For Love or Money

by Tara Brown

  My phone vibrates and I realize I have a date I need to cancel. I walk her to her dorm quickly, excited the media seems to have backed off in the last couple days. She’s no longer the top story, thanks to Weaver waking up. Fucking vultures are probably stalking Nance and Leo, the people they should have chased all along.

  She hugs the violin to her chest as she walks away from me, not even saying goodbye. Damn! I think I broke her.

  Maybe I should have done it differently.

  With my lip in my teeth and worry smeared across my face, I wait until I see the light in her room come on. It’s creepy that I know which one it is and I know it, and yet, when the light doesn’t come on, I’m running up the front steps and inside. Which is even creepier.

  I hurry up to her floor and open her door. It isn’t locked. In the dark of the room it’s hard, but I manage to see her in the sliver of light coming in the blinds. She’s on her bed, holding the violin.

  I cross slowly, trying not to be a creeper, and drop to my knees in front of her. “I shouldn’t have told you like that. I’m sorry, Lana.”

  She whispers into the dark. “I started playing when I was three or four. My mom loved violin and fiddle. She taught me at first, but then she went into the hospital so I got taught by her friend, a master. I would try so hard to be perfect so she would be proud. In case it was the last time she saw me play, I wanted her memory of me to be the best one. The week I figure she knew she was dying, she gave me this violin. She put the stars on and told me to look at them when I needed to remember I was her little star. When she died I practiced harder and harder and got more critical of myself. I played only for myself or my dad or the master who taught me. I never wanted anyone to see me play. I didn't think I was good enough. After Mom died, music was the only thing my dad and me had. I stopped playing because I just couldn’t take the disappointed look on his face whenever I froze up. He and I had nothing in common anymore. I didn’t want to talk about musical performers. I just wanted to be a teenager and have fun.”

  Shit!

  Her dad left that part out of the story. No wonder she nearly stroked, seeing the dammed thing. I feel like a first-class asshole and she just might be the bravest girl I have ever met. “I’m sorry I forced you. I didn't know the whole story.”

  “It’s okay. I didn't think you did, and if you did I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of seeing me freak out.”

  “Why on God’s green earth would you even want to be in this industry if you hate it?”

  She looks up. “I don’t hate it. I love music. For a long time music was my life. But when I stopped I just didn’t want to talk about everyone who was succeeding at it, and how they were such amazing performers.” She sniffles. “Why was my dad carrying the violin with him to Nashville?”

  I can’t help but smile. “I think he brought it with him everywhere. Brought a piece of you with him.”

  “And then he gave it to you because he was so disgusted with me.”

  “I think he gave up trying to reach you and he decided to try something new before you ended up hurting yourself too badly.” With my free hand, I cup her face like an idiot. Her gray-blue eyes glisten in the dark. I can’t help myself. I want to know. I have to know. Instead of listening to the common sense in my head, I lower my face, brushing my lips against hers. I hover there and whisper. “He loves you and you are enough, Lana. I promise you that no matter what, you are enough just being you. So stop trying so damned hard to be that other girl because no one actually likes her.”

  She shakes her head, but I kiss her again so she can’t shoot her damned mouth off. I can feel that moment where we both tear our clothes off and make a poor choice approaching, so I stand abruptly, cutting the kiss off. My hand is gripping to my guitar, in hopes of grounding me. I’m strong enough to back away, but I can’t seem to shut MY damn mouth. “Just be the person I know you are. I think she’s amazing and if you give her a chance, the whole world will too.” My free hand is clutching to the doorknob for dear life and somehow I find my way back into the hall.

  In the light of the hall I am stunned that I am such a presumptuous ass.

  What the hell was that?

  My phone vibrates again, reminding me I have some more hearts to break before the night is over, even though all I want to do is run back into that room.

  I force myself to leave.

  When I get to Marlene’s brownstone, she is alone and waiting for me in the kitchen, hovering over a bucket of ice cream with a spoon—a bucket. Shit.

  “You rang?”

  She glances up, looking rough. “We need to end our little arrangement, James.”

  I nod. “I was about to say the same thing.”

  Her gaze narrows in disbelief. “Did my husband talk to you?”

  My guts start to burn. “No. Does he know?”

  “Oh, thank God. You scared me. No. But he’s leaving for his own twenty-five-year-old piece of ass. So I need to keep my nose clean for the next few months while we are in negotiations. We have a dual prenup and my family always had more money than his.”

  I back away a little bit. “Well, I’m leaving for LA in a couple weeks when school’s out, so it should all be on the up and up.”

  “Does anyone know? Have you told anyone?”

  I almost tell her about Lana but I can’t. She already looks psycho enough without adding to it that the girl every mother hates knows her business. She paid me for my discretion. “No. Just you, Dana, and Elise.”

  She nods, taking a huge bite. She doesn’t say another thing, just waves at me. I turn and leave through the back door, slipping into the alley and hurrying away from the building. It’ll look like I was there for two minutes to see Andy, not his mom. If anyone is watching the house, waiting on her to slip up, they'll know he spends a couple nights here and I could be coming to see him.

  On my way home, I send a quick text to Elise and Dana, ending things. I haven’t felt this free in ages, and it’s all thanks to being blackmailed by a spoilt little brat who turned out to be the opposite of everything I thought.

  What an odd turn of events.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I’m enough

  Lana

  Holding the phone to my ear I try to focus on the conversation I’m about to have, and not the kiss of the century. What the hell was that?

  If I didn’t know better I would think he was my stalking foot pervert. He just knows too much. How did he say all the right things and break my heart? I don't even know him.

  It’s suspicious.

  “Hello, my dear. How are you?” Henry answers discreetly.

  “Good, I guess. I just needed to ask you something. When you told me to see if that James guy could help me, did you know my dad gave him my old violin?”

  He’s silent. “So you’ve learned that already? You’re faster than I thought you were. How on earth did you get him to agree to help you?”

  I shake my head. “How do you know he’s helping me?”

  “Just a guess. Now humor an old man and tell me how.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re fifty, that’s not exactly ancient.” I pause, almost not telling him but I haven’t gotten to mess with anyone in days so I do it. “I’m blackmailing him for a prior sin.” He groans, making me smile and declare with a joyous laugh, “Chill your jets. He’s on board and we have a band. I’m ready for this contest.”

  I can hear a smile in his voice. “Wonderful. Your father is going to—how do you kids say it—shit a gold brick when he sees you have James Holland.”

  “We never say shit a gold brick. So you think Dad’s going to be happy?”

  “I do. Not about the unsavory way you went about it, but each to their own.”

  “Well, don’t tell him, duhhhh.”

  He sighs into the phone. “Well, let me know if I can be of any assistance.”

  I bite my lip and close my eyes. I don’t want to ask but I have to know. “Why did Dad carry around my violin
?”

  He’s silent for a moment. “He loves you so much, Lana. He just always believed you would be able to beat that side of yourself that told you you weren’t good enough. Because you are. You’ve always been good enough, better than good enough. You’ve always had star potential, but you let your fears of failure get in the way. I don’t think it was healthy, always seeing all those other people performing. It gave you anxiety about your own performance. You were a little kid, comparing yourself to adults who had been doing it for years. And you were so broken up about the loss of your mother. You and your father.”

  I scoff. “He had an odd way of showing how upset he was. Marrying three women in five years is what I call excessive.”

  “He was dead inside and he wanted to feel again. Trust me, I was there.”

  There are so many pieces to the puzzle I am missing. How do I not know myself or my dad at all? I tap the phone, thinking. “I don't want to talk about it anymore. Just tell me why he gave the violin to James?”

  “I think he just saw another kid wasting what God gave him. Your dad has always been about natural talent. He’s never had any fun making a star out of just anyone. He prides himself on taking that diamond in the rough and making a star out of raw talent. James and you are both that. A raw talent that is just waiting to be scooped up and made into something. I think your dad has beat himself up for pushing you so hard. I think he thinks you rebelled because of it. I think he hoped James might ignite something in you again, that same love of music.”

  It makes sense I guess, but I refuse to talk about it. “I think I just was a kid, I think I still am in a lot of ways.”

  Henry chuckles. “Oh my. Young Mr. Holland seems to be having a bit of an impact on you.”

  “No! It’s just been one hell of a month, that’s all.”

  “Yes, speaking of which, we were all excited to see you cleared in the case of the young man and the drugs.” His voice is mocking again.

  It hurts to talk about it with him, like I was a different person making different choices. I want to say that was then and this is now, but it’s been two weeks and no one will believe that I’ve seen the light that fast, not even Henry. “I sort of thought Dad would call.”

  He’s silent. I’m sure he doesn’t want to give excuses for my dad’s absence so he stays silent. I shake my head. “I better go. I just wanted to know why a guy at school brought me my old violin.”

  Henry says something but I’ve hung up the phone. I’m done with crying and being that weak, pathetic girl. I’m done with being psychoanalyzed and having my head shrunk. I’m done with pills and drugs and pushing everything out of my heart. That’s not the life I wanted to have and not the person I wanted to be.

  Maybe it was a long time ago, but I am that girl still, I just have to remember how to be her. The girl my mom saw when she put the stars on the case.

  A knock at the door interrupts my weak attempts at reorganizing my brain. “Lana!” Leo shouts through the door.

  My spine tingles. No matter how much I want the old me to go away, she can’t. Her breadcrumbs are still scattered throughout my life. I wince and walk to the door, holding my hand against the old wood. “What?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  I know he wants those pictures. I don’t even have them. “No. We don’t have anything to say to each other.”

  He sighs, the door muffles it, but I can still hear it. “I want to apologize.”

  “Why? So those pictures are no longer an issue for you?” I guess a leopard never really changes its spots.

  He thumps on the door. “No! Dammit, I just want to say I’m sorry and sincerely try to make up for it all. I didn’t have any choice. You know I didn’t. Nance’s dad told me he would out me if I didn’t go along with it.”

  I sigh and slide the lock, opening the door. He looks rough, standing in the hall hugging himself. I wrap my arms around him, assuming the worst has happened. “He told them anyway, didn’t he?”

  He nods and I swear I feel a slight tremble from him as I pull him inside and close the door. He shakes his head, fighting tears and sobs but they win over when he speaks. “My dad told me he never wants to see me again and my mom wants me to try to pray the gay away.”

  I snort. I can’t even hold it back. He laughs and wipes his eyes. He gives a sorrowful look. “I truly am sorry for what I said. I always liked you, not because of Nance. It just made it easier to fuck you over if you hated me.”

  I pull him to the bed. “I don’t even care.”

  He curls up on the bed and closes his eyes. “They’ve locked my trust fund behind a clause. I have to marry and have kids and be straight for the whole world to see, if I ever expect to see a dime from my family.”

  I lay back, looking up at the ceiling. “I know that feeling.”

  He looks back at me in disbelief. I shake my head. “Not the gay-straight battle, just the family one.” I sigh. “Maybe we both need to start being more honest with who and what we are.”

  The bed shakes with him. He’s crying so hard he can barely breathe. I wrap myself around him like James did me and hold him. What a month.

  There are no words for that level of rejection. There is nothing to say that will make him feel better so we just lay there until we are both asleep.

  When I wake, he’s passed out, completely. His phone is going nuts in his pocket. I imagine it’s either a million tweets from the gay community celebrating the day the mighty sexy Leonardo Gates came out of the closet, or it’s his family members who disagree with his father’s decision.

  It stuns me that we still live in such a dark age for sex. I might not be physically attracted nor able to have sex with a girl, but dammit if I wanted to I would hate to see someone try to stop me.

  Leo is so beautiful, not inside but outside. Inside he’s still ninety percent mean-girl whore. But in my state of permanently locked in a glass house, I’m not judging.

  A knock at my door pulls my eyes from my sleeping beauty.

  Maybe it’s Nance and the world can go back to partially normal.

  I open the door, sort of stunned and slightly uncomfortable to see James. He looks up as the door cracks and I can’t read his eyes. I can’t guess what he’s thinking to save my life.

  He passes me my old case with the ponies and stickers on it. I take it with trembling hands. Seeing him makes the bad feelings real, but when I look up at his face I can’t fight the smile that’s there. It matches his until I see his eyes wander behind me and narrow. “Just wanted to see what time we were practicing?”

  I look back, smiling. The little wee bit of me that’s a good person screams for me to tell him the boy passed out in my bed is not only gay but would easily wrestle me for ten minutes for him—THE James Holland. But the evil side wins and I clear my throat, scratching my head. “You could have texted. I told everyone seven.” Torturing him is easier than talking about the kiss. The one I haven’t stopped thinking about at all.

  He nods, stepping back. He’s pissed. I can read that look from a mile. “Great. See you then.” He makes a noise that I think is probably bad and walks off.

  Something wicked happens as I close the door—I smile.

  He likes me. Not just in the ‘say the nicest shit ever and break my heart and kiss me in the dark before running away,’ kind of like either. He really likes me.

  Hmm.

  “Did you just let that poor boy see me and think something unholy?”

  I turn to see Leo grinning and nod.

  “That’s a mean thing to do.” He clears his throat and sits up, looking groggy. “Wait a hot minute, was that James Holland—THE James Holland?”

  I press my back into the closed door and bite my lip. My face answers for me.

  He rolls his eyes, pointing at the door. “GO GET HIM, YOU CRAZY BITCH!”

  I glance at the time, seeing it’s six thirty and shake my head. “We have rehearsals in half an hour. He’ll be there.”

  “Reh
earsals? Jesus, out of desperation for friendship you joined the theatre group, didn’t you?”

  It makes me snort on my way to the shower. “Come with me tonight and see.”

  His eyes glisten. “I’m not very good company tonight, Lana.”

  Stopping dead in my tracks I just say the thing I want to scream to the whole world. “I’m terrified of performing in front of people. I don’t want to be an agent or a music mogul. I don’t want a music label, at least not at this stage in my life. I just want to find my music again. Because I think losing it was the first thing that went wrong in my life, after losing my mom.“

  He hesitates before asking, “You sing?”

  “I can but mostly I play a violin or fiddle.”

  “No way.”

  His doubt in me makes me smile. “I don’t think I can even play for you without having a panic attack. But if you come, I will try to be the person I am, for real, so you can see me for the first time.”

  He smiles wider. “Let me go shower. I’ll meet you in the hall.”

  I nod and he dashes off.

  Every nerve in my body is on fire. I have never just confessed to it before. And I can’t help but wonder if it is James maybe, making me feel braver and stronger because he’s accepted who I am, and makes me feel like I can too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Normal guys

  James

  I hate that I’m sitting outside of the hall waiting for Lana, but my legs won’t move.

  I hate it even more when she shows up with the same guy who was passed out on her bed. She looks dolled up and confident, not looking the girl I like but the society minx. Not until she lifts her face, mid-laugh at whatever clever thing the preppy little bastard is saying. Then there is a moment where her eyes meet mine, and I swear they sparkle more than all the stars in the sky. She has on a short black skirt with knee-high leather boots and a teal sweater. Her dark-blonde hair and tanned skin make her glow under the lights above.