by Rico, Lauren
“And,” he continues before I can comment, “I think I might like to spend the rest of my life making you happy…”
No way! Is he talking about marriage now?
“…but I know it’s a little soon for that. So how about if we start by moving in together and see how it goes from there?”
I don’t know what to say. I was already on unstable ground before, but now I’m afraid I might be headed for a total emotional overload. My head is spinning with the torrent of feelings running through my body; the competition, Matthew, finding my mother… and now this. I just stare at him and try to process.
“Tell you what, this isn’t something you have to decide right now either. Let’s have some dinner, go to bed early, and see how you’re feeling about everything in the morning, hmm?”
“Okay…” I say softly, looking up at him with an appreciative smile.
He leans in and kisses me.
“Of course,” he says, between nibbles on my lip, “we can always go to bed and have a late dinner…”
****
The bed is warm and soft. It’s as much a haven for me now as it was when I was a child.
I hear the phone ringing out in the kitchen and I pull the pillow over my head to block out the sound until it has stopped. I know it’s daytime because there are chinks of light slipping past my blackout shades. But somehow the bedside clock has come unplugged and I’m not sure exactly what time it is.
Should I get up and see? Do I really care? No, not really. The heaviness that started in my heart a few days ago has spread throughout my body. I can’t seem to get comfortable no matter what I do. Sit, stand, play, walk. I just want to crawl out of my own skin. The only relief I can find comes in Jeremy’s arms.
He’s sleeping next to me, and I pull the pillow away so I can watch his well-defined chest rise up and down with each deep, dreamy breath. He looks so serene. I wish some of that peace would rub off on me. Maybe it will, I think, as I snuggle up to him, draping my arm over his chest. He stirs just enough to pull me closer against him. Yes, this is where I need to be today. Maybe every day. Nowhere else.
When I awake again, it’s with a start. There are loud voices in the hallway outside my room and they are growing closer. The other side of the bed is empty. Who is Jeremy talking to? Almost before I can form the question in my mind, I know the answer.
“You’d better get out of my way, Jeremy!”
“No. I’m not going to let you go in there so you can bully her into doing something she’s not up to.”
“I’m not going to tell you again. Get the fuck out of my way,” Matthew says in a tone I’ve never heard him use before. It’s almost… deadly.
Without warning, my bedroom door swings open with so much force, that I’m certain the doorknob has pushed a hole into the wall. And then, he is standing there, staring at me. Jeremy tries to follow Matthew in, but he’s a split second too late, and the door is slammed and locked in his face.
“Get up,” Matthew says to me flatly.
I sit up in the bed and rub the sleep from my eyes.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to get your ass out of bed. You were supposed to meet Dr. Michaels over an hour ago.”
Oh, so that’s what time it is. I shake my head at him.
“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to walk out on me, then come waltzing in here making demands when it suits you.”
He comes closer and sits on the bed next to me.
“You’re right. And I’m so, so sorry. But I’m here now.”
“No. Jeremy is the one who is here now. He’s the one who was here when it all went to hell. He’s the one who’s been holding me while I cry myself to sleep at night. He’s the one who is worried about what it might do to my career if I go in there and bomb because I’m half out of my head.”
He breaks his stare to close his eyes for a long moment. It’s as if he’s closing them against something he doesn't care to see.
“Julia, I’m not going to argue with you about Jeremy. I’m here because I know you better than anyone else, including him. Dr. Sam filled me in on what happened to you out in Montauk and hell, I’m even glad that son of a bitch was there so you weren’t alone when you came across her.”
Well, now, that gets my attention.
“But Goddammit,” he continues, his voice becoming softer and more intense at the same time, “you are not made of glass. I don’t know where you ever got the idea that you are. Julia, you are strong. You are determined and you are independent. She isn’t your mother. She’s just the woman who gave birth to you. You are so much stronger than she is, because you stayed. You endured. You thrived, in spite of what your parents did to you.”
He looks tired as he pauses to rub the bridge of his nose with his fingertips.
“But you know what,” he resumes, “you can sort through all the emotional baggage later because, Julia, I’m not going to let you throw away this opportunity. I will not let her ruin your life a second time.”
I look at his face, so different from the last time I saw it, when he was wounded and furious and jealous. Now I only see love, and a little bit of fear. That, more than anything, is what sets me in motion.
I nod my head.
“Okay.”
He tilts his head a little, as if he’s surprised that I agree with him.
“Okay,” he echoes.
“Would you mind letting my boyfriend in please?” I ask, gesturing to the door where I know Jeremy is trying to eavesdrop.
“Only if you stop calling him that,” Matthew sneers.
“You’d prefer I call him my lover, then?”
He grimaces.
“God, no. Boyfriend is fine.”
He gets up and reluctantly unlocks the door. Jeremy pushes it open, almost knocking Matthew in the face. For a brief second I’m afraid they are going to grab each other and drop to the floor in a tussle. But the moment passes. Matthew leaves and Jeremy enters. The symbolism isn’t lost on me.
I’m on my feet before he can even get all the way into the room, pulling open dresser drawers, throwing clothes onto the bed. He doesn’t look happy.
“I guess this means you’re going to the audition then?”
I stop what I’m doing and wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him hard before looking up at him. His eyes are colder than I think I’ve ever seen. No, he really is not happy at all.
I smile, coaxingly.
“I have time for a quick shower… why don’t you come soap my back for me?”
His demeanor doesn’t soften.
“I think I’ll pass, Jules. You might change your mind halfway through, and ask Matthew to join you.”
Oh, now that’s really not fair. But I ignore the tone.
“Please don’t be like that. Matthew’s right. If I can do this, I should do this. And I can, Jeremy.”
He looks away, refusing to return my embrace.
“Is this the way it’s always going to be?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you running back to him every time you have a problem. You listening to him over me.”
He pauses and the eyebrow goes up. But it’s not quite so sexy this time.
“Maybe it’s time for you consider the possibility that Matthew isn’t the only one who feels more than friendship.”
I push back from him.
“Stop it.”
“Excuse me?”
Now his brows draw down into an irritated frown.
“You heard me, Jeremy. You know how I feel about you. Right now I’m scared as hell, and I need you. I need you to have my back. I need you to support me… and love me. Please?”
I think I see the edge deteriorating, but I can’t say for sure. He can be so hard sometimes. Not to mention hard to read.
“Jeremy, after everything that’s happened, I don’t think for a second that I’m going to win this thing. And, the truth is, I don’t even care at this point. But Matthew is
right about one thing, I have to try, if for no other reason than to show myself that I’m more than an abandoned, abused little girl. That woman ruined my life once before, I’m not going to give her the power to do it again,” I say, putting my hand on his chest and giving him a tentative smile.
After a long, hard look into my eyes he sighs, and pulls me in so I’m against him again. He rests his chin on the top of my head.
“I can’t say I agree. I don’t think you have anything to prove to her, or Matthew, or anyone else. I saw you the other night after Montauk. I held you while you cried. Jesus, Jules, how much more are you going to put yourself through?” he asks from above me, his voice laden with concern.
I look up into his hazel eyes.
“I don’t know. All that I do know for now is that I can’t do it without you. I won’t do it without you, Jeremy.”
He is looking at me intently, searching my face for something, but I’m not sure what. Finally, he sighs and shakes his head.
“I won’t lie to you, I think this is a mistake, Jules, but I love you, and I’ve got your back no matter what.”
I smile and he puts his hands on my shoulders, gently pushing me away.
“Go get ready, you’re going to be late if you don’t get moving.”
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his lips lightly. There is nothing I can’t do with this man behind me.
Part Two: Jeremy
Manifesto
There is an art to destroying a life. If you’re going to do it right, it’s not something to be rushed. It requires research, planning and patience. A lot of patience.
Once you have determined to do this, you will become a private investigator. You must carefully chart your subject’s routine and personal connections. Discretely examine every smile, every toss of the head, every slouch and stretch. Drink in each action, because everything means something. It won’t be too long before you are an expert in reading body language and facial expressions
After the legwork is done, you should have a fairly complete external picture of your target. The next step is to assemble the internal picture. What makes her tick? Watch for signs of insecurity, arrogance, loneliness and other characteristics that you can use to your advantage later. Try to ascertain what she’s looking for in a man and become exactly that because your best chance of success lies in your ability to transform yourself into the man that she has been dreaming of all her life.
The first step is to insert yourself into her life. Your encounters must appear to be totally random, completely coincidental. Here and there, allow yourself to be “spotted” at her favorite coffee shop or bookstore. Pretend not to notice her at first. Act genuinely surprised to see her when you do, with every interaction be a little friendlier.
A word of caution here… once you’ve actually made contact, it is in your best interest to move quickly. Don’t give her time to question your motives or to be influenced by suspicious friends and relations. You can camouflage this expedited timeline with charisma and charm. Make yourself irresistibly free-spirited and spontaneous. In short, sweep her off her feet and don’t let her touch the ground again.
You know that expression “Go big or go home?” Embrace it. Think grand gestures and whirlwind relationship. Shower her with what she’s been missing - usually things like security, romance and intimacy. And don’t be cheap, even if money is what you’re after at the end of the day. Think of it as an investment.
If seduction is part of your grand plan, then having an idea of her ideal partner will come in very handy here. If she’s longing for security, go slow and be tender. If she’s shy or self-conscious, be especially attentive and make her feel special/beautiful/sexy - whatever the situation calls for. The objective here is to guide her to the point where she is dependent upon you, both sexually and emotionally.
And this, my friends, is where the real fun begins. You have collected all the tools you need to get the job done, so roll up your sleeves and let’s get down to business.
This is the time when you start to erode her self-confidence.
Start with little contradictions. For example, invite someone over, and don’t tell her. Become irritated that she didn’t remember. Become possessive. Demand to know where she has been and who she has been with when she’s not with you. Isolate her from friends and family. Become enigmatic. Leave without telling her where you’ll be or when you will return. For as much as you demand she tell you everything, you tell her absolutely nothing. Accuse her of being too clingy or desperate over even the smallest of gestures.
Reinforce her insecurities. Make comments on her appearance or the way she performs a job or task. Hit with something close to home here. If she’s an artist, make a snide comment on one of her paintings. Is she self-conscious about her nose? Ask her if she’s ever considered surgery to correct the problem. Show interest in other women right in front of her. Make comments on how hot/sexy/beautiful your former girlfriends were. These are all loose little threads to be picked at and pulled until the final unraveling.
Now if you are really lucky, you will have stumbled upon an “old wound” during your prep. Some skeleton buried deep down in the closet, maybe even a person who has caused her pain in the past, such as a parent or former boyfriend. Nothing will set someone off-kilter faster than coming face to face with something… or someone they believe to be safely relegated to the past.
So, if the goal here is to destroy a life, how do you know when you have succeeded? Quite simply, when you have reduced her to a quivering mass of insecurity, unable to trust her own instincts, incapable of functioning independently. You have taken away her self-esteem, her security, her very sense of wellbeing. None of these losses is easy to come back from. Congratulations, you have ruined her.
If any of these actions raises concerns, dismay or disdain, then you are not capable of manipulation on this scale. Your conscience, no matter how small it may be, will always get in your way. Never once should you consider something to be too much, too far, too dangerous or too destructive. It can be a painstaking, labor-intensive process. Because, to thoroughly and completely eviscerate a person, without actually killing them, is no easy task.
27
There are only a handful of other horn players in the warm-up room when I get there, and I spot Cal Burridge right away. Sure, I could go to another part of the room where there isn’t anybody else playing. But what would the fun be in that? I make a beeline towards him, setting my things down right next to his. He doesn’t stop playing scales. In fact, he doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that I’m standing there. But that doesn't bother me in the slightest. I start to unpack and assemble my instrument.
“What’re you playing? The Mozart again?” I ask casually, unzipping my case and pulling out the pieces of my horn one by one.
Cal just keeps on playing, pretending that he can’t hear me. I know better. C Major. C-sharp major. D major. All the keys, one by one go by in a blur as his fingers fly and his breath pours through his horn like its lifeblood. I screw the bell flare onto the body of my horn and pop the mouthpiece into the lead pipe, all the while chattering away at him.
“Now the Beethoven Sonata, you do a decent enough job of that most of the time, but I’ve heard you get a little flat in that center section. If it were me, I’d…”
He stops playing G-major and glares at me.
“Shut the fuck up, Jeremy.”
I smile at him broadly. I can’t help myself; I just love getting under Cal’s skin. Now, I put my own horn to my lips and start with a slew of scales that are faster, higher and louder than his. He begins to gather his music from the table, shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath. I stop playing.
“Time to go already? Too bad. Sounds as if you could’ve used a little more warm-up. That’s okay, I’m sure you’ll do fine anyway.”
“Stop wasting your breath,” he snaps, not even bothering to look at me anymore. “There isn’t anything you can say that’s going to
get you into my head. I’m going to go out there, and kick your ass, so I suggest you start thinking about what you’re going to say to everyone when you lose.”
I shake my head, still smiling at him.
“Dude, you’re a good player– I’ll give you that. But I’m better. And that’s not ego talking, Cal, that’s just observable fact.”
His face reddens and I think he’s going come back at me, but we’re interrupted before he has the chance.
“Jeremy?” comes Julia’s tentative voice from behind us.
I spin around to face her, holding up my arm. It’s an invitation, and she accepts it, slipping in and wrapping her arms around my chest. Her expression is impassive, so I’m guessing her performance was less than stellar but better than catastrophic.
“Hey, Jules! How did you do?” I ask.
She turns those big eyes up at me and shrugs.
“I did okay. I’m glad I did it, but I’m glad it’s over,” she says. “I just wanted to come by and wish you luck.”
“I appreciate it, but I don’t believe in luck. Just talent,” I say with my most confident grin.
“Well, you’ve certainly got that covered,” she says, stretching to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’d better go. I’ll be watching up in the balcony with your brother,” she says.
“Good. I’ll be able to look up and see you,” I say softly. “Cal’s up next, and then it’s my turn.”
The look she gives Cal is chilly. No, more like frosty. There’s definitely something going on between the two of them.
“Good luck, Cal,” she mutters quietly, before leaving us alone again.
When I glance back at him over my shoulder, he’s shaking his head slowly.
“What the fuck was that, Cal? Did you say something to upset my girl?” I ask.
He snorts.
“Something funny?”
“Your girl? Is that what she is?”
I ignore the comment, and step a little closer to him.
“Dude, I’m not kidding. Julia’s nice to everyone. What the hell did you say to piss her off?”