“Jack . . .”
“I understand the fear, really I do. I mean, you’re the bravest person I know, but courage isn’t the absence of fear. I get it. But this goes beyond fear, JJ. You’re ashamed.”
“Why do you always have to assume the worst, huh?” he replied, eyes glittering.
Even in what I was sure was our darkest moment together, he burned from the inside out.
“I’m telling you nothing happened.”
“I believe you,” I murmured, and I did. I believed him. “And I know you’re sorry. It’s written all over your face.”
“So forgive me,” he whispered, taking a step closer to the counter.
I took a step back, despite the countertop between us. I couldn’t get too close. “I don’t trust you.”
He shrank back, my words landing like a perfectly aimed right hook. I could almost see him reeling, and I felt it too, my head was spinning. I didn’t realize the words were true until I’d said them aloud. I didn’t trust him. God, I wanted to, but I didn’t. I thought there was a clear distinction between JJ and Jude. JJ was the mask and Jude was the real person underneath, but what happens when the person chooses the mask over everything else? That’s what he’d done. He’d been given a choice to discard JJ, once and for all, but he’d decided that the alter ego he’d spent years cultivating was more important than our relationship.
“Recent errors in judgment aside, when have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?” he asked, his voice low, shoulders hunched.
“I thought you’d changed,” I admitted, “but you haven’t.”
“Why do I need to fucking change?” His question echoed around the shop, pressing in on me, overwhelming us both. “You’re supposed to love me for who I am, Jack! I know that I’m an asshole. I always have been, and I always will be. I’m spoiled, I’m demanding and I have the most addictive personality known to man, but I thought you knew all that. I thought you loved me anyway.”
I couldn’t answer him.
He left, trembling, while I tried to regain what was left of my composure. Watching him walk away broke something inside me that I didn’t even realize was there, an unspoken promise that I’d always be there for him.
I’m sure there have been break-ups that were a million times worse, but that was little comfort as I slid back on to my stool and tried to resume the boring life I’d led before he’d shown up. The daydreams, the rose tinted memories of our time together, all flickered and faded as I blinked away tears.
“Fake Your Death”—My Chemical Romance
It was disheartening, how quickly everything went back to normal.
The ease with which Jude Jaden Keswick removed himself from my life seemed like definitive proof he hadn’t belonged there in the first place. Really, I was grateful for how complete our break up was.
Or at least, that’s what I told Jessica. And Ash. And my aunt Rose. And my dad.
Pretty sure no one bought it.
It stung, knowing he could just walk away, slipping into his old swagger without missing a beat. He skipped a couple of days of school before returning with his trademark smirk firmly in place. JJ Keswick was every inch the triumphant prom king, lording it over the popular table at lunch as if it was his God-given right.
“It’s alright if you miss him, ya know,” Jessica told me, two weeks after The Break Up (capitalized, of course).
Summer was fast approaching, and I was determined to make the most of every moment. We were eating lunch outside, wondering where Ash was and bitching about the popular kids. My snark was half-hearted, at best. I was finding it hard to concentrate when JJ was sitting in the canteen, arm slung around Kelly’s shoulders.
I couldn’t even pretend that I didn’t know what—or who—she was talking about. Keeping up appearances is damn exhausting. I had a new found respect for the way JJ had maintained his care-free persona. I couldn’t do it, not full time.
“We got by just fine before JJ Keswick,” I muttered darkly.
“Kid, if fine is what you’re aiming for, you’re letting the glory of our youth pass you by,” she replied, smiling around the lollipop staining her lips. “We’re about to graduate. Bye bye high school. Hello rock stardom, remember?”
Her sunny optimism made my head hurt. I shrugged, leaning back against the bench she was hogging. Rock stardom had been the plan, or at least, the goal. There had never really been a plan beyond getting out of town and trying our luck. Plan or not, Jude had woven himself into the fabric of my future, and I had no clue how to make the band work without him.
“And in this glorious future of ours, who’s fronting Forever Fading Echoes?” I asked her, my eyes subconsciously following JJ as he dumped his lunch tray.
He looked great, as always, his hair glittering under the harsh cafeteria lights. The jacket he was wearing looked like it had been made for him, highlighting the elegant lines of his slender frame. He reminded me of the sketches I’d seen in Jessica’s fashion magazines, a designer’s dream caught in lines and ink and paper.
An ache unfurled in my chest, deepening with every step he took out of view. Watching him hurt like hell, but it turns out, I’m a bit of a masochist. My gaze always went to him if he was nearby, metal to a magnet, moth to a flame. Name your cliché, and I felt it.
It fucking sucked.
“You’re our frontman, Jack,” Jessica said softly, nudging me with the toe of her boot.
I rolled my eyes at her, earning a harder nudge with the boots. She had given me a week to mourn the loss of Jude before trying to convince me I should become our vocalist. I accepted her point—in theory—but I just couldn’t picture it. I wasn’t a vocalist, I was a guitarist who could sing a bit. I may have been the logical choice, but that didn’t mean I was comfortable with it.
I had tried to explain my hesitance to Jessica without making it all about JJ. Part of me, an annoyingly big, stupid part, didn’t want to become our new singer because it meant replacing Jude. But I’d done my best to keep him out of the conversation, telling her my reluctance was due to a lack of confidence rather than my pathetic need to cling to someone who clearly had no intention of coming back.
She definitely didn’t buy it.
“I’m not a singer.”
“Yet,” she argued, grinning from ear to ear. I found it hard to argue with Jess at the best of times (she’s right more often than I’d care to admit) but when the future of our band was at stake, I couldn’t bring myself to say no to her.
“I’ll give it a shot,” I agreed with a melodramatic, defeated sigh. “But don’t come crying to me when I make your ears bleed.”
“Oh, please,” she laughed. “I stuck by you while your voice was breaking, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you at your worst.”
We decided to skip class that afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and I couldn’t bear the thought of running into JJ in the hall. I could feel the grip of my high school experience loosening as we strolled down empty streets, bumping shoulders every few steps.
I wasn’t convinced I’d be able to lead Forever Fading Echoes to any kind of success, but I couldn’t walk away. Picturing life without Jude was hard, but a life without making music? It wasn’t possible. I’d keep playing. I’d start singing, and even if it sucked, at least I’d go down with my friends.
As I pushed Jessica on the tire swing at the back of my house, I realized there were worse ways to bow out. She laughed at the cloudless sky, fearless. I laughed with her.
***
Contrary to popular belief, Ash Radcliffe had a heart.
It was buried beneath layers of perfect skin and black leather, but it was there. It worked, too. Most of the time. Got her in trouble more often than not.
Seeing the look on Jack’s face when he’d realized JJ wasn’t going to show up for the first practice after their break up had affected her in a way she hadn’t been expecting. Jack had been convinced that JJ would be willing to stay in the band, messy heartbre
ak aside. Sure, Jack had made the decision to end their relationship, but there was no escaping the fact that they’d all been dumped.
Jack may have been left reeling, but Ash wasn’t surprised. She knew that everyone assumed JJ would go back to being his usual cocky self, but she’d never thought it would be that simple. She’d seen the way JJ looked at Jack, like the guitarist hung the God damn moon. There was no coming back from that, no one would could wisecrack their way through that.
Not even JJ Keswick.
She hated the Keswick mansion. It was too big to be warm, too perfect to be comfortable. As facades went, it was awesome, but she couldn’t go back to being overwhelmed by it after catching a glimpse of the emptiness within. She was pretty sure JJ hated it too, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.
He was there, of course. Sitting out by the pool, getting drunk—shoes and shirt in a haphazard heap by the stupidly expensive sun lounger. Boy, he could drink. If she didn’t care about him, she’d be impressed by the way he downed whiskey straight from the bottle without flinching.
“You look like middle America’s worst nightmare,” she quipped as she lay down on the empty sun lounger beside him, her eyes hidden behind her aviators. He turned his head to look at her, but didn’t say a word.
“I’m not here to lecture you,” Ash continued, shrugging out of her leather jacket. Summer was definitely on its way, unbearably hot days and gloriously long nights. She loved everything about the summer, but it didn’t really mesh well with her all black wardrobe.
“Really,” he snorted, taking a swig from the half-empty bottle. The amber liquid sloshed against the edge, catching the sunlight.
“Really,” she repeated, ignoring his protests as she grabbed the bottle.
He reached out for it, but she was faster than he was, taking a quick sip before throwing the bottle against the garage wall. It shattered on impact, the sharp scent of the whiskey filling the air as it seeped into the stone paving slabs.
“Was that fucking necessary?” He growled, pushing his sunglasses into his perfectly quaffed hair.
She met his gaze and smiled—the sickeningly sweet, innocent smile that always put Jack on edge. “No, but that’s why I did it.”
“Look, if you’re here to tell me that I need to come back to the band, spare me,” JJ sighed, lying back against the sun lounger and squinting up at the baby blue sky.
“Whether you come back to the band or not is irrelevant,” Ash replied with a carefree shrug. “We were good before you came along, it’s not like we got less talented just because you showed up.”
He chuckled in agreement, the smile on his alcohol slick lips reaching his eyes for the first time in days. Something in him seemed to loosen, responding to the honesty in her words. She knew that the boy she was sitting with wasn’t the boy who walked around Wayville High like he owned the place. This was the boy that Jack was ass-over-elbow in love with.
“So why are you here? If you came to trash my dad’s liquor cabinet, you’re about two Dashboard Confessional albums too late.”
“You went the Dashboard route, huh? Jack went for Bright Eyes.”
“Of course he did.”
The back yard was bathed in golden afternoon sunlight, dappled by the gently swaying trees. She watched the pristine water lap lazily against the edge of the pool, getting lost in the rhythm of it. Yeah, as far as facades go, it was pretty good. She could see why he both loved and loathed it there.
She understood why it was so hard for him to walk away.
“Jack told me that your dad is some sort of faux Christian, super conservative asshole. That’s gotta suck,” she began, plowing on when he fixed her with a stony stare. “He’d throw you out, wouldn’t he? If he knew that you’re . . .”
“Partial to having sex with boys? Yeah, it’s not the sort of thing he’d take kindly to,” JJ confirmed, eyes narrowed. “I mean, it’s not like he’s been the best dad ever, but he’s the only parent I have.”
“So you act out in small ways to get his attention—drinking, partying, getting expelled—stereotypical, spoiled, rich kid. Play up to the cliché, typecast yourself, so he doesn’t see the truth,” Ash murmured, tucking her long blond hair behind her ears.
“You speaking from experience, Ashley?” he asked, rolling his eyes.
“Call me that again, and Jack won’t have the chance to forgive you,” she hissed, glaring at him for a few seconds before letting the anger fade away. “You think this whole woman of mystery thing comes naturally? It’s not like I hit thirteen and decided I wanted to dress all in black, perfect my glare and cut my own heart out, JJ.”
“So what happened to you?” he asked. “I’ve got a list of triggers a mile long, but I thought you came out of the womb in knee-high boots.”
“My dad left,” she said, letting her words get caught in the afternoon breeze. Yup, he was speechless. Good, she wasn’t in the mood for interruptions. “I came home from school one day, and he just wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t come back, and I haven’t heard from him since. I didn’t know it was possible for someone I loved to hurt me so much. I get it, JJ. I built a shell around myself—something hard, something scary—because I realized that I was vulnerable. The leather jackets, boots, the attitude, it’s great . . .”
“And sexy as hell.”
“And sexy as hell,” she repeated, smiling softly at him. “But it’s just armor. I’m a real person underneath all this. I love my friends. I get excited about dorky shit. I get upset. I get angry. I may seem like a cold, hard bitch, but I feel everything my friends feel. I’ve gone through everything they’ve gone through.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?” he asked, quietly. He sounded so small, like the little kid he’d been when his mom left. Like the little kid she’d been when her dad had walked out.
“We’re teenagers and musicians to boot. It ain’t a walk in the park,” she grinned. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. What you’re doing right now? It’s trading. You wear the mask long enough, and it becomes your face. You’re gonna wake up twenty years from now, missing that big-hearted, hazel-eyed boy you fell in love with and wondering where the hell your life went. Not able to recognize yourself in the mirror. Look at your dad. Does he seem happy? Is that what you want?”
He smiled at her, his blue eyes bitter. He was gorgeous in a way she’d never really seen before, from his toned torso to the tarnished halo of his tangled golden hair. All jagged edges and a broken grin.
“It was nice of you to stop by,” he said, tone perfectly even, despite the storm in his eyes.
She left him there, shattered whisky bottle glinting in the sunlight.
***
Most of the time, Daniel Daveyson felt as if he was paid to spend his days consoling broken-hearted kids.
He was incredibly proud of the fact that Jack’s heartbreak had been constructive. While most musicians turned to booze, drugs, girls or half-baked ballads following a bad break up, his son took his hard-earned angst and turned it into something real.
After a couple of lessons with his aunt Rose, Jack had gained a control over his voice that he’d never had before. He wasn’t half bad. In fact, he was pretty good, considering he hadn’t shown much interest in becoming a singer. After a few practices, he’d nailed the vocals on Forever Fading Echoes’ debut EP, Concepts.
That EP, damn. It was good. Too good, for a band as young as Forever Fading Echoes, in Daniel’s opinion. He’d always thought Jack was mature beyond his years, it had never crossed his mind that his son would be talented beyond his years as well. Holy hell, he was talented. They all were. Even that snot nosed, spoiled brat JJ. The EP was a perfect storm of cutting lyrics, expertly woven melodies and youthful optimism. He had been stunned the first time Jack let him hear it, blushing at their kitchen table.
Daniel couldn’t get that EP out of his head. With the right push, he knew Forever Fading Echoes could get a deal. They could even get a deal with a major label, if they
wanted. Jack was at a crossroads, although he didn’t seem to be entirely aware of it. That was a good sign—the fact that he didn’t know just how good his band was. That sort of modesty meant he wouldn’t take anything for granted.
The tour wasn’t anything big or fancy. Garrett were heading out on the road at the start of the summer, the last run for their most recent album. They’d done fairly well on their previous tours, so they’d been upgraded to mid-sized venues, and they were pretty much guaranteed a decent turn out. Two weeks, ten cities.
Ten days before graduation, thirteen days before the Garrett tour was due to start and Daniel was at home. Usually he’d be with the band, testing equipment, helping them put together a set list or their stage show. At this point in the pre-tour schedule, he’d be approving merch, confirming travel arrangements and generally being a responsible adult while the musicians got caught up in the sound of a certain chord in the empty practice studio.
But he was home and glad to be there. His own graduation had been a shambolic affair, and he wanted better for Jack. That was all he’d ever wanted, really. It hadn’t worked out the way he’d planned, but as he sat in on Forever Fading Echoes’ Wednesday night practice, he was sure things had worked out pretty well.
Jack stayed late to help tidy the shop, good clean sweat glistening on his brow. He’d played his heart out, and he was proud of how the band sounded. He had every right to be proud, in Daniel’s professional opinion.
“So, you got plans for the summer?” Daniel asked his lanky-as-hell son while they unpacked some new stock.
“Kind of?” Jack replied, shrugging. “Jessica’s uncle went to college with a girl who works for the booking agency that handles the Twisted tour. She thinks he might be able to get us on a couple of dates.”
“Sounds kind of convoluted, kid,” Daniel said, frowning. “If you wanted on the Twisted tour, you could’ve asked me. I would’ve sorted something out. You know I’ve done Twisted more times than I can count.”
Fake It (The Keswick Chronicles Book 1) Page 17