A Lush Betrayal

by Selena Laurence

  “You’re the one barging into my room, dude. You get what you get,” he replies.

  I sigh and try really hard to look anywhere but at him.

  “They’ve got problems at the venue. They need us to come down and look at the stage setup.”

  Mike snorts. “Is that right? And why do I need to come along?”

  He’s obviously been drinking, he’s in asshole mode. I press the bridge of my nose between my fingers, feeling a headache coming on.

  “Well, you are the lead guitarist, and you move around on stage as much as I do. I figured you’d care about how it was set up. Surely, shawty in there can wait or come back or something.”

  “And what if I say, ‘No’?”

  I’m losing patience with him. “Then I guess you can’t bitch if the stage isn’t what you want tomorrow. Look, come or don’t, but quit standing around like an asshole giving me crap for no reason.”

  He chuckles. “You got it, King Joss.” He pushes away from the doorframe and grabs the edge of the door itself. “I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.” He pauses. “I’ve got something to finish up first.” Then he slams the door in my face.

  All I can think is, What the hell did I ever do to make him hate me so damn much?

  Mel

  IT’S THIRTY minutes before the performance, and the Pepsi Center Auditorium in downtown Denver is buzzing like a giant hive full of bees on crack. Joss has been hard at work all day on last-minute changes to the stage setup so I haven’t spoken to him. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or sad about that. However, he’s made sure I’ll think of him. My morning started with breakfast delivered to my hotel room, “courtesy of Mr. Jamison,” and since then I’ve received a dozen red roses with a note informing me that my usual seat in the wings of the stage will be waiting for me at showtime. The misgivings I have about getting involved with him haven’t dissipated, but I can tell he’s going to be very hard to resist.

  As I wait for the last couple of warnings to ring before the show starts, I walk to the hallway leading to the dressing rooms and lean against the wall, scrolling through some shots on my camera. I’m deleting useless garbage to free up space on the memory card for the show when suddenly the door to the rest of the auditorium flies open.

  I hear Jeff saying, “Look sir, without word from Mr. Jamison we can’t allow you back here no matter who you are.”

  I walk to the doors as one of the crew comes ambling through. “What’s going on?” I ask, as I lean around him to look outside.

  The crew guy huffs out a laugh. “Just some batty old dude claiming to be Joss’s dad.” He rolls his eyes and keeps on going. I feel my heart skip a beat as I peer out the door and nearly lose my breath when I see Jeff facing a man in his early fifties with sandy blond hair and green eyes I would recognize anywhere. His skin is weathered and tan, but his body is still in great shape, and the line of his long, lean muscles is beyond familiar. I think I would know who he is if I simply saw him walking along a street somewhere.

  Without thinking, I bolt through the doorway, putting my hand on Jeff’s shoulder.

  “Hey, why don’t you let me deal with this?”

  He looks at me skeptically and leans down to whisper in my ear. I keep my eyes on Joss’s dad, who’s watching us carefully. “It’s some nutty guy. We get them all the time. You don’t need to worry about it.”

  I give Jeff my best I’m the boss look that I stole from Tammy and say, “You can stand nearby, but I know what this is about, so can I talk to him for a minute? Please?”

  Jeff sighs and steps several feet away, where he gets on his walkie-talkie but keeps an eagle eye on us.

  As I turn to face the man who helped create Joss Jamison, I wonder for a minute at my own audacity. Who the hell am I to get involved in this? Maybe I should be calling for Tammy or Walsh? I mean, I’ve only known Joss for a few weeks. But then I remember that I was the one he took to his grandmother’s house yesterday. I was the one he told about his dad. I was the one he put that ultimate trust in. So, I stride forward and put my hand out as I say, “Mr. Jamison? I’m Mel DiLorenzo, a friend of Joss’s.”

  Relief washes over his face as he realizes I’m accepting who he is.

  “Joseph Jamison,” he says as he shakes my hand. “Joseph Senior.”

  “Joseph…Joss. I never knew,” I answer in surprise.

  He gives me a sad smile. “I imagine it’s not something he chooses to publicize.”

  “So you knew Joss was in town?” I ask as I gesture to some folding chairs sitting nearby against the wall. We move to them and sit down.

  “I try to keep up with the band,” he answers simply. “I thought about seeing them when they were here two years ago, but well, it’s not easy, you know. We uh…haven’t seen each other in a lot of years.”

  That’s an understatement, I think to myself. “So what made you decide to come this time?”

  He clears his throat and looks blankly at the wall across the hall. I watch his profile, and I’m disturbed by how much he looks like Joss. How can people not see it? How is he not mobbed in public by people mistaking him for his famous son?

  Finally he shakes himself a little as if getting rid of an uncomfortable thought. “I heard about his mom dying,” he says quietly. Joss’s mother passed away about a year and a half ago. “I guess, well, I know he’s a grown man—a rich man—but I didn’t want him to feel like he was all alone in the world, you know? As long as he had his mom, I always figured he was better off without me. I wasn’t much of a dad. I don’t have a knack for it. But Joss, without a mom or brothers or sisters, I’ve been alone my whole life. I didn’t want that for him.”

  He hangs his head, and my heart aches for his honesty and for how terribly close to the truth he is. Joss is alone in the world, and I can see it every time I look into his eyes. I can also see how much he hates it. Could this man change that for him? Is it my place to make that decision? I can send him on his way or I can bring him past those doors and change Joss’s life forever. Maybe for the better, but maybe not.

  I take a deep breath, thinking through the ramifications of this. I know I can’t presume to make the choice for Joss, but I need to ensure that he has a choice to make. “Mr. Jamison—Joseph—the show is about to start, and I can’t let you see Joss beforehand. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  He looks up, worry etched along the fine lines of his face. “I don’t want to do anything that’ll interfere with the performance. I just want him to know where I am. If he ever needs anything, you know? And also that I’m real proud of him. His mother did a good job with him. He’s ended up being a fine man.”

  I smile at him, feeling warmth in my heart that I have no right to feel. “You’re right,” I answer. “He is—a really great guy.” I surprise myself with how much I believe the words I’ve just said. I pause and then take the plunge. “Will you come back to this door right after the show to see him?”

  His face breaks out into one of those Joss Jamison smiles. The smile that sets women’s hearts on fire. Joseph Jamison Senior is no slouch in the looks department, and my guess is he’s plenty popular with the ladies in his own right.

  “That would be great, Miss DiLorenzo. Will you meet me back here then?”

  “I will,” I tell him. We shake hands, and he heads out to the seats to watch the show.

  As Jeff walks me back inside the restricted area, he asks, “Was that guy legit? I didn’t even know Joss had a dad.”

  “Everyone’s got a dad somewhere, Jeff,” I tell him without really answering his question.

  He nods like he understands.

  “He’ll be back at the end of the concert. Just have him wait until I get here, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Mel. See you then.”

  “And Jeff?”

  “Yes?

  “Let’s keep this between us for now. It’s up to Joss what he wants to do with it.”

  Once again, his nod says that he gets it. Really gets it.
>
  THE SHOW goes off without a hitch, meaning all the work Joss and Mike did with the crew on the stage setup paid off. The guys come offstage, and instead of his usual hug, Joss grabs me and kisses me hard on the lips. I feel my face heat up, but at the same time, my heart flutters inside my chest. I look around quickly, wondering how many people saw, but everyone’s too busy congratulating each other to notice us.

  He leaves his arm around my waist and leans down to my ear. His breath is hot, and it sends shivers across the skin of my neck. “I’m not hiding how I feel about you, Mel, so you may as well stop worrying what everyone’s going to think.”

  I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t know what I feel. My body wants him, my heart seeks him, but my head keeps screaming, Run! I decide no answer is the best choice right now. And there are other issues to deal with.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask. “Alone,” I add.

  He grins at me. “Of course.” Then he grabs my hand and half-drags me back along the corridor to his dressing room, where he closes the door behind us and locks it.

  He throws himself down on the sofa, stretching out with his feet up and his hands tucked behind his head. “Okay, lay it on me,” he says. “All the reasons why we can’t be together. But just know nothing you say will change my mind.”

  I think I’m actually grateful that Mr. Jamison showed up tonight. I can postpone this discussion for another day. God knows I don’t have any answers. I’m fighting something that feels inevitable, but somehow I know if I don’t go down fighting I’ll hate myself later.

  I pace up and down the floor for a moment before I stop and face him. I see his smile falter. He can tell this is something else. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  He sits up now. “Okay.”

  “Before the show, a man came to the back door. I was standing nearby, and when the door opened, I heard him talking to Jeff outside. The guy said he was your father.”

  Joss jumps from the sofa and steps toward me. “What?!”

  I put a hand on his arm. “I went outside to check it out. I talked to him. Joss…”

  The look on his face is breaking my heart. I can see that little boy who wanted his dad so much he would stare at the skyscrapers of downtown Denver just to feel closer to him. I also see the rage of a young man abandoned by that one person in the world who was supposed to be there for him no matter what.

  I pull him down to sit on the sofa again. He sits motionless, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. I stroke his hair while I talk. “It was pretty obvious just by looking at him who he is, Joss. Did you have pictures of him?’

  He nods. “A few. My mom always said I looked like him,” he answers quietly.

  “You do. Just like him. It’s eerie.”

  Joss turns and stares at me, his voice is hard but his heart bleeding all over his face. “What does he want? Money?”

  It makes me so sad that he can’t imagine a world where his father would want to see him just because he loves him. My chest aches with how badly I want to take that look off his face, that tone out of his voice.

  “I don’t think so,” I say honestly. “He heard your mother died and he was worried about you being alone. He wants you to know he’s here and that you can contact him if you need anything.”

  Joss huffs out a breath and stands. He runs his hand through his beautiful hair in a gesture I’m beginning to recognize as frustration.

  “Somehow, I doubt I could rely on him for much of anything,” he says bitterly.

  “Probably, but don’t you think you should see him? I mean, this may be the only chance you ever have.”

  He turns sharply, eyes narrowed. “You mean he’s still here?”

  I nod slowly. “I told him to come to the back door when the show ended. Jeff’s keeping him there until I go get him.” My words rush out now, underscoring my fear that Joss will be angry with me for my presumption. “But I can send him away if you’d rather. I wasn’t sure what to do. I was so afraid you’d miss your one chance, but I didn’t want to interfere, and then he seemed really genuine about—”

  Joss interrupts me by grabbing my face in his hands. “You did perfect, Mel.” His voice is gravelly with emotion. “Absolutely perfect. You know me. You know what I need before I even know it myself. You’re right. I can’t miss my one chance. I may decide I hate him, but at least I will have seen him. I can’t spend the next twenty years wondering like I have the last twenty.”

  I blink back the tears at the trust he places in me. The way he hands himself over to me with no questions asked. I’m beyond words, so I lean up and gently place my lips on his. We linger for a moment before we both pull away, hearts beating rapidly. Somehow I don’t think Joss’s dad’s appearance has distracted from our possible involvement the way I’d hoped. If anything, it seems to be convincing Joss that we belong together more than ever.

  I’m afraid it may be convincing me as well.

  “Let’s go meet him,” Joss says as he takes my hand in his and we walk out of the dressing room. In that moment, I feel like, if we’re together, Joss and I could face down anything, and I can’t help but wonder how that feeling could be wrong.

  Joss

  I’M WALKING down the hallway of an auditorium in Denver, the woman I can’t seem to shake holding my hand, and my father, who I haven’t seen in twenty-two years, waiting on the other side of an industrial metal door. It’s more than my mind can hold on to right now, so I just hold on to Mel. She’ll keep me grounded like I did her in that swimming pool. She’ll be my anchor through this.

  We reach the end of the corridor, and I take a deep breath before I reach for the door and swing it open. I stride through, trying to convey a lot more confidence than I’m really feeling.

  Jeff is standing near the door just as he should be. I look at him and he tips his head toward a set of folding chairs nearby. Joseph Jamison Senior hears us enter right as I look at him. He stands and takes a step toward me then stops. We’re both speechless for a moment until Mel steps in and takes charge. She walks to him, giving him her trademark glittering smile.

  “Mr. Jamison, I’m so glad you came back,” she tells him as she places a hand on his arm, looking back at me to gauge how I’m doing. I’m stunned as I stare at an older version of my face in the mirror. The eyes, the nose, the shape of his mouth. Mel was right. It’s eerie. And he’s looking at me with a sort of longing. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer that, so I keep my face completely neutral. Luckily, I’ve had a lot of practice at it dealing with paparazzi and fans.

  He clears his throat before he answers, “Joseph, please.” Then he takes another couple of steps forward. “Hi, Joss,” he says awkwardly. “You ended up tall like your mom.”

  And I am, taller than him by a couple of inches. It’s surreal. I remember him vaguely, and he seemed so big to me. Larger than life to a five-year-old child. Now I’m looking down on him and he’s just smaller than I remember.

  “Um, hi,” I manage to choke out as I put my hand out. He takes it tentatively and we shake. His hand is sweating and I realize in that moment this is every bit as tense for him as it is for me.

  “Should we go back to the dressing room?” Mel asks, looking at me.

  “That might be a good idea,” I say, gesturing for the two of them to go ahead. I’m aware after we’ve gotten back inside that I didn’t even notice Jeff letting us through.

  Mel starts chatting to my dad as we head up the hall. It gives me a minute to try to collect my thoughts and think about what I want to say to this man. Only one thing comes to mind in the chaos buzzing through my head though. Just one word—Why?

  We finally reach the dressing room, and Mel ushers us in. Then she says, “Well, I’ll give you two some privacy.”

  “No,” I answer hastily. I can’t be alone with this guy. He terrifies me. He has the power to send me to a place I haven’t been since I was about sixteen-years-old. A place where I’m young and w
eak and powerless over the fact that I don’t have a dad. A place where other people feel sorry for me, and I can see the pity in their faces.

  I can’t go back there, and somehow I know that with Mel here I won’t.

  “Stay, Mel,” I say, looking at her desperately.

  “Sure,” she answers softly. “I’ll just sit over here. I’ve got some shots to look through.” She picks a chair as far away from us as possible and starts fiddling with her camera. I sit on one end of the sofa and gesture for my dad to take the other end.

  We sit and look at each other for a few seconds. “So did you like the show?” I ask.

  His face lights up. “Oh, it was great, Joss. Really great. I’ve got all the albums you know. All the Lush albums. I’ve always thought you boys were great.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him, at another conversational dead end.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m showing up after all this time, huh?”

  “It is kind of unexpected.”

  He nods his head, and I see the weariness around his eyes. I sense he hasn’t had a light life. I guess I know where I get my darkness from as well.

  “I heard about your mom.”

  I swallow, still brought low by my memories of her last few months—the cancer, the treatments, the suffering. I can feel a certain kind of blind rage well up under the carefree façade I’m working to show him. I was twenty-three years old when she got sick. Barely making enough money to pay my own rent, much less help her with medical bills and living expenses when she couldn’t work anymore. She was sick for over two years before she finally gave up the fight. And where the hell was this guy? Showing up eighteen months after the fact is hardly helpful.

  “I’m real sorry for your loss, son. Your mom was a good woman. Better than I ever deserved, and it’s pretty obvious she raised you right.”

  “Is that why you came? To give me your condolences?” I’m trying not to let the pissed part of me take over the curious part.

  “Yes, but more than that,” he’s quick to answer. “I know there’s nothing I can say about not being around for you, Joss. I’m the first one to admit I should have never had a kid. I’ll never be any kind of a father, but I wanted you to know how you can reach me if, I don’t know, if you ever need anything.”