I’d thought it would be the bravest thing I could do to face him, but I was wrong.
It would be truly brave to take a chance on loving someone again—and give him a chance to love me back.
“Um… can we turn around? There’s somewhere I need to go.”
Brody looked at me, curiosity piqued. “Yeah?”
I took a deep breath and nodded.
Finally, I knew what Jesse wanted. And if there was anything I could do to help him get it, I had to do it.
Because that’s what love was, right?
“Yeah,” I said. “Do you think you can take me to the airport?”
CHAPTER 36
KATIE
I was pretty excited.
For the first time in over a week, maybe weeks, I felt like I was doing the right thing. I was taking control of my life. I was honoring Katie and what Katie needed. Thanks to Brody, I now knew what Jesse wanted, though I still had no idea what he wanted with me. That just didn’t matter anymore. Because it was time for me to grab my life by the balls.
I was going to show Jesse Mayes how much I loved him.
And if he got what he set out to get when he first asked me to come on tour, and he still wanted me by his side, I would know he loved me back.
I just had to get Jessa to come home.
I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but since Jesse was a guy, and Brody said he didn’t like to talk about his pain, I figured I could safely assume that he’d probably never actually told his sister how worried he was about her. And Jessa and I seemed to have rapport. I mean, we table danced for fuck’s sake. Some good old-fashioned girl talk could probably go a long way.
My gusto lasted all the way to L.A. and most of the way through my perfectly enjoyable dinner with Jesse’s sister. The dinner I was about to ruin, though that part was kind of inevitable.
Somewhere in the middle of dessert, it sputtered to an awkward death over the raspberry sorbet, during my clumsy explanation about why I was here. When I eventually ran out of words, Jessa Mayes just stared at me.
And stared some more.
“You mean, you flew here today? Just to see me?”
She sat across from me, tall and poised, her broad shoulders at an angle, one eyebrow cocked in a disbelieving look. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, but that thing I’d noticed the last time we met was more pronounced today; that flatness in her eyes, that lack of a spark.
I tried again, awkwardly, to explain what Jesse had told me. All except the suicide part.
It had all seemed so earnest when he’d said it, and so clear when I’d gone over it in my head. But coming out of my mouth, it just sounded wrong.
“I just thought maybe I could help. You know, to explain…”
“And you flew here? Today?” Jessa seemed stuck on that one detail more than any other.
And I just kept trying to steer her back to the point. “Well, he’s worried about you. I don’t know if he’s come right out and told you that, or if he ever would. But he is worried. And I think he has reasons for that. If that’s not overstepping for me to say so.”
Jessa set down her spoon, like she’d lost what was left of her appetite. “I didn’t know he felt that way.”
“He does.”
“I’m sorry for that.” She waved down the waiter. “I think we’re done here,” she told him, and I got a sick, desperate feeling in my gut.
The waiter cleared away our dishes, but I held fast to my wine glass. I took a swig, then took a leap.
“Why do you feel dirty?”
Jessa was touching up her plum-red lipstick in a gold compact. She paused and gazed at me across the candles. “Pardon me?”
It was hard to imagine the woman seated across from me feeling that way; the way the lyrics sounded. But…
“Dirty Like Me. You wrote it, right?”
Jessa looked surprised. She sat back in her chair, closing her compact with a snap and stuffing the makeup back in her purse. She held my gaze, but I could feel the wall going up. I was losing her, fast.
“I did,” she said. “The lyrics, anyway. Jesse and Seth wrote the music.”
“So why do you feel dirty? That’s what the song’s about, right?”
Jessa glanced around the room, then returned her gaze to me. “Is that what it’s about?” she said. I really couldn’t get a lock on her. Was she upset? Indifferent?
“I think so. That… and, I think, feeling beautiful. And powerful. And scared. And small. To tell you the truth, I just thought it was a raunchy rock song. But the first time I really listened to the words, it fucking gutted me.”
She looked like she could almost smile at that, but she didn’t. “Most people just think it’s sexy.”
“Sure. If by sexy you mean devastating, annihilating, soul-fucking-obliterating…”
The waiter came with the bill, and Jessa took it before I could react. “It’s on me. I’ll have to get going once they run my card. I’ve got a shoot early tomorrow.”
“Jessa—”
“I’m sorry, Katie. I really am. I appreciate that you flew all the way here to talk to me, and that you did it out of love for my brother.”
“I—”
“I can see what this means to you. And now, thanks to your kind words, I can see what it means to him. And I’ll talk to him, I promise. He needs to know it means a lot to me, what he’s trying to do. But it won’t change anything.”
When we stood outside, moments later, I tried again.
“Jessa—”
“It’s alright, Katie. There’s nothing more anyone can say to change the fact. Not you. Not my brother. I love him. I love you for trying.” With that, she took me gently by the shoulders, leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek that left me cold. Then she held me out at arm’s length and said, “I’m not coming back.”
It was possibly the most depressing conversation I’d ever had. I just couldn’t figure out why.
As much as I’d wanted to bring her home, I realized that I’d also wanted to help. But I was so set on this being the way I got to Jesse that I had no idea if I’d helped or harmed. I had a sinking feeling in my gut, and for a moment, standing there on the curb watching Jessa walk away, I had a small taste of what Jesse must be feeling.
He was right. There was something desperately wrong with his sister.
I could see it. No, I could feel it.
I just had no idea what it was.
The valet pulled up with the car and Flynn got my door; Brody had insisted I have security in L.A.. “Any more stops, Katie?” he asked, once we were settled.
Right about now, I felt utterly defeated.
So what the hell was one more blow?
“That depends,” I said. “Can you get me to Elle?”
◊◊◊
Apparently, he could.
He encouraged me to call ahead, and when I told him I didn’t have the number, he suggested I get it from Jesse. When I made it clear that wasn’t going to happen, he drove me to a tree-lined street in the Hollywood Hills where soaring gates stood at the end of every drive and I saw not a single person.
Flynn parked on the street and got out, walked up to the end of the nearest drive, to the security box, and pressed the ringer. I saw him speaking, but couldn’t hear what was said. He then strolled back to the car and opened my door for me. “Go on in.”
I stepped out of the car just as the gate opened. I scooted up the drive, hearing the gate shut behind me, wondering if Elle was watching me on a security cam somewhere. I glanced back to see Flynn lounging against the car, ankles crossed, lighting a cigarette and watching me go.
No doubt he’d be on his phone the second I was out of eyesight, reporting to Jude or Jesse or both.
The house appeared through the trees, this beautiful Spanish-looking stucco thing with rounded corners and a huge double door of dark wood. A luxury SUV with tinted windows and a Ramones bumper sticker was parked in the drive. Before I could knock, the front
door cracked, then swung open about two feet and stopped.
Elle stood there in the opening, staring at me.
First thing I noticed: she was shorter than she seemed at the club. She was probably wearing heels then. Now she was barefoot and just an inch or two taller than me.
She wore white skinny jeans with a floral pattern embroidered up the sides, and a small cream-colored crochet halter over her tan torso, a gold string bikini top beneath. Her long white-blond hair was pulled back from her face in several chunky braids, the braids and her loose hair all side-swept into a messy ponytail that hung over one shoulder. Without a trace of makeup she was beautiful, her clear steel eyes regarding me. And she wore glasses. Small rectangular frames, thin and a gunmetal color that went with her eyes.
I was glad I’d worn my sexiest jeans and a flattering ruffled strapless top; I’d dressed for dinner with a supermodel, which, as it turned out, was also the way to dress to face one’s fake boyfriend’s ex.
Elle tipped her head to the side, throwing a glance at the empty drive behind me, then fixed her gaze on me again. “Where’s Jesse?”
“On the road,” I said. Then I took a breath and said what I’d come to say. “It wasn’t real.”
“Excuse me?”
“Our relationship. You were right. It wasn’t real. But… then I think maybe it was. Kind of.” I hesitated. “Now… I don’t know. I don’t know what it is.”
Elle crossed her tanned arms. “I see.”
I had no idea what I was reading in those steel-gray eyes. “I just thought you should know the truth. And that’s the truth of it.”
Elle stared at me. “I know Jesse, hon,” she said. “I’ve seen him with a lot of women. Saw him waking up next to me. Saw him with you, too. If what you had was real, I’d know it. If it wasn’t real, I’d know it. Either way, you don’t need to come to my house to tell me.”
“I just thought you should hear it from someone, face-to-face, instead of the way you did,” I told her. “I’ve seen the things they’ve been saying in the media, and you should know that it’s not true. You weren’t replaced overnight. There was no overlap, and you deserve to know that. I never meant for you to be publicly embarrassed over the whole thing.”
Elle stared at me some more, then did the last thing I expected. She laughed. A short, humorless sort of laugh. “Honey,” she said, “if I can’t handle a little public embarrassment, I’m in the wrong game.”
“Oh.” Well that had to be true. And maybe that should’ve occurred to me before now. But it still didn’t mean she deserved what she’d got. The media had been merciless, like vultures picking over the scraps of the breakup, sniffing for dirt. Rubbing all those shots of Jesse and me making out in her face. It hadn’t seemed that way to me at the time, because I liked seeing pictures of myself with Jesse. I just hadn’t thought about how it would feel for her to see them.
She studied me, then uncrossed her arms and drew the door open a little farther. “You want some chili?”
“Um. What?”
“Just made some.” She stepped back, swinging the door wide, inviting me in.
Even though I’d already had dinner, I was tempted. I stepped over the threshold, and after Elle shut the door, I followed her deeper into the house. Once my eyes adjusted, the art on the walls snagged my attention. There was tribal art everywhere, pieces she’d obviously collected all over the globe.
We passed a room lined with guitars and big plush pillows on the floor. She had a massive black-and-white painting of Jimi Hendrix on one wall in the living room, which had a vinyl collection to rival my own. I recognized many of the spines and it was safe to say she had incredible taste in music; Bob Marley was playing over a surround sound system.
She also had two incredibly hot men in her kitchen.
Could this chick be any cooler?
Dylan was sitting on a bar stool at the island and Ash, wearing a frilly apron, was pulling a pan of something that smelled amazing out of the oven when we walked in.
“Katie!” Dylan stood and pulled me into a rib-crushing hug, which I was grateful for. It was a relief to see a friendly face. Not that Elle had been unfriendly, exactly, but at least now I knew she wasn’t planning to hack me up and put me in her freezer. Not with witnesses.
“Where’s that bony fucker of a boyfriend of yours?” Ash greeted me, giving me a hug as well. Which was funny because bony wasn’t a word I’d use to describe Jesse Mayes. Though Dylan did overshadow him by several inches and probably fifty pounds.
“He’s playing in Portland tonight.” I glanced at Elle. She was cutting into the pan Ash had pulled from the oven.
“You want some jalapeno corn bread?” she asked me.
“It’s Elle’s grandma’s patented recipe,” Ash said. “And we’ve got margaritas.”
“I’ll pass on the margaritas, thanks.” I took a stool next to Dylan. “I’m still sweating off the last batch you served me. And I just had dinner, actually. But I’d love to taste the corn bread.”
I hung out with the three of them while they ate chili and talked about some side project Dylan was working on. Apparently he was going to be an underwear model. Which made a lot of sense. I’d seen the man in a kilt.
When they were done with the chili, the guys refilled their margaritas and made themselves scarce. Maybe Elle told them to go; I didn’t know. But when we were alone in the kitchen, she said, “He ended it.” She looked at me with a cool, level gaze. “Knowing Jesse, he probably let you believe our breakup was mutual, out of respect for me. It wasn’t mutual. He knew we weren’t right, he ended it. I didn’t see it, not then. I get it now. Took a while for me to get to that place. I’m there now. That’s all you need to know.”
I digested that.
I appreciated her honesty. And that she thought enough of me to tell me. Not to mention the courage it took to admit that, aloud, to me.
But when I looked into her steely eyes, I remembered our confrontation in the washroom, only days ago, and I had to wonder if she was being honest. Fully honest. If she’d really gotten to that place... or was still getting there.
“Okay,” I said. There didn’t seem to be anything more to say, though it felt like there was something left undone. I just didn’t know quite what it was.
I could tell, as I’d sat here in Elle’s home enjoying her hospitality, that she wasn’t keen to have me here. And I couldn’t blame her for that. Even so, she was a perfect hostess, which just reminded me that she was a seasoned pro at all of this, and I was still so fresh. So unsure. For all I knew she felt like the enemy had landed, unannounced, in her kitchen, but she played it like it was second nature to her to treat Jesse’s new girlfriend with nothing but respect.
Surely she’d been through it all with him. The fame, the media, the women. And Katie Bloom wasn’t about to make her sweat.
I could probably learn a thing or two from this woman. Though I kinda doubted she’d be letting me in on the secrets behind her steel-gray eyes anytime soon.
I didn’t want to outwear my tenuous welcome, so it was probably time I get a move on. Before I did, I excused myself to use the guest washroom, where I checked my phone, which had buzzed while I was eating my corn bread.
It was Jesse.
What r u doing?
Clearly, he’d heard from Flynn.
I’d texted Jesse to let him know I was in L.A., but not why I was here. Other than that, I hadn’t been in communication with him, since it was harder to obsess over everything I’d done wrong and what I was going to do to make it right when I was obsessing over what I should say in reply to his texts. I couldn’t even think about getting him on the phone. But it seemed unfair to leave him hanging in this instance.
Eating corn bread, I replied. Then I added, In Elle’s kitchen.
I waited, a good four minutes, for his response. During that time, I pictured him pacing, running his hands through his thick, dark hair, maybe rubbing the back of his neck, eyebrows drawn togethe
r in thought. I so missed him. Brooding and all.
My phone buzzed.
When r u flying home?
Tomorrow, I think, I texted. If your ex-girlfriend lets me out of here alive. And then, just in case that joke didn’t land, I added a winky face.
What r u doing, Katie?
I answered, Just something I need to do.
Then do it and come home to me.
God.
The man had me reeling.
Those were not the words of a man who didn’t care. I was pretty sure of that.
See you when you get there, I texted. Because I’d probably reach Vancouver before he did.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Elle was waiting in the kitchen. “I should get going,” I said, and as she walked me to her front door, Jesse’s words repeated in my head.
... come home to me.
Words that made me feel warm, and nervous at the same time. Because Jessa’s words were in there too.
I’m not coming home.
I turned to Elle, determined to make the most of this moment and not fuck it up. Because who knew if I would ever get another?
I didn’t exactly expect another dinner invite anytime soon. It was fair to say that Jesse’s ex and I were never going to be BFFs.
But that didn’t mean we couldn’t be civil.
“Look,” I said to her. “I know you’re a celebrity and all the attention, good and bad, is part of the deal. I mean, so they tell me. I’m just figuring it out myself. I can’t possibly know what it’s like to be you. But I do know what it’s like to be left, and I know how it feels when it happens in public, and how hard it is to process when everyone’s watching and saying cruel things that aren’t even true. I know I didn’t replace you overnight, no matter what they say. I know that you’re family to Jesse, and that means he loves you. Other than that, I don’t believe a thing they say. Unless I hear it from you. And whatever they say about us, about me, I hope you won’t believe it either.”
Dirty Like Me Page 30