Never Say Never

by Kailin Gow

  The penthouse suite? Had my mother and father decided to come see the show?

  The manager smiled at me as we stood outside the door. “I think you'll find what you're looking for in there,” he said. “And thanks for the show, Miss Knight. It meant a lot to me to be able to be there to see it.”

  I tentatively opened the door, gasping as I did so. The suite was the most beautiful room I'd ever seen. Luxurious, with a roaring fire in the fireplace and an elaborate four-poster bed piled high with satin curtains, this suite was more than just a VIP suite. It was the ultimate in luxury.

  “Hello?” I called out, walking into the living room. Upon the table I spotted a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket, lying next to a box of chocolates and a bowl of fresh, sweet-looking strawberries. Next to them was a note – unsigned:

  “Just tell me that you're coming home to me.”

  My heart began to beat faster. “Hello?” I called out.

  And then I heard it. A slow, sad melody from the bedroom – being strummed not on an electric guitar but rather on the melancholy strings of an acoustic. I walked in to find Danny sitting on the bed, dressed in black, looking up at me with soft, sweet eyes, smiling as he played.

  “I know so many things/there's so much that I can do

  “I can play the perfect fool/I can manage losing you”

  His eyes filled with pain as he sang.

  “I know how to play guitar/I know how to write a melody

  I know how to make the girl I love fall out of love with me.

  I've been holding on to too many ghosts/they hold me back I see

  But no-one holds me back the way I do it all to me.”

  When the song was done, he put down his guitar and stood up, coming towards me. “I wrote it for you, Neve. It's the first romantic song I've written for anyone since Peyton died.” He took my face in his hands, gently kissing me. “I was so stupid. I was so blind. What we had – it was more than just sex. You knew it. I knew it. But I freaked out, Neve. I thought that if I just focused on the sex, on the passion – I could protect my heart. I could stop myself from falling in love, from getting hurt again. But now I see just the opposite. I managed to hurt myself – and you – by being such a fool.” He kissed me passionately, deeply. “And watching you sing these past few weeks – watching your talent grow every day. You have so much inside of you, Neve. So much passion. So much complexity. And you keep it bottled up. And when you let it out – either in your music or...in bed. It's beautiful, Neve. It's absolutely beautiful.” He sat me down with him on the bed. “Since Peyton died, it's been so hard. I've had to deal with so much. The pain – the nightmares – the guilt. And only with you did that pain go away.”

  “I'm not a band-aid, Danny,” I said softy. His words had moved me, but I was still scared. I knew he had the power to hurt me again – a power I didn't want to cede to him. “I can't just fix your problems, stop your pain.”

  “No, Neve,” said Danny. “You are so much more than that to me. I feel like when I'm with you I understand you, and you understand me. I feel closer to you than to anyone in a long while. It was one thing if it was just the sex. But it's more than that. It's the energy that passes between us – this feeling that, when we're together, we're both so overwhelmed by happiness, by those feelings. When I met you, I admit it; it was attraction, plain and simple. But it's become so much more than that. These past few weeks I missed you so much. All I wanted to do was turn around, leave Chicago or New York, go home and rush into your arms right away. This is the first time I've felt like that, Neve. For a long time. Maybe ever.”

  I felt tears coming to my eyes again. This was everything I'd wanted to hear for so long, everything I'd wanted from Danny – overwhelming me all at once with its beauty. But I couldn't go back to him – not even now. Not unless I was sure he wouldn't hurt me like that again.

  “I want to believe that, Danny,” I said. “But I don't want just sex anymore. I want a relationship with you – a real one. It's that or nothing for me.”

  Before he could respond my phone vibrated. It was a text from Kyle. The rest of the band had gone out for drinks, and he was wondering where I was.

  I called him back.

  “Where are you?” he said. “We're about to drink to our success.”

  “The manager took me to a special suite. A fan wanted to give me a gift.” I flushed. After all I had said about wanting a relationship with Danny, I knew that even if we had one, it could never be normal. We'd always have to keep it a secret.

  “Oh,” said Kyle. “Well, welcome to the perks of rock-star-dom I guess.”

  “I'll be busy,” I said firmly. “Don't wait up for me.”

  As soon as I had hung up, Danny's mouth was on mine, his hands seeking the ribbon to my bustier. He was kissing me, overwhelming me with his caresses, feeling my breasts, the heat of my body, its warmth, driving me crazy.

  “So, Kyle, huh?” he teased. “You want to make me jealous?” He laughed and kissed me. “I know he's spending a lot of time with you, lately.” His lips brushed my nipple and made me shudder. “But I don't want him touching you. I don't want you with anyone – except me.”

  “Then I don't want you with anyone, except me. Danny...” My voice was husky with need.

  “I want you, Nev,” he said. “Take me back – please say you'll take me back.”

  “Only if it's real, Danny. If it's more than sex.”

  “I said it in my song, Neve. I need you.”

  “If you need me...” I pulled up my bustier, putting my shoes back on. “Then meet me halfway, Danny.”

  He said nothing and I sighed. My heart sank again. All these words meant nothing, I knew, without commitment. “Look, Kyle and the guys are downstairs – I should probably...”

  “Neve, wait!” Danny called after me. “Don't leave me, please.” He sounded so vulnerable all of a sudden. Lost. Confused. “Please don't go...” His eyes were wide with pain – his face was hollow, almost empty. Tears were in his eyes. “I can't go back to it. To life before you. To the nightmares.”

  I relented. “Don't worry,” I said. “I'm not going anywhere. But you need to talk to me. To explain.” I kissed his forehead. “Let me know what you're thinking.”

  He relaxed in my arms, but I could still sense his pain. “You really want to know?”

  “I do,” I said. “If we're going to have a relationship – we need to be honest with each other, open.”

  Danny looked up into my eyes, his gaze full of tears. “So you'll stay.”

  “If you tell me what's going on. If you open up.”

  Danny rose and went to his guitar, holding it against him like a safety blanket. We sat for a while in silence. At last he spoke.

  Chapter 20

  “Peyton,” Danny began. “I used to think she was the only girl in the world who understood me. Understood what it was like to grow up the way I did. Always in the shadow of my dad. No matter what I did, I'd never be as clever, as attractive, as rich, as interesting as the famous Clarence Blue. Everyone loved him. Or at least – everyone wanted favors from him. And he gave me plenty. Summers in Switzerland. Winters in Majorca. A Fender strat at the age of five. Everything, that is, but attention. But love. He was so busy, so wrapped up in being Clarence Blue, in being popular and loved and famous, that he forgot he had a son. Having a son would be bad for his image, you see. After all, Clarence Blue is an international playboy, not a doting dad.”

  I thought of my own father – so willing to give up his rock star days for his family – and felt lucky.

  “You don't know what it's like growing up with a different stepmother every year. Some of them barely older than me. All of them so lonely, so unhappy. They'd married my father because they were in love with his image – only to find that he'd ignore them, neglect them, cheat on them in turn. He didn't care about them. Some of them turned to me, tried to seduce me in order to get revenge on my dad for cheating on them – but I never did. I
just wanted to get away, to get out. To be free of my whole family and its crazy dysfunction. And my world really was crazy, insane. Sometimes I wonder if my dad really is stark raving mad. All he cares about is power – and this obsession with power consumed him. He married my mother before he was wealthy – he was a young upstart; she was a fashion model who worked at his company to pay the bills. She died when I was ten. Car accident. Since then...he made his billions and decided to buy women instead of falling in love with them. He just wanted to be seen with a different woman on his arm at every function – he didn't care about his family. But when I met Peyton...things were different. I was just eighteen and she was older, twenty-one. I had just come up to Oxford to study music and she was in her final year. Everyone knew she'd get the highest first-class degree in the year – her talent was extraordinary. She studied classical voice and piano, but what she really wanted to do was make music. Real, gritty English punk – like Joy Division or the Clash. Not the sort of thing you expect in a posh place like Oxford. She was from a normal, middle-class family from Chester. A warm, loving family. They gave me attention, kindness, everything I lacked. I even spent Christmas with them. And she taught me a lot about being a musician. And a lot about making love. She was more experienced than I was by far, but she was a kind and patient teacher. She taught me how wonderful it could be to make someone you love happy in that way. She helped me overcome my insecurities; she gave me so much confidence. She encouraged me to pursue what I wanted instead of what my father wanted for me; she inspired me to apply to the doctoral program at USC, to complement my love of playing music with my academic interest in it.” He paused. “I'm sorry, Neve. I know it must be hard for you, hearing me talk about her. But you wanted to know everything...”

  It was. But feeling Danny open up before me – I felt that for the first time we were really getting somewhere, getting closer. “Go on,” I said.

  “Last year we were driving back from a gig in Manchester, where I was on summer holiday. I was absolutely exhausted – completely shattered, overworked. I hadn't been drinking that night, but I'd been taking energy pills – caffeine pills, Adderall, anything legal or illegal to give me energy. I was trying to do so much at once – be a good boyfriend, do my doctoral work, play in the band, that I started abusing uppers. And I was so completely exhausted – but I insisted on driving anyway. She said I was tired, to let her drive instead, but I refused. I was arrogant. I wanted to prove to her that I was strong. That I could do it all. That I could handle the stress – no matter what my father thought. And I handled it, all right. Crashed from the high, fell asleep at the wheel, drove into a tree at eighty miles an hour. Of course, I escaped without a scratch. Fate's funny that way. But Peyton...” He began to sob. “Neve, when I woke up, she was dead right in front of me. She was killed instantly.”

  I took him in my arms, wanting to soothe him, to take away his pain. “If I'd listened to her, if I hadn't been so bloody arrogant – she'd still be alive, Neve. But I wanted to prove to her – my blasted male ego! - prove to her that I had the strength and capacity to do it all. And I got the woman I loved, killed. I killed Peyton, and I'll have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.”

  His lips trembled, and I wanted nothing more than to stop the pain, to sooth him, to dry his tears. I leaned in to kiss him, but he turned away.

  “How can you love me?” he asked, his voice raspy, his face streaming with tears. “When I can't even stand to look at myself in the mirror. How can you want to be with me – when I've killed the only woman I loved?”

  “Because I know you,” I found myself crying. I was kissing away his tears, tasting the salt, tasting the salt that came from my own tears that had begun to flow and mingle with his. “Because I trust you. I know who you are. You're a good person. And I do care for you – because you deserve someone who does.”

  Before I knew it I was unbuttoning his shirt, pulling down his trousers, covering his body with my own, communicating how much I cared for him in the only way he can accept my love… through sex. The sex was not passionate that night – not in the sense that it had been – raging, hormonal, all-consuming. But it was something else. It was intimate, warm, loving. Even romantic. Our lips touched the whole time – as our bodies merged, we rejoiced in giving one another pleasure, rejoiced in being so close together, in holding one another, in letting out all our pain, all our secrets. In crying together – intimate, at last.

  That night I fell asleep in his arms. That night he slept soundly – his face beatific in slumber. That night, I knew, there would be no nightmares.

  Chapter 21

  Being back together with Danny was a glorious – even ecstatic – experience. The next morning, over breakfast, we cuddled naked and at last discussed what we were to each other. “Girlfriend” and “Boyfriend” - the terms sounded strange to us, at first, but deep down we both knew that they were the right ones. It would take time for both of us – for me to get over the hurt of Danny's initial reluctance, for him to get past his guilt and the shadow of Peyton that hung over us both. But for all that, I knew, we had something special; we would get through this together.

  What we had, became more than just the sex – which, while still mind-blowing in its physical sensations, became increasingly soft, romantic, intimate, even gentle. We had a relationship at last. Some nights we curled up on the couch next to each other watching old movies and fell asleep, exhausted but happy. Some nights Danny drove me to a nearby town, or to a beach he knew – somewhere where we were in no danger of being recognized – and those were the best nights of all. When, far away from the band, far away from the fear of being discovered, we could hold hands in public and kiss and laugh like a normal couple.

  Our dating, however, made our interactions in the places we knew more difficult to hide. In class, Danny had to force himself to avoid my gaze altogether, lest we both break into secret giggles during his lectures. During band practice, we constantly found ourselves looking into each other's eyes, staring at each other, transported by our rapture and by our desire for one another. We took every excuse to touch each other – handing each other instruments, helping each other carry bags or books – enjoying the secret electricity between us. Our newfound happiness made us almost careless; we both glowed with the radiance that came from being together.

  Our performances only improved. Each night we were onstage, playing our hearts out – my joy sublimated into great music just as my pain had been. Our emotions gave the words of our songs new life. And every night, after the show, I would circle my car around the block a few times to throw the others off the scent before heading to Danny's ocean side cottage, before we threw ourselves into each other's arms and gave into the passion that had been building all evening.

  It was one such morning – a few weeks into our relationship – that I had spent the night with Danny, enjoying a delirious night of unbridled sex followed by long conversations that kept us awake until dawn – that I had just stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in one of Danny's old college sweatshirts from Oxford University, to keep warm. We'd ordered a late-night pizza that had, by now, turned into breakfast.

  I heard a knock at the door. “Danny, is the pizza here?” I asked, stepping out of the bathroom, my hair still soaked. “Hurry up and let's get back to bed, because...”

  I stopped short. Standing at the door was Kyle, his eyes wide with shock, a look of utter agony on his face. “I thought I left my keyboard plug here...” Kyle's voice was wobbling. “I guess I came at a bad time, huh.” His face turned red then white again, his eyes dark as hurt, then anger, then fury spread across his face. I'd never seen so much pain in those angelic eyes of him; my heart ached for him. Still, I braced myself, knowing what was to come. If Kyle had been jealous of Luc, then that was nothing compared to this.

  “Kyle...” I started, stuttering.

  He was inhaling deeply, choking on his own air, rocking back and forth as he hyperventilated, trying
to come to terms with the shock of the situation. “All this time,” he said, his voice shaking. “All this time – you were with him! I can't believe it.” He looked over at Danny. “And you....you! I thought you were my friend, my buddy. And you were screwing Neve this whole time! Behind our backs! I trusted you – trusted you both.” Tears began to stream down his face. “It's true, isn't it? This time.”

  I couldn't lie to him. “Yes, it's true.”

  “But him!” Kyle sighed. “Why...why not me?”

  My heart broke for him. I wanted to say something – anything – to make the pain stop, to make this better. But I knew that there was nothing I could do.

  “Listen, mate...” Danny went over to Kyle. “I care about Neve and I'll treat her right, I promised. We wanted to keep our personal life separate from the...”

  But he never got to finish his sentence. Kyle punched him square in the stomach, sending Danny reeling backwards across the room, crashing onto the floor.

  “Listen, man – I'm sorry...” Danny was winded, breathless.

  Kyle crossed the room swiftly, taking my hands in his. “You knew I loved you, Nev. I don't get it. You knew I loved you!”

  It was all I could do to keep from sobbing. “I love you, Kyle. But not in that way. You know that. And nothing about me or Danny – nothing would have changed that. I don't feel that way about you....I've been honest about that.”

  “But you love Danny?”

  I hesitated before I spoke. “Yes,” I said, at last.

  “Fine,” Kyle spat. “Then you can have your band without me.”

  “Kyle – wait!”

  But it was too late. He'd already stormed out and slammed the door behind him.