by R. E. Blake
Best of Everything
R. E. Blake
Copyright © 2014 by R. E. Blake. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, contact:
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Contents
From the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Afterword
About the Author
From the Author
I’ve always loved coming-of-age novels as well as road books. Some of my favorites have been novels that combine both elements – a main character who’s on the road, in difficult circumstances, and through the journey discovers important lessons about herself and the world around her.
Best of Everything, book III in the “Less Than Nothing” trilogy, continues the romance between Sage and Derek, but it’s also an adventure, the story of two people growing into their own skins as their relationship develops further. Love stories involving big changes, seismic shifts for the characters, sacrifices and compromises, and difficult choices, are the ones I find the most satisfying as a reader. Best of Everything is that kind of book. I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 1
New York, New York
I’ve been beaten, homeless, starved, and nearly raped, but nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of watching a girl I don’t know hold out a baby to the guy I’ve spent the last few days with naked.
A crowd of onlookers captures the special moment on cell phones, and I feel an odd sense of floating above my body. For a split second, it’s like I can see every person’s expression simultaneously, with infinite detail – that woman’s eyelashes with too much mascara, her lipstick bleeding into the fine wrinkles around her mouth; the man next to her, his eyes widening as he leans into his girlfriend, whispering, “Oh, my God”; the girlfriend bringing her phone up with a look of surprise, clutching a copy of a fan magazine with Derek’s photo on the cover.
A sound like standing in a wind tunnel roars through my ears, and then I’m rushing back into my body, slammed into it as my heart starts beating again. I hear Derek stammering, unsure of how to respond to the girl’s words, and I force myself to breathe. As oxygen hits my brain again I concentrate on not face-planting into the sidewalk or bursting into tears and running away.
“Lisa,” he says, as if unsure of her name. “What are you talking about?” He’s not reaching to touch the baby, much less take it from her.
“What does it sound like?” she says, still holding the baby out like an offering. “This is Jason. He’s got your eyes.”
The baby looks unexceptional. If he got anything from Derek, I don’t see it. Then again I don’t see much of anything right now but red.
“What are you doing in New York?” he asks.
“I saw you moved here, and I figured now would be as good a time as any to introduce you to your boy.”
“You…you aren’t in Seattle anymore?”
She shrugs. “I’m visiting. Go ahead. You can hold him. He won’t break.” She notices me for the first time and gives me a hint of a smile, her eyes cold. “I’m Lisa.”
Derek takes a step back, and I instinctively move away from him. I don’t trust myself to speak. My throat is all tight, like someone rabbit-punched me and it’s only now registering.
The baby must be heavy, because Lisa pulls him closer to her chest and adjusts his little knit cap. “You’re that Sage chick. I saw you on TV.”
I size her up. She’s pale, still carrying a few pounds of pregnancy fat, but cute, with her hair cut sloppily short and dyed black like mine. She’s a few inches taller than me, and her eyes are a striking violet color. I wonder for a second if she’s wearing contacts, but I don’t care. I just want her to disappear, the earth to swallow her, leaving Derek and me alone.
But this is real life, so she stands there insistently, waiting for Derek to say something. I feel no compulsion to speak. She’s the enemy, and if she weren’t holding a baby, I’d be swinging at her right now.
Okay, maybe that’s not really true, but it feels good to think it, to imagine me driving her off, back into whatever alternate reality she came from.
“Derek? Don’t you have anything to say?” she asks.
Derek shifts from foot to foot and glances at me with an uncomfortable expression on his face. Gone is the easy grin, replaced by a clenching jaw and narrowed eyes. He returns his attention to Lisa and speaks softly.
“Maybe we should go someplace we can talk. You can explain to me what’s going on.”
“What’s going on is the stork brought a little Derek. You really need me to tell you how that works? You seemed to know pretty well last time I saw you.” Her tone is ugly, and I hate her even more.
“I don’t want to talk here,” he says, a pleading in his voice.
She smiles smugly. “Whatever. Where do you want to go?”
“We’ll find someplace.” He turns to me. “Sage, this is Lisa. She’s…kind of an old friend.”
“Kind of an old friend?” I say, trying to keep the hysteria out of my words. “Sounds like more than a friend.” I’m doing my best to hold it together, but nothing could have prepared me for this.
“Come on. Let’s all go get something to drink,” he says, ignoring the remainder of the autograph hunters, who have pulled back as if the newcomer had held up a live grenade instead of a baby. It might as well be one; the effect on me is roughly the same.
He starts down the sidewalk, and I’m torn. Do I follow him? I don’t know what I want, except for all this to go away. This isn’t how the night was supposed to unfold. We were supposed to watch Jeremy kill it at the theater, meet the cast afterward, maybe go to a post-performance party and rub shoulders with the Broadway crowd.
Derek senses that I’m not next to him and stops, turning as he does so, a silent question on his face. My eyes meet his and I look away. “We’re supposed to go to the show. Jeremy…” It sounds totally weak to me, but I don’t know how to say what I’m really thinking, which is Let’s get out of here. Let your ‘old friend’ find you later.
“Damn, that’s right.” He looks to where Lisa is closing in on us, toting baby Jason. “Listen, Sage, I’ve got to deal with this…”
“Deal with it?” I don’t say anything more. I’m trying to keep the hurt out of my voice, but I’m the world’s worst actress.
“Maybe I should meet you later at the theate
r. I…I need to understand what’s happening here.”
“Pretty obvious, isn’t it? Birds. Bees. And now…meet Jason.”
“Sage, it was a long time ago. Almost two years…”
“Right. I can do the math. Eighteen months, more or less.” I choke back bitterness. “Were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what? That I hung out with her for a while way before I knew you existed?”
I realize that Lisa’s standing nearby, an expectant expression on her pretty face. I glance at her and glimpse a tribal tattoo climbing up her arm from her wrist. I wonder for a split second whether she got it at the same time Derek got his. Of course the thought isn’t rational, but that never stopped me before, and I hate myself for thinking it even as I hate him for bringing this into our life.
Which isn’t fair, I know. It’s not like he chose to have some ex show up with a kid. But my heart doesn’t care about fairness, and I can sense I’m close to having a meltdown, even as I recognize that it will help nothing.
I force myself to be outwardly calm. “Okay. I’m going to watch Jeremy. You have my number. Good luck.”
He leans toward me to kiss me, but I can’t. I’m seething, so I set out at a fast march down the street, arms folded over my chest, leaving him to untangle whatever he’s gotten into without me. I can sense his eyes following me as I stalk away, and I can’t wait to round the corner. When I do I start running, drawing startled stares from passersby, but I don’t care. The mindless action, the freedom, feels good.
I slow at the end of the block, breathing heavily, and stop to wipe my brow with the back of my hand. What the hell am I doing? Lisa getting pregnant long before I was in the picture isn’t about me – it isn’t a rejection of me by Derek. It’s a byproduct of not having safe sex when he was, what, sixteen?
But emotionally, it feels like a betrayal. My mind naturally goes to Lisa, and imagines his incredible toned body – the body I thought was all mine – with her, doing all the same things he’s done with me. I feel sick, like I’m going to vomit, but I swallow hard and resume walking, the crisp air chilling my face. I won’t allow my imagination to torture me with those images.
I try talking back to myself, but the words don’t come easily. So what if he had a girlfriend before? I knew he wasn’t a virgin. He never claimed to be. I’m the one who was in that boat. Get over it already. He’s smoking hot. Of course you’re not the only girl who noticed. And he’s a dude. You’ve seen females fall all over him when he’s around. Was he supposed to be living in a monastery or something?
By the time I make it to the box office I feel more in control, but it’s so shaky I can’t trust the sensation. I tell the ticket lady that I’m on the list, and she scans the names and then nods. “Sage, plus one?”
“Um, yeah. But the plus one is running late. His name’s Derek. Can you pencil him in?”
The woman offers a kindly smile and nods as she scribbles. “Sure thing, honey. Enjoy the show.” She passes me a ticket with a seat number on it, and I move to the entry doors. A uniformed man in his early twenties who looks about as enthusiastic as I feel takes my ticket and hands me off to an usher with a flashlight, who leads me to the double theater doors and pulls one open.
“We need to wait for a break. Follow me when there’s a lull,” he whispers. We stand at the back of the theater as a woman onstage sings. Her voice is captivating in a theatrical way, and when she finishes, the audience breaks into applause. We hurry down the aisle, and the usher shines the dim flashlight beam on two empty seats five back from the stage. I slide past several blue-haired ladies with stern frowns of disapproval on their wrinkled mugs. I settle into my seat, ignoring them and emanating my “Don’t mess with me” street vibe, which I hope is still effective.
And then Jeremy is rushing into the spotlight, wearing a cape and a mask. When he begins singing, I forget my cares, or at least park them in my subconscious. He’s beyond brilliant, as expected, and when the last note dies the crowd gives him a standing ovation. I join in and smile when he offers the audience a small bow, his trademark smirk on his face, and then swishes his cape theatrically and stalks offstage.
The first act is over in a blink, and I’m left with my ugly thoughts during intermission, which seems to last forever. I check my phone in case I’d missed it vibrating, but there haven’t been any calls or messages, and my heart sinks when the mezzanine bell rings and everyone troops back into the theater for the second act. I feel abandoned and lonely, surrounded by several thousand strangers. My mind is churning over Derek’s expression as he told me he’d see me later. When I close my eyes, all I can see is Lisa’s face with that smug look of satisfaction on it, as real as the music swelling from the orchestra pit, and it’s all I can do to keep the sour tang of bile down as the lights dim and the second act starts.
The show is breathtaking, though, and by the finale I’m ready to bawl my eyes out. I might be a tough-as-nails street chick, but I’ve always been a big baby when it comes to sad endings – I tear up during most Disney flicks. The applause goes on for hours, it feels like. Jeremy takes several curtain calls, and then, if it’s not my imagination, gives me a wink before returning to his moment of glory.
The audience rises and files out of the theater, and I go to the backstage entrance, as Jeremy suggested. There’s a small crowd there, and I check my cell again as I wait to get through. There are two messages from Melody. My stomach drops as I read the first.
Mel: I just saw on twitter Derek’s got a kid. Whassup wit dat?
Me: You know as much as I do.
Mel: U slap that ho down. Fo reals.
Me: I’ll bear that in mind when I see him again.
Mel: Sucks. #Lifeishard
I look up and find myself face-to-face with a tall Hispanic man sporting a trimmed goatee and a thin line where his lips should be.
“Yes?” he asks with a condescending tone.
“I’m on Jeremy’s list. Sage?”
His eyes flicker in recognition and his whole demeanor changes. “Oh my. Of course. I’m a huge fan. You were sick on that show. Totally rocked it.”
“Um, thanks.” I eye the door behind him. “Can I…?”
“Sure. Sorry.” He lifts the rope and motions me to the door and readopts his stern attitude for the next hopeful.
The backstage area is pandemonium, people laughing and talking and champagne corks popping. I spy Jeremy near one of the dressing rooms, wearing a green silk robe and posturing like a silent film star before an adoring group of admirers. He spots me and waves. I approach and he hugs me like it’s been years.
“Dahling. I’m so glad you made it. Where’s the boy toy?”
I glance at the others and shrug. “He got held up.” I change the subject. “You were awesome. I mean, really.”
“Of course I was. It’s my job.” He turns to his friends. “Everyone, this is Sage. You probably recognize her from the talent show. If you don’t, you’ll soon hear all about her – the biggest sensation since Madonna.”
I offer a small smile. “Jeremy likes to exaggerate.”
“Nonsense. This little bit of thang has more talent in her little finger than the whole of New York. She’s destined for fame and fortune. And I’m not just saying that because I’m hoping she springs for a late dinner.” He offers a wide grin.
“Sounds like a date,” I say. I could use the time alone to get his read on Derek. I realize he hasn’t been monitoring social media for news of my love life – so unlike Melody, who’s got better coverage than the NSA, he has no idea what just happened. “How long are you going to be?”
“Two shakes of a lamb’s tail. I just need to get out of this greasepaint and lavish some of my adoring fans with my presence. Can you wait maybe…twenty minutes?” he asks. I know he means thirty.
“Sure.” I turn to his entourage, mostly other attractive young men. “Nice meeting everyone.” I’m in no mood to chitty chat, so I find a quiet corner and park myself t
here. A reed-thin man in a tuxedo comes over to me with a tray and offers me a full champagne glass, and I take it. It’s been that kind of night.
Jeremy finally emerges from his dressing room and joins me. I stretched the champagne as long as I could, and my reward is a headache and a sour taste in the back of my throat.
“So, girlfriend, you ready to rock and roll?”
“Yeah. Where do you want to go?”
“There’s a deli that’s open till all hours only a block away. Food to die for.”
“Lead the way.”
The restaurant is a dive, but he’s right, the food’s awesome. We split a sandwich that’s big enough to feed half the city, and after some small talk I tell him about Lisa’s surprise. His mouth makes an O and he shakes his head.
“Wow, party over, huh? What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know there’s anything for me to do. It’s not like I had the baby.”
“No, but it makes things more complicated, doesn’t it?”
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“He must be freaking out. Where is he?”
“With her.”
“Ouch. How are you holding up?” he asks, studying me.
“I don’t know. I think I’m still in shock. I mean, this just happened.”
“And tomorrow’s your last night here. Talk about a buzz kill.” He glances at his watch. “You want to gorge yourself on chocolate and watch Cabaret with me again?”
I laugh. “That’s not how I thought I’d be spending my night.”
“Has he called?”
“No.” I know I sound irritated.
“Okay, then, let’s pay up and hit it. I have a box of Belgians stashed in my boudoir for when I’m having a sad day. In case of tragedy, break seal.”
“How’s your love life doing?” I ask as he signals for the bill.
“Complicated. My Mr. Right Now is all that, but he’s got issues.”
“Don’t we all?”
“This is kind of a big one. The M word.”
I think quickly. “Mexican? Mutant?”