LOUDER: A Contemporary Romance

by Jorja Tabu

  “Nah.” She watched as he retreated back within the mask, and a wave of muffled regret and confusion washed over her.

  “Echo, I--I’m sorry, I--”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said, his eyes once again on her face. “Just don’t write a song about it.” His mouth quirked up in his customary smirk.

  “You didn’t promise you wouldn’t,” she said, and for just a second, his brow lowered. “You just said some line about never disrespecting me.”

  “Not a line,” he said, and abruptly stood up and walked over to the sink. The blanket fell back down to his waist, giving her a view of his back--his skin was pale and taunt over layers of tight muscle, tapering to a snug waist. Echo was long and lean--definitely built for fighting...Or fucking. When he reached across the sink to fill a glass of water, she finally saw it.

  The scar.

  It was almost a foot long, beginning at the small of his back, arcing over his hip bone, and ending somewhere low in his belly under the blanket. “Oh my god,” she said, and he immediately put down the glass and pulled the covers up over his shoulders. Without looking at her once, he picked up his glass of water and drained it, then went to the opposite couch.

  “Car accident,” he said smoothly, and his eyes were hard. His focus was as intent as ever, but somehow...She knew he wasn’t looking at her. He was seeing her, and through her, to some place Gabby knew he wouldn’t share.

  And she knew he was lying.

  “Do you know what my degree is in?” She asked him softly. He stared at her, suddenly wary. “Well, I was a double major...I don’t know how you would, but, anyway...Nursing. I wanted to be a nurse.” To help my mom, was the unspoken end of that sentence, but Gabby held back. “I know what car accidents look like--crush injuries, fractures, burns. Diffuse cuts from glass.” She met his gaze. “That must’ve been some car, to pull a knife on you.” Not every nursing student had her acute knowledge of wreck injuries, she thought, but she didn’t say that either.

  He didn’t speak for a long time, and when he did, she knew she’d said the wrong thing. “Maybe I forgot how it happened then,” he said quietly. “I always said it was a car accident.”

  “Why won’t you tell me what happened?” She almost crossed the narrow aisle to sit on his lap again, but his hard expression made her hold her place.

  “Why would I? I thought I wasn’t supposed to take this seriously. For real.” His emphasis on the last two words was harsh, and Gabby sucked in her breath. Seeing her wince, his eyes softened, almost imperceptibly. She was beginning to know each subtle sign, memorize the minute differences. It made her feel pathetic. “This isn’t the kind of pillow talk I like,” he said softly. She knew it was as close to an apology she could hope for.

  “You’ve got it backwards,” Gabby snapped, rising. “I knew I shouldn’t take it seriously--I shouldn’t take any shit that an asshole like you says seriously, with the way you talk about women in your songs. I knew I shouldn’t take it seriously because you can’t take me seriously. You don’t understand me.” She grabbed her robe where it’d fallen and wrapped it roughly around her shoulders. “I can’t believe I fell for this.”

  “Fell for what?” Echo’s voice was hard, but not as hard as his expression. “You came to me.”

  “Fell for the fucking coat, and letting me sleep in your bed, and having your boys be nice to me all the time--even those conversations with Darris you were having at night, ‘you’re a dummy,’ blah blah blah--you probably set it up so I could hear you, right?” She was furious with herself. Thank god she hadn’t sucked his dick. “I can’t believe I did this--”

  “--What are you talking about?” Echo abruptly stood up from the couch, and his bare chest did nothing to make the stark anger in his face less menacing. “What’s that shit you were saying about Darris and me talking?”

  “I could hear you,” Gabby blurted out. “The fucking vent over your head goes right into the bedroom. You’re telling me you didn’t know?”

  “No,” Echo said, his voice low and frightening. He stared down at her from all of his six feet three inches, and Gabby suddenly remembered this was not some suburban kid who had gone to peer mediation classes. This is not some West End boy. But Echo held perfectly still, glaring down at her with the blanket barely covering his body. He looked like a marble statue of an angry Greek god.

  “I thought you set me up,” she whispered, and tears came to her eyes. So stupid, so willing to convince herself that someone cared about her. “It’s all an act, right? Darris worrying about you paying too much attention to me--”

  “--It was a knife,” Echo said, his voice cold. “She called me, told me she was sorry she’d lied on me to Child Protective Services, she’d drop the civil suit, said she’d take it all back. She got me to meet her, and then her new boyfriend stuck a blade in me and pulled it out the other side.”

  “No,” Gabby said, horrified.

  “You’re safe,” Echo said, turning his back on her and walking towards the bunks in the back. “I never wrote a song about that bitch. I’ll never write one about you.”

  Gabby fled to the van.

  -----

  I shouldn’t have told her that, his own voice screamed in his head. I shouldn’t have touched her, should never have touched her--

  Echo slouched through the bunks, grateful that tonight, of all nights, everyone but him had gotten drunk enough to sleep. Even Darris was passed out. It usually took a week for the loneliness of the road to settle in, and then another one for it to rearrange into routine. Echo had wanted to work on the song, so he hadn’t had anything to drink.

  The song he’d been writing for her.

  He’d wanted it to be perfect--clever, to interest her, but without relying on his old content, to keep from putting her off. There was nothing casual about it; it was by far his most personal song ever.

  That must be why, he cursed himself. That must be how it came out.

  The song was meant to be a duet, about a couple trying to make things work. And he’d drawn on all his experience for it, which meant he only had one experience to cull from: Tanya. Not Casey’s mother, who’d been an accidental hook-up; no, this was the woman he’d thought would help him raise his daughter. She came into his life as a nanny, recommended by some friend of his producer’s wife; she’d been exquisite. Smart, funny, sexy as hell. And she’d seemed kind, and patient, and deeply in love.

  But that’s a trick, Darris’s voice said for the millionth time. Love does not try to take from you. Love does not convince you no one else will have you. Love does not manipulate and twist your life into ruin.

  Echo had wanted to believe Darris was wrong--Darris, who was almost never wrong, about anything, and who’d been there from the beginning. But the right woman will make the wrong man foolish, as Echo’s own song reminded him, and Tanya had sunk her claws as viciously into his life as the knife had sunk into his body. She’d tried to have Casey taken away from him on fabricated charges of neglect and abuse when he finally asked for some space. She’d sued him for countless millions over unpaid child care and domestic court disputes when he broke up with her the second time. His only saving grace was that she’d tried to have him killed when she realized he wasn’t going to marry her, instead of on their honeymoon.

  Thank god, Echo thought, she tried to take Casey away. If she hadn’t done that...I might have married her. Echo had believed, deep in his heart, that no one would ever be able to love him for who he was--just like every fucked up hoodrat without a father, Darris’s voice said. He’d been so happy, when she’d looked deep into his eyes, running her fingers over his chest, and said they didn’t need money. That’s not why I love you, Michael.

  He’d told her his real first name.

  He’d given her access to everything, in the end, except his life.

  The case made the papers, but his PR team spun it so it just looked like another fight. No charges, this time, but Echo was fine with that; he didn’t want
Casey to read about him getting arrested again. They convinced the press he was back in his hometown somewhere, laying low, when really he was in the hospital fighting for his life.

  He sank down on the bed he’d let Gabby have for the whole week and put his head in his hands. What had just happened? The whole thing...He’d been so happy...So content, just to have her body next to his...And then...

  She’d been listening in on his conversations. Probably taking notes for that fucking tell-all interview. He was almost humiliated, except that he knew his conversations with Darris were thankfully one-sided--Darris pretty much always knew what he was thinking, so his natural reticence was overwhelming for listeners. Maybe Gabby hadn’t understood why Darris was so hesitant to encourage Echo to be careful, but she’d just reminded him: his position made him a target. He was rich, rich beyond measure, and broken inside. When a beautiful face got too close to his heart...It was dangerous.

  He had Casey to think about. He could never afford to trust a woman again.

  Gabby’d even told him, but he hadn’t put it together--she’d thanked him for the coat. Not Darris. Not anybody else. She’d known it’d come from him. And he still...

  He never wanted to see it, when the truth came out. There were a thousand little signs about Tanya that he never put together. Do you want another beer? She kept a constant supply of alcohol, painkillers and weed near him at all times. Thank god he didn’t have the same gene as his brother, or he would’ve overdosed for sure; instead, Darris quietly started making them disappear just as fast. Why don’t we ever do anything without your friends? They were never with his friends any more--no one could stand her but Echo--but still he gave her what she wanted. Just Darris...Darris never left him. I’ll keep your phone for you. You don’t have to carry it. I’ll set up something with your accountant, you don’t need to worry about that. I’m just going to see my sister tonight--Darris will stay with you? Call me in an hour. No, that’s just my sister’s boyfriend...

  Liar. Tanya dug a hole inside of him shaped perfectly for her, and then forced him to wrench her out once he realized why she’d dug in so deep.

  He couldn’t have known...Gabby was so sweet, once you got past all that snobby bullshit, but...Versus was probably right.

  College girls don’t fuck around with men like us.

  But she’d felt so good...Echo’s head hurt, and he lay back on the bed.

  And there she was again.

  All of the pillows and sheets smelled like her. It was torture, laying there with her and without her. Echo rolled over on his belly and felt his cock growing stiff underneath him. Fucker, he thought, and inhaled her scent from the sheets. It instantly brought on a desire so thick he could almost taste it, and the sourness of regret and sadness came right after. None of that was enough to wilt his hard-on, though, and he found he was helpless to do anything but lay there, face down, his cock swelling against the soft sheets and his heart aching.

  Because that was the worst part, he suddenly remembered. It was not being stabbed, or even the sheer audacity of betrayal--it was the fact that even after all that, there was still a part of him that hadn’t cared. A part of him that looked for Tanya, even as he lay in the hospital. It had taken years to get over her.

  With Gabby, he realized, horrified, it would be worse. Because Gabby wasn’t evil. Because her betrayal could have been an accident...He gnashed his teeth, thinking about it. Stop fucking around, Echo snarled at himself. Of course it wasn’t an accident.

  But she still wasn’t evil. When she’d come at him from the other couch--practically flew at him--he thought an angel was landing on his lap. Her desire, her curiosity--it was all sincere.

  It’s just the motives, he lamented, rolling over and pressing his palms hard against his temples. Sure, she was curious, and maybe she’d been horny...But why?

  It certainly wasn’t because Gabrielle Harris, double major, glamista, whatever, had wanted him. Not for himself.

  How could she?

  He never let anyone in now. He was a couple practiced jokes with a couple old friends, who knew better than to ask him questions. He was a mask. He was impenetrable, unknowable...Untouchable. Versus and Illa had laughed at the boastfulness of the title, but Darris...Darris had understood.

  He could never let himself be touched.

  When he did, this is what happened. He should just be thankful she was fresh off her orgasm, and she’d let it slip that she’d been listening in. Who knows what other sneaky shit...

  Fresh off her orgasm...

  Echo’s hand slid down from his temple and rested just below his nose; ever so faintly, he could still smell her juices where they’d escaped his eager tongue earlier. He’d wanted to eat her pussy, to bury his body in hers, but...Caution. Afterward, he got to taste her regardless.

  Torture, he moaned to himself. That would be the name of the next song he wrote, for damn sure.

  -----

  As always, Darris knew instantly that something was wrong. He didn’t pry; instead, he seemed to easily fit the pieces of the puzzle together as soon as Gabby and Echo were in the same room.

  And they were together all the time. Darris, Versus and Illa had taken Gabby in as a kind of kid sister; Echo, being Echo, would never say anything bad about her. Instead, he hid the stormy blue of his eyes from all underneath his ever-present hat, and she continued to go with them wherever the group may roam. Gabby felt defiant, as there was more distance was between herself and the argument they’d had; what had she really done wrong? Should she have told him sooner, before they’d...Should she have never mentioned it, and just kept pulling the pillows over her head? She no longer slept in his bed--obviously--and instead would occasionally sneak in and sleep on the couch he’d recently vacated, but Darris would find her, without fail, sitting in her van come morning. She let her original haughtiness shine through, and now that the other men knew her better they just laughed at her whenever she started showing off or sassing back.

  But when she was alone with her thoughts in her van, her thoughts always returned to him. What had she really done wrong? She asked herself for the millionth time, and the easy answer was that she’d made herself sound more guilty than she was; the hard one is that she’d thrown herself at Echo, the Untouchable. And when it was dark and below freezing in her van, it was impossible to ignore how stupid she felt for doing it.

  The worst part was that Echo was the same. It was like it’d never happened; he met her eyes roughly the same number of times, shared the same meals, spoke just as often. He seemed to disappear at even the chance they might be alone together, but that wasn’t different, really, either. He was just as distant, polite, inscrutable, and indifferent seeming as before...That night.

  It was enough to break her heart.

  Because the awful truth was that she wasn’t the same. Before, she would’ve written off her attraction to him as a mild flirtation with danger, and laughed at her indiscretion--she deserved some slack, after all, considering how much time and effort she’d devoted to her career and how little she’d managed to spend thinking about men. But when she remembered how gentle his scarred hands had been with her body, his teasing whisper as he made her talk to him while he touched her...She felt a rush of shame that accompanied the instant dampness in her panties. She was still attracted to him--worse, she realized, she was really drawn to him for the first time.

  Because now she knew him intimately--now she’d seen the scar, and heard the story he didn’t tell, along with witnessing all of his small courtesies and kindnesses. His impassively stony face didn’t fool her, she told herself; this was a man with deep, inexhaustible passions. But she’d lost the right to look at his face with that knowledge written on hers, and she couldn’t very well demand that he act like...What? He’d made her come?

  She wanted him more than ever. And he was acting like he didn’t even know her real name.

  It was enough to make a girl cry.

  -----

  �
��What happened?” Darris waited patiently for three weeks, but he was through. He and Echo shared a Black and Mild outside of the bus while Versus and Illa ran to grab some dinner for them; Echo knew he wasn’t going to get away with keeping the situation from his friend any longer.

  Darris listened quietly as Echo told him about the night he’d been sleeping on the couch, and Gabby had... “We hung out, or whatever.” Echo didn’t want to embarrass her, and she knew that they’d become close.

  “Emphasis on the whatever,” Darris said, nodding his head as if to say he understood, and it didn’t matter. Echo rushed ahead.

  “And then she told me she could hear us talking through the vent. The one over the table in the kitchen? In that little bedroom, you can hear everything. Clear as day. So who knows what shit she heard us say.”

  “Who cares?” Darris shrugged his shoulders and Echo looked at him like he was crazy.

  “Who cares? Fucking me, that’s who. I can’t have some sneaky ass shit going down right under my fucking--”

  “--If she’s so goddamn sneaky, why did she tell your paranoid ass in the first place?”

  “I don’t think she meant to,” Echo said, puffing his cheeks out. “We was arguing. She said...”

  “She hurt your fucking feelings. Man up. The girl hurt your feelings.”

  “So fucking what,” Echo said, taking the Mild back and inhaling. “She was saying some shit like ‘I should have known better’ and right off the bat she made sure to emphasize that what went down between us meant nothing to her. So fuck yes, that’s going to hurt a man’s feelings.” They grinned at each other for a second, knowing how their audience would react to that confession. Hurt feelings--even the hardest men get fucking hurt feelings. Embarrassing but true. “We didn’t even get real crazy,” Echo said, making his face blank. He did not want to share how he felt about the moments he’d gotten to touch Gabby with anyone. They hadn’t fucked, but...