by Jodie Larson
She pulls me off to the side so we can free up the aisle. “Yeah, moved into my own place not far from here. I work at a peds clinic as an RN. Great staff, cute doctors. All married, of course.”
I laugh. “You always did love kids. And doesn’t it always figure that the cute ones are taken?”
“Isn’t that the truth? Not that it matters. I don’t have much of a social life anymore. Being a homeowner kind of sucks all your funds before they hit the bank.”
Same old Lizzie, always concerned about her social life. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m one of the lucky ones since my house is paid off. Just have the utilities to worry about.”
“I drove by your place and saw the lights weren’t on. Figured you wouldn’t be back until the end of next week.” She pauses. “I heard, you know.”
“Myles?”
She shakes her head. “No, Brecken told me what happened. I’m so sorry, Tay. That was super shitty of the label to do that to you.”
Shrugging, I focus my attention to the speck of dirt on the floor. “It was temporary to start. I knew it wouldn’t last forever. Nothing ever does with me and your brother.”
“That’s not true. It was actually sickening to watch half the time, but I’ve never seen two people more in love. Except for my parents. But I’d rather not talk about that.” Lizzie scrunches her nose up, which makes me laugh.
“Who does like to think about their parents that way?” I chew on my bottom lip. “What else did Brecken say?”
“That Myles is miserable. Beat him up that morning when he couldn’t find you.”
“You’re kidding?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. You know those two. It’s like oil and water lately. They push each other’s buttons just to get a rise out of the other.”
Something flickers in her eyes. There’s more to that story. I know there is.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
This time, it’s Lizzie’s turn to avoid my gaze. “Nothing.”
“Nothing my ass. What is it?”
“Another time,” she says, effectively sweeping it under the rug.
“I’m holding you to it,” I say, dropping the issue. If she doesn’t want to tell me then I can’t push her. Besides, I lost my right to hover when Myles and I split.
Just then, something hits me. “Why don’t you have a cart?” I ask Lizzie.
She widens her eyes, looking guilty. “Um, I just ran in to get something.”
“What’s that?” I ask, raising a brow.
Her pause is her tell. She’s been following me. It had to be her the other night knocking on my door. Who else would do that in town? Maybe Quinn. I don’t know if Adrienne is here or back in California. I should have known Myles or Kade would send someone to check on me.
“You can tell the guys you’ve seen me and I’m alive. But please, don’t chase after me.”
“Are you okay?”
That’s a difficult question to answer. There are so many ways to respond, but in the end, the truth is all that matters. “No, I’m not okay. And I don’t know if I will be, but I’m dealing with it the best I can.”
Lizzie nods, tears glistening her eyes. “If you need anything, I’m here for you. And I won’t tell my brother about it if you don’t want, or anyone else.”
“I appreciate that,” I say with a nod. If we don’t stop this I’m going to start crying again and I’d like to make it out of the store without another major meltdown.
It doesn’t help when hugs me one last time before waving goodbye and disappearing around the corner.
Damn him for sending her. I try not to cry as I finish my shopping, grabbing all the perishables I’ll need for the next two weeks. The less I have to leave my house, the better.
As I load the groceries into my car, I remember something Lizzie said that didn’t register at first. Myles is miserable. He’s not angry or pissed, but miserable. Which means he misses me. I’m not sure I’m prepared for that. Wrath I was expecting. Or eternal damnation. I assumed his phone calls from a couple days ago were to yell and scream. Perhaps he wanted to find me and beg me to come back?
No, not worth it. What’s done is done and I can’t change the past. Repeating that mantra in my head, I start my car and head home with a heavy heart and uneasy mind.
Aren’t beds supposed to be a place of relaxation and peace? This bed is neither. It’s a wasteland of worthless blankets, keeping the ice trapped in my blood. Apparently I’ve grown accustomed to having a warm body sleep next to me, someone to distract my mind. Only she’s not there. A normal person would be pissed. No, fucking irate, at being dumped the same way twice. Thank God I’m not normal. Instead, I’m just numb.
Four more days and the tour will be over. Then we’ll be back in L.A., gearing up to record our new album. Don hasn’t asked me about new songs again. Probably best since I still want to punch him in the throat. He avoids me backstage. Kade is the only one who’s civil to him, but that’s because he has to be. Someone has to talk to our manager. I know it won’t be me. Not for a while.
A knock at the door rustles me from the bed. Brecken’s face goes from happy to disgusted as soon as the door opens. “Fuck, dude. Put some clothes on.”
I turn and walk away. “I’m wearing boxers. Besides, you’re just disappointed you couldn’t see my junk.”
Heading straight for the wet bar, I pour myself two fingers of whiskey and down it without thought.
“Little early for that, don’t you think?”
“Fuck off,” I say, pouring another glass. It burns down my throat, the same as the first, trying to push away the chill that hasn’t left my body in days. God, I sound like a pussy. What ever happened to the Ladies Man, the fuck-’em-then-dump-’em? I’m a free man again, able to play the game with the rest of them. This will be the last time I let her fuck me over.
Then why don’t I believe my own words?
Brecken sits in the chair next to me. “What are you going to do?”
I down the liquid and slam the empty glass against the table. “Move on, figure out my life without her. She’s made it abundantly clear she doesn’t want any part of it.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe she knew about the label’s plan and ran before she could get fired.”
“Then that makes her a coward.” I opt for the bottle rather than pouring another drink. “It also means she didn’t bother including me in her decision making. Again. Go ahead and label me a fool. Once was bad enough, twice was my own fault. But if you think I’m going to go looking for a third time, you’re out of your damn mind.”
“It’s just that easy for you, isn’t it? Everything’s all black-and-white. Tatum doesn’t get to stick up for herself or give her side of the story. Just like last time, you’ve taken on the role of martyr and cast her into damnation.” He leans forward on his elbows. “You’re an idiot.”
I huff a breath through my nose and continue drinking my breakfast. “Get off your self-righteous box. I’m the one who put my trust in a woman – twice – only to be burned by her – twice. Everything I had, I gave to her and she took it without thought. Hell, she probably laughed all the way back to wherever she is thinking how she was able to screw over the player.” A sneer curls my lips. I hold up the bottle to toast. “Congratulations, bitch. You got what you wanted.”
“What is wrong with you? Last week you were distraught over her leaving, knowing she was about to get screwed by the label. Now, with only days left on the tour, you’ve decided that she’s the villain? How is she the bad guy? Fuck, she was probably in self-preservation mode. Hurt them before she gets hurt. She wasn’t aiming for you, asshole.”
The bottle wobbles as I slam it onto the table. “If she knew it was coming, she should have talked to me. We could have figured it out, like a normal couple would do. But no, she chickened out and ran away, just like before. I’m done with this shit.”
“Good. Then you don’t deserve her.” Brecken stands and walks to the door. He pauses in the d
oorway and turns to face me. “And just so you know, she’s back in K.C., safe and alive. But she’s as miserable as you are, only not as bitchy.”
“Like I give a fuck.”
Shaking his head, the door closes behind him, leaving me alone again.
Alone. Such a shitty word. It’s what I want. I must have been asleep these last few months, thinking I was done playing the game, that I’d be satisfied by the presence of one woman for the rest of my life.
Whiskey helps drown those thoughts, forcing them away until they’re barely a whisper in my head. Picking up the bottle, I stumble toward the bed, needing to fall back asleep. Kade threatened to kick my ass if I miss another set-up meeting before a show. Let him, I’d love to see him try.
Taking a last sip, I set the bottle on the side table and curl into bed. Dragging the shirt out from under the pillow, I bring it to my nose. Citrus and wild flowers. Even with the pain, I can’t bring myself to wash away her scent. Everywhere I go, her memory lingers. I can’t shake her out of my system.
And I’m not sure if I want to yet.
“So you are alive,” Lizzie says next to me. I blink open an eye and glare at her blurry figure.
“Who let you in?” The room spins slightly as I sit up on the couch. Empty bottles litter the table. One rolls off the side as Lizzie walks by.
“God, you’re a pig. How can you live like this?”
I swallow down some bile as I reach for one of the bottles. She slaps my hand away, giving me a large glass of water instead. Not wanting to argue – for fear of puking all over the place – I take the glass and chug half of it.
Wiping my mouth with my hand, I try to focus on the scowling face of my baby sister. “What do you want?”
She straightens her neatly-pressed Daffy Duck scrubs and folds her hands in her lap. “You’re pathetic.”
“Says the woman wearing cartoon characters on her shirt.”
“You take off when the tour is over, don’t bother picking up your phone when your friends call you, and decide to kill your liver by drinking your weight in alcohol.” She looks around at the mess and sighs. “Apparently doing this daily. What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to be difficult? No one asked you to come here and check on me. I’m a grown ass man.”
“Could have fooled me. You’re acting like a child.”
“Well thank God you’re here.” I give her a slow clap. “Since you specialize in sick children, this should be a breeze for you.” Blinding pain shoots out of my shins as her foot connects. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“You. You are my problem. Quit acting like a spoiled brat who didn’t get what he wanted. You’ve never had to truly work for something before in your life. Everything’s been handed to you. For once in your life, come off your pedestal and join the rest of the human race.”
“The fuck you talking about? I’ve worked hard for everything I have.”
“Musically. You practiced music until you had tunnel-vision. Mom and dad supported your craft by doing everything for you. So imagine your surprise when something doesn’t just fall neatly into place outside of the studio. Do you know what that poor girl went through?” Lizzie’s practically fuming.
“What she went through? What about me? She left me. Twice. Ran like a bitch without looking back.”
“You’re so ignorant.” Lizzie shoves me over, taking a seat next to me. “Didn’t you read the signs?” She sighs and leans her head against my shoulder. “Before she left the first time, I noticed the difference in her. It was subtle, but there. She was quieter, more focused on you and the band, but withdrawn. Like she was going through the motions and sliding on a mask to hide how she really felt.”
Did she? I would have noticed if she did. I mean, we were connected. If she was in pain, I knew about it. I could read her face.
“Then she lied to me. If she was hiding it, I didn’t see it.”
“And did you go after her?”
How could I? She made it clear not to chase her by disappearing without a trace. “She didn’t want me to.”
Lizzie rolls her eyes just like she did when we were kids. “Of course she wanted you to chase after her. She was scared and hurting and didn’t know how to process what was happening to her. You were supposed to ignore her wishes and run after her, show her you love her enough to fight for both of you.”
How does Lizzie know all of this stuff? “I never told you why she left. How do you know she was running and scared?”
A faint tinge of pink colors her cheeks. “I may have been talking to Tatum recently.”
Betrayed by my own sister. “So, Judas, come to surrender me to the other side?”
“Cut the shit. Get off your ass and take a shower. You smell and I can’t go out with you like this.”
“Who said we’re going out?” The thought of leaving this couch is about as appealing as going back to work for the studio who ruined my chance at love again.
“I did. So get up, shower, get dressed, and I’ll meet you back here in two hours.” The door slams behind her, leaving me with little choice but to follow her directions.
Why in the hell are they talking? Lizzie has no business sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. And why the sudden interest in my love life? I liked it better when I disgusted her with the bevvy of babes rolling out of my bed.
But I wasn’t happy with them. So much has happened these last few weeks that I’m not sure I can just switch my emotions off.
Reluctantly, I peel myself off the couch and follow my little sister’s orders. She was right about one thing. I did need a shower. At least she doesn’t know what all goes on once I’m in there. Dirty thoughts, soapy hands, fantasies of Tatum naked, and ending with me washing down the walls before actually washing myself.
I’ll save that detail for later, just to give her nightmares and maybe keep her away.
It’s a quiet Wednesday night. Nothing much has changed over the last few months since I’ve been gone. Still the same old bar crowd, same old acts trying to get noticed or escaping their life through music.
Even with all the bright lights and big cities, I’ve missed this. The quietness of being able to hone your craft to a crowd who truly appreciates it. Or are so blasted that they don’t care. Either way, it works for me.
Gabe sets another glass of chardonnay in front of me. “Please tell me you’re singing tonight. If I have to suffer through another horrible act, I may stop offering open mic night for good.”
I smile, though it doesn’t reach my eyes. “No you wouldn’t. You love it too much. Besides, who knows if another Lightning Strikes will come through those doors. Soon you’ll have to switch from a bar to a concert venue. You’ll be known all over the world as the guy who discovers awesome bands.”
He smiles and leans against the counter. “You’re right, though not about the concert venue. I like bartending way too much. Gets me away from the back office and the mountains of paperwork waiting for me.”
“You need an assistant manager,” I say.
He shrugs. “I had one, then she married into a band and left.” The way he’s looking at me should make me nervous. “So, Tatum, have you ever…”
“I’m just going to stop you right there. No, I can’t serve drinks. I can barely pour a glass of water without screwing it up.”
“I wasn’t asking if you’d bartend for me. I was wondering if you knew anything about bookkeeping.”
Way to jump the gun there. “Oh, yeah. That I know how to do.”
“Good. You’re hired. As long as you don’t have any plans on marrying into a band or leaving me for some music career.”
It takes all I have not to laugh or cry. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about there. I’m not exactly welcome in either category.”
Quinn walks in and makes a beeline straight for us. “I need a drink. Now.” Gabe quickly sets a glass of wine in front of her as she t
osses her purse on the counter. “Fucking little brats puked on me twice today. Then my pen exploded all over the only spare scrubs I had left in my locker so the rest of the day the kids were calling me Nurse Inky.”
I try not to laugh because she’s obviously had a horrible day. But as she explains in further detail, I can’t hold back anymore and laugh hard enough that I’m clutching my stomach.
She doesn’t scold me, just gives me a side-eye and drains the wine from her glass. “Leave the bottle,” she says to Gabe as he refills it. He does as his wife commands and wisely turns away.
“What are you up to tonight? Haven’t seen you among the living in a while.” Outside of Lizzie, Quinn was the only person I’ve talked to since returning home. I tried to ignore her, but that’s like trying to ignore a hurricane outside your door.
“It’s Wednesday,” I say, as if it was explanation enough.
Quinn rolls her eyes. “Musicians.”
The girl with the clipboard from a few months ago comes up to me with the same fake smile as before. “Tatum? You’re up in five minutes.”
I nod and turn to Quinn. “Looks like that’s my cue.”
“Knock ‘em dead,” she calls as I walk away. Following clipboard girl – I think I heard someone call her Jenny – I find my guitar backstage and wait in the shadows.
“I’ll give you the signal when it’s your turn.” She checks something off her list and walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Which is never good because Myles occupies most of my thoughts lately. His smile and laugh, the way he’d hold me at night after we made love. Even the times when he’s a controlling jerk. Each piece makes him extraordinary, someone I need in my life but can’t seem to keep.
And whose fault is that? Stop running away and take what you want.
Yeah, easier said than done. I don’t know why I run. I’m trying to save him the pain, but all I seem to do is create it for the two of us. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Life shouldn’t be this difficult. Myles is my one true love, my forever. Is there a way to salvage what I’ve destroyed again?