

  The place goes wild as spotlights crisscross the crowd. Over to the left I catch sight of a security guard escorting two little girls down the aisle.

  I glance over to Ford. “Did you know about this?”

  He nods. “Those are my buddy’s kids.”

  “Ford…how unbelievably sweet of you.”

  He jokingly waves me off. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

  I turn back to the twin girls walking on stage. I’ve never felt comfortable around children, well, except for Maria. Truthfully, I’m scared I’ll slip up and treat them the same way I was treated.

  West was great with Maria. Playful. Funny. A pang hits me at that thought, and I try and focus on what’s going on.

  He takes their little hands and leads them over to two stools already set up on stage. He and Simon help them climb up, and then West gets down on one knee and every girl in the house screams. His image flashes onto the giant screens, and my belly does a slow roll. He’s dressed for rock in black jeans and a black T-shirt. With his dark, spiky hair and tan skin, he seeps sexiness.

  In his liquid voice, he sings the twins Happy Birthday and the entire venue joins in. The two little girls have perma-grins that they’ll probably have the rest of the week. Heck, the rest of their lives.

  The song ends, and he gives them each a kiss on the cheek. The girls in the audience scream and scream and scream some more. I know all too well what a kiss on the cheek from West Wolf feels like, and remembering it makes me all kinds of sorry.

  Sorry for everything.

  I switch my attention from West back to the soundboard as Ford stretches his fingers across the sliding bars, transitioning them into the last song of the evening.

  The encore comes and goes, people clear out, and a couple approaches the sound area with the birthday twins.

  “That was incredible!” the couple screams in unison.

  Ford laughs. “Glad you liked it.” He looks down at the twins. “What’d you all think?”

  Still with their perma-grins they both enthusiastically nod.

  Ford turns to me. “This is Eve. She works on the sound crew. She’s going to take you backstage to meet everybody.”

  I freeze. “I am?”

  Ford nods and ushers me on. “I know they’re most interested in meeting West.”

  West? “Um…”

  One of the twins slips her fingers inside of mine, and I look down at our connection and her tiny hand in mine. Strangely, I’m filled with her happiness and know without a doubt that she’s loved and protected. I hope every little girl and boy experiences that basic feeling at least once in their life.

  The little girl gives my hand a tug, and I lead the family through the crowd to the backstage entrance in a sort of blur. Any second now I’m going to see West.

  The officer guarding the restricted zone unlatches the gate that leads to the dressing rooms and lounge. West’s name is taped to the third door on the right. I tap on it and wait, anticipation ping-ponging around inside of me.

  A few seconds later the door swings open, and the same Lucy Liu girl I’ve seen a few times now is standing on the other side. My shoulders sink.

  She smiles at us. “Hi, I’m Illana. Can I help you?”

  The family looks at me, and I remember I’m their escort. “Ford asked me to bring them back to meet West.”

  She smiles even bigger, and her gorgeousness makes me want to shrivel up. West steps up, and I’m surrounded by the soothing familiarity that is him. His scent. Oh God—I discreetly inhale—his scent.

  He passes his gaze right over me, leaving a chill filtering through me. It’s like he doesn’t even know me. Like we hadn’t shared the most intimate moments of my life. Like we hadn’t even been friends.

  He focuses in on the twins. “Well, if it isn’t the birthday girls.”

  They both giggle.

  He squats down in front of them. “You’re awful cute. I would’ve guessed you were at least eight, not six.”

  They flash him matching toothless grins, and the whole thing melts me. Illana gives us all a wave and excuses herself, and I find myself pleased to see her go. It’s not fair of me, I know. But it’s how I feel.
<
br />   Fans begin to trickle in and West stands. “Well, unfortunately, I need to say good-bye. I’ve got promoters to meet with.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him, forcing my eyes to stay on him, hoping he’ll look at me.

  He does with a blank expression that says he’s being tolerant of my presence because of the family. “No problem.”

  I search my brain for something else to say, but come up blank.

  West’s gaze flicks down to the Bugs Bunny on my T-shirt and just as quickly back up. Is he thinking about the fact we both like cartoons? Does he remember telling me that? I open my mouth to say something, anything, but West just shakes his head.

  “See you around,” he says and brushes past me.

  I’m barely able to focus the rest of the night as I work alongside Anne taking the stage down and getting ready for the next city on our tour.

  “West hates me,” I tell her right after we let ourselves into our hotel room.

  She scoffs. “He doesn’t hate you. His feelings are hurt.”

  I sink down on my bed. “I really did what I thought was best.”

  “Try to talk to him. At least try to get back to being friends.” Anne sits down beside me. “There’s only so many times you can kick a puppy before they get angry and bite back. This is West biting back.”

  The thought of kicking a puppy almost has me in tears. “What if he doesn’t even want to be friends?”

  Anne nudges her shoulder to mine. “Grow some lady balls and go find out.”

  She’s right… I go to get up, and my phone buzzes with a call. I check the display. Bluma! “I have to take this,” I tell Anne.

  She nods and heads into the shower.

  “Are you okay?” I answer as soon as Anne shuts the door. “I’ve been so worried. Your emails freaked me out.”

  “Thank the heavens you picked up,” Bluma whispers, and then her breath hitches, and the sound of it twinges through me.

  “Don’t cry,” I tell her, though tears gather in my own eyes. I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve heard her voice since the night she helped me run.

  Suddenly I’m swamped with memories and images of me and her. Of us watching The Three Stooges on her tiny TV, making oatmeal cookies with her mom, singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, and playing hide-and-seek with her younger brother.