Gone Guy (Sand & Fog Series Book 5)

by Susan Ward

  How he stares at me makes me feel awful.

  The door closes, and I sit up. First, I block Eric’s number on my phone, delete the contact, our chat string, and every voice message I’ve saved. Then I purge my album of the pictures of us. Every part of him erased from my cell phone.

  It doesn’t matter that I’m still in love with him.

  We’re over.

  It’s foolish to hold on to this little piece I’ve got left.

  Eventually he’ll let go and stop contacting me.

  It will hurt twice as much if I let this continue until he reaches that point. I need to be strong. I’ll only allow him to hurt me again if I don’t stop this.

  I shove my feet into my shoes and head out of my bedroom. As I enter the living room, Jade gives me a sadness-tinged smile.

  “Don’t let Dean sneak onions on the pizza again,” she advises.

  Even though weeks have passed since that awful night in Seattle, I can still hardly look her in the eye. Turning away from her, I grab my sweater from the rack by the door. “I won’t.”

  As we go across campus, I keep my hands deep in my pockets, my fingers touching my phone. It’s not going to vibrate. I blocked him, but touching my phone is something I have to do to keep me moving forward on the walkway.

  Dean’s talking in his constant monotone stream. About his and Gary’s invention. His hopes. The company they want to start after graduation. Everything and anything that pops into his head. I’m sure he’s only trying to distract me from my thoughts. But it’s not working.

  He opens the door to the pizzeria and goes to the pickup counter. “I ordered ahead. I thought you’d prefer we take it back to Jade’s and eat there.”

  My lips turn upward in the poor excuse for a smile. It’s the best I can manage.

  He leans his hip against the counter and stares down at me. “It was great seeing Jade and Gary get hitched. Their wedding was a kick, wasn’t it? Shame your dad couldn’t be there. But the rest of it was fun, right? Me being the best man and you the maid of honor.”

  It feels like I’m suffocating. I didn’t need reminding that Dad boycotted Jade’s wedding because of me.

  Dean rests a hand on my shoulder and gives me a gentle squeeze. “It’ll get better, Willow, once classes start. You just need something to keep focused on other than what happened.”

  My face tightens as I fight back fresh tears. Why did Jade have to run her mouth to Dean? Who else in my life knows what Eric did to me? It’s enough humiliation to carry without having it broadcast to the entire world.

  “We can go to a movie after we eat,” Dean offers, taking the box from the counter.

  I nod without thought.

  “When do you start your on-campus job?”

  It takes effort to clear my throat enough to speak. “Tuesday.”

  “Working will be good for you, I think.”

  No, working is when I start to repay my dad for my mistake. Bit by bit. I’m going to send him as much as I can each week. He may not want me as his daughter any longer, but I sure as hell am going to prove I know how to behave like I am. Even if it takes years, I’m paying back every dime I shouldn’t have taken. Maybe then the pain and guilt I carry will stop crushing me.

  We turn the corner toward Jade and Gary’s apartment. I feel Dean’s fingers slip around my hand. I must have pulled them from my pockets without realizing it.

  His hold tightens, and I don’t pull away. “We’ll all get through this together, Willow. You’re not alone. You have Jade, Gary—and me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Eric

  WILLOW DOESN’T RESPOND. A few minutes go by, then more. Fuck, how can I fix whatever this is if she won’t answer me?

  It’s probably wiser to give it a rest, but the rock in my stomach hasn’t stopped turning all day and I find myself typing out another message. I need to know why this is happening, if Willow’s OK, and what kind of fuck you landed on my life this time.

  I hit send on the text and wait for it to be delivered then change status to read. Even though Willow’s not responding, as long as she reads them she’s not completely broken it off with me in her head.

  A red circle and an X appear next to the box instead. Failed delivery? What the fuck? I’ve got five bars. I hit send again. Second time it doesn’t go either.

  Oh fuck, she’s blocked me. I scroll through our chat string which has been exclusively me texting Willow for quite some time, looking for anything that might give me a clue as to why she isn’t talking to me and has blocked me as well.

  I remember the videos floating around the internet. Maybe she’s seen them. Maybe that’s what this is. It’s the only logical explanation for her walling me out without warning.

  I don’t want to call her at work, but if I can’t reach her via her cell I don’t see any other way. I do a Google search for Mel’s Tavern, Seattle. After tapping the number, I hit speaker and wait.

  The patio door opens.

  Tara.

  Fuck.

  I disconnect the call before it’s answered and switch off my phone. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She’s done something toxic in my life again. I can feel it.

  Worse, since we moved back to my place in Laurel Canyon she’s been like a house cat you can’t shake. Up in my shit every second I’m not barricaded in my bedroom or the studio.

  She slowly removes her cover-up and stretches her delectable bikini-clad body out on the lounger beside me.

  “Why the fuck are you always everywhere I am?” I snap, rising from my chair.

  She lowers her sunglasses and smiles up at me. “Don’t run off, sweetheart. Sit with me while I tan. I want company.”

  “You can stop pretending you’re not a bitch. My family’s not around for the charade.”

  Her smile grows larger and then she pouts.

  Don’t take the bait. I need to get out of here.

  I hustle across the concrete toward the house. Inside my bedroom, I call Mel’s again. I recognize the voice answering as one of the part-time bartenders and ask to speak with Willow.

  “Sorry, man, she doesn’t work here anymore,” he says.

  Doesn’t work here anymore?

  “You mean she’s left for school?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you have a number for her there?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t give it to you. Who is this?”

  “Just a friend.”

  “Can’t help you.”

  Fuck. I’m about to hang up, then I say, “Is Ivy there? Can I speak to her?”

  There’s a loud boom—the phone being set on the counter. Good, he’s getting her. I tap my fingers atop my thigh as I wait.

  “This is Ivy.”

  “Ivy, it’s Eric.”

  “Fuck you. You’ve got nerve calling here.”

  I flush and tense.

  She’s never liked me.

  But that’s more acerbic than her usual disdain.

  “Don’t hang up,” I plead anxiously. “I’m going out of my mind with worry over Willow. I haven’t been able to reach her. Do you have a number for her in Virginia? Do you know why she stopped speaking to me?”

  “Why don’t you ask your wife, asshole?”

  Slam.

  ONCE THE SHOCK WEARS off I head for Tara’s bedroom. How did she know about Willow? And better question: how was she able to contact her to fuck up my life again?

  Not sure what I’m looking for, I start tossing shit right and left. Nightstand. Dresser. Everything. Nothing pops out at me as something that explains how Tara’s been able to invade my life and fuck with me so effectively.

  Her possessions are strewn all through the room before I’m done and breathing heavily. But the twisting in my guts warns there’s something here and I better find it fast.

  My gaze settles on her purse hanging over the back of chair. Seizing it, I shake the contents out onto the fl
oor. A cell phone drops on my foot. My heart stops. It’s the burner cell I bought in Seattle.

  I pick it up and switch it on.

  The password’s been removed.

  How the fuck did she do that?

  Why is Tara keeping this fucking phone?

  I switched my number back to my real phone weeks ago. And, Jesus Christ, I left the SIM card in and didn’t delete my texts or photo library.

  Oh no. Two texts I know fucking well I didn’t send to Willow. Stop texting this number. Who is this? Followed by Give me ten. I’ll call you.

  She has it connected to the house Wi-Fi, so I log into my Eric James Facebook, and my stomach drops. Ten-minute video call I didn’t make.

  That conniving bitch.

  I rummage through the junk from her purse. The passwords. How does she know them? I open her wallet and dump the contents.

  There’s a small pink index card.

  I pick it up.

  My name on one side, and every account and password I have listed. On the other side are Ethan’s name and an identical list.

  I storm out of her room to the patio and drop the card on her lounger. “What the hell did you say to Willow?”

  She arches a brow. “What any good wife wanting to make her marriage work would say. Back off. He’s my husband and we’re having a baby. From how angry you are it must have worked.”

  My fingers clench at my side. “How did you get Ethan’s and my list of accounts and passwords?”

  She rolls her eyes as if I’m being annoying. “You both do the same thing—keep a list. You left yours lying next to your bed. Ethan hid his in an engineering book.”

  “How long have you been spying on us?”

  She bites back a smirk. “Since you tried to get Ethan to break it off with me. Did you think he didn’t tell me? He tells me everything. But I decided I should keep track on both of you after that.”

  It feels like my head is exploding. I’m angrier than I’ve ever been at anyone. “I used to think you were just a bitch but you’re dangerous and crazy. Do you know that?”

  “I got what I want, didn’t I?”

  “No, Tara, you didn’t fucking get anything. You’re nothing to me. You never will be. And the second our kid’s born, you’re out of here and I’m using everything I have to keep you away from the both of us.”

  Simpering like a cat who caught the canary, she slowly lays back down on the cushion and closes her eyes. “Not happening, Eric. Not ever. No court is going to give custody of a baby to an addict. Which makes it good for you that I don’t see any reason for us ever to get divorced. I got what I want. A soon-to-be-famous husband, lots of money, and all the perks that go with that and being part of your family. And you kept Ethan from marrying me. See. We both got exactly what we wanted.”

  I don’t answer her. I brush past her into the house. I need to get out of here before I do something I’ll regret.

  I’VE BEEN DRIVING for hours with no destination. I need to talk to someone. Have someone pull me from the edge. But it’s so fucked up. Tara. Everything.

  Who can I dare being truthful with? Who won’t judge me, just listen? That slot used to be Ethan’s, but not with this. Not Tara shit.

  I cut across traffic on Pacific Coast Highway to park in a beach lot. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Fuck,” I shout, shattering the quiet in the car.

  There isn’t anyone I can tell this horror story to.

  I roll down my window and slouch back in my seat. For the first time in my life I feel like I could cry. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

  I’m no clearer than I was before I left my house. In fact, my thoughts are more chaotic.

  I’m drowning here. Tara’s got me locked in a trap I don’t see a way out of. And I’m in love with Willow. The thought of never seeing her again makes me feel dead inside. Like there’s nothing in my chest anymore except an empty, cavernous hole.

  The way I felt every day before I met Willow.

  I don’t know what to do.

  My choices are that grim. Do I go back to Laurel Canyon or do I head out to Virginia to fix things with Willow?

  The minutes tick by as the ocean continues its steady flow and ebb. The Pacific is calm today. That mirage of still, glassy water even though the tides move and the surf crashes against the shore.

  Out it goes and back again.

  Over and over.

  Relentless and unstoppable.

  Like Tara.

  And it’s not hyperbolic.

  I’m positive she has some form of dangerous mental illness. I don’t know what it is, but it makes me afraid for my child and even myself.

  After starting the engine, I drive in silence. I turn onto the road to my house. I let the tears flow. There’s nothing about what happens next in my life not worth crying about.

  The direction I’m going is like driving from light into darkness. But it’s the road I have to take.

  Epilogue

  Black Dawn Front Man and Supermodel Wife Have Daughter

  Los Angeles Newstalk

  Black Dawn front man Eric Manzone denies rumors of substance abuse after the birth of daughter, Hana Manzone. The superstar’s wife has no comment. Eric Manzone is the son of rock legends Alan Manzone and Christian Parker. The third and most troubled offspring in this epic musical family…

  Black Dawn wins multiple Grammys as rock

  Metro-Insider

  Black Dawn and Darkness after Light scooped Grammy wins across all categories during tonight’s ceremonies. Eric Manzone et al scooped Best Rock Song for “Remember Me,” and Darkness after Light claimed the award for Best Rock Album of the year…

  Inside Eric Manzone’s Tragic Overdose

  People Talk

  The world of music nearly lost Eric Manzone at age 24 after a near-fatal overdose. His body was found by his brother. Sources close to the family believe spiraling addiction and Tara Geller-Manzone filing for divorce and supervised visitation with their daughter played a part in the events…

  Pressure of fame – will it extinguish rock music’s latest bright star?

  Hollywood Tattler

  Like his legendary father, Eric Manzone conveys in his lyrics angst and anger that people can connect with. But will he be the latest bright star to extinguish too early. After missing half the performances of his band’s current world tour, friends and family have urged him into rehab instead…

  Black Dawn Members’ Letter to Front Man Threatens Breakup

  Music Nation Today

  …Friends and family plead with 25-year-old front man to enter rehab. Black Dawn’s Eric Manzone dismisses claims that he been using heroin…

  Geller-Manzone Divorce: Claims hubby 2.7 million in debt

  TTMZR

  Tara Geller-Manzone’s marriage to Eric Manzone is on its way out. Geller claims the superstar front man of Black Dawn is bankrupt due to addiction, and has pleaded with family: don’t let Hana suffer your son’s mistakes… TTMZR discovered documents revealing the Manzone family has been paying $31,000 in monthly support directly to Geller over the last five years, plus an additional $500k annually…

  How Rock Legend Father Played Role in Eric Manzone’s Latest Rehab…

  Alternative Voice (blog)

  Jay-Jay Martin has published an extended version of his interview with Alan Manzone regarding his son’s most recent trip to rehab. The icon confirms there is no planned reunion for Black Dawn or for Eric Manzone to return to the music industry. Sources close to the family claim the family kidnapped their troubled son two months ago, whisked him out of the limelight, and checked him into what’s considered a last-option wilderness rehab program…

  10 Celebrities Who Have Gone Missing and Returned to Stardom

  Blue Light (blog)

  Eric Manzone. It’s been a year since the Black Dawn front man disappeared from the public stage. After a stint at an undisclosed r
ehabilitation program, there have been no sightings of the musician. But what does that really mean? Can he come back? Here’s a list of 10 celebrities who’ve done just that…and in number one position, music’s undisputed rock god: Alan Manzone…

  Eric

  The present…

  I JERK AWAKE, BREATHING heavily, with blue sky overhead and the sound of Hank’s coughing beside me.

  Turning over in my bag, I find my buddy packed up and ready to leave Volunteer Park. “Christ, what time is it?”

  “After eight.” His gaze grows amused. “That’s some dream you were having. Wasn’t sure if it was bad or good, so I didn’t wake you. You got just sweat in your bag or jizz, too?”

  If he knew what kind of dreams I have he wouldn’t have asked me if it made me ejaculate. “Just sweat, asshole.”

  He’s claimed by a worrisome blend of laughing and hard coughing. I brush the hair from my face and try to shake my grogginess.

  “We doing a meeting today?”

  “I am. You’re not.” I unzip and drag myself from the warmth of my bedding. From my bag, I pull out one of my extra portable phone chargers and hold it out to him. “You’re going to the free clinic to get that cough checked. It opens at nine. Stay in the park but get there right when the doors open otherwise you’ll be there all day. Hopefully, they’ll put you in the hospital. But if they don’t, get in line for a room in a shelter early. That cough is getting worse.”

  Rolling his eyes, he takes the battery from me. “You’re like having a nanny. Do you know that?”

  “What’s the goal the first year clean? No serious relationships. Get a pet or a plant and try to keep it alive. You’re my plant. I’m motivated to keep you breathing the next eight days until my one-year chip. You auger in and I can’t get laid for another year.”

  “Fuck you. Not funny. I’m not your plant.”

  I shrug as I continue to pack up my stuff. “Keep your phone charged. Text me when you’re done with the doctor. But no matter what, I don’t want to find you camping here when I’m done with work today.”

  “Where you off to in such a rush?”

  “The morning meeting at the Capitol Hill Rec Center. Don’t have time to go to the church across town.”