I clicked the phone off, trying to work through the frustration and anger churning through my gut. Stepping back onto the stage among the screams and shouts, I walked straight to my piano. I sat, my eyes on the keys. I waited, expecting Ets to start with that catchy guitar riff. He struggled with his cable.
Flip tipped his head toward me. I placed my fingers on the keys and let them drift, picking up the melody I’d started in Seattle. My stomach settled, but my thoughts stayed focused on Briar’s eyes in that picture. When I’d needed her, she’d been there, standing close, sharing her warmth and her love.
My fingers danced over the keys, the yearning pouring out. I was aware, in a vague way, that I’d hit my zone. The crowd was silent, but I kept playing, letting the emotions flow out through my fingertips.
I blinked, feeling better than I had in days. Coming back into the present, I glanced up, my lips twitching up in a grin.
“I just got some bad news backstage,” I said into my mic. The crowd waited, silent. “In case you haven’t heard, I’m dating a lovely woman. She’s the perfect age and height for me.” The crowd laughed, as I’d intended. “Briar’s strong, really strong, but her friend’s dying of cancer. Like my mum did last week.” The crowd’s ahh was soft. They were listening, hard.
“I can’t be there for her like she was for me. This here, this is what I want to say to her. I miss you, Sweet Briar.” I paused a beat, considering. What the hell, I was in neck deep, might as well let the wave take me right under. “I love you.”
The gasps and sighs from our fans lifted around us, almost a living entity all its own. I glanced over at Flip, who shook his head, but I caught the flicker of amusement before he slid into the deep, smooth beat of our next song. I followed, waiting for Jake and Ets to join in. Another round and I leaned in and sang the lyrics, wishing I were singing to Briar. We played four more songs, the longest encore we’d ever done. When the last song ended, we took a bow to the loudest applause I’d ever heard.
I moved to center stage and bowed along with the rest of the band. I dipped my head a little and the sound of females screaming reached a hysterical pitch.
“Good move there, mate,” Jake said out of the corner of his mouth. “You saved the show and then some.”
After bowing one last time, I walked off the stage, catching the towel one of the roadies tossed at me.
“You’re still a wanker,” Ets said, his shoulders stiff, a bruise forming on his jaw. “You’ve done nothing but screw us up all week. So don’t think your sensitive little stunt out there today made up for it.”
“Wouldn’t want to think I’d get an ounce of forgiveness from you, Ets,” I replied, scrubbing the towel over my damp hair. “I’m off to the bus. Gotta get ready for the trip to Berlin.”
Ets growled but he was smart enough to stalk off. He’d dick over a couple of women tonight and be back to his bright, shiny arsehole self in the morning.
“Beautiful melody,” Flip said.
I nodded.
“One of the best things you’ve ever played.”
“Thanks.”
“Got a name?”
I considered for a moment. The tangled mess that punctuated my relationship with my mum, the time I’d had with Briar before—the life I wanted with her forever. “Between Breaths.”
“Gonna have lyrics?”
I nodded. Flip smiled as he tugged at his tribal earplug. Took me a few months to get used to those. He’d gotten relatively small ones, but I kept hearing my dad’s voice in my head: Short-term body manipulation is a long-term body sentence.
I hadn’t understood that at sixteen, probably because my dad was over seventy by then, and he wasn’t just old, he was doddery. My body manipulations were a tat and that eyebrow piercing my dad had hated. Removing the bar so soon after getting the piercing hurt but at least the holes had healed.
“Took some balls to say that out there. I don’t think I’ve told the world I love Cynthia.”
I shrugged. “Rosie means a lot to Briar. She deserves to know she’s got people around who care right back.”
“Maybe, but you know the media’s going to lick this shit up. I’ll walk you to the bus. You’re going to be inundated as soon as they find you.”
“Not why I did it, mate.”
“I get that, but as part of the band, I’ll say thanks anyway. We’ll ride this news-wave high.” Flip raised his triple-pierced brow. “As long as you keep playing like you did that last set.”
I entered our bus. Grabbing some clothes, I headed toward the tiny shower stall. I’d get cleaned up before I tried to call Briar again. Maybe this time, I could actually comfort her. Maybe . . . Crikey, I sounded like a lovesick teen girl.
I needed to be there, in the same place as Briar so we could talk through all the shit I’d messed up.
32
Briar
I don’t know how long I’d been standing outside before Kelly ran through the hospice doors and toward me. She didn’t have to say a word—I knew the look on her face. I sprinted inside, wishing my heart would be fast enough, hard enough for both Rosie and I.
By the time I reached her room, Rosie was dead. Kelly held me while I cried. But I didn’t cry so much for Rosie. She’d been tired and so ill; deep down I was glad she’d never suffer again. I cried for me and how much I’d miss her. I cried because I wanted Hayden there to hold me the way I’d held him when his mom died.
It wasn’t until after midnight that I finally shuffled into Rosie’s apartment. I was exhausted, but Princess explained her need for food in no uncertain terms. I fed her and then waited on the couch—the next part of our recently developed ritual. She rubbed her head into my chest as I stroked her soft, luscious fur. Princess’s purr relaxed me, and I stretched out on the couch, pulling the throw over my shoulder.
“I’m sorry your mom’s gone,” I told the cat. She blinked up at me before rubbing her cheek into my chin. “Yeah. We’ll be okay.”
Lia showed up at ten thirty the next morning with the Seattle paper. Her knocking woke me from the longest sleep I’d had all week. My exhaustion had moved past the physical into the emotional when I’d finally fallen asleep in the early hours just before dawn.
“You’re supposed to be headed back to Rathdrum.”
Lia shook her head. “We stayed at Simon’s so Asher could do some mixing. And I figured you’d need my shoulder, especially after I saw the most recent picture.”
“I do,” I yawned. “But maybe coffee first.” I rubbed my eyes.
“I’ll make some,” Lia said. She pointed at the paper. “Read that. There’s more, but that article’s a good place to start pre-caffeine.”
I stared, openmouthed, at my face in the photo and the headline, Broken Hope Hasn’t Stopped Angel of Mercy. I skimmed the story, which went into detail—too much detail—about my relationship with Hayden, his mother and her battle with both mental illness and cancer, and finally Rosie.
There was so much in there, I didn’t know what to address first.
“Hayden has to be upset about his mother’s condition being in the paper.”
“He’s already responded to the reports. And Asher said Hayden mentioned it to him.”
I absorbed the information, still skeptical. I picked up the paper again. “Rosie left me her condo?”
Lia shrugged. “That’s what the paper’s reporting. The wording is the bulk of her estate. That sounds significant.” She moved into the kitchen while I continued to read. “Did you know?”
“I figured she was well-to-do. Ken’s whole family is. She said I’d need to fight Ken off.” I shrugged.
Lia came back with two mugs of coffee made from the beans Dave had given Hayden. I’d been saving them . . . but I hadn’t been to the store, choosing to order takeout and share the fish I’d found in the freezer with Princess, and they were the only ones left in the place. I sipped and sighed, melancholy dancing with the acid in my stomach.
“How are you holding u
p? And remember, I, like the rest of the world, saw the picture. Shoulder,” Lia said, patting the spot.
I leaned my head against her, remembering how I used to do this when I was little. “I miss Rosie. But I’m in worse shape emotionally because I fell in love with Hayden.”
Lia wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “I know.”
“Because of that intrusive picture? I can’t think of when they could’ve snapped that. I was outside for all of ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”
“No. The way you acted at The Vera Project. I’ve never seen you so in tune with anyone before. Don’t get me wrong, Bri, I love you, but you’ve always taken care of yourself—built a wall that’s hard for most of us to break through to get to the soft core you keep so guarded.”
“You know why,” I said.
“I do, and I get it. But I’m worried. He didn’t just hurt you.” She stroked my hair. “It’s like he broke a piece of your soul.”
The tears gathered in my eyes, but I blinked them back. “I’m pretty sure he shattered it. Dammit, I didn’t want you to see this part.”
Lia stopped petting me, her hand curving around my shoulder, hugging me close like she did after Dad died. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“I didn’t expect him, the feelings. I mean, I felt a connection . . . we both struggled with our relationships with our mothers. But somehow he wormed his way inside my heart before I knew I needed to keep him out.”
“And you can’t pry him back out without losing part of you,” Lia said, her voice soft.
“Exactly.”
“Mom called me this morning. She’s worried about you.”
“She’s called me, too. Last night. I ignored her. Like I always do.”
Lia sighed. “Maybe it’s time to mend that bridge.”
“Why? Are you saying you’re going to forgive her for how she treated us? For kicking you out at seventeen?”
“I’m saying I don’t want to be angry anymore. Just like I don’t want to see you this hurt. With The Asshole, you were a little gloomy but more disappointed with yourself than anything. This time it’s so much more.”
I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the sting in my nose. “He’s never called me. Text, sure. A private message. That’s not enough.”
“He wants to talk.”
I shook my head. “But he left me. I knew he would. But I lost sight of reality when he asked me to come join him on tour. I’d planned it all out. I just assumed he’d miss me as much as I missed him.”
“That’s the hardest,” Lia murmured. “I never understood how Doug could do the things he did to me and Abbi. There are days I’m still angry with him.”
Princess jumped up, purring. She nuzzled into my lap, large eyes glaring at Lia.
We sat quietly. “I’m going to have to leave soon. I can feel my eyes beginning to burn,” Lia said, apologetic.
“No worries. I’ll be fine.”
“You can come stay with Asher and me any time. Well, actually at Simon and Ella’s, but you know it’s an open invitation. I’ve got three open houses to go to tomorrow. Want to come? We’ll lunch somewhere outside the city. Getting out might do you some good.”
“I have to plan Rosie’s funeral.”
Lia stilled. “Don’t be mad at me.”
I sighed. “You took the list she left and already started going through it?”
“I did but only after I got the okay from Ken. He didn’t want to be involved because, you know, he’s an asshole. His mother is apparently too busy.”
“I really know how to pick men who care about me. Or people in general.” I pulled at my lower lip.
Thankfully, Lia didn’t touch that one. “So . . . I need to tell you when Mom called, she asked what she could do. Actually, she offered to do most of the funeral planning. Said she owed it to you.” Lia pulled on her hair. “Are you angry?”
I sat up, set Princess on the floor. “No, I’m relieved. How sad is that? I’ll call Mom and tell her thank you. But I’m sure there are details Ken or his mother are going to have to handle." I shuddered. “It’s even better Mom’s handling the arrangements. The less time I spend talking to Ken the better.”
Lia patted my shoulder. “I agree. So will you come out with me tomorrow?”
I blew out a thick breath. I hated feeling so alone. “Yes. I need to do something unrelated to moping and worrying about my future. I’m not going back into journalism.”
I’d said the words. Lia waited. She’d always been a good listener.
“I want to go back to school, get a degree in some kind of counseling. I want to help people work through terminal illness. When I was at hospice with Hayden, watching him deal with the paperwork, I realized so many people do that alone.”
“And?”
I stood. “Rosie and I talked about my options some. I like the idea. It feels right.”
Lia stood and cupped my cheeks. She tilted my head down as she rose on her tiptoes, pressing our foreheads together. “I’m so proud of you, Bri. Even through your heartache you’re thinking about others. You’re a really good person.”
“When’s Rosie’s funeral?” I asked.
Lia went into the kitchen and got a towel. After dampening it and laying the cloth on her eyes, she said, “Friday.”
“That doesn’t give me much time to figure out what’s next.”
Lia’s phone beeped.
“Get that, will you? I’m fighting cat dander.”
I set my mug on the coffee table and fumbled through Lia’s purse for her phone. It beeped again, flashing the beginnings of a message on the screen. “Asher says to call him ASAP.”
She took the phone from me, blinking a reddened eye at the screen.
“You don’t have to stay.”
She pursed her lips and pressed the phone to her cheek. “Hi. The kids are okay?” There was only a faint tremor in her voice when she asked. A few months ago, Lia would have been in full-blown panic mode, but Asher kept her calmer than she’d ever been. I liked seeing this centered version of my sister.
I settled my hip against the counter, trying to guess why Asher needed to talk to Lia. Most of her face was obscured by the towel, the rest by the phone. Her mouth dropped open as she lost her grip on the towel and fumbled with the phone.
“You’re serious?” she whispered, glancing at me. “No, I don’t think so. Absolutely. Do you think you can do that? Probably best. No, I’ll call Preslee or maybe Nate or Noah to feed the cat. They’re all over on this side of the city. It’ll be easier.”
My confusion grew. Why would Lia want to talk to our siblings about feeding a cat? She couldn’t mean Princess. She didn’t need any other company, she had me.
“Text me when you’re close. She has to get dressed and pack some clothes. I’ll have to call you with our planned route.”
Definitely about me. I went to peer out the window, taking in the crowd eight stories below. A few paparazzi were hanging around, trying to get pictures of me, but that was my new reality. A news van pulled up, a reporter exploding from the side like something out of those chase movies I’d never liked.
Lia came to stand next to me. “Got one network here already. He really said that? Wow. Yes. We’ll look at the link. I’d rather not get caught right now. I have hives from the cat.” She giggled. “You would find that funny. No, my eyes look like I’ve been on a weeklong bender. Huh. You would know. Love you, too,” she said, her voice soft. I liked Lia soft. She deserved Asher, having someone to protect her squishy center.
I folded my arm across my middle, gripping my left biceps. I’d thought I’d found that with Hayden.
Lia fiddled with her phone. “Do you have any antihistamine? I’ve got to help you pack and the cat is killing my sinuses.”
“Sure. But . . . pack? For where?” I pulled out the bottle and shook out a couple of pills. At Lia’s silence, I continued to prod. “Something’s going on with me. In the media?”
Lia took the pills and s
wallowed them in a quick motion. “Didn’t go down smoothly. Where’s my coffee?” Gulping down most of the cup, she settled me at the bar and stood next to me.
“Asher sent me this. The video just went up on YouTube, I guess.”
My stomach hit the floor when I saw the name Jackaroo in the title of the video. “I don’t want to see it.” My voice was raw. My emotions more so.
“I think you do. I’ll stay right here with you.” Lia pressed Play before I could argue again. Her ruthlessness knew no bounds.
“Lia, I can’t. I can’t see him.”
The music filled the frame. Haunting, soft, yearning. Gorgeous. It was the same melody Hayden had played in Bill’s studio, but better, filled with a deeper passion.
“Oh,” Lia gasped. Music did that to her, burrowed into her emotions more than anything else. Even I knew the melody was beautiful. The longer I listened, the more I yearned to hear more. The video shook slightly as the back of someone’s head filled the screen. The videographer shifted, and once again, Hayden filled the screen, sitting at a black grand piano. The video must have been shot last night while they were in Prague. I’d memorized his schedule in one of those sick moments of weakness.
The camera zoomed in on Hayden. His fingers drifted over the keys, his eyes distant, his face drawn. He wasn’t paying any attention to the huge crowd, all of whom were raptly listening as his fingers flowed over the keys.
He started talking into the mic, and I stiffened. “He’s talking about me? Am I just a way to get more news coverage?” Bile rose into my throat. “That asshole!”
I turned away, but Lia gripped my arm, her fingers locked tight on my biceps. “Listen to what he’s saying.”
“I don’t want to hear him make light of my feelings. What we did, what we shared was real for me.”
Lia turned up the volume. Nothing. Then Hayden’s voice rang clear and steady when he said, “I miss you, Sweet Briar.” He heaved out a breath. “I love you.”
My knees gave out.
“What?” I wheezed.
Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five Page 46