by Elle Greco
“No, not yet,” Reesie said. “Jett, I’d love to talk to you about your song.”
“What song?” I asked.
“‘Derelict,’” she said.
“‘Derelict’?” I repeated, the blood leaching out of my face. How the hell did Reesie know about “Derelict”?
Vivienne’s hand tightened around my wrist. She was the only thing keeping me rooted to the floor.
“Rafe played it for me when we were FaceTiming the other night,” Reesie continued.
Ice traveled through my veins. “He did?”
“I want that on my EP.”
“Reesie—” Rafe cut in but Reesie plowed on.
“Rafe’s taking me to dinner tonight. At Parma! Can you imagine all those carbs?”
“Parma?” I echoed.
Reesie giggled, the pitch high enough to make me cringe. At least the cringe hid the fact that news of this dinner had rocked me straight to my core.
“Jett, it’s not—” Rafe’s began again.
“Maybe we can meet up for drinks after?” she kept going. “Although I’ll probably be ready to go to bed. I’ll be suggestible, so that could work in your favor.” She turned her bleached smile on Rafe. “And definitely yours.”
“‘Derelict’ is not for sale,” I blurted out, my voice cracking.
Reesie drew her head back, and her perfectly arched eyebrows came together. “I’m sorry?”
“Derelict’ is not for sale,” I repeated. This time the words came out clear and steady. “That’s my song. It’s not for sale.”
Her lips formed a pout. “But Rafe said you were selling your songs. And I want ‘Derelict.’”
I turned to Rafe. “How does she know about ‘Derelict’?”
“Jett, you’ve got this twisted—"
“Twisted? She asked for ‘Derelict.’ Not much to twist there.”
Of all the songs that Rafe could play for Reesie, it had to be that one.
“You’ve got it all wrong, babe—”
“No, you’ve got it wrong,” I snapped. I waved my finger between two of them. “You’ve both got it wrong. ‘Derelict’ is my song. It’s not for sale.”
I turned, and with Vivienne by my side, we marched back down the hallway toward reception.
“At least think about it?” Reesie called after me.
I lifted my hand and chucked her the finger.
I took deep breaths as we walked.
“What do you need?” Vivienne asked me as we rounded her desk.
“I don’t, I don’t…” I looked at her, her face worried, her voice concerned. “I don’t know.”
“Burgers and beer is usually my go-to, but obviously the burger part is out,” she said. “Pizza? Cake? Can’t go wrong with cake.”
“I don’t…”
“Honey, if ever there was an eat-your-feelings moment, this is it,” she said.
“Donuts,” I said. “I think donuts.”
“That’s good. Donuts are good.”
She unlocked her desk drawer with a set of keys and pulled out her purse. “Donuts. Then we’ll grab takeout and go to your place for a movie marathon.”
“I don’t have a TV,” I said.
“Right. You know what, let’s go to a movie. Eat shitty nachos. That cheese they serve isn’t real, right? It’s probably vegan. Maybe we can sneak in some donuts too.”
“What about… what about…” I stammered.
“Work?” she asked. I nodded. “I’ll text Bobby. He’ll be cool. Yeah?”
“Jett?” Rafe’s voice came from behind us.
Vivienne and I both froze.
“Can we talk?” he continued.
I did a slow turn toward the sound of his voice, my eyes closed as I tried to keep my composure.
“Jett, hear me out,” he said, taking a step toward us.
I sucked in a breath. “No, Rafe. I’ve heard enough.”
He held out his hand. “I want to explain.”
“No, really,” I said, blinking fast to keep the tears back. “What’s to explain? Reesie’s back in town. You must have lots to catch up on.”
“Jett, it’s about ‘Derelict.’ You need to know—”
“That’s not up for discussion,” I said, my voice hard.
Vivienne looked at me. My chin wobbled.
“Shit,” she muttered. She wrapped an arm around my waist and directed me toward the door. “We’re done here. It’s time for donuts. A movie with lots of explosions. Nachos with shitty cheese.”
Then Vivienne whisked me out of En Fuego. I looked back through the glass of the office building’s facade. Rafe’s head was down, his hand pressed to the back of his neck, like he was staring at the pieces of my heart shattered at his feet.
31
“I hate hospitals,” I muttered to Nikki as we made our way through the maze of hallways to find Presley’s room.
The good news was that she had made it through detox. The bad news, we realized as we located Room 1604B, was that she was now well enough to talk to the cops. Two detectives, badges around their necks, were at her bedside, taking notes.
Presley’s eyes lifted as we hovered in the doorway. Her face brightened, and one of her stunning smiles followed. My heart skipped to see my sister’s vibrance slipping back into her face, which was still pale and gaunt.
“Come in,” Presley rasped. I could barely hear her over the beeps and bells that rang out in the hallway.
“Please,” said one of the cops. It was the hot one. He was still around. “We don’t want to take up any more of Ms. Benson’s time.”
I caught Presley watching the hot cop’s ass as they left the room. Not that I blamed her.
Nikki gave a low whistle. “Damn. LAPD’s stepped up their game.”
“I thought they only allowed firemen to be that good-looking,” I said in agreement.
“Shhhhh,” Presley said, her own body shaking with laughter. She jerked her head toward the door. Hottie detective was standing just outside with his grizzled partner. His lips quirked. He had heard the entire thing. Heat rose on my neck, creeping up my cheeks.
“Real smooth, both of you,” Presley teased in a hoarse whisper.
“Like you didn’t notice,” Nikki said, flopping into the chair beside the bed. She hung her legs over one arm.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, settling my ass on the edge of Presley’s bed.
Presley glanced at the door again. The cops still lingered, heads together, whispering.
“Maybe you should have had a lawyer with you,” Nikki said.
Presley shook her head. “They just wanted to know… feeling… schedule… talk.”
I pressed my lips together and leaned in. Her raspy voice was so quiet, I couldn’t quite catch what she was saying. Nikki, too, swung her legs from over the arm of the chair and leaned forward, head bowed, her elbows on her knees.
“I don’t remember much from that night,” Presley continued, her sigh shaking the bed. “I really mucked things up, didn’t I?”
“Nah,” Nik said, bringing her head up. Her eyes slid to the door again, and she, too, kept her voice low. “If anything, this situation propelled Vince to get off his ass and do something about Grimm. Finally.”
“Yeah, but it sucks that this had to happen for him to make a move,” I said.
Presley’s smile was weak. “Vince was working on it.”
“Before it was all just rumor and speculation,” Nikki said, backing up Presley (and Vince). “Now with Jordan finally—fucking finally—arrested, he’s selling out Grimm’s entire operation.”
“Grimm’s hands remained squeaky clean,” Presley whispered.
“Hopefully there’s enough there to get everyone out of their contracts and out from under his thumb,” I said.
“There will be,” Nikki said with a tone of finality.
“Let’s talk about you,” Presley choked out, her head swinging my way.
“What about me?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“Nothing to tell, just doing my thing.”
“She got her own place,” Nikki offered.
Presley’s brows knitted together. “Why?”
“Why?” I asked with a snort. “So I didn’t have to couch surf anymore.”
Her eyes darted to Nikki before they returned to me. “Rafe?” she mouthed, her voice clearly exhausted.
“It’s not like that,” I said.
She reached out a painfully thin arm, and her icy hand slid into mine.
“Presley.” I stopped because my eyes had filled with tears, and they spilled over before I could stop them. I leaned down and pressed my forehead to her hand and sobbed.
Presley’s other hand moved to my tangled hair. The slight pressure of her fingers against my scalp was soothing. The bed shifted, and Nikki sat behind me, her hand moving up and down my back.
When my crying jag broke, I raised my head to look at Presley through bleary eyes. “I am so sorry, Pres. I am so sorry. I was such an asshole. I didn’t think… I didn’t know…”
Presley just shushed me and opened her arms, and I fell against her bony chest, alarmed at how thin she felt but relieved to hear her strong heartbeat under the thin fabric of the hospital gown.
“It’s okay,” she whispered into my hair.
“No, it’s not okay,” I said, pulling myself up and wiping my eyes. “I was an asshole. I thought… I accused you and Vince… I can’t even say it.”
“Pamela is poison,” Nikki said. “And yeah, to the outside world, Presley and Vince looked weird. I’m sure Presley knows that.”
We both looked at our older sister, and she nodded her agreement.
“So, that’s done,” Nikki said. “What we need to focus on now is helping Presley get well.”
I straightened my shoulders. “Right.”
Presley shrunk back against the pillows and did the impossible—she looked even more tiny. Then she sucked in a breath, and in her staccato whisper, she asked, “So what’s up with you and Rafe?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Nikki threw down.
I twisted my head to look at her, my eyes wide.
“Oh please, stop it,” Nikki said. “You moved into his place. He hooked you up with En Fuego, and now Bobby’s setting up a listening party for a Jett Benson EP. How cool is that, right?” She paused and looked at Presley, waiting for her to agree it was cool. After Presley lifted her hand and gave me a thumbs-up, her face beaming with pride, Nik continued, “Suddenly, you’re renting out a studio apartment. And Rafe is, like, what the fuck?”
“How do you know what Rafe is like?” I snapped.
“Because he talks to Dion.”
“To Dion, not to you.”
“I eavesdrop.”
“Nik!”
Presley’s silent laughter shook the bed.
“What? You’re the one shacking up with the guy you are so clearly in love with.”
“That’s not true,” I retorted. “I have my own place, and I am not in love with him.”
“You’ve been in love with him since at least the Rogue tour,” Nikki said.
“I have not,” I said. A knowing look passed between Nik and Presley. “God, you guys suck.”
“Yeah, we suck because we lay out the truth bombs,” Nikki said. Presley clapped her hands in affirmation. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but you both need to get over yourselves and sort it out.”
“Nothing happened. I wanted my own space, and everything was fine,” I said. Then a long sigh shuddered out of me. “Then Reesie blew into town.”
Presley’s mouth turned down. Nikki’s too. Their immediate reaction confirmed my own: Reesie and Rafe 4-ever.
“Reesie? Why is she even here?” Nikki asked.
My shoulder quirked up. “Time off between shows, she said. Heard Rafe had hooked me up with Bobby. Wanted to see what was up.”
“She is such an opportunistic bitch,” Nikki spat out.
“Is she?” I asked.
Presley tilted her head and gave me a you-must-be-joking look.
“Okay, so maybe she is,” I admitted. “But you weren’t there, you didn’t see them. All close together, just like they used to be. God, they were even going to dinner!”
Presley’s forehead wrinkled. “Dinner?”
“Parma!” Nik and Presley both gave me skeptical looks. I launched off the bed and started pacing Presley’s room. “And she asked me to meet them for drinks after to discuss my song. Our song.”
“What song is that?” Nikki asked.
“‘Derelict,’” I said to the floor.
Nik looked at Presley and shrugged. “I don’t know that one.”
I cleared my throat and sang through a stanza and the chorus.
“I don’t blame her for wanting it,” Nik said. “It’s a fucking excellent song.”
“And it’s mine.”
“Of course it’s yours,” she agreed. “It’s about you and Rafe. Obviously.”
I huffed. “No, it’s not.”
“You wrote a song about Rafe called ‘Derelict’?” Presley whispered from the bed, a huge grin on her face.
“It’s not about Rafe,” I argued.
“Wish we had a guitar,” Nikki said wistfully. “Sing it again.”
I crossed my arms. “No way.”
“Come on,” Nikki urged. “One more time.”
I looked at Presley, who eyed me expectantly.
“It’ll make her feel better,” Nikki cooed.
Presley grinned.
“Ugh, fine, just the opening though,” I said, tilting my head to the ceiling and closing my eyes. I hummed Rafe’s music to get the right notes, then quietly gave them the opening stanza.
You dominate my mind
Your heart drives through my soul
Our bodies intertwine
Our love survives death’s toll
The end was met with silence. Heat traveled up my neck, and my cheeks flushed. I opened my eyes to see both of my sisters beaming at me.
“That’s some poetic shit right there,” Nikki said. “No wonder Reesie wanted it.”
“Perfect,” Presley croaked.
“Stop talking,” I ordered, my eyes welling up with tears. “You need to rest your voice.”
She grimaced at me.
“If you give Reesie that song, I’ll kill you,” Nikki said. “If you don’t use that song, it belongs to Satan’s Sisters.”
My head snapped to her, and my eyes bugged out of my head.
“What?” Nikki asked.
I made all sorts of faces, silently trying to communicate that we shouldn’t talk about Satan’s Sisters in front of Presley.
Nikki shook her head at me. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“There may not be a Satan’s Sisters,” Presley croaked with a tentative brush of her fingers across her throat.
“There will be,” Nikki said. “You’re going to heal up just fine.”
Now it was Nikki’s turn to bug her eyes out at me.
At least I caught on. Presley needed positivity.
“Nik’s right,” I said, trying to make my voice chirpy and optimistic. “Your throat just needs time to heal.”
Presley’s eyes shifted to the window, uncertainty clouding her face.
“So, Utah,” Nikki said, pushing the conversation in another direction that I didn’t think it should go.
“Maybe we should—” I started.
Presley shook her head, her eyes swinging back to us. “I fucked up.” Her voice cracked.
“Maybe we should get you a notepad or something,” I said.
She held up her hand. “Utah. Good.” Her whisper died out, and she put on a brave smile.
“It’s an easy flight out of Burbank,” I said. “We’ll be there every weekend.”
She twisted her wrist and rubbed her fingertips together. She was worried about the money.
“Dion’s loaded. He’ll cover me,” Nikki said, addi
ng, “And Jett.”
“En Fuego’s check cleared. I’m good.”
Presley leveled a look at me, and I knew she was thinking about that fancy BMW that she could no longer afford.
“I’m fine,” I said to reassure her. “And if things get tight, I can always sell Reesie ‘Derelict’ for an exorbitant amount of money.” Both of my sisters stared at me, mouths gaping. “Oh my God. I’m joking! That’s going directly to Gaga.”
Presley’s smile finally reached her eyes, and she gave me a thumbs-up.
“Can we go back to Rafe now?” Nikki asked.
I groaned and pressed my head into my hands. “No,” I said, my voice muffled.
“Why don’t you fight for him?” she continued, ignoring me.
My head swung up, and I looked at Presley. She cocked her head to the side as if to ask why.
“Nik’s the fighter, not me.”
“I was not suggesting fisticuffs,” she said.
A snort came from Presley.
“I know that,” I said. “That’s just not me.”
Nik’s eyebrows lifted. “So I guess you’re just not that into him?”
My heart dropped to my stomach. “I guess,” I said, knowing that it was a lie. I was beyond into him, but seeing him with Reesie, and her wanting my song — our song — my splintered heart simply couldn’t take any more.
“Love survives,” Presley whispered, quoting my lyrics back to me.
I frowned at her. Her voice was fading.
“You’re talking about shit that doesn’t matter when you need to save your voice,” I scolded.
“Fight for him, Jett,” she whispered. “Don’t let him go.”
Our eyes locked, and hers filled with tears. I bent over the bed and hugged her close. Her bones jutted out, and her once voluptuous body felt frail and broken. I swallowed the sob that grew in my throat.
“I’ll think about it,” I whispered to her before releasing her.
32
“That sounds pretty.”
I looked up from my acoustic guitar. Lydon was leaning against the doorframe.
“Sorry, I thought you were down in the store,” I said, moving the guitar off my lap. I pointed to the open windows. “I wanted a cross breeze.”
“It’s cool. I came up for lunch. The music kept me company in the kitchen.” She held out a sandwich. “Hungry? It’s hummus and veggies, no meat. I made two.”