“I said … I swore I wouldn’t hurt you.”
Her eyes widened, she started to shake her head. The room was too small, he could see her lower lip trembling. Christ, don’t —
“You said you loved me.”
He swallowed the bile that flooded the back of his throat. “I did.”
He saw her, heard her, suck in air, and her hand flew to her mouth. Rick yanked open the door, dodged somebody in the curved hallway, and made it into the bathroom a split-second before he threw up. Just in time.
52: The Truth
Ashley walked into the studio and cut herself off mid-word. Carolyn watched her face as the last verse played through again.
Kiara won’t quit asking me / when you goin’ eat all these sardines?
Never, I hate them nasty things / she shake her head cuz I’m so crazy
Hush up girl, quit with the stares / your third degree is fuckin up my prayers
Reach in my pocket for the contraband / Jolly Ranchers behind the living room chair
Trade me your dandelion, I need a wish / or I’m a go broke on slimy fish.
Ashley grinned, because it was funny, and because she didn’t get it. Carolyn had listened three times and came to the same conclusion. No one would. There was no Yankee game, no MC battle, no late night talk show.
There was mayonnaise on her chin … maybe we oughta be ordering in?
When the hook kicked in, Carolyn took a deep breath and forced herself to check for Ashley’s reaction.
Ask me if I lost sleep for the cream/craving some dross from the company
When all the gold I’ll ever need/is standing right in front of me …
She couldn’t believe it, even the third time through, when Rick’s rapid-fire rap shifted on a dime into the slow soft melody. Singing the chorus.
In your eyes … The light the heat … In your eyes … I am complete
Ashley’s eyebrows shot up, and Carolyn tapped the stop button. Three times was enough for her lifetime. The hook had cracked her heart, but hearing him hit the notes on the chorus split it right in half, emptied it of every foolish hope she’d had during the half hour drive up I-77.
The pad in her lap was as bare as the scenery on the Interstate. He’d been as careful with the lyrics as he’d been with his last words. I did. Past tense.
“Doesn’t sound like him,” Ashley said.
“Is it time to go?”
Ashley frowned. “I don’t know what he’s going to say.”
Carolyn tossed the pad and pen on the sofa. “Don’t worry. He has promises to keep.”
Ashley gave her a puzzled look, but Carolyn couldn’t explain it, and his word was worthless. She’d never been hurt so badly in her life.
Ashley drove them the half-mile in her rental, parked around the back by the loading dock and made a phone call. A hotel employee came out and led them to the meeting room where Carolyn counted ten video cameras and at least twenty reporters. Rick stood against the back wall, studying a paper in his hand. If that was Louis beside him, Terrance had been right. The man with the olive complexion looked like he’d swallowed some bad meatballs.
Strobe flashes caught her eyes, and Carolyn smiled automatically. Seeing Zeus for the first time in real life, her feigned expression came easier. When she crossed to the cleared space behind the podium and held out her hand, he shook it with a broad smile.
Carolyn directed her whisper to Ashley. “Can I say that I’m a big fan of his?”
Zeus’s deep chuckle sounded familiar; she’d heard it many times on Rick’s songs.
A reporter shouted her name, Louis took the podium to get control, and Carolyn gladly stepped back to let him. Louis did no more than introduce Rick, and he barely glanced at her before he took his place behind the microphones. He seemed startled when the cameras flashed. He’d spent most of his life trying to fly under the radar, but he was dead center now.
She still wasn’t sorry, she couldn’t turn it off. Is that what this is? To love someone so much that no matter what he does, you still want everything for him? What did that make her?
“I got a statement,” Rick said. “But first, I want to thank you for coming out here, and second I want to thank my producer for showing up, so you all would.”
They laughed a little. It wasn’t completely Zeus, though. She’d read every article written about her, almost sensing the frustration each time: Ricky Rain’s manager stated that he has no comment.
He would hate that. She’d been right: he did find out, and he was furious.
“My name’s Ricky Rain, and I’ve actually been around for a few years now. Nobody paid much attention except for the people who came to my shows, bought my CDs, played them — probably copied ’em and gave ’em away for free, too. They’re really the ones I want to thank, because they’re the ones who actually count.”
He paused to glance down at the paper, and she wondered if he remembered that she was one of those fans.
“Recently, I was offered a much larger deal with a much larger label. The terms were favorable in many ways, but I’ve decided to stay with Carnage Records.”
The news was clearly as unexpected to the reporters as it had been to her. One man’s voice out-shouted the others: “Why?”
“I was about to explain that,” Rick said.
Not too personal for a roomful of reporters. The pain she’d buried before Ashley walked into the studio glowed fresh.
“Carnage has been good to me. They’ve been fair, which no one can take lightly in this business. They’ve given me freedom to say what I want, which I don’t take lightly. I never broke them any sales records, but given recent events, it’s looking like we might do better this time around.”
“Is that why Ms. Coffman is here? The recent events — ”
“Miss Coffman is here,” Rick said deliberately, “because I assumed you’d be asking even if she wasn’t. I figured she might want to speak for herself. I do have something to say about all that though.”
Beside her, Ashley took a deep breath. Rick didn’t speak again until the room quieted.
“I never much liked my business being put out in the street. I like it even less when there ain’t no way to make myself come out looking good.”
Rick rested an elbow on the podium, his eyebrows up. She saw half of a smirk on his face and glanced at the reporters, who didn’t know he was charming them.
“Problem is,” he continued, “regarding Miss Coffman, I think she got some bad advice. It happens, and if you all want to string her up for taking it, I can’t stop you. I just thought you might want to hear the truth.”
Is he really this intelligent? Kijana’s voice echoed in her head as Ashley stiffened for a second. Then the wariness in her eyes shifted to admiration. What else could a group of supposed journalists say to that?
“Thing is, she had heard of me, which I guess you know now. Unlike a lot of girls — excuse me, women — Carolyn actually took my lyrics seriously. Normally I’d appreciate that, but in this case, not so much. I didn’t know she’d been devoting her life to explaining how to stay away from guys like me.”
After he got his laughs, Rick added, “I figured persistence would win out — usually does — but I found myself lodged firmly in the friend zone.”
He turned slowly and Carolyn froze. He swept his gaze down her body, but when Rick’s eyes met hers for the briefest second, there was nothing to be offended by. It was just a performance.
He turned back to the reporters. “I was kinda aiming for the end zone.”
A male reporter laughed. Carolyn spotted him, waited to see if he’d have the balls to look her in the eye — he didn’t — while Rick nodded to a man who held up a pen.
“Why didn’t you make a statement earlier?”
“Well, I was working.” Rick snorted. “Guys in my line of work don’t usually spit about the girls they can’t catch. We ain’t figured out how to make it rhyme when we end up going Oh for Nine.”
> Carolyn easily read the look on Ashley’s face: Damn.
Somebody else jumped in. “So you did spend the night in the other room?”
“Look, I know it’s unbelievable — hell, I was there, and I didn’t believe it. I ain’t accustomed to getting a downgrade to the couch.”
Carolyn took a breath. She almost believed him herself.
“So, if ya’ll don’t mind, as long as you’re writing, do me a favor and include this: Along with the release date for the album — August eighth — you can mention that I got job openings. I’ve created a few new positions to repair my damaged ego.”
He expected the laugh and got it. She almost smiled herself.
“So send in those resumes.” Rick raised his eyebrows. “Don’t forget the pictures.”
He backed away from the podium, ignoring the questions that immediately turned to calls of her own name.
In the middle of the ruckus, she realized that he’d been nothing less than brilliant. He met her eyes, and something flickered behind the green. It disappeared in a flash, transformed into a challenge that she didn’t understand.
“Carolyn — did you really blow him off nine times?”
She made it to the microphones and nodded. “He was counting.”
The tenth time, he didn’t ask. She glanced over her shoulder, and nothing could have shocked her more than the absolute absence of humor in his eyes.
But that’s why it’s funny. Because it’s true. Questions buzzed in her ears, and she held up a hand in a totally ineffective gesture. She had shaken him just for a split second and she reached for the reason. It must have been on her face, how impressed she’d been with him. That still mattered to him.
The reporters threw questions at her like a pitching machine gone haywire, and the clamor lasted long enough for her to think up her own curveball.
She leaned toward the microphones, and the noise died down. “First, I want to follow up on those resumes Rick asked for. He didn’t mention an address, so you can forward them to me. It’s going to be a pretty vigorous screening process, too, so don’t be disappointed if you don’t hear back. Ever.”
He was at her elbow before she even turned to look.
“What are you doing?” Under his breath, the microphone didn’t catch his words.
She matched his whisper. “Correcting an error.”
“No fucking — ” His voice carried, and he stopped. “Excuse me. Zeus? You mind taking a turn here?”
Even in the face of their barely hidden drama, the multi-platinum, never-gave-interviews power stepping behind the microphone bank was too rare for the music reporters to ignore. Their excitement drowned out the gossipmongers, and Rick pulled her elbow, straight back, so that Zeus’s body blocked them from sight.
“Did you miss what I just fucking did out there?” He barely moved his lips, and his face didn’t change.
“You said it was my call.”
“Not about that.”
“You were kidding.”
He only shook his head once and his eyes were so hard that she no longer believed diamonds were harder than emeralds. The words of his song reverberated through her heart, and she knew without question that gold wasn’t. It was so soft that to keep it from bending, it had to be forged with something stronger.
She had nothing stronger; she heard it in her own voice. “I thought you were keeping your distance.”
His only response was to watch Zeus fielding some question about radio stations. Rick seemed more interested in that.
He finally turned back to her. “Carolyn, I’m only gonna say this once. I didn’t get up there and make an ass out of myself so you could fuck it up. I ain’t playing games. Go fix it — quick. Because I still got room on that album you so worried about.”
“I was never worried about that!”
“Bull. Shit.”
The cold hatred in his eyes splattered out and seared her soul. She heard Zeus switch topics and closed her eyes to think. Maybe she was a fool — and ‘maybe’ was only a modifier to make her feel less like one — but she’d never seen this look in his eyes.
She couldn’t believe it was real. She needed something, anything, strong enough to break through, and all she knew was that he had done this, he was doing it for her, and all she had left was the truth. She straightened to her full height, level with the ice in his eyes.
“Rick, you can believe what you want to believe, but I just want to know one thing. If I’d have loved you less, would you have loved me more?”
The green ice pierced right through her. She waited, but she didn’t see anything else, and she didn’t know how she could have been so wrong.
She turned and went back to the microphones.
53: Some Kinda Hero
She tied up her own knots, joking with Zeus about how maybe she was looking at the issue from another angle, or something like that. Rick couldn’t really hear her; it was like a fast forwarded CD, skipping every third word. Then she was gone, without even glancing over her shoulder, and he was still standing against the back wall trying to figure out what the hell she meant by that. How could she have loved him less?
Louis had promised him to reporters if they wanted interviews, and hell, yeah, they did. He did three, started by saying he was only talking about business, and he didn’t mean the personal kind. It didn’t stop them from trying, so that kept his attention focused until Louis said they only wanted Zeus now, and Rick escaped outside into the noise of the nearby freeway. He started his car and slammed the shifter into drive, but trying to get to the studio so he could get back to burying himself in work was an exercise in futility with the construction, too many goddamn cars, and a traffic light that refused to change. He watched the elevators instead. The condemnation in her eyes seemed to sparkle off the glass.
Would he have loved her more?
A horn blast made him jump. The light was green. He parked at the end of the curved lot and forced himself to slow down. Inside the lobby, Terrance looked up from whatever game he was running on Jackie. Rick stared at him a second, but Terrance didn’t say anything, so he veered left toward Studio 3, where he figured he could run through a few —
Carolyn sat on the couch next to his brother, his portfolio spread across their laps. She looked up at him, but he heard Jesse’s voice.
“She likes this cover. Not the one you like, the one I like.”
He couldn’t read her face. “Jesse — ”
“That’s two against one.”
“Fine.”
Jesse’s mouth opened, then closed, and he shrugged. He grinned at Carolyn. “Thanks.”
“I could really go either way.”
Jesse groaned. “Don’t change your mind now. He always gets everything he wants.”
Carolyn’s smile faded.
“Jesse, go away,” Rick said.
Her eyebrows shot up.
His brother didn’t even notice. Rick shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t help him out faster. When the hush finally settled as the door swung shut, he turned back around.
Carolyn took a deep breath. “I just wondered if we could try this again.”
He heard the echo of the first time. “Hi. I’m Rick Ranière.”
She flinched at his sarcasm, and he was so furious that she was here, because he couldn’t seem to hold onto the anger.
“That’s funny,” she said. “You do look just like him.”
She barely choked out the words, and he saw the tears start.
“Don’t you fucking cry on me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
He took a deep breath and looked away, because if he kept looking he was sure he would cross the room, take her in his arms and try to make the tears stop.
And he didn’t have control problems.
He heard her voice shake in the silent room.
“Why did you turn it down?”
* * *
He didn’t answer.
She�
�d made a horrible mistake. She hated the desperation that raced through her, but she could do nothing to contain it, she could only leave before she made this so much worse. The fear launched her off the couch, too fast, and her heel skidded on the wood floor. He caught her before she fell, but whatever impulse had made him do that only seemed to fuel his anger. The second she was steady, he backed away.
Carolyn clenched her fists to stop herself from reaching for him.
He slammed his fist into the table behind him. “Why did you do it?”
“I didn’t have any choice!”
“What about my choice? Or is that just hypothetical?”
She shook her head; she’d expected anger, but not like this.
“Did you think I wouldn’t remember? It’s fucking hypothetical until it spits out of a real goddamn fax machine!”
“I didn’t — ”
“Don’t give me this shit, Carolyn! You can’t tell me the goddamn truth?”
“I couldn’t, I — ”
“How you don’t tell me? How you don’t — shit!”
Rick spun around, his sharp cut-off dying immediately. She heard only the sound of her own breathing. And his.
She didn’t realize what he was doing until he was almost at the door. “Where are you going?”
“See if Zeus is back. I got work to do.”
Wait! She bit back the word before it escaped and regretted every harsh judgment she’d passed on the actions of her readers, women who couldn’t stay away. She wanted nothing more than to beg for a second chance.
“I guess you were wrong, Rick.” He hesitated, his hand on the door pull. When he turned back, she spoke quickly. “I guess it’s not like The Simpsons after all.”
Her voice broke on the words; she shouldn’t have said anything, silence would have saved her dignity. But she still wanted him, and she thought she’d never stop.
Oh, Eve. I’m sure I won’t survive.
He didn’t leave. His hand stayed on the door, and when she collected enough strength to look at his face, his eyes were closed, his jaw clenched, and she still didn’t know why.
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