Watching and listening, Josh could barely breathe; he reached up and loosened his black tie. As the lyrics and music built to a magical crescendo that had the entire audience under a spell, Jessie’s voice grew hoarse with emotion and her hands released to accentuate the waves of the piece. Christian, carried away on his own waves of phrasing and cadence, let her do her thing. He sat back and let the dream overcome the billowy, cottoned room with its creamy Roman pillars and gauzy draperies as Jessie executed this magic; this divine, mystical thing that she did so intricately - called, humbly and simply, music.
She sang of hope when all seems lost.
My sweet, sweet friend
Come out of the darkness
Seek the light, let your soul mend
These are days of promise
You can let the world pass you by
As you hide amongst the debris of life
Hiding in your cave of broken ties
And black, lonely artificial highs
You can choose to walk your path
Of pain and hurt, alone
Or you can take my hand and throw
Aside the waste and roam
Amongst the rainbows in the mist
Where there is sunshine just beyond
Take a leap of faith
Believe in yourself again
And I will believe in you too.
All will believe in you
If you believe in you
Please believe in you
I believe in you.
When it was over, and the beauty of it all had ended, a low hum seemed to continue on the christened air. It was the sound of nothing, and yet of everything; of an ethereal mysticism that appears only in life’s rare moments of pain and perfection conjoined. The privileged found themselves disoriented, adrift; Jessie had spoken to all of them and, in their vulnerability fueled by the artifice of wine-soaked gaiety and false pleasure, she had caught them off guard. Charlie broke out of it first, gazing around the well-appointed restaurant to see, for the umpteenth time, how his girl affected those who saw her perform live. He was shocked and startled when he looked behind him and met Stephen’s serious, warning eyes, for he hadn’t realized the Drifters gang was even there, never mind so close. His heart hit the ground, exposing the first serious cracks of apprehension, when he saw Josh and the expression on his face. Charlie’s old friend was not clapping, as was everyone else in the room, enthusiastically and passionately.
Not surprisingly, Jessie garnered a standing ovation. Chairs screeched and scraped, nudging people out of their reveries, floating them back to earth as they rose, faces honest and authentic, while Charlie, Stephen and Josh remained seated momentarily. Stephen watched as Charlie’s expression turned to consternation and then something akin to fear when his eyes discovered Josh. Then, his face a mask, Charlie turned back towards Jessie and stood, and so did Steve. They clapped along with the others, but it took Josh a few extended minutes to come out of the bubble in which she seemed to encase him.
He was enduring the most difficult torment of his life. Jessie was deeply infatuated with him - that was clear, because he knew she hadn’t planned to sing that song and yet, despite its message of promise and hope, he felt he had lost something genuine and sincere despite gaining a knowledge that pierced his heart with its truth. She had discreetly met his gaze more than once during the evening as she ate. The message that she understood their connection was clear, if fraught with electricity and angst. But now – as Josh watched the lights dim and Jessie and Christian embrace, in his peripheral vision he could see Charlie framed there as well.
For the first time in ages Josh ached for a drink, something that would do the job hard and fast. Because it seemed, as Jessie subsequently returned to Charlie, that the deed was done. This entire room was on their side, and so was the city, the province, the world. What was Josh but a plaything – albeit a serious plaything – but one whom Jessie had not the power to hold on to? Or, likely, the will, he told himself.
Most of his friends were so ecstatic over the performance they hardly noticed Josh’s grey face and the green tinge around his eyes, or how often he looked at the drinks held and enjoyed by other patrons. But Stephen was acutely aware. He had also seen the look on Charlie’s face and wondered what it meant, how much he knew. He and Josh hadn’t spoken much since he found Josh and Jessie together, and he felt badly about that. It wasn’t like you could control whom you fall in love with. He should have been there for his friend, who was clearly suffering tonight. So he sent Josh a look of understanding, and hoped he recognized the inherent attempt at reconciliation. Josh did, but he turned away. He didn’t want anyone to sense what he was going through. He wanted to leave but he couldn’t bear not being in the same room with Jessie. He willed himself to look over at her. She never failed to amaze him. Now she was eating a rich chocolate mousse, playing with the spoon as if she were a child and not the beguiling performer that commanded the room a short time ago. Charlie was silent. As Jessie sensed Josh looking at her, Charlie turned too, this time, and his eyes held legions of unspoken words and veiled threats.
And there they were, Jessie and Josh, visibly melting in their loss of each other like chocolate bars left on the beach in summer; delicious - perhaps sinful -pleasure, left to die. For that was where they were heading that night - towards an inevitable, excruciating defeat.
Jessie’s spoon clattered in her bowl, and she got up without offering the usual excuse me. She hurried towards the ladies’ room, and barely made it inside a stall before she collapsed on the toilet seat with the door barring entrance to anyone who dared attempt entry. Her tears finally flowed, and she found herself gasping for breath as the sobs overtook her. The ladies’ room attendant quietly stepped out for a moment and let her be – the room was currently empty other than Jessie, as Michael Buble had taken the stage.
It was unbearable, the position in which she found herself. She hadn’t felt this kind of agony since losing Sandy. But she had to make a hard decision and she now knew, with Charlie home, what that decision needed to be. But that didn’t make it any easier to bear. Jessie leaned her head despairingly against the wall of the bathroom stall and tried to still her sobs, although, to be honest, at that point and in that emotional state she didn’t really care all that much who heard her. After a while she just sat there, drained, knowing she now looked like crap, with mascara running down her salt stained cheekbones, and wondering how to make some kind of dignified exit. She wished Dee would come and take her home, but Dee hadn’t likely noticed she’d left the dining room.
But Stephen and Josh were keeping tabs, and so was Charlie, who had gotten up to talk to a model across the room by the bar, where he could keep an eye on the hallway to the ladies’ room. Sue-Lyn jumped up to speak with a friend across the room. The hush her chatty absence left behind in the Drifters booth was suddenly deafening.
Maggie threw in a bone as she took a sip of coffee. “Does anybody want to go to the symphony on the twentieth? I need a date.”
She was rewarded with silence as Stephen stared at the stage. Performers were changing up. Josh’s coffee had just been poured – he was stirring cream into the cup, intently studying the milky patterns it made in the dark liquid.
Eventually Carter raised his eyebrows. “Did somebody turn out the lights?”
Stephen looked over at him, his eyes shooting a warning.
Carter continued as he scraped his chocolate mousse dish clean. “What’s up? Nobody into the symphony?”
Carter looked around. Josh and Stephen were subdued. He threw Maggie a curious look. With Sue-Lyn often carrying a lot of their conversation, Carter was now hyper-aware of his friends’ quiet moods. He elbowed Stephen, who glared at him in annoyance.
Carter raised his arms questioningly. “Hey. Hey! Maggie wants to know if you guys want to go to the symphony next week.”
“Not so much. No,” Steve retorted shortly. He shot an apologetic look at Maggie. “Sorry. Th
e symphony isn’t really my thing.”
“You’d love it if you went. You just need to try it. It’s overwhelming, the strings and the kettledrums…” She faded out. He was no longer listening. She turned to Josh.
“Josh?”
He looked over and nodded. “Sure. I’ll go, Maggie.” Music was a balm for the soul. His mother once played in the symphony.
Stephen glanced over at the hall to the washrooms. Jessie had been in there for an extended time and Charlie, the ass, was engrossed in conversation with the model. Steve noticed that Jessie’s man glanced down the hallway a few times, but he didn’t seem to be interested in actually checking on his fiancée.
“Maggie,” Steve asked, an abrupt edgy verve in his voice. “Can you do me a favor?”
She sat back, crossing her arms. Smiling diabolically, Maggie smiled. “Think about coming to the symphony with Josh and me and I’ll consider it.” Her smile faded at the pleading look in his eyes. “Okay. Forget it. No symphony. What do you need?”
Carter was watching the interplay with inquisitive amusement. Josh’s head snapped up when he heard Stephen voice his request.
“Go into the ladies’ room. Check on Jessie. She’s been in there for ages.” He nodded towards the hallway to emphasize his point as he wrapped a linen napkin around and around an index finger.
Trusting him, without asking why he was concerned about Jessie, Maggie peeked over at Josh and then, brushing past Stephen, left the table. After a moment, Josh left as well.
Stephen stared at the napkin he was engaged in twisting, and Carter shoved his chocolate mousse bowl aside and grabbed the cream and sugar. He needed some caffeine. An opera singer had just taken the stage.
Maggie found the ladies’ room attendant now feeling a little anxious. Jessie hadn’t moved in fifteen minutes and she could no longer be heard crying. The Drifters shoot was receiving a lot of publicity in Vancouver, so the attendant recognized that Maggie was acquainted with Jessie. With relief, she pointed to the offending stall, and Maggie thanked her and then knocked on the door.
“Jessie? Honey, it’s Maggie.”
After a moment she heard a shuffle and then the door latch was released. Maggie took one look at Jessie standing there in disarray and suddenly enough was enough. The last few weeks were strange for everybody. It was time for an explanation. Maggie sat back on her heels and folded her arms over her candy apple red Vera Wang gown.
“Okay, girl,” she said. “Speak.”
Jessie just shook her head and threw up her arms, telegraphing that she had no clue where to even start.
“Is it Charlie?” Maggie asked quietly, glancing at the attendant in the far corner, who was tidying a basket of hair products and mouthwash.
Looking away, and then reaching her left arm over to clasp her right elbow, Jessie leaned on the doorframe, took a deep breath, and glanced back at her friend. She nodded, not yet trusting herself to speak.
Maggie studied her thoughtfully. “Weddings have a habit of bringing out the stress in people. And the asshole in people. What did he say to you?” She paused. Then, quietly, “Has he been with someone else? Again?” she added sarcastically.
She took it as a yes when Jessie brought her right hand up to her face, squeezed the corners of her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, and the tears started flowing again. Maggie pulled the girl into her arms and held her, and Jessie felt something she hadn’t experienced in a while – friendship. It had been a long time since she’d had a real friend. Since Rachel, in fact. Jessie’s homeless street pals were good to her, and true, but this was different. Having girlfriends around her own age, like Maggie and Sue-Lyn, was a treasure.
There were a few women coming in now who needed to relieve their bladders of wine and coffee. Maggie backed Jessie into the stall and accepted a damp warm white facecloth from the washroom attendant, a Filipino woman whose slightly wrinkled brow spoke of her own personal heartaches. Wiping her friend’s mascaraed cheeks as Jessie sat on the toilet, Maggie spoke softly.
“Honey, I can’t even begin to imagine the pressure you are under with this wedding to Charlie coming up. But I’m here for you, and so is Sue-Lyn, and Carter and Steve too. I’m not so sure about Josh, he’s a bit of an odd duck, but I have a feeling if you needed him he would be there for you as well.”
Jessie laughed sardonically. “Josh,” she whispered, shaking her head. Even saying his name gave her a thrill. She wondered how he was coping – they’d never even talked about where things might end up. She felt the tears brimming again. And here was Maggie, a real, new friend, trying to make her presentable so people wouldn’t notice she’d had a meltdown – so the paparazzi wouldn’t pick up on the sadness in her eyes. Jessie needed to be honest with Maggie, although she was somewhat afraid of her reaction being similar to Stephen’s…as fellow cast, they had a right to be concerned, if it meant the show was affected.
“Maggie,” she started slowly, testing her voice. “I think we really need to talk. With Sue-Lyn as well.”
Maggie paused, and then wiped one last smudge away, banishing it forever to the land of tears and pain. “Any time, kiddo,” she said. “Just say the word.” She was honored Jessie even considered talking to her and Sue-Lyn. She remembered the discussions amongst cast and crew a few months ago when they’d gotten word that Jessie was starting with them. Nobody expected Jessie to be as down-to-earth and sensible as she had turned out to be, and the girl’s loneliness and heartache was not something one expected to see amongst a celebrity of her caliber – one who was about to marry a star as famous as Charlie Deacon, anyway, despite his indiscretions.
Maggie left the stall, then Jessie took a deep breath and followed her, smiling apologetically at the Filipino woman on the way out and whispering, “Sorry.” But the woman knew the sound of real heartache and so she was the one who was feeling sorry.
Outside, Josh was leaning against the wall opposite the washrooms, hands shoved deep in his pockets and one foot up against the wall. His white shirt was wrinkled and escaping his waistband, and his black tie was loose. His chestnut hair was, as usual, falling over his right cheek so that his ear was exposed. Jessie’s heart almost stopped at the sight of him. He was without a doubt her complete and utter undoing, and he was obviously greatly upset. He leaned there, his eyes on hers, and barely moved. Maggie wondered why he was there and then she saw Stephen about five feet away, leaning sideways on the wall watching them. Maggie moved to speak, but Stephen stepped forward and took her hand, and led her back to the main room. All the while she was thinking Yes, we do have to talk. Indeed.
When Maggie looked back, Josh had taken Jessie by the hand as well, and was leading her to the opposite end of the hallway, around a corner so that Maggie lost sight of them. When she turned back to the main room, she saw Charlie leaning against the bar, flames shooting out of his eyes while the model chattered away. He was staring down the hallway. What the hell was going on? Maggie felt like she’d arrived on the earth the day after everybody else. They went back to their seats, although Stephen slipped in on the other side where Josh had been so he could keep an eye on Charlie, Maggie surmised. Curiouser and curiouser.
Down the hall, Josh let go of Jessie’s hand and turned away from her for a second in an attempt to compose himself. Then he wheeled back around to face her, tensely squeezing his bottom lip with his right thumb and forefinger, thinking hard. He blinked at the faint mascara trail evident on her cheeks. She’d been crying.
Suddenly, he let go of his fear and approached the thing head on. He pointed a casted finger at Jessie.
“You sang that song.”
“Yes.” Jessie was contrite.
“But you came here with Charlie.”
“Yes.” She sighed.
“What am I supposed to think, Jessie?”
“Whatever you want to think, I guess.”
“That’s a hell of an answer.”
“Yes – no.” She looked up. “Josh, I didn’t know
he was coming home. It was as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”
“Well,” he said. “I guess you knew he would be coming home sometime.”
She looked him square in the eye. “And so did you, Josh.”
He felt like he’d been hit in the gut with a cannonball. Josh shook his head in disbelief.
He reached a hand towards her but Jessie didn’t take it. Instead, she peeked sadly up at him from behind wet eyelashes and forced her own hands behind her butt, against the wall, so as to prevent herself from collapsing into Josh’s arms in this very public venue.
“Jessie, please,” Josh pleaded, his legs suddenly jelly. “Don’t do this. Talk to me.”
Slowly Jessie turned her head from side to side, her liquid gaze never leaving the fearful brown eyes locked into her baby blues. Her voice was low, crackly, heavy with emotion. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “I don’t know – how – I don’t know…” She was gasping for breath again, trying to stem the flow of tears she knew was close at hand.
“Don’t shut me out. You – you sang that song…” It was a desperate plea but it was all Josh had left, a song whose lyrics said the woman he loved still believed in him, in them.
“I can’t, Josh I…” Then Jessie’s eyes flicked to some distant place behind Josh. She sank towards the floor, bending over in the lovely gown, afraid she was going to be sick. “Oh, hell,” she breathed, bringing her hands around to clutch her stomach.
Watching her, Josh was utterly helpless, completely done in by the way their affair seemed to be crashing to a screeching halt.
“Jesus,” he cursed in frustration as he swiped the back of his good hand over his eyes. He turned away with the intention of stomping down the hallway, but stopped when he spied Charlie standing just beyond the corner, waiting for them to appear, beyond pissed.
Charlie stormed towards Josh and, inspired by his favorite hockey team, the Vancouver Canucks, checked his old friend hard into the wall as he passed. He grabbed Jessie’s wrist and yanked her down the hall towards the stairway and subsequent exit from this abruptly oppressive building. Charlie felt as if the steps were crooked and the building was tipping as he pulled her down the stairs; she struggled to keep up in her star-crossed gown with the pink and green flowers. Like Cinderella at the ball, she lost a shoe on the way down, and Charlie did not wait for her to pick it up. So she faced the paparazzi with one shoe while Charlie hailed the valet, and she tried to smile but couldn’t. As the cameras flashed around her, Jessie hung her head and told herself she didn’t care what kind of photos they got for their magazines and rag bags. She was just trying to hold back the tears once again, but she had a lot of experience with that and so she forced herself to find that place deep inside, inwards, where she could hide. Then the valet was there with the 911 and she climbed in, even though she knew facing Charlie’s wrath would be much, much worse than being shoeless in front of the cameras.
A Song For Josh, Drifters Book One Page 20