“I don’t know. We need to keep an eye on him.”
We’re both studying Luke now, and relax a bit when he requests a table. The club is packed, so I’d be shocked if they have any available, but the hostess consults with some colleagues, and before I know it, we’re being led past more security and up a set of stairs to a secluded balcony. There are maybe five other tables surrounded by couches up here, and the hostess shows us to the empty one.
“Please let us know what you need,” she says, and Sweeny recites a surprisingly extensive list.
She smiles and promises to have that sent right up.
“You good?” I ask Luke, dropping beside him.
He gives me a weak look. “I don’t know yet,” he says, staring through the railing at the packed dance floor below.
I loop my arm through his and lean against his shoulder.
“We got you, kid,” I say, and can feel him relax.
I sense Casey’s gaze and reach over with my other hand to grab his. He squeezes back, and the three of us sit in silence while Eli and Sweeny take off to one of the other tables.
“You know them?” I ask, and cringe at Luke and Casey’s amused grins.
“Do you not have any relationship with pop culture? Like, at all?” Casey asks in disbelief.
I shrug with a sheepish smile, and he shakes his head.
“That’s Andis Carver and Kendra Malkin, hon,” Luke explains, his expression mirroring Casey’s.
My jaw drops. “Wait, the real Andis Carver and Kendra Malkin? Like, the movie stars?”
Luke laughs. “Yes, the movie stars.”
“Wow. I can’t believe I’m ten feet away from them!”
I can feel Casey and Luke’s looks of disbelief and turn to them defensively. “What?”
“What?” Casey asks in exasperation.
Luke is laughing so hard now, I don’t know what to do except stare in utter confusion. Casey is just shaking his head, obviously just as confused by me.
“What?” I repeat, totally lost.
“Callie! You’re best friends with Luke Craven, freakin’ dating Casey Barrett, superstars from rock sensation Night Shifts Black, and what finally impresses you is that you’re at the same club as Andis Carver?” Casey cries.
I laugh, finally starting to understand, and shrug with a grin. “I suppose I can see your point…” I grab a napkin and hold it up. “So does that mean I’m not allowed to ask for an autograph?” I tease, and Casey pulls me down and kisses me instead. I giggle and settle against him.
“No autographs,” he mutters, and I can actually feel the moment when he rolls his eyes.
∞∞∞
Luke, Casey, and I spend our entire time at the table laughing and talking. It actually turns out to be a fun night, definitely more than I expected when we pulled up, and despite the potentially awkward start, even Luke seems relaxed and in good spirits when we leave. As usual, we lost Eli and Sweeny somewhere along the way, so the three of us return to the suite alone.
“How you feeling, rock star?” I ask Luke, after we’re safely back in 403.
He smiles at me. “Good. Better than I thought I would, if I’m honest.”
“Yeah? Good. I’m glad.”
I give him a quick hug, then take Casey’s hands.
“And what about you, my super famous and disgustingly talented boyfriend?”
He shakes his head with that signature Casey Barrett grin. “Knock it off. We get it. You. Don’t. Care.”
I shrug. “Well, I mean, maybe I would if you’d been in a few B movies and almost got nominated for an Oscar a decade ago.”
“I have an Oscar, sweetheart,” he returns, and I laugh.
“Point, Barrett,” Luke calls from the fridge. “You two want anything while I’m here?”
I squeeze Casey’s hands and lead him toward the couch. “Just water for me. How about a movie, guys?”
Casey nods. “I’m in. Luke?”
“Depends. You lovebirds aren’t going to make-out the whole time, are you?” he mutters, and I smirk.
“I don’t know. Casey’s mad at me, so you’re probably safe.”
Casey shakes his head, and I laugh as he wrestles me to the couch.
“Yep, that’s what I thought. I’m out,” Luke jokes as he rounds the corner to join us.
“Oh, stop and sit down,” I bark, patting the cushion beside me.
He smiles and hands me my bottle of water while Casey and I adjust to more practical positions. I pick up the remote, but hesitate when I sense there’s more that needs to be said. Luke has that far-off look again, but there’s something different about it this time.
“You ok?” I ask, studying him for any of the usual signs.
He surprises us when the wistful look spreads into a content smile. “You know, a year ago I wouldn’t have been able to do what we did tonight without getting wasted and making a dick of myself. Six months ago I wouldn’t have been able to even make it through those doors at all. And then tonight…” He looks at me, and my heart swells. “I think I’m a different person now.”
“We all are, man,” Casey says quietly.
I nod, and search Luke’s eyes. “We are. You don’t have to be a ghost anymore.”
The Next Day.
We all fall asleep on the couch this time. I know because I wake up a few times during the night to see Luke asleep on the vertical side, while I share the horizontal piece with Casey. But by the time I get up the following morning, Luke is gone. I wonder if he moved back to his room, since I don’t see him anywhere in the main area of the suite.
I force myself up and stretch, feeling nervous for some reason, but not wanting to totally give in to such an irrational feeling. We had a great night. We’d found an Andis Carver classic, and Luke was in good spirits throughout the movie, joking and laughing with us. So why is my heart pounding in my chest just a few hours later?
I almost laugh out loud to myself at this ridiculous rush of adrenaline as I move to the hallway. The guest room is empty. The office. The extra bathroom. Of course they are because Luke is in his room. Asleep, maybe showering, and I’m going to disturb him because I suddenly can’t breathe and feel like I’m suppressing a scream. I swallow and knock.
No answer.
I knock again.
Nothing.
My hands are shaking now and suddenly I know why. My heart stops as the alarm takes over. What did Elena do with her last breaths? Remind the people she loved most how important they were.
No. No!
I shove through Luke’s door, completely frantic now.
“Luke!” I cry, sudden tears burning my eyes. “Luke, where are you?”
His bed is empty, still made from room service the day before. His bathroom is dark. I turn the light on, but it’s empty, too.
“Casey!” I cry, running from Luke’s room back to the hallway. My frantic screams have startled him awake, and he bolts up from the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Luke! He’s gone!”
Casey looks confused. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
I shrug helplessly, not even sure where to start. “I don’t know. He’s not here! I was worried about him and went to check on him and he’s not in his room, not in the office!”
“Ok, calm down. Maybe he just left to get breakfast or something,” Casey says, but his own voice is wavering.
He puts his arms around me, and we hold each other for a moment, trying to piece together what’s happening and what to do with it.
“Oh, god, Casey. What if he was saying goodbye last night?” I whisper, the words oozing out like venom on my lips. I’m having trouble breathing.
I can feel Casey tense, and hold him tighter.
“No, he wasn’t. He’s fine. He has to be fine.”
I nod, completely numb.
“I’m going to call the front desk and see if they can give me any information. Callie, it’s
going to be fine, ok? I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
I can’t even muster a nod this time as he gently pulls away and moves toward the room phone. While he’s doing that, I call Luke’s, but I’m not surprised when it goes straight to voicemail. I try a text, but that doesn’t go through either. His phone must be off.
“Hi, this is Casey Barrett from Room 403. We’re trying to get in touch with Luke and are wondering if he mentioned where he was headed this morning on his way out…sure, yeah, I can wait…” He glances over at me. “They’re going to ask the lobby employees if any of them saw or spoke to him.” His face changes and he turns back to the phone. “Yeah, I’m here…uh-huh…yeah…wait, what? Really…did he say where he was going or what he was doing? Ok…thanks…um, no, that’s ok…thanks for your help.”
He hangs up the phone and stares at me. There’s nothing I like about the look on his face.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
He clears his throat. “They said they saw him leave about an hour ago carrying an old chair. He didn’t talk to anyone.”
I pale. I can feel the blood draining from my face and instinctively rush toward the office. I throw open the door and, sure enough, The Chair is missing. All that’s left are four small indents in the carpet serving as a grotesque monument to its powerful presence. And now, devastating absence.
“It’s gone,” I whisper as Casey comes up behind me. The tears start to fall now, and I inexplicably find myself getting angry more than anything. Furious at Luke for making us love him, coming so far, only to give up at the finish line.
“Callie…” Casey’s arms wrap around me again, and I turn to settle into him. We stand in silence for a long time, having no idea what to say, what to do. We don’t know where to start looking for a suicidal man with a chair, and the cops would just laugh at our “emergency.” So we do nothing because after everything we’ve done over the last month, there’s nothing left to do.
Then, suddenly, a crash.
I straighten, and Casey and I exchange a shocked look before running toward the kitchen. Our door is opening, and before he can even get through it, two roommates are tackling Luke in the entryway.
He laughs at us and almost drops the cup carrier and bag he’s holding.
“What’s this?” he asks, but I’m not ready to let go.
“You were gone,” I whisper. “We were so scared.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “I went to get breakfast,” he gasps, holding up the evidence for our review.
His face changes as he studies us. “Wow, you guys were really scared.”
I nod and wipe the tears from my eyes. Now, tears of relief.
I step back and search his face. “The chair was gone. The lobby employees said you left with it.”
He almost seems embarrassed as I let him go, and he drops the food on the counter.
“Yeah. I returned it.”
I stop. “You returned it?”
He nods. “To Jemma’s. I shouldn’t have stolen it in the first place.”
“But…”
“I don’t need it anymore, Callie. It’s not who I am, like you said.”
I close the gap and give him another giant hug, this time making sure he knows that no matter how bad things get, he is never going to be allowed to leave us. That he is loved too much to be a memory. I still can’t speak, but Casey can.
“Dammit, Luke. Can you leave us a freaking note next time?”
The Rest.
I wish I could say the three of us live happily ever after after that. That Luke and Casey (and I) go on to win countless awards. Casey and I get married, have three photo album children, twelve grandchildren, and die as happy old people holding hands in the house we built under a quilt I made. That Luke eventually finds peace and love, and none of us ever has to visit that dark place behind the mirror again.
But that’s not the way things work.
I don’t know what will happen. I know it probably won’t be all, or any, of that. All I know is what’s now, and that I have to embrace it, because you can’t define yourself by the future and what you’re not. Because sometimes we make bad choices and sometimes the evil chooses us, and that mirror is always there, waiting for the moment when we give up and relinquish power.
So, here’s what I know.
I’m Callie Roland. Twenty-three, and I’m a great friend. I’m an ok writer who got incredibly lucky and will soon have writing credits on an EP put out by rock superstars Night Shifts Black. I’m crashing in a ridiculously expensive hotel with my incredible boyfriend whom I’m pretty sure I’m in love with, and my other friend I love like a brother.
I know Casey Barrett is inspired again and writing like a fiend. He’s already finished his “break up song” called “Too Late,” which he continues to swear is inspired by brief fling Jana Furmali, and not me whom he’s crazy about. That doesn’t stop me from teasing him, of course. Anything to see that magnetic grin as much as possible.
Here are the lyrics we worked on together.
“Isn’t it obvious our feelings fade away
Isn’t it obvious it’s too late to make a change
So I wait for the innocent moment of truth
You want a sign, demanding your proof
It’s too late for answers
Too late for questions
Too late for telling lies
Too late for pleading
Too late for reason
You know it’s time, oh it’s time
Isn’t it obvious amidst our cold embrace
Isn’t it obvious there’s too much to erase
And you wait for the shadow of a memory
Here’s your sign, you barely saw me leave
A picture’s worth a thousand words
Let’s leave them as memories…”
Thanks, Jana.
Which brings us to Luke Craven. He’s still sad, quieter than he should be, but no longer decimated. He participates in life more often than not, and has finally agreed to let us finish “Perfect Day” for the EP. He even had some input on “Too Late” and “Laughing Stock,” and openly admits the final set will be an epic comeback that’ll make the Label and fans happy. He’s also seriously talking about sobriety and promised to seek counseling for his depression. He’s cut back on the alcohol to maintenance levels, although he’s still stuck in dependence and needs professional support. Casey and I made a compelling case for counseling, encouraging Luke with confessions of our own experiences letting the pros guide and support us through our journey out of the darkness. We’re setting a goal of getting him help prior to the tour, which is currently scheduled to kick off on September 12.
And yes, I also now know that I’m officially going with them. Don’t laugh, but somehow I’ve ended up with this crazy image of being Luke’s guardian angel. Casey finds the whole thing hilarious, the way everyone treats me like I’m some holy psychiatrist, but he’s not complaining, and thinks it will be good for me to be around as support for both of them. Luke needs that extra boost to get through what’s going to be a very difficult transition back to the life he fled, and I think, deep down, Casey knows Luke needs more than the ancient friendship Casey can provide. He needs a rude, impolite, busybody who will refuse to let him imprison himself. Someone to fight that damn mirror and keep it from claiming another victim. He doesn’t need a fan, he needs a supporter. An anchor, not a dreamer, and that’s me.
Callie Roland, hammer.
Note from the Author.
Depression is a serious illness that can go unrecognized by the victim and surrounding loved ones.
If you, or anyone you know, have plans to harm yourself, or you just need someone to talk to, help is available. Please know you are not alone, and help is just a phone call away.
The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK is the United States based suicide prevention network of 161 crisis centers. It provides a 24-hour, toll-free hotline available to
anyone in suicidal crisis or emotional distress.
Seek help, and know that you are important and you are loved.
Sincerely,
Alyson Santos
Acknowledgements.
To my husband who has proven to be my hammer. Thank you for your endless support and love as we face this journey of life together.
To my brother and friend. I can never thank you enough for your insight and inspiration in bringing the music to life. I’m honored to call you my brother and love you dearly.
To Tesrin Afzal and Darlene Avery. There are no words, ladies. I will always be grateful that this story brought us together and locked you forever in my heart.
To Eli Peters and Evie Woods. So blessed and honored to have you on my team. Love you ladies big and will always be floored and humbled by your generosity and faith in me.
To Era Media Co. and Gabe Gennace. Thank you for perfectly capturing Luke and his story with your vision and talent. A phenomenal job, as always.
To Jenn Hewitt. Thank you for your infectious inspiration and always believing in me. Looking forward to a long future of “breakfast clubs!”
To Beth Flynn. Your support means the world and I will always be grateful to you for your guidance and incredible kindness. I only hope I can follow your selfless example.
To Eva McFarden, Louise Husted, Christine Baham Pappas, Tina Monroe, and Maria Angie Mendoza. Thank for taking the time and chance on an unknown. Your support and willingness to help means the world.
To all of you who took a chance on me, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to share my heart, and I sincerely hope yours was touched in some small way. Always remember, believe, reach out, and never curb your compassion.
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