Playing by Heart

by JB Salsbury

  She pops open her laptop. “Let’s do a little investigating and see what the dickhead was up to last night, shall we?”

  My gut churns at the idea of seeing Jesse live his life without me. “I’m good. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Wait.” Ashleigh’s brows pinch together. “You’re passing up an opportunity to stalk your famous ex-boyfriend?”

  I open the door and walk out, tossing my answer over my shoulder. “Yes. I am.”

  As I make my way down Ben’s street toward his house, I see the minivan in the driveway and the glaring absence of Jesse’s Lexus. The twinge of pain in my chest only lasts as long as it takes to remind myself that this is what I wanted.

  He didn’t break up with me. I broke up with him.

  I knock twice before pushing into Ben’s house, and the familiar smell of coffee and sweet cereal wrap me in a blanket of comfort.

  “Bethany!” Elliot races up to me and throws her arms around my thighs. “Daddy took me to the aquarium and to go see my mom!”

  Ben smiles sadly at me from the kitchen table.

  I rub her head and hug her back. “Sounds like fun.”

  She tilts her head up to look at me. “I got to pick out the flowers for Mom and I picked purple because Daddy said it was her favorite color.”

  Ben’s never talked about Maggie much with Elliot, or with anyone for that matter. Elliot never knew her mom, so she never asked much and I think Ben kept her from Maggie’s grave to avoid the questions that would dredge up her memory and the sadness that comes with them. Why the sudden change?

  “How was Los Angeles?” Ben asks.

  Elliot races back to her spot in front of the television, and I join him at the table.

  “It was… eye-opening.”

  He frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I shrug. “It had to happen eventually, and for the record, your brother didn’t do anything bad.” At least, not deliberately. “A night in LA helped me to see myself more clearly.”

  That information seems to surprise him.

  “I take it you haven’t heard from him?” Damn the hopefulness in my voice.

  He shakes his head. “Dave called and said Jesse was staying a few extra days. No clue why, but he assured me he’s doing well, staying sober and all that.”

  “That’s good.” I look down the hallway. It feels weird knowing he’s not behind that door, working on music. That he won’t walk out any second in all his tattooed, rock-n-roll demi-god glory to tease me or piss me off. My stomach is a mess of nervous knots for no good reason at all.

  Yep, that sounds like love. I groan internally at my idiocy. Can’t blame a girl for getting caught up in the idea of earning the love of the great Jesse Lee.

  “Bethany, I hate to see you like this.”

  “I didn’t realize I was so transparent.” I chuckle even though it’s not funny.

  He crosses his forearms on the table. “Don’t beat yourself up. Jesse doesn’t know the first thing about what it means to love someone because he was never shown it. Our parents were—”

  “I know, he told me.”

  “So then you understand why Jesiah confuses love for a feeling.”

  I blink. “Love is a feeling, isn’t it?”

  “Probably the biggest misconception. Love is a choice. It’s a commitment you make to another person that says you’ll always put their happiness before your own… for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, through all the trials that life brings.” He frowns as he gazes past me at a photo of Maggie. “Until death do you part.”

  A wave of sadness washes over me, and I swallow back the urge to sob. “Wow, I guess I never thought of it like that.” I would never commit to put Wyatt before me, and he certainly didn’t consider my feelings beyond his own. That wasn’t love. “Anyone can say I love you.”

  “Of course. They’re just words.”

  “To be honest, Pastor Langley, I hope I never hear the word again. But man, I hope to one day feel it.” My eyes dart to a photo of Maggie, one that was never there before. “I want to have what you had.”

  He follows my gaze to the image of his wife.

  “You could have it again, you know.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t give up hope.”

  “You either.” He stands and takes his empty mug to the sink. “I’ve got to get going.”

  “Have a good day.”

  My talk with Ben should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. I thought Jesse was the one confused about what it means to truly love another person. Turns out, I’m as much of a mess as he is.

  Jesse

  “You look like dog shit,” Ryder says from the other end of the couch inside the studio.

  I eye him and take in his pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes. “You look like a strung-out Billy Idol twenty years after his prime.”

  After Bethany left, Ryder and I took out our anger through our music and recorded some of the best shit of my career. The music allowed us to bury the hatchet. He really is a better drummer than Nate.

  I drop my head back and close my eyes. I’m so fucking exhausted. I don’t know how long we’ve been here, but with the short naps I’ve grabbed on the couch, I’d say I’ve gathered no more than six hours’ sleep in total.

  Ethan and Chris left a couple hours ago, their parts finished. Ryder insisted on staying even after his parts were recorded. I respect that.

  “I do my best work half dead,” Ryder says, sounding halfway between sleep and awake. “We laid down some sick fucking tracks.”

  “The drum solo on ‘Double Life’ blew me away. Where the hell did you learn to play like that?”

  He yawns. “Self-taught.”

  I blink at him through heavy eyelids. “No kidding?”

  He shrugs. “What day is it?”

  “No clue.”

  I reach for my phone then remember it died somewhere around my second nap. I could’ve had Dave charge it, but I thought it might be best to leave it dead—less of a distraction. And by distraction, I mean at least when it’s dead, I can’t obsessively check it every ten seconds to see if I got a message from Bethany.

  She’s back home, living her simple life, making people smile with her contagious personality and hideous singing. I hate to admit it, but I’d give anything to hear that voice now.

  “Gentlemen, I think it’s time we send everyone home while we mix what we have,” Dave says. My manager looks exhausted, but he has dollar signs in his eyes.

  Ryder pushes up off the couch. “I’ll be at the hotel for another day or two, catching up on sleep before I head back to Vegas.”

  “Perfect.” Dave checks his watch. “Why don’t you both get some sleep? It’s almost noon. We have enough time to make a little Friday night news while you’re still in town.”

  “I’m going back to Phoenix.” I push to stand. “I’ll sleep on the plane.”

  “No, you’re not.” Dave’s voice is laced with excitement. “I need you and Ryder to meet me at Spago. Eight p.m. sharp.”

  “Spago?” I recoil. “That place is crawling with paps.”

  Dave’s eyes practically sparkle. “Exactly. I need to make a phone call.” He disappears down the hallway.

  “Fantastic, prepare to be served to the sharks.” I groan and rub my eyes. My head feels like mush, and for the first time in a long time, drinking and doing drugs is the last thing I want. I want sleep. Sleep and Bethany.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  I crack open one eye. “You can, or you can Google it. All my personal shit is online for the fucking world to see.”

  “How do you and Bethany do it?”

  “However we want, but my favorite is when I get her on all fours and—”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  We share a sleep-deprived-insanity laugh.

  “I mean, you’re you and you’re here and surrounded by so many beautiful women
, and she’s in another state living her life, guys probably hitting on her. She’s gotta get lonely when you go on tour—”

  “Pretty sure you were witness to how well that’s panning out for us. She fucking broke up with me.”

  He frowns. “Yeah, but the way she looked at you… she’s into you. You’ll work it out, right?”

  I hold up my hand to shut him up before I charter my own damn plane and fly to Phoenix. “If you’re asking so you can take a shot at her, I should let you know I will fire you from this band and cut off both your arms if you even attempt to take her from me.”

  “Oh shit.” He rubs his spikey blond hair. “Nah, she’s a sweet girl, but I’m taken.”

  “You’ve got someone back in Vegas?”

  “Yeah. She’s not cool like Bethany. She blows my phone up if she thinks I’m in the same room as another woman.”

  “You don’t love her, so end it before you make LA your permanent home.”

  He chuckles. “What makes you think I don’t love her?”

  “You just said she’s a pain in the ass and blows up your phone, giving you a fucking headache for shit you have no control over.”

  “So?”

  I double-take and stare at him. “So? That sucks.”

  “Yes, it sucks.” He blows out a defeated breath and stares blindly at the wall. “The thought that I’m hurting her fucking sucks.”

  “No, I mean her driving you crazy. That’s a shitty thing for you.”

  “It’s annoying, but what hurts is knowing I’m breaking her heart.”

  I blink and rub my eyes. Maybe I’m suffering from sleep deprivation psychosis. “Love is supposed to feel good.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Life taught me that.”

  He shakes his head. “Nah, man, love fucking kills. How could it possibly feel good when you finally get your hands around someone amazing only to have to worry every fucking day that you’re gonna lose her?”

  I stare at the wall of gold and platinum records as a sick feeling churns in my stomach.

  “Life is much easier without love, bro.” He turns to leave. “At least living without love means you don’t have to walk around with a constant stomachache, fearing you’ll one day lose it.” He pushes open the door. “See you tonight.”

  Is that what this bullshit feeling is in my gut?

  Johnny appears, and I numbly walk to the car, thinking about what Ryder said.

  You might want to consider redefining your definition of love.

  Doc Ulrich’s words filter through my head. I retrace my history with woman, a train of faces and bodies that all blend together and not one of them memorable before Bethany. She’s different.

  I know every dip and curve of her body. The gentle sounds she makes when I touch her. Her laughter I can recall on demand as if she were sitting right next to me. I’ve memorized all her smiles and what they mean. I know the playful tone of her voice when she’s trying to make light of something I said that really hurt her.

  Oh fuck, all the times I hurt her.

  I grip my stomach, trying to unwind the slow twist of pain these thoughts have induced. Grateful when Johnny pulls up to my house, I stumble out of the car and head straight for my room. I pause in the hallway and stare at the guestroom door.

  Without permission, my feet carry me into the room Bethany slept in. An outsider might see nothing in the spotless space, but I see Bethany everywhere. I can smell the faint floral scent she left behind. The black robe she wore hangs on a hook in the bathroom.

  I kick off my shoes, drop my jeans, pull my shirt off over my head, and stand naked in front of the robe. The monster inside me smirks and mocks my weakness, but my need for Bethany is more powerful than him.

  I slip on the robe and wrap it around me. My eyes slam closed as I’m assaulted by her scent and the knowledge that I’m wearing what was once pressed to her naked body. I cross to the bed, rip back the sheets, and slide in.

  Wrapped up in everything that’s left of her, the pain in my gut subsides and I’m able to finally get some sleep.

  22

  Bethany

  “Keep it like this,” Ashleigh says from the doorway of my room. “I like it this way. The bed under the window, the bookshelf, it’s perfect.”

  I give her the side-eye because I can hear the cajoling tone in her voice, as though she’s trying to talk down a rabid dog.

  “What? I’m serious. I like this arrangement better than the last five or six—”

  I spit a piece of fingernail. “Seven.” Then I go back to chewing even though there’s not much left to chew.

  With nothing to do on a Saturday morning, I decided to rearrange my bedroom. The furniture has made a full circle around the space in two-foot increments, and I can’t settle on which one I like best.

  “You know, you could just text him back,” she says softly, as if she’s the voice in my head.

  I close my eyes and rein in my muscles as they prepare to dive for my phone.

  Last night as I got off work, I got a text from Jesse. The first words from him since we broke up. Three simple words.

  I miss you.

  I wanted to write him back, tell him how much I miss him too and explain that I’m a basket case and scared of the power he has over me. Then I got an alert from a celebrity-siting app Ashleigh downloaded as a joke.

  Jesse Lee cozied up at Spago with ex-girlfriend actress Elise Daegar.

  I sat on the curb outside work and stared at that headline, my heart in my throat, for what seemed like hours. I never worked up the courage to click on it and read the article. I didn’t even have to see the picture to have the image appear with crystal clarity in my head.

  Had I even been gone for twenty-four hours before he decided to move on? I deleted the app and swore to never read another word about Jesse Lee.

  I wanted to text him and call him every single dirty name that came to mind, but that seemed petty. I’m the one who broke up with him, after all.

  So I came home, slept, and woke up with a mission to make sure I stay too busy to text back.

  “I will when I’m finished here.” I push my bed over a few inches.

  “It’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon. You’ve been at this all day.”

  I whirl around on her. “You think I don’t know that?”

  She blinks, clearly surprised by my outburst.

  “I’m so sorry.” I take a cleansing breath. “Why is it taking so long to get to Sunday? I need to go to church.”

  “Are you sure you’re allowed to—”

  “They can’t tell me what to do!” I beat my chest with my fist. “I can go if I want to.”

  “Okay.” She holds up her hands in surrender. “But I’m going with you because if anything happens, I do not want to miss it.” She walks down the hallway.

  “Fine.” I huff and go back to my bedroom layout, shoving my bedside table closer to the bed then standing back to do more staring.

  I scratch my head and get a whiff of fried bacon. After the emotional ass-whooping I got last night, I didn’t have the energy to get in the shower. Now I’m supposed to meet Wyatt in an hour and I reek like day-old breakfast.

  My phone rings, and I grab it off the charger then sigh when I see it’s my parents.

  “Hello?” I take it with me to the bathroom and drop onto the closed toilet seat.

  “Bethany, what is going on?” My dad’s voice is frantic. “Your mother was at the salon and women were showing her photos of you and some famous singer? I thought you were getting back together with Wyatt?”

  I groan, drop my head back, and slump. Of course my mom would tell him that. “Don’t worry, it was just a fling.” My heart cramps, punishing me for my lie.

  “A fling? We raised you better than that.”

  “I know, that’s why we broke up. He’s moved on,” I grit the words out through clenched teeth.

  I tune out my dad’s rambling on and on about virtue and so
me other crap.

  “So listen”—I rub my eyes with my thumb and forefinger—“I have to go, I’m meeting Wyatt for coffee.” That should shut him up.

  “I know you’ve had a rough year,” he says cautiously. “The arson on your car, the breakup.”

  I cringe. The arson on my car. If he had any idea that was my own doing, not some random act of violence. If I told them the truth, they’d be disappointed. They’d also sell everything they have to pay my fines. I couldn’t bear either of those things.

  “This is just a season,” he says. “Things will get better.”

  “Thanks, Dad, but I really have to go.”

  “Tell Wyatt we say hello.” I hate the joyous tone in his voice.

  “Sure thing. Bye.”

  After locking the door and turning on the water, I stare at my reflection. “Don’t do it.” I shake my head at myself. “Do not look at the text again.” My hand twitches on my phone. “Don’t—”

  I flip around the phone screen and stare at his text again.

  I miss you.

  Weak! You are so weak!

  I try to imagine how long it took him to type the text. Did he punch it out quickly, like I’ve seen him do a million times? Or did he sit in bed with his phone in his hands, much like I’m doing now, and worry himself sick over what to say, wondering how I’d take it? A crazed giggle bubbles up my throat. The infamous Jesse Lee curled up with some gorgeous actress while worrying over what to say to plain ol’ Bethany from Surprise? Now that is laughable.

  I punch out a quick text and hit Send before I can change my mind. After placing the device screen down, I throw myself into the shower and trudge ahead.

  I get to Starbucks ten minutes late, grateful that Ashleigh offered to take me or I would’ve been much later. When I go inside, I’m instantly seduced by the overpowering scent of coffee and the promise of good feelings it brings.

  I do a quick scan and see Wyatt isn’t here yet. Good. Maybe he forgot.

  I order a venti iced vanilla latte frappe and pay the ridiculous price for it, then I find a table in a populated part of the coffee shop, avoiding the more intimate booths and tables for two. A four-top right next to the ten-top of what looks like some kind of moms’ group. Perfect.