When we were outside and out of earshot and view of the team Eric smiled at me.
“Boy, your tastes have changed, now haven’t they Em?” he taunted.
“Really you want to go there?” Evan growled at him.
I put my arm up to block him.
“I was just acknowledging something very obvious,” he continued, his egotism spewing off of him as he signaled with his hands to Evan and himself.
“Yeah, I found someone who didn’t enjoy beating the shit out of me,” I hissed with my eyes narrowed.
Eric’s eyebrows rose in unison again and a smirk spread over his face.
“Really? I thought you liked it,” Eric said just as Evan’s fist connected with his eye.
Evan’s leg struck out, kicking Eric in the stomach before he could react and he fell against the ground.
“STOP!” I yelled.
The adrenaline of seeing Eric as I had once been scared me, because inside I felt a sick enjoyment from it. What scared me even more was the fact Evan was who he was, and he was beating up some no name piece of crap. Eric struggled back to a standing position, but Evan was quick to pin him to the brick wall.
“You want me to stop?” Evan’s fist was drawn back ready to blacken the other eye. “I know what the hell he did to you!”
I looked back at Eric’s reddening face as Evan’s hand pushed against his throat, closing his windpipe. I took a deep breath knowing the fear in his eyes was something I had dreamed about many times. It was wrong, though, just like it was wrong for him to have done what he did to me.
“He’s not worth it,” I finally managed to say.
Evan closed his eyes and shook his head as I pushed his arm down. He took a deep breath and turned back to Eric.
“Do you realize what a piece of shit you are?” he asked, releasing his throat so he could breathe easier.
Eric saw the weakness showing in his eyes and gasped out, “You don’t know how much of a bitch she is yet.”
“Really?” Evan’s vein in his neck was pulsing as he contained his rage. I could see in his eyes that he was ready to pummel Eric into the ground. He let go of his neck and grabbed the front of Eric’s head before slamming his head back against the wall.
“Let me remind you that you assaulted her,” Evan said as Eric crumbled to his knees on the ground.
Eric’s eyes looked up and instead of finding Evan, they found me. The look was supposed to send me groveling; to send me into the nightmare of my past when he used to look at me like that. It was supposed to put me in my place, make the threat disappear, but it didn’t—it gave me the strength to do what I should have done years before. When I marched up to him and knelt down so I was at eye level with him, he stayed put because his world was still spinning from Evan’s fist and a general lack of air. He pressed his head against the brick, face slick with sweat, and eyes filled with that venom that used to immobilize me. Then I did it; I raised my hand and sent it across his face, leaving it pulsating red.
“Keep your mouth shut and I’ll do the same, got it?” I hissed, feeling Evan’s hand on my shoulder.
Eric nodded, and I let Evan pull me up into his arms before walking in the opposite direction. With each step away from the man who had tried to destroy me I realized I didn’t have to let it consume me any longer. I could let go. I wouldn’t let it destroy me anymore.
Evan didn’t say anything as he slid into the black Audi and let the engine roar to life, but instead of putting the car into gear he pressed his forearms against the steering wheel and ducked his head down against the cool leather.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I should’ve controlled myself. I shouldn’t have approached him.” He looked up saying, “I just saw the look in your eyes…the panic and I forgot everything. I knew who he was and I wanted to make him pay. Believe me I know it was stupid, especially with who I am. The last thing I need is a suit slapped on me by my girlfriend’s psychotic ex-boyfriend. Can you imagine the media spin on that one?”
I stifled a laugh. “I don’t think he realized who you are, or would even think I could ever be with someone like you.”
His head shot up at the words. “You don’t feel that way, right?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking down at my silver French manicure.
“That you shouldn’t be with someone like me? The only difference between me and some other person is my money.”
“And massive amount of talent…and women who would die to be with you—but no. I don’t feel like that. I just know how he thinks.”
Evan narrowed his eyes at me. “Why the pause before? I’m sure you knew what I meant.”
I nodded. “I just realize how lucky I am to have you, but not because you’re famous…because of who you are as a person.”
He pulled me into his arms, burying his face in my hair. “I’m just as lucky to have you.”
We sat there for a moment, saying nothing, breathing in each other and the intensity of what had happened. I pulled away from him and took a deep breath.
“I’m proud of who I am and what I’ve done despite of him. I won’t let him take that away from me now. I’m going to write—really write.”
The coy, half-smile that melted me crept across his face and he pulled me into a passionate kiss that left me lightheaded.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered as his lips found my earlobe and then trailed down my neck to my collarbone.
Chapter 15
Two days after Eric met Evan’s fist I was called into corporate. It was rare that I was ever called in about anything; in fact I had only been there a handful of times since I had worked for the paper. I was one of the few writers who chose to solely work from home. There were some that did it off and on, but they often kept cubicles here for those times when they couldn’t get away from say, the husband or the kids, and really needed to get work done. I was glad I didn’t have that problem as I strolled down the dank rows of cubicles, where most everyone was giving a blank stare to their computer screens. Mike looked up from his, smiled and gave a little wave.
“Long time no see. It’s Emma, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m surprised you remember me so well after bailing out on meeting the special celebrity they had lined up,” I replied, leaning over the half-wall of his cube.
He sat back in his chair and raised an eyebrow over his thick glasses. “Doll, I heard you didn’t meet the celeb either!”
I smirked at him. “Or I just didn’t tell anyone about it.”
He leaned forward, his attention focused on me. “So it’s true then? You’re dating someone famous?”
I blinked at him twice as I tried to wrap my head around the fact that what I thought was going on, indeed was. “Where did you hear that?”
“Some chick’s mom at one of the basketball games came strutting in here having a hissy fit about you making out with your boyfriend…who she thought looked eerily like Evan Levesque.”
“Uh, what?!” I snapped, and I could feel the blood rushing out of my face.
Mike waved a hand as if it was nothing. “Don’t worry about it, no one believed her. Everyone thinks you’re some crazy hot cat lady.”
“Crazy hot cat lady?” I repeated with narrow eyes and he blushed.
“I said that out loud?”
I nodded once, and he gave an awkward ‘oh, shit’ smile.
“Hopefully, you’re not here because of the crazy make-out session with the BF,” he managed to cough out to try to distract me.
“Cat lady? Really? I hate cats.”
“There was a crazy hot in front of it,” Mike added.
“There could be a crazy sexual harassment case, too,” I retorted and watched as he shrunk in his chair.
“Seriously, so sorry Emma. I was just trying to ease the tension,” he answered with a look of fear.
I looked at the ceiling before returning my eyes to his. “Just tell them I hate cats, and tell the mom’s to stay out of my love life
.”
Mike nodded in a quick, spastic motion. “Yeah, will do.”
I walked away shaking my head and praying I’d never have to go on another assignment with him again. When I reached my boss’ office he was on the phone and signaled me to sit down. He finished his conversation, which apparently was what he was ordering for lunch and then put both hands on his desk in front of him, his lips pursed.
“How have you been Emma?” he asked.
“Fine, thanks,” I replied. “You Greg?”
“Well, thank you. So, the reason I called you in,” he paused for some sort of effect, and I nodded at him to continue. He frowned before doing so. “Your articles on music are great, but the ones we have you doing most often are sports. I’m just curious; do you have more interest in music than sports?”
I tried not to look disrespectful as I blinked at him. “Yeah, a little bit.”
He leaned forward with a smile. “I was just wondering why that is?”
I shook my head at him. “I’m just not much of a sports person?”
“Is that all?”
I scooted my chair back. “Are you trying to insinuate something, because I really feel like I’m missing something here?”
He frowned at me. “I was just trying to see if you would be more interested in doing some sort of column on the local music scene. I’d also be looking for reviews on the hottest new music as well.”
“Really?”
He nodded, but his face still seemed displeased.
“I’d quite enjoy that.”
“It will be a weekly column, so we might have you doing some sports events as well, but Mike seems to be better at those. His reporting on the music festival was…interesting.”
I coughed to cover my laugh. “He quite enjoyed the funnel cakes.”
Greg shook his head. “He did write mostly about the food, but I suppose it supplemented your article nicely in that regard.”
“Was there anything else?”
He took a deep breath and cringed a bit. “There was a little situation I needed to talk to you about.”
“The angry sports mom?” I inferred.
His nose twitched. “Yes, that was another reason we thought music would be a bit better than the high schools for you. That and the, umm…insinuation that you are distracting in other ways.”
I pulled my v-neck shirt up a little bit.
“I see,” I muttered.
He scratched his bald head in the awkward silence. “We don’t have a dress code for you guys…gals…I mean, you can’t help that you’re…okay, I’m not going to come out and say it. We’ve addressed it either way.”
“Thanks?”
“Do you know Eric Silverstein?”
My breath caught in my throat. “Why?”
He shrugged. “He’s the head coach for the basketball team at the GEA. He ended up with a black eye last week after the game. I was wondering if you might know him because you graduated the same year. I thought you might have an in to get some information about it?”
I tried to tell myself not to panic. “I don’t communicate with anyone from high school anymore.”
“No friends on Facebook?”
“I don’t have one.”
“I see…so you don’t know anything about it?”
“I didn’t get an interview with him.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. You usually get interviews for these sorts of things, so I thought it was strange,” he replied as he leaned back in his chair, his hands forming a triangle in front of his large frame.
“I got the interviews with the two young ladies in the audience, was that not okay?” I asked, but my voice cracked at the end in my nervousness.
“Oh, no it’s fine. I just thought it was odd, was all. I was trying to do a little investigating—it’s never a good thing when a coach shows up after a game with a big black eye. I was wondering if he got in a little fight with the other coach,” Greg explained, and the accusation I expected wasn’t there.
“I’m not sure. He had a hot temper when we were in high school, so I guess he could have.”
“Interesting,” he replied. “So anyways, I’ll want the first column ready for next week, and don’t be afraid to use any connections you have in the music business.”
There it was. I nodded, but didn’t answer yes or no.
“Thanks. What’s my first assignment?”
Greg handed me a paper as I stood. “Here’s a list of CD’s we are going to need you to review. There’s also a list of shows to date to cover. There may be other things that come up, but you’ll get all your tickets for the events emailed with your press passes.”
“Sounds good,” I answered and headed out the door, glad to escape any more close calls.
Chapter 16
I sat staring at the blinking cursor, waiting for words to come that wouldn’t. It had been so easy to write the slush about the album I was assigned for the week, but now when I sat down to write about something that mattered, I couldn’t. In truth I didn’t want to write, but I was trying to force it out of me. I looked down at the iPhone and let my finger drag across the screen, but there was nothing there. No text messages. No voicemail. It had only been a week, and I didn’t know why I was freaking out now. Evan sometimes went two weeks without so much as a text, but not being able to share the good news about being able to write about something I was interested in sucked. It was now that I started to see how hard this could be, and as I waited for him to call my imagination began to work overtime. I tried not to think of all the beautiful women all over the world that would throw themselves at him if they had the chance. It wasn’t that I was confident in myself; it was the fact that being a writer gave me a vivid imagination. It was a comfort at times, but this week it was anything but. I raked my hands through my tangled hair and stood to go to the French doors. The full moon was shining in, casting shadows over my Ibanez. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before walking over to it and taking it in my hands. I let my imagination take over as I reached over to Evan’s pick sitting on my bedside table. I was in control of my mind. I had to be. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers into the cool, hard strings. I could hear his voice clearly in my head.
“A-D-D-B-C-D-A…”
I let my fingers find their place as the pick struck the strings and sound echoed in the room. I played the whole song with his voice echoing in my mind and when I opened my eyes my mom was standing in the doorway, her thin frame barely taking up half of the doorway as she braced herself against the wood. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open in shock.
“I didn’t know that you played, hell, I didn’t even know you had a guitar.”
I shrugged and got up to put it back on its stand. “That’s what happens when you’re dating a musician I suppose.”
She stepped into the room and then stopped, blinking at me before saying, “What?”
“I’ve been dating a musician for a few months now,” I answered, my hand still resting on the head of the guitar. I smiled at the realization Dad had kept his promise.
“I didn’t know they made acoustic guitars in purple,” she managed to stutter out. She was looking all over the room for something to give her a clue as to who I was dating. She found a picture and cocked her head before shaking it no. I wasn’t sure what she was saying no to inside her head. I wondered if she really knew who the guy in the picture was, or if that was what she doubted. She rubbed her forehead with her hand before plopping down on my bed and looking up at me.
She bit the inside of her lip and her brow furrowed. The worry made her look her age.
“You look like you’ve lost weight,” she finally said.
I tightened my jaw in defense as I tried to come up with some explanation for whatever weight loss she was seeing. She huffed as she stood and headed for my kitchen. She reached the fridge and yanked the door open with a bit too much force. “There’s nothing in here.”
“Mom!”
I knew th
e road she was heading down, and it wasn’t one I had ever wanted to travel along, even when it had been true.
“This boy isn’t—” she began but stopped as I threw my hands up to silence her.
“You think I’d let that happen again?” I snapped at her, crossing my arms over my chest.
She frowned and looked down before letting her eyes meet mine. The intensity was there, and it made tears prick at my eyes. I didn’t want her to say it.
“I didn’t think you would the last time.”
There they were. The words that cut slivers of guilt out of my soul, ones that had been mismatched when it had shattered the last time.
“Not this again!” I shouted, making her step back in defense. I lowered my voice as I continued, “I’m fine Mom, fine. I promise. If it makes you feel better I’ll eat dinner with you every night until you feel I’m okay.”
Her chest rose as she let out a sigh. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
I rolled my eyes, sick to my stomach as she glanced down at the floor in silence. I knew she wasn’t done.
“You never told me—us, what happened?” she finally asked, her brown eyes searched mine for an answer I would never be able to give.
“I’m not going there today. I’m not going there ever,” I managed to say.
She heaved another sigh and headed to the door up to her house. She turned with one hand on the doorknob. “You still like feta and spinach on your pizza?”
I nodded at her and watched as she smiled before going up the stairs, the door shutting behind her. When I heard it click I crumbled to my knees, pulling them to my chest. In my head the dark shadows were creeping in, pinning me down so my breathing was beginning to panic. The imagination that had saved me only minutes before was now punishing me; pushing in on me and crippling me. As the faded memories washed over me I fought at them, kicking them away as the tears began to rush down my cheeks.
“You stupid—” Eric’s voice was as crisp as the first day I heard it, but it was cut off by Evan’s voice singing.
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