by Nina Levine
Fuck.
And then Vivienne’s words from today slap me in the face.
What is your greatest fear?
And the answer swirls around in my gut, demanding I pay attention to it when all I want to do is get the fuck out of here and avoid facing this.
My voice is stuck in my throat and I can’t form a reply to what she’s just said. She’s staring at me, waiting, and nothing comes.
Shaking her head, she says, “I just told you I love you and you don’t even have anything to say back to that?”
Denial pulses through my body.
I can’t do this.
Without another word, I stalk out to the kitchen.
I need to get out of here.
“Where are you going?” she demands, following me. Suffocating me.
Grabbing my keys off the counter, I swing around to face her. “I can’t do this, Presley.”
Disbelief flashes in her eyes and her body sags a little. “Can’t do what?”
I madly point my finger between the two of us. “This.”
“You’re walking away from this? From us?” Her voice bounces off the walls and echoes through me. The ache of her hurt ricochets through my body, amplifying my own pain.
“Yes.” I still and watch her, wanting to move, yet frozen to the spot.
What the fuck have I just done?
Where the fuck did those words come from?
Watching her process that is like watching something in slow motion. The realisation of what I’ve said passes over her face and then through her body, and then it’s as if her brain kicks into gear. And there’s nothing like a woman burnt by love. “You’re going to regret this, Jett. You need me, but you know what? By the time you figure that out, I might be long gone.”
She turns on her heel and stalks into my bedroom. Less than five minutes later, she comes back out, fully dressed, grabs her bag and keys, and with one last glare at me, and muttering something about ‘bloody men who have their heads up their ass’, she walks out of my life.
30
Presley
“Have you heard from him?” Erin asks as she leans back in the massage chair and closes her eyes. Her shoulders begin to vibrate as the chair starts working through its massage. We’re having a girls’ day out and first order of business is a pedicure and manicure.
My heart hurts thinking about her question. “No.”
Her eyes blink open and she turns to look at me with disbelief. “It’s been two weeks. I can’t believe he still hasn’t called you. What was all that bullshit about you being the one and he’d do anything to make you give him a chance? That fucker, he gets you all into him and then just cuts and runs.”
Through my pain, I can still manage a smile for my friend. “I love how you’re always on my side, babe.”
Her indignation is burning bright. “Well, I’m pissed at him. Don’t get me wrong, I like him, but Jesus, he’s going to have some major sucking up to do when he gets his shit together and comes crawling back to you.”
“You’re assuming he will come back… I’m not so sure of it.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Really? That guy has it bad for you. This is just his grief talking, right?”
“I’ve rung him and sent him a few texts but he hasn’t replied to any of them. I think he’s done.” Saying the words out loud hurts even more than thinking them, and I begin to cry. Wiping the tears away, I mutter, “Fuck, I hate crying over a man.” But as mad as I might be with him for the way he’s handled this, I’m so worried about him and his grief. It hurts me more to think about him out there coping with his sister’s death without someone to help him through that.
“You know what I’ve been wondering?” she asks.
“What?”
“Why you just let him walk away. I watched the way you fought for Lennon and your marriage, and I actually thought you felt more for Jett than Lennon so I’m wondering why you didn’t fight harder for him.” She’s watching me closely and sounds puzzled, and I don’t blame her because I’ve asked myself this same question.
“I felt so small when he rejected me. In hindsight, I know it was his grief talking but at the time, all it felt like was one more rejection from a man.” My eyes well up again. “And fuck, I can’t take another rejection. The only thing I wanted in that moment was to get away from him so that I didn’t have to hear him say again that he didn’t want us. That he didn’t want me.”
Her eyes soften. “Men are so dumb.”
I take a deep breath. “Yeah, but so are we. Things get said and done in the heat of the moment that you wish you could take back, and I wish I could take back the fact I just left that night. I wish I could go back and fight with him some more and push him to make a different choice.” And I wish he would answer his damn phone or reply to my texts.
“Chances are, though, that he wouldn’t have. It sounds to me like Jett has to work out whatever shit is going on in his mind before he’ll come to his senses.”
“So you don’t think I should go and see him?” I’ve been thinking about it for days but I’m not sure I could handle another rejection from him.
She contemplates my question and then gives me a pained look. “I honestly don’t know. My concern is how you would cope if he pushed you away again.”
Erin knows me so well. Despite all my confidence, I’m still a fucked up, sensitive soul on the inside. Lennon saw to that, and I’m still working my way to getting my self-belief back. I lay my head back against the chair and sigh. “I probably wouldn’t cope very well,” I muse out loud.
“Give him some more time then,” she suggests, and I wonder how long he will take, if ever, to come looking for me.
* * *
Jett
“This is good news, boys,” Tom says as he shifts his gaze between all of us. He’s full of shit, though, and he knows it.
“Yeah, really fucking great news,” West says dryly. “It’s too little, too fucking late.” His body is rigid and he looks like he wants to punch something, or someone. And I can’t blame him.
“That bitch should never have made that rape allegation in the first place. And to leave it hanging for weeks before saying ‘Oh, I made this shit up to try and get money to pay for my Mum’s medical bills is utter fucking bullshit.” Van puts his two cents in and we all nod in agreement.
Tom gives up a losing battle. “Yeah, it blows, but at least the public know the truth now.”
“The damage has been done, Tom,” I say what we’re all thinking.
He gives us all an exasperated look. “Fuck, you guys are a barrel of laughs. Are we all just going to sit around and mope, or are we going to discuss our plans going forward? I’m just trying to lift the mood a little here.”
“He’s right,” Hunter says, “All we can do now is look ahead and put this shit behind us. And what we need to decide, or at least start thinking about, is what we’re going to do about this album?” He looks at me. “Are you ready to start working on it again or do you want some more time off, Jett? And for the record, I’m on your side whatever you decide.”
“Me, too,” West agrees.
Van doesn’t say anything and I wonder if he’s going to be pissed at me for what I’m about to say. “I need some more time.”
Silence and a few nods, but still nothing from Van.
“How long are we talking?” Tom asks.
“I’m going to take off for awhile and sort through the mess in my head, but I know we need to get this album out, so maybe a month, two at the most.”
Tom thinks it through and then nods slowly. “That could work.” He looks at Van and says, “You can keep writing while he’s gone and I’m sure he’ll come back with songs, which means you guys can get straight into it when he returns and pump the album out.”
I agree with him, and Hunter and West are nodding, too, but there’s something off with Van.
Tom frowns. “What, Van? I thought you were going to start working with us on th
is rather than fighting it all the way?”
Van stands and blows out a long breath. Staring at all of us, he says, “I need some time off, too.”
He’s saying the words ‘time off’, but I’m sensing there’s more to this. “How long?” I ask.
A few moments pass before he finally says, “I don’t know if I’ll be back.”
These are the words I’ve dreaded to hear from one of us for years. Fuck knows how Crave would continue without all of us. I suck in a breath and try to calm my rising panic.
“Fuck, Van,” West spits out. Anger blares from him, but I’m fairly sure most of it stems from the bitch who accused him of rape. He’s been fighting that anger ever since it hit the media and it looks like it’s about to explode out of him. “How fucking long have you been planning this?”
West’s anger riles Van up. “It’s not something I’ve been planning, but I think it’s been coming for awhile. And when you get to the point in your job where you don’t even want to get out of bed to go to work each day, it’s definitely time to reassess, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
“That’s a cop out. We all have days where we’d rather not be working. It doesn’t mean we quit.” West continues his outburst.
I want to step in and help us all come to a compromise, because that’s what I usually do, but I don’t have it in me. My life feels like it’s on a roller coaster lately, and at the moment, I’m on a sharp descent, unable to find the brakes to stop it. I just don’t have the energy. I’ve lost nearly everything that means something to me but I don’t know how to fight anymore. My guiding light is gone and I pushed my other one away.
Van and West are arguing in the background as my thoughts take over. I stop paying attention to them until Hunter breaks through their argument and announces loudly, “I think we can all agree that Van needs this time off and if he decides to leave, we need to support him on that. When we started this band, we said we’d always have each other’s backs no matter what choices we each made, and we’ve had a good ten years together because we’ve stuck together on all things. Things change, people change, and we can’t hold each other back.”
“Thanks, man,” Van says to Hunter with a look of genuine appreciation.
I catch Van’s gaze. “You’ve got my support, always. Whatever you decide.” I might not like this or want it to happen, but the one thing I’ve always stood for is supporting those who we class as family in everything they do. And Van is family.
West doesn’t say anything. He simply nods at Van to indicate his feelings.
God, what a fucking mess we’re in. Six months ago we were riding high, and now we don’t even know if we’ll ever make an album together again.
31
Jett
I lock the studio and start walking towards the café. I’ve been coming to the studio on and off for the past couple of weeks since Claudia died, and today is my last day here. I haven’t told anyone what I’ve been doing because this is for me; writing is my own personal form of therapy. And I’ve been writing a lot. Hell, I’ve got a lot of stuff to work through so it’s no wonder the words have been filling up the pages. They may not be my best songs, but they’ve been good for me.
A pang of regret hits me as I think about the songs. Most of them are about Claudia but a few are about Presley, and they hit me just as hard as the ones about my sister. The first two weeks after we broke up, she called and texted me a few times, but this last week, I haven’t heard from her at all. It kills me to know she’s not in my life anymore, but it kills me more to know I have hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her but I’ve done a bang-up fucking job of doing just that.
As I step through the door of the café, I see the girl from a few weeks ago; the one who grilled me about being a jerk to Presley. She sees me at the same time and recognition dawns on her face. I turn away from her and head to the counter to order a coffee. Talking with her again is not high on my list of priorities.
Once I’ve got my coffee, I find the table the furthest away from Vivienne and sit at it with my back to everyone. Mostly, I’ve found this café and this area great in so far as either people don’t recognise me or if they do, they allow me my privacy, but yesterday I had some fans approach me and it got a little out of hand. I’ve taken to not bringing my security guy with me everywhere lately but I may have to rethink that.
“Jett.” Vivienne’s voice trails over my shoulder and I mutter a swear word to myself.
I turn to find her moving past me to sit at my table. Raising my brows, I say, “Why don’t you make yourself at home?”
“I will, thank you,” she throws back at me, knowing full well I was being sarcastic.
Groaning, I say, “I just want some time to myself, Vivienne. Do we have to do this?”
“Do what?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest. I take in her appearance today, which is something I failed to do the other week. She reminds me of a hippie from the seventies with her long flowing white dress, hairband and flower in her long hair. Not my type at all, but quite pretty regardless.
“I figure you’ve come to grill me again.”
“Well, did you work it out with your girlfriend?”
“Yeah, we broke up.” I try to act like it means nothing to me but I’m sure she’ll be able to see through that.
Her eyes are relentless in the way they try to read my soul. The feeling of vulnerability I have in her presence is unnerving and I’m just as desperate to escape her as I was weeks ago. Finally, she says, “You didn’t figure it out, did you? Or maybe you did, and it was too much for you to admit.”
Fuck.
What is your greatest fear?
I hurriedly drink the rest of my coffee and stand. “I would say it was nice to see you again, but I’d be lying,” I mutter as I take the first step away from her.
“You can run all you like, Jett, but the one person you can never hide from is yourself. Eventually, it will all catch up with you and you’ll realise how lonely and unhappy you are on your own. Don’t let your greatest fear hold you back from having everything you want in life.”
I keep walking and ignore the shit she is trying to preach at me. Jesus, where do people get off thinking they can try and tell you how to live your life?
Thank fuck today was my last day at this studio.
I’m never coming back here again.
* * *
“Claudia would want you to have this,” Mum says, holding up the vase I gave Claudia for her last birthday.
Frowning, I ask, “What the hell am I gonna do with a vase?” My apartment is hardly filled with flowers, and my decision to sell it means I would have even less use for a vase.
Sadness covers Mum’s face and she puts the vase down and gives me a long look. “Are you really leaving tomorrow? And never coming back?” I hate the pain I can hear in her voice.
I sit next to her on Claudia’s couch. We’ve started going through her belongings and Mum’s struggling with it to the point I’m beginning to think we need to put it on hold. Luckily, Claudia lived in my parents’ granny flat so we have the luxury of being able to take all the time in the world. “I’m sorry I’m leaving, Mum, but it’s too damn hard to stay here at the moment. Everywhere I go, I see her and think of her, and I need a break from that while I try to get a grip on the fact she’s never coming back.”
Her eyes tear up. “I understand that, Jett, but you don’t have to sell your apartment to do that.”
“Just because I sell the apartment doesn’t mean I won’t come back and buy something else. I’ve been wanting a change for awhile now so this is as good a time as any to do that.”
“It just feels like you’re getting rid of everything in your life…” Her voice trails off, confusing me.
“What else am I getting rid of?”
She watches me quietly for a beat. “Presley.”
Her name causes my heart rate to speed up.
Every fucking time I hear it.
&nbs
p; I stand and walk to the window. Staring out of it for a couple of minutes, I think about what she’s said. Finally, I turn back to her. “I can’t do it, Mum,” I whisper, unable to force my voice out.
“Can’t do what?”
My heart leaps into my throat as I finally decide to admit my greatest fear. “I can’t let her in… what if I lose her, too?”
Mum’s tears course down her face and she comes to me and puts her arms around me. “You can’t live your life that way, Jett. I don’t want that for you.” She hugs me for a long time and I give in to it; I let her mother me.
When she lets me go, she searches my face and then says, “Presley was good for you. I’ve never seen you so happy, not even from your music.”
“Well, it’s all fucked now,” I admit as the dark cloud of regret threatens to swallow me.
Mum shakes her head. “No, don’t ever say that. Even when everything seems lost, there’s always a way.” Her voice is so forceful and it stuns me she can feel this way even after losing Claudia.
“How can you say that?” I demand. “Your daughter was taken from you so I’m not sure how you can ever say there’s always hope. There’s not!”
She lets out a long sigh. “There is. Just because someone dies doesn’t mean there isn’t hope. We still have each other and we have our amazing memories of Claudia. She might be gone, but they can never take her away from us completely. And we will see her again one day, Jett. I have hope for that. And I have hope that you will find your way and find love; that you will let someone in who will love you unconditionally like Claudia did. And I have hope you’ll give me a grandbaby.” She gives me one of her beautiful smiles. “There are a lot of things to hope for.”
I let her words sink in, not entirely sure she’s convinced me, but she’s at least given me a fresh perspective to think about. Returning her smile, I say, “Claudia took after you so much. That sounds like something she would have said.”