The Way It Hurts

by Patty Blount

“Cool.” I tried to muster some enthusiasm, but even I wasn’t that good an actor.

  “Can I like, text you or friend you?”

  I almost said no. “Sure.”

  He lit up like a Christmas tree and stepped back so I could shut the door. Rachel started the car, and Glenn waved as we drove off.

  “Kristen, he’s adorable!” she squealed.

  Yeah. Adorable. Glenn was tall, had spiky blond hair and blue eyes. But they weren’t intense like Elijah’s, and he probably would never write me a song. I slouched in the passenger seat and stopped fighting my tears.

  11

  Elijah

  Rr_32Blue: Yo! @Ride_Out in da house at #BearRiverMall! Awesome! Check it out!

  8Note_NY: @Rr_32Blue Thanks for video, bro! Who’s new chick? Great tits!

  Ride_On747: Can’t believe I missed this! Thx for video link. @BroadwayBaby17 is HAWT and can sing!

  Rr_32Blue: @Ride_On747 HAWT? She is off the f*cking charts!

  45ConnorLI: @Ride_Out @Ride_On747 @Rr_32Blue: Who cares if she can sing? Post more pics.

  SHARES: 64 LIKES: 99

  “Glad you liked the show,” I said with my eyes on Kaylie’s—or was it Kylie’s?—chest. It was a hell of a great view. Her friend Michaela was currently wrapped around Sam, but Kaylie or Kylie was seriously into me.

  I wiped the lip gloss she’d left on my mouth after she’d kissed me and…was that…ketchup? Ugh. I peeled her off me, wishing desperately for some mouthwash. I might have been into this chick if I hadn’t met Kristen. Now, she was all I could think about. I looked around but didn’t see her anywhere.

  A phone was suddenly thrust in my face, and once again, Kaylie/Kylie grabbed me, mugging for the camera. I angled my face away from hers, flashed rock fingers, and broke away from her as soon as the flash lit up. We had to get all the gear packed up and loaded up so we had time for our celebration—half-price apps at the local family chain place. I took a good look around, and saw Nick talking with Leah and her friends, but where the hell was Kristen?

  I scanned the entire food court once more and caught a glimpse of that fine butt leaving through the main exit, her friend Rachel and her surfer-looking boyfriend beside her. With a curse, I realized I never told Kristen the half-price apps tradition. “Hey, Kristen!” I called after her, but she didn’t turn around. California Boy smiled at her, and that’s when it hit me—the dude wasn’t with Rachel at all, and I suddenly wanted to pitch my guitar through a store window.

  “Elijah,” Kaylie/Kylie said in that annoying pouty voice girls all seem to think guys actually like. But I ignored her and watched Kristen until she disappeared from view.

  “Hey.” She put a hand on my chest, and I stepped back, repulsed.

  “Sorry. I gotta get moving.”

  “I want to send you the pictures I took.” She held out her phone to show me.

  “I really need to—”

  “Elijah? Need to lock up.” The event planner walked over and handed me another form to sign. “That was really cool. The crowd enjoyed you guys. Would you consider coming back?”

  I forgot all about Kaylie/Kylie. My eyes went wide. Hell, yeah! “Definitely. Thanks for having us.” I shook his hand, pried Sam off Michaela, and started getting gear onto the hand truck we’d picked up at a garage sale. “Hey, Nick! Can you go get the van?”

  Nick waved his acknowledgment and took off with Leah and her entourage, leaving through the same exit Kristen had just disappeared through. I kept watching the door, hoping she’d come back, but no.

  Brett Shields, the event planner, pulled out a brochure from the folder he always seemed to carry. “We’re hoping to book talent on this date and this one,” he said, pointing to squares on the calendar. “If you’re interested, and I hope you are, go to this website and fill out the form. We’re booking on a first-come basis.”

  “Very cool. I’ll do that. Thanks again.”

  “You bet. Let me give you a hand with your gear.”

  New gigs. Holy hell, it was happening. It was really happening. I wanted to grab Kristen Cartwright and spin her around like those wimps in chick flicks because no matter what Sam thought, this would not be happening without her. I glanced at the exit door again, and my stomach tightened the way it always did when I thought about her. There was something about her that was so incredibly hot, and when she sang…when she got lost in the music, it was—she was—the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  And now she was off with some other guy. My stomach cramped, and I really wanted to punch Sam in his perfect teeth.

  “Let me grab those dates, Eli.” Sam took out his phone to record the calendar.

  “Here. Take it.” I shoved the paper into his hands.

  Hard.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” he demanded.

  I whipped around on him. “You. You’re the problem. Kristen was fucking amazing tonight. You couldn’t say one nice thing? She left here all pissed off—”

  “And you immediately figure that’s my fault?”

  Staring daggers through him, I nodded. “Yeah, it’s your fault. You can’t stand sharing the stage.”

  “Look, asshole, I’m not the one she was watching with big, sad eyes before she left. That’s on you.”

  Me?

  Sam jerked his chin toward what’s-her-name twirling her hair beside her friend, eyeing me up and down like a cake in a bakery display. Aw, hell.

  Is that why Kristen walked out of here with Surfer Dude?

  I pulled out my phone and tapped out a quick text.

  Elijah: Kristen, u were awesome tonight! We’re going for half-price apps—meet us?

  I stared at my phone, but it insisted on remaining stubbornly silent.

  “Yo, Hamilton, how ’bout some help?”

  Sighing, I grabbed the hand truck and shoved some gear through the doors. Nick left the van idling at the curb, so I started piling equipment into the back. It was just about all packed up when my phone buzzed.

  Kristen: No, thx

  Jeez, this wasn’t good. I considered possible strategies and decided to go with nonchalant.

  Elijah: OK. Meet tom my place 4 rehearsal. Mall wants 2 more gigs! Also, need 2 start working on ur song.

  There was no reply. I shut the doors and tried to figure out a way to fix this.

  • • •

  The next morning, tension crackled around the garage like static through speakers. We’d skipped our half-apps thing last night. Sam was pissed at me, and Nick was pissed because Sam was pissed—it was a clusterfuck.

  I hadn’t been able to sleep, so I got up before my parents did to check the band’s email and social network feeds. There was one message from Brett at the mall, asking if I could meet him to go over show details. I shut my eyes and tried to remember what I had going on. Shouldn’t be a problem. Last night’s show was a success in my eyes and in his too—given that he’d invited us back for two more. I switched over to Instagram and found pictures from Kaylie, who’d tagged them with the band’s name.

  Excellent.

  The Beat was buzzing about our mall gig too. My friend Ride_On747 had some cool shit to say. And then I checked Twitter. My eyes popped open, and my jaw dropped.

  @kristencartwright

  First gig with @Ride_Out so cool! But I def did better than the guys. Check it! #KrisVsEli #CatCall bit.ly/vdpil87xs

  She’d attached a video from last night’s gig that Rachel must have shot. The crowd definitely seemed more engaged in her singing than the rest of the show. Holy hell! I couldn’t help grinning. Kristen had some seriously big balls, and Sam was going to lose his shit, and wasn’t that gonna be fun to see? I raked both hands through my hair, thinking about damage control just in case it wasn’t fun, when my dad opened the door to my room.

  “Oh, good. You’re up. How was th
e show?”

  “Good. Um, really good. We got invited back to do two more.”

  “Great,” he said with the kind of smile you tack on because it’s expected. But I knew my dad and wasn’t exactly sure why he felt like he had to pretend around me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Dad’s dark eyes rounded. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  He was lying. I knew it. Pretty sure he knew I knew it. But still, he pretended. I waited—not patiently—for him to get around to his point. I figured he was here to finally tell me it was a done deal; Anna would be moving out.

  I put my tablet aside and swung my legs to the floor. “Dad, look. I’m not a baby anymore. Spill.”

  He lifted shocked eyes to mine, eyes with lines around them and those purple circles from lack of sleep. A quick grin that was gone before it could leave any evidence. He sat down on the bed next to me, shaking his head. “When did you grow up? I swear it was yesterday when there was a crib in this spot.”

  I shot him a look. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work. Spill,” I said again.

  This time, he laughed. “Always were too smart for me. Okay, I’ll tell you.” He paused, and the laugh evaporated. “I have a favor I need. I need you to come with us to a few…um, facilities. For Anna.”

  My stomach clenched. There it was. “Facilities,” I echoed.

  They were still going through with it. They were still planning to give Anna away.

  “Elijah, please.”

  His tone held so much desperation, and I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and demand he tell me why the fuck he wanted to give her away if this was hard. But instead, I turned to face him. He looked lost and scared, and aw, hell—I’d just told him I was eighteen now. Not a baby anymore. So I swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Okay. I’ll come.”

  His shoulders fell a few inches, and I knew he was relieved. That was something, I guess. He stood up and thumped me on the back a few times. “You guys practicing today?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, do me a favor and keep the door shut. Got a few complaints from neighbors.”

  I rolled my eyes. Neighbors obviously didn’t appreciate good music.

  After my parents left with Anna for therapy, I tugged on some jeans, a heavy sweatshirt, and a knit hat. I went downstairs to sit in the garage by myself, strum my ancient acoustic, and scribble some lyrics on a pad. Even though Kristen hadn’t texted back, I figured I’d get started on her original song.

  “Hey, Eli.”

  I looked up and found Nick walking up the drive. “Hey, man.”

  He grabbed my pad. “What’s this?”

  “Some notes for Kristen. She wants to compose something original for her entrance applications.”

  “Oh, yeah. I know. She asked me to help her. We were gonna meet up later, actually—or not,” he added quickly with his palms up after my eyes shot to his.

  “No, it’s fine.” I grabbed the printout of the set list to try to hide my spiking temper.

  She’d asked Nick for help after I—forget it. It was probably better this way.

  Sam strode in just then, carrying a paper bag. “Brought bagels. I don’t have a lot of time today. You got the set list?”

  Swallowing back the need to curse him out because I knew Nick was already upset, I handed him the printout in my hand.

  “‘Simple Man’?”

  “Yeah. It’s a classic. It’s also a favorite of yours, so what’s the problem?”

  He shrugged. “Bored.”

  What a diva.

  “Where’s Lady Cartwright? Sleeping in?” he asked with a grin.

  “I’m right here, and don’t even try to tell me you were waiting long for me because I saw you pass right by me on the road.”

  I whipped around when I heard Kristen’s voice. She wore yoga pants today with those hot red boots and a long sweater that hung off her shoulders. My mouth dried up. “Hey.” I grinned.

  She didn’t smile back. She just pulled her sleeves over her hands and burrowed in. “So what are we doing today?”

  “First, new business. The mall guy wants us back for two more gigs. One is next weekend, and the other is on Wednesday night.”

  “Can’t do it,” Sam said.

  I crossed my arms and glared at Sam. “Why not? I gave you the dates last night, and you never said a word.”

  “Got a date. Michaela from last night. Her friend Kaylie is really hot for you. We could double.”

  Kristen flinched.

  “No. Change your date. The band comes first.”

  Sam laughed once. “Does it, Eli?”

  “Can we just play, please?” Nick grabbed his sticks and sat behind the drum kit I’d spent an hour unpacking for him last night, not that anybody had noticed.

  Sam shrugged. “Sure. What do you want to sing, Kris?”

  Kristen put a hand to her chest. “Me? I get an actual vote?”

  “If you want.”

  She bit her lip. “Fine. Whatever.”

  What the hell was wrong now? Fuck it. “Great. Everybody’s happy.” I grabbed my guitar and waited for the count off.

  “Count off, Sam.”

  “Count this.” He shot up a finger.

  “Jeez, guys, can we just get on with it?” Nick demanded.

  “Don’t ask me!” Sam shot back. “I’m not the one with his dick in a knot.”

  “Me and my dick are fine,” I shot back.

  “Yeah? Doesn’t look like that from where I stand,” Sam taunted. He took an exaggerated look at the watch on his wrist. “Didn’t take long for exactly what I said would happen to actually happen.” He turned to glare at Kristen.

  She jerked like he’d just kicked her in the teeth. “Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.” She took off down the driveway.

  No! Jesus, she couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when we were so close. “Sam, you realize none of these gigs happen if Kristen’s not with us, right?”

  “Hey, I asked her what she wanted to play.” He flung up both hands. “Not my fault she’s on her period or whatever.”

  Kristen heard that and whipped around so fast I felt the damn breeze.

  “You’re an ass, you know that?” She shouted from the middle of my driveway. I took the guitar off my shoulders and went after her.

  “Kris! Please. Just…just hold up.”

  She gave me a furious look and stalked the rest of the way down the driveway. I chased her, snagged a hand, and tugged her around. “Please. Just wait a minute.”

  “No! I’ve had enough of his bullshit.”

  One look at her face and I felt like crawling into the sewer at the curb next to us. “Oh, God, Kristen, don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

  She looked horrified and hid her face for a second, wiping the tears with her fingertips, and twisted her lips into a sneer. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Seriously. I am sorry.”

  She snapped to a stop and confronted me. “Why am I here, Elijah?”

  I blinked down at her. “I told you. I—”

  “Yeah, yeah, amazing voice, blah blah blah. I heard that song before. I mean why am I really here? Sam can’t stand the sight of me, Nick’s tiptoeing around me like I might detonate at any second, and you! You’re the worst!”

  I looked at her sideways. “Me?”

  “One minute, you’re telling me how great my voice is, and the next, you totally forget I’m in the room,” she said with a disgusted expression. “You’re a player, Elijah. A collector. I can’t figure out who’s the better actor—me or you. So I repeat, why am I here?”

  Because I want you.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked at the ground. I couldn’t tell her that. Even though Sam was acting like a total tool, I wouldn’t make a move on Kristen because I owed
him. But that didn’t mean I liked hearing her opinion of me. I opened my mouth only to close it. Anything I confided in Kristen Cartwright could end up online. Risky. But necessary if we had any hope of working together. “Remember the video I showed you? Of me playing piano?”

  She crossed her arms and shot out a hip. “‘Carol of the Bells.’ Yeah.” The April breeze kept blowing her hair into her eyes.

  “I told you my sister is—” I broke off and gulped loudly.

  “Developmentally disabled.” A tiny frown creased her forehead.

  “I…” Hell. Anna was a good reason—the best of reasons for working so hard to put Ride Out on the charts, but how was I supposed to tell Kristen I was exploiting her talent to keep Anna home? “Christ. Okay. My parents are struggling to take care of Anna. And now, they think it would be better if we moved Anna to a facility.” My voice cracked. “I can’t—I won’t let them do that to her.”

  Kristen’s eyes went wide.

  “Ride Out is all I have, Kristen. I’m not a great student, and I don’t give a crap about college. All I want is for this band to make it. And if there’s a chance, the slimmest chance of that happening right now, I’m gonna do all I can to grab it.”

  She was quiet for a long moment and then blew out a loud sigh. “I don’t want to see another disgusting comment online like the one you posted about getting me to purr, scream, or on my knees.”

  “That was just—”

  She shot up a hand. “I don’t care what you think it was. I’m telling you I think it was disgusting.”

  I blew out a loud sigh. “Okay.”

  “I still want your help with my song, but maybe I’ll work with Nick too. I think it’s better that way.”

  “Oh. Sure. Okay.” It wasn’t. Not by a long shot. But I’d give her whatever she wanted.

  “Okay.” She nodded and turned away. “I think it’s best if I don’t come to any more practices. I don’t need these sessions.”

  My eyebrows shot up at the sheer conceit in that statement, but I didn’t say a word.

  “Just send me your set lists, and I’ll look up the songs you’re planning. I’ll add my spin. If you want me to sing bigger parts, let me know and I’ll practice them on my own.”