by Nina Levine
His eyes bulge. “Fuck, sorry man.”
“Yeah. Me too, but it’s done and I can only move forward from here.”
Van strolls in, interrupting our conversation, and we both turn to him. Dark sunglasses cover his eyes and he looks as trashed as I feel. “I’m here, assholes. My head’s killing like a motherfucker so if we could work on something that doesn’t involve loud noise that would be fucking awesome,” he grumbles as he drops onto the couch in the corner.
“I feel ya, man,” I agree, and we nod at each other.
“Why did we think it was a good idea to drink that much shit last night?” Van asks.
The couch looks inviting so I sit next to him and lay my head back. Fuck, it’s heaven. “Because you were being a dickhead and giving me grief about this goddamn fucking sound of ours.”
After Presley left, Van and I had continued our argument into the early hours of the morning, consuming a shitload of alcohol in the process.
“And you were a dick to your girlfriend. That’s right; it’s all coming back to me now.” He turns his head to look at me. “Have you heard from her?”
“No.”
He sucks in a breath. “Fuck. You gonna get onto that?”
“Yeah, but not until later when I can actually form a sentence. That conversation needs me at my best.”
“I tend to agree with you on that.”
Hunter’s joined us and is standing in front of where Van and I are sitting. “Did I just hear right? Did you two assholes just agree on something?”
“Fuck off,” Van snaps at him as he removes his sunglasses and levels a glare on him.
Hunter ignores him. “Are we getting to work or are you two gonna sit around and bitch like girls all day?”
“Fuck off,” I echo Van’s sentiments and pull myself up out of the couch. Looking around the room, I ask, “What have we got?”
“I wrote a song this morning,” Van says, surprising the hell out of all of us.
“Jesus, with that hangover?” West murmurs.
“Show me,” I demand, because I know that magic flows when Van’s worked up like he has been lately.
He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and hands me the lyrics while he reaches for his guitar. A minute later he’s playing us the song I know will be the first single from our album. And the kicker is that he’s managed to combine our signature sound with the new sound he’s so keen to try.
* * *
We work for thirteen hours straight and finally call it quits just after nine that night. We’ve recorded Van’s new song as well as another one we’ve been working on for a few days. It’s been a long day, but for the first time in ages it feels like we’re finally getting somewhere with this album.
I head out to my car and call Claudia as I turn on the engine.
“Have you got a song for me yet?” she asks. I always send her our music while we’re recording because she’s usually spot on with her assessment of it.
“I have two for you. I’ll send them tomorrow.” I put the car in reverse and pull out of the car park.
“Are you happy with them?”
“I think so.”
“Why the hesitation? That’s not like you?”
“We’re trying out a new sound so I’m not completely convinced. That’s why I really want your opinion,” I say as I head out of The Valley towards Presley’s place. I haven’t spoken with her all day and I’m at the point where I need her. Fuck making a phone call, I need to see her and touch her.
“Wow, a new sound. I think it’s a great idea.”
“Yeah, but we need to get it right, so we don’t turn fans off.”
“What are you doing now? Wanna come over?”
“I can’t. I’m on my way to see Presley. I’ve got stuff to fix with her after we had a fight last night.” Claudia knows about Presley and although she hasn’t met her yet, she’s happy I finally have a girlfriend. She’s been on my case to stop screwing around for years.
“Shit, Jett, you had a fight last night and you haven’t sorted that out yet? If I was Presley, I’d be even madder at you by now. Have you at least spoken with her today?”
“No,” I admit, “I’ve been busy working all day.”
She sighs. “You really have no clue how this relationship stuff works, do you?”
“Fuck, Claudia, I’ve got shit going on with a lot of things at the moment. Presley knows that.”
“Oh God, you need to pick up your game, big brother. I’ve seen the photos of Presley you sent me and she’s hot. If you don’t look after that relationship, another guy’s gonna come along and show her what she’s missing.”
Irritation crawls through me, and I slam my hand on the steering wheel. “Fuck, you think I don’t know that? I’m doing the best I can.” The idea of another man even thinking about Presley causes my jealousy to spike. And I fucking hate it as much as Presley does but I’m helpless to stop it. The woman has me all tied up in knots.
“I suggest you hang up, speed up, and hope like hell she’ll listen to what you have to say to her.”
“I’m going. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Good luck, cause I think you’re gonna need it,” she says just before ending the call.
I do as she suggested and press my foot harder to the pedal. Presley’s place is less than ten minutes away, but ten minutes feels like too long after that phone call.
Fuck.
When I pull into her car park, the knots in my stomach are worse. I never worry over stuff like this so this is another new feeling for me, and again, I’m not fucking liking it. Damn Claudia and her advice.
I park the car and jog up to the front door of her apartment building. She doesn’t answer when I buzz her apartment to be let in so I press it again and wait. Still no answer so I pull out my phone and call her. I’m just about to hang up when she answers.
“Jett, it’s late, and I’m not in the mood to talk to you now.”
Yep, she’s pissed. Fuck, Claudia was right.
“Well, I’m in the mood to talk to you. We need to clear the air after last night.”
“I’m not sure we would clear the air if we spoke now. Let’s leave it until tomorrow.”
“No, I don’t want to wait until then.” My voice is forceful; I need to see her.
She’s silent for a beat and then she gives me a break. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”
“No.”
Silence again, and then, “Fine.” And the door buzzes open.
A couple of minutes later, I’m at her door where she’s standing with it open, waiting for me. Her face shows no sign of happiness to see me but I don’t let that stop me. By the end of our conversation she’ll have come around. I’ll make sure of it.
“I missed you today,” I say, willing her to believe me.
“Yeah, my phone records would prove that.” Her tone is ice cold but I plough on.
“Can I come in?”
She holds her arm out to let me in but doesn’t say anything. I resist the urge to take her in my arms because I figure that won’t go down well with the mood she’s in, so I walk past her and into her living room. She joins me a moment later, but keeps her distance, and waits silently for me to talk. Her shoulders are tense and there’s no sign of a smile anywhere.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you today. I’ve been working since eight this morning and didn’t get a chance.”
Her eyes don’t leave mine but there’s so much tension in her gaze that I’m not sure what she’s thinking or whether my words are getting through. She surprises me when she finally speaks. “Well, I could have called you so I’m not holding it against you.”
She might not be holding that against me, but she’s sure as hell not backing down from being upset with me. “So I take it if you’re not upset I didn’t call, you’re still angry from last night?”
“I never said I wasn’t upset you didn’t call. I simply said I couldn’t hold it against you. There’s a d
ifference, Jett.”
Jesus, remind me never to piss Presley off again; she’s a ballbreaker when she’s upset.
“Okay, so you’re angry at me. I get that, but we need to find a way to sort through it all. Yeah?”
The daggers she’s staring at me with aren’t a good sign she’s ready to talk, but I remain hopeful. “I told you I don’t think tonight’s a good time to go over it. I’m too angry.”
My hangover from this morning has cleared, but I’m exhausted, and while I’m trying to hold it all together and stay calm while she continues to cling to her anger, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to. “You’re giving me mixed signals, sweetheart. One minute you say you wanted me to call you today and now you’re saying you don’t want to talk. Which one is it?”
Her eyes widen and she raises her voice when she says, “I wanted to know you were thinking about me. I just needed a sign.”
I scrub my face. “Well, I can’t go back and change it now but I was thinking about you. I fucking woke up thinking about you.”
The hard set to her face softens a little but she doesn’t cut me any slack with her words. “Next time you wake up thinking about me, you might wanna tell me.”
My temper snaps. There’s only so much bitch I can handle. I close the distance between us and get in her face. “I’ve gotta tell you, I’m not loving the bitch you’re bringing out, baby. I can handle pissed off and I can take angry and ranty, but when I’m standing in front of you and I’m doing my best to be honest with you and admit that, yes, I fucked up, I don’t appreciate you throwing that back in my face. I’m not a pro at relationships, and I’ll be the first to admit that, but a little give and take would go a long fucking way here.”
I thought she was angry before, but hell if my words don’t bring more anger out. She pushes her face closer to mine and lets loose. “You want honest? I’m so angry with you right now. I was happy by myself, happy without a man, and then you came along. I just wanted some fun, but you turned it into more and chased the shit out of me until I gave in. So I took a chance on you and I told you what I went through with Lennon. I fucking shared that with you, so you knew how I felt; that I can’t go through that kind of relationship again. And I believed you when you said we’d be different. And so, I fell for you. And you didn’t follow through!”
The passion behind her words blows me away.
She’s in this with me.
One hundred fucking percent, she’s in.
I grab her arm and pull her against me. “How didn’t I follow through?” I demand while putting both arms around her and sliding my hands down to her ass. Our lips are almost touching and while I know I’m going to kiss her soon, I’m delaying so I can hear what she has to say. I need to know how I’ve let her down so that I never do it again.
An angry moan falls from her lips. “I know it may sound pathetic, but I need to know I come first to you. It hurts too much when I think otherwise.”
Fuck.
It’s her fears of coming second best that are driving all this. And while I think she’s being slightly irrational, I understand that when you fear something, everything is magnified and easily blown out of proportion.
I move one of my hands to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m listening to everything you’re saying, and I won’t let you down again.”
My apology seems to make its way into her heart because her body softens against mine and she says, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you either.”
I finally give in to my desire and press my lips to hers. She opens her mouth and lets me in, and I spend the next couple of minutes showing her with my lips and tongue how much I want her. This kiss is just what we need; it’s our way of expressing what our words can’t always say.
When we end the kiss, she holds my gaze and whispers, “Thank you.”
I smile. “You need to do something for me, too.”
“What?”
“Please don’t turn bitchy on me again. You could rip a man’s heart out with that shit.”
A hint of a smile crosses her lips. “I’m sorry. I try so hard not to flip that switch but it just happens, and I have no control over it.”
I place my hand against my heart. “Well, it’s still intact so we’re all good for now,” I say with a grin.
My joke lightens the mood and a full-blown smile graces her face. “Thank God for that, huh?”
“Can you do one other thing for me?” I ask, desperate for this request to be fulfilled.
“What now?” She fakes exasperation and waits to hear what I want.
Bending my lips to her ear, I beg, “Can you take your clothes off ‘cause I’ve been staring at those pants for too long now and I’m sick of them.”
7
Presley
The next day I’m restless. I’ve finished editing all the Crave photos and while there are lots of things I could be doing, none of them interest me, so I spend most of the day sitting in the sun with a good book and my earplugs in. Just after lunch I’m almost asleep when Lennon shatters my peace and quiet. He joins me on my balcony and scares the shit out of me because I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in my apartment.
Sitting up, I glare at him while I rip my earplugs out. “Why are you letting yourself in? And why the hell do you still have a key?” I snap.
“I’ve been banging on your front door for a good five minutes, and I still have a key, because my name is still on the deed.”
I stand and put my hand out. “Give me that key,” I demand, my blood pressure skyrocketing.
Shaking his head, he argues with me. “No, I have as much right to this key as you do.”
My eyes widen. “No, you don’t! You haven’t wanted anything to do with that key for more than six months, Lennon, so don’t come back here now when I’m finally moving on, and try to stir up shit.” I click my fingers, motioning for him to give me the damn key.
He folds his arms across his chest. “I’m not trying to stir up shit. I simply want my wife back.”
“It’s funny how you only want me now that someone else has me.”
Rolling his eyes, he mutters, “I didn’t even know you two were together, Presley.”
“Well, we are together, so you should just leave and never come back. I’m going through with this divorce, and I’m committed to Jett. You need to listen to me and hear what I’m saying.” My voice is as firm as I can make it and I hope like hell he’s listening.
He shifts on his feet but doesn’t move from his spot, his arms still folded across his chest. “Tell me, baby, what do you think will be different between you and Jett to you and me? He lives the same lifestyle I do so nothing will change there, and you’ll still have groupies to deal with.”
I ignore his use of the word ‘baby’. It’s unlikely he’ll listen to me if I tell him again not to use it. Lennon does what Lennon wants to do. “Jett knows I won’t put up with the same kind of behaviour I put up with from you.”
His brows rise. “What fucking behaviour? I didn’t cheat on you, I didn’t abuse you . . . what the fuck did I do to you?”
My skin pricks with anger and disappointment. I loved him once, and we could have had it all, but he has no idea how to love someone. “Sometimes not doing anything to someone is just as bad as doing something to them.”
The look of confusion written across his face is clear. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I wanted you to want me; I wanted you to spend time with me, to have fun with me, to do silly things with me, to fight with me. Instead, you ignored me and hardly included me in your life. That’s what the difference with Jett is – he does all those things with me.”
Understanding dawns for him and he softens his voice. “I can change. I can do those things with you.”
I take a step away from him. “No, it’s too late for us.” I put my hand out again. “So give me the key and please leave.” My voice has turned cold because I realise that might be the only way to make him see
we’re done.
His stare causes me to shiver, and the ugliness in his voice when he speaks cuts to the bone. He throws the key at my feet and spits out, “Have it your way, Presley, but I fucking guarantee you that you’re making the wrong choice here. Jett’s a player, and I’ve seen him in action. It won’t be long until he grows bored with you and goes back to his whores.”
I hug my arms to my body and fight like hell to hold myself together. Breaking down in front of my asshole husband is not something I will allow. “Get out,” I order, glaring at him.
He returns my glare for a moment before turning on his heel and stalking out of my apartment.
I wait to hear the door shut and when I do, I sink to the ground and let the tears fall. It hurts to know I gave my heart and soul to that man, that I planned my life around his and wanted children with him. And I feel like an idiot for not seeing him for the man he really is for so long. The sun fucking rose and set around him, and that pisses me off.
The tears flow freely and I don’t try to stop them. I need to let them out so I can finally let him go and more forward. The only saving grace in all this is that I’m much stronger from everything I’ve been through. And from now on, I’ll always put myself first.
Lennon may have broken my heart but he taught me something.
He taught me to own my story and to love myself regardless of any parts that need editing.
* * *
I’m over my meltdown when Jett arrives at my apartment later that afternoon. Lennon’s a distant memory as I look at the man standing in front of me now. He’s smiling as if he’s won the lottery and I cock my head and ask, “Why are you so happy today?”
His hands slide around my waist and I’m pulled into his embrace. “What would you say if I told you I had two full days off?”
“I’d say you should spend those two days in bed with me.”
He chuckles and kisses me. “That’s why you’re my woman; we think the same way. But I’ve got an even better suggestion.”