Dan and I exchange looks and I shake my head slightly, trying to covertly signal him not to bring up what happened with Peter.
Whether Dan sees my hint or not, his eyes refocus solely on my mom. “So can we try this again? It’s been too long, and hearing about you from Beryl isn’t as good as seeing the real thing.”
“Beryl said you’ve been really good to her. Thank you.”
“What about you? Are you OK on your own?” I see genuine concern in Dan’s eyes but the question makes my mom’s expression slam closed.
“I’m fine. I’ve been fine.” My mom’s voice rises. “For nine years and three months, everything’s been fine. I can take care of myself. Can we talk about something else?”
Dan recoils. “Mer, please don’t shut me out. It kills me that we lost touch after Clint died, but I can’t change the past. I can only change the future. That’s why I’m here. I want to know you again, to be part of your life.”
Dan looks pained and I can see that he’s struggling, but I don’t know how to help him. He coaxes one of mom’s hands from her lap and wiggles his fingers between hers.
“I’m fine on my own,” my mom whispers. “I can’t do this again.”
“Do what?”
“Get involved. Risk what’s working.”
Dan pulls up my mom’s hand up and brushes her fingers with his lips. I see her neck flush and I squirm. I’m tempted to make a run for the bathroom but I’m dying to know what’s next.
“Meredith, it’s not working. I miss you so much it hurts. I’ve thought about how to ask you to let me back in to your life a million times. This is my shot, and I’m asking you to trust me. Take that risk. I won’t let you down.”
“But what would Clint think? How can I get close to you after everything that’s happened?”
“Mer, you can. Because of everything that’s happened. Because even when someone dies, you have to go on living. I loved you when we were sixteen, and I loved you even when I stood up as best man at your wedding. I loved you so much I wanted you to be happy with someone I knew would be good to you. And he was.”
My mom’s head is bowed and I see her shaking, crying silently as she absorbs the shockwaves of what Dan’s saying. I’m shocked, too, but I feel like Dan needs me to be here to bear witness. Maybe he needs an ally, someone to give my mom permission that it’s OK to do this. To be with him.
“Mer, will you give me a chance? Will you let me in just a little?”
She raises her head and locks on his gaze. “Do you still?”
“Still what?”
“Love me?”
“I never stopped.”
I let out my breath in a whoosh as Dan pulls my mom into his arms, an awkward hug around the corner of the table. I stand up quickly and excuse myself to the bathroom to give them space.
Their reunion makes me ache for Gavin, wishing desperately that I could feel the certainty between us that I just saw between my mom and Dan. With each conversation I feel like I know him more, trust him more deeply. Love him.
That thought electrifies and terrifies me. I love Gavin Slater. The crazy, reckless, sexy, totally out-of-my-league Gavin, the rock star and bad boy incarnate. The scared, sweet guy who encourages me and finds a way to embrace me, if only with a T-shirt, from the other side of the world.
Which Gavin is real? When he comes home, I’ll know for sure.
I return to the table and Mom and Dan are smiling and talking softly. They’ve ordered wine and I see that their fingers are still linked under the table.
I’m stunned. I can’t remember my mom going on more than a handful of dates in more than nine years since Dad died. Now she’s holding hands like a teenager.
We order food and I try another new thing—gnudi, a firm pasta ball surrounding a pillow of ricotta cheese, with brown butter and crispy fried sage leaves on top. It’s ah-mazing.
Dan and Mom do most of the talking, catching up on each other’s work and life. I let them chat and I relax in my chair, content being a sort-of chaperone so that Mom doesn’t feel so far out of her comfort zone.
“So what are your birthday plans?” Dan asks me. “Are you seeing friends later tonight?” I raise my eyebrow; Dan’s as subtle as a theater marquee.
While I had no plans other than dinner with my mother and Dan, I decide to give them space. “I’m going to a club with Stella to see a new band. I’ll be out pretty late.”
“I can take your mom home, so you can go straight there,” Dan offers. He’s getting rid of me, but I let him. “Meredith, I’d love to take you up to see the city from Rockefeller Center. It’s really quite spectacular at night.”
“I’d love to.” My mom is grinning and I’m happy for her. She’s endured too much heartache in her life to be trapped without love for the rest of it.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Stella that I’m going to show up wherever she is. She texts me back immediately with an address and the command, “Wear something saucy.”
I figure the short jersey dress I have on now is good enough, so I hail a cab and head straight there. It’s early and the club is pretty dead, so Stella’s easy to find, standing at the side of the stage chatting with a musician while the opening act sets up.
“How’s your birthday so far?” Stella steers me to the bar to order a couple of birthday shots. Tequila. I’m in for a rough morning tomorrow.
I lick my hand, sprinkle it with salt and down the shot in unison with Stella, grinning behind the lime wedge I stuff between my teeth.
“Better already.” I do the second shot with her and explain that Dan whisked my mom away for a reunion.
“That’s cool,” Stella says. “I remember my first serious boyfriend. He could give me a look that would melt my panties.” She sighs melodramatically. “I probably still have the hots for him.”
I have the hots for Gavin, but I’m not sure I’m ready to spill.
“What.”
“Huh?”
“That look you just had. You’ve got it bad for someone. Who?”
My eyes widen in alarm and I’m caught—Stella knows I’m holding out on her. Given her sharp interviewing skills, she’ll have it out of me in T-minus ten, nine, eight …
“It’s not Anthony,” she guesses.
The look on my face confirms it.
“Is it someone in New York?”
“No.” But my voice squeaks, and she catches the half-lie.
“It’s Gavin! He’s not in New York, but he’s the one, isn’t he?”
I nod.
“Oh my God, girl, you know how to pick ’em. A filthy rich rock star? Get in line. You are nuts.”
“I know. But he doesn’t seem so distant when we talk.”
“You’re talking to him?”
“Chatting. Text and email. We haven’t talked on the phone because he was in Africa and Indonesia, but I think he got to Sydney today.”
“Let me see!” Stella grabs for my phone and opens my email before I can stop her. At the top of the string is a new message from Gavin, one I haven’t even opened yet.
We bonk our heads together trying to read it at once.
I made it to Sydney and it’s cool and showery. A nice change from the heat. I’m staying at a hotel with a real shower and a real phone, so I’m hoping to talk to you tonight in person rather than on chat.
I’ll call you on my apartment line a little before midnight your time, OK? I want to say happy birthday before it’s over.
In the meantime, check out what I wrote in Bali. I hope you like it.
I hit a button to open the attachment and a video pops onto my phone’s screen. “Hey, Beryl. This is for you,” Gavin’s grin fills my phone screen and I swoon a little. “It’s called ‘Wilderness.’”
The video shakes as he puts the camera down, still recording. I see a hotel room and Gavin comes back into view wearing holey jeans and a T-shirt. He settles on the bed, throws a guitar strap over his shoulder and starts playing.
Found lights/ found fame
Found her/ and I’m lost again
Wilderness of solitude
I’m floored. It’s just his clear voice and a guitar, but the song arrests me. It’s nothing like Tattoo Thief, not the hard rock or driving ballads I’ve heard on his CDs.
Got fire/ got blood
Got a bolt from above
Inspiration unlocked/ the key to what I crave
The muse
Inwardly, I cheer. Gavin’s telling me he got his music back! I’m not sure what the “bolt from above” is, but it’s clear he’s found new inspiration.
So I’m homeward bound/ and broken
And finally open/ and hoping
For you
The song continues but I don’t hear the rest, letting tears flow, blowing my nose in a bar napkin as Stella keeps watching the video. It shakes me to my core—Gavin’s open expression, his easy posture, the passion in his voice.
My connection to him so far has been in black and white. Now it’s Technicolor.
I leave Stella at the bar, fleeing to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face even if it wrecks my mascara. I’m a mess.
When I get back, Stella’s got us two more shots.
“Drink up, girlfriend. Looks like you got a pretty killer birthday present.” She slips my phone back in my purse.
I smile weakly but follow her lead as she presses the shot glass into my hands. “That was a shock.”
“No kidding. A rock star writes you a song? I’d be a basket case.”
“I am.”
“So let’s go. I’m going to blow off this show for a different story. And you’ve got to be home when loverboy calls.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
My mom’s still out with Dan when I get back to Gavin’s place and that makes me smile.
I take Jasper for a quick walk and feed him, then change into Gavin’s soft blue T-shirt and take a cordless phone to his bedroom, snuggling in the spot he’s established as my side of the bed.
I wait but my eyelids are heavy with tequila and exhaustion. I was up at the butt crack of dawn cleaning and finishing Gavin’s apartment before my mom arrived.
The phone jolts me awake.
“Hello?” My voice is foggy with sleep.
“Beryl. Sounds like you’re already in bed.” I hear the familiar rasp in Gavin’s voice and savor the sound of my name on his lips.
“Mmm. Yeah.”
“Our bed?”
“Yes.”
“On your side or mine?”
“Mine, but I’ll warn you—I’m a sprawler.”
“And a snorer. You told me.”
“Let’s pretend I never said that.” I roll over in the smooth, cool sheets and inhale the smell of his shirt again. “I got your song. I love it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. The minute I got to Bali, something changed. I opened up my notebook and just started writing. And everything came out. All the notes I’ve made during my trip started to make sense, and it was like a flood.”
“Gav, that’s great. That’s amazing. I’m so glad you’re OK.”
“I’m better than OK! I’ve got tons of energy with all the walking I’ve been doing, and no booze, and music’s just coming out my ears. I called the band today and we’re going to go back to the studio next week. We’re ready—we needed new material, and the stuff our label threw at us after Beast was just garbage. But this stuff’s new and raw and different. It’s going to take our music to a new place.”
I want to tell him I’m happy for him, but I’m stuck on the first part of his statement: next week.
“Does that mean you’re coming home?
“Yes. I’m booking a flight as soon as possible. I can’t wait to see you and hold you.”
“And try some of the passion fruit gelato you sent me? It’s fantastic.”
“And see what you’ve done to my place. And see Jasper. I feel like there’s so much I missed out on—not because of my trip, but before. I didn’t really appreciate what my life could be.”
“And what about Lulu?” It’s hard to even ask this question, but I have to.
“I loved Lulu. But I wasn’t enough for her. She inspired my music, helped me work through the rough patches, but I learned on this trip that the music didn’t come from her. I’ve got it in me, and I’m just discovering new ways to draw it out.”
“She got you un-stuck.”
“Yeah. That’s what she did really well. And you got me un-stuck too. And this trip, it just changed me. I’ve spent so much time trying to become a star that I forgot about doing other stuff. Important stuff.”
“You mean, the stuff that lasts even if you’re not a star anymore?”
“Yes.”
I take a huge breath and stretch across Gavin’s bed. “I like that stuff. I’m figuring out who I am now that I’m not a student anymore. Like with my writing. I spent four years in J-school and it only took ten months to figure out I hated it, and I hated the coffee shop, too. Now what do I do?”
“That’s a delicious question, Beryl. Because you can do anything.”
“Says the rock star with unlimited funds.”
“To the girl with unlimited potential.”
“You get that I’m probably never going to be a famous writer, right? Even if I write my whole life, even if I sell stories, even if I publish a book.”
“Beryl, listen to me. That’s not the point. My friends and I didn’t start our band to get famous. We just wanted to have fun, play music, and not have to work at other jobs if we could get away with it. That was the point. But then it shifted, and I got lost. The label started talking about market positioning and pushing a bunch of pre-fab songs at us. It stopped being fun.”
“I think I’m following you.”
“Good. Because your writing career can be exactly the same way. You do it because it’s fun, because you’re good at it, and because it gives you joy—and maybe you even make some money. But if you judge your success as a writer by whether you become a star or not, you automatically lose.”
“But you won. You made it.”
“No, I lost. I lost most of my friends outside of the band when we hit the top of the charts. I lost Lulu. And it’s possible I might lose our record deal if we force the issue about what kind of music I want us to do next.”
“Your song was really different from anything I heard on your other CDs.”
“Yeah, that’ll probably be a fiasco. The marketing department will pitch a fit. But you know what? I don’t care. I got my fun back, Beryl.”
I hug Gavin’s pillow, hearing the smile in his voice from across the ocean.
“Well, I’ll take you any way I can get you, rock star or not, Gavin Slater. Because you’re pretty awesome.”
“You’re pretty awesome, too.”
“Hey, Gavin?”
“Yeah?”
“If I told you I was naked in your bed, would you come home faster?”
“I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER FORTY
My mom came back to Gavin’s apartment after I fell asleep last night, but now she’s up, dressed, and raring to go to brunch even before I’ve made coffee.
Who is this new Meredith and what has she done with my mother? In Eugene, Mom spent Sundays reading in her pajamas and often never got out of pajamas at all.
We walk Jasper through Central Park to an Upper East Side brunch spot. My mom gushes the whole walk about the view from Rockefeller Center, the late-night dessert spot Dan took her to, and everything she and Dan caught up on.
I’ll bet not everything. I ask her if she kissed him and she blushes crimson but furrows her brow at me.
“Beryl. That’s not something I’m ready to talk about.”
I raise my brow and mentally save that line to parrot back to her when she grills me about my love life.
The morning is crisp and I tie up Jasper at the sidewalk table where Dan’s already waiting for us. He stands and wraps an a
rm around my mother’s waist to kiss her in greeting. She offers her cheek but he pulls her closer, giving her a good, hard kiss on the mouth.
Holy high-school sweethearts, Batman.
Mom frowns at me. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just here for the food.” I smirk but bury my nose in the menu. Mom sits and gives Jasper a lot of attention but I think she’s just self-conscious under Dan’s heated gaze.
I’m happy for them.
And totally, outrageously jealous. I wish Gavin were here. I wish he were kissing me at brunch after a spectacular night together.
“So what are your plans today, ladies?” Dan asks, and I mumble something about taking mom on a sightseeing bus tour before the spa appointment.
“Meredith, since Beryl’s busy this afternoon, I’d love to take you exploring. There’s a food tour of the Lower East Side’s ethnic restaurants that I think you’d enjoy. The green tea creampuffs and shrimp dumplings are fantastic, and there’s a pickle place that makes habanero pickled pineapple.”
Dumplings! Dan’s speaking my language. Mental note to find out where he goes.
Even though I know my mother’s rarely more adventurous than salad and casserole, I hear her accept with enthusiasm. I spend the rest of brunch watching their back-and-forth like a tennis match.
***
I feel like an impostor as I follow a beautiful girl through the hushed corridors of Bliss Spa. We’ve passed two waterfalls, a Japanese-style tea suite and dozens of treatment rooms.
She takes me to a locker room that looks like it belongs in a palace. Not that I’ve been to a palace, but I’ve seen my share of period movies. Marble and chrome are everywhere and my bare feet melt into the heated floors.
The girl takes my phone. “Spa policy!” she chirps and misses my scowl. She opens a slender closet door where a fluffy white robe waits for me to swap with my clothes.
Tattoo Thief (BOOK 1) Page 19