by Levine, Nina
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 this 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.
39
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?”
Her name causes my heart rate to speed up.
Every fucking time I hear it.
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.”
Her smile turns into a laugh, and I see both the happiness and the pain flit across her face. “Yeah, it does.”
I rub the back of my neck as the energy moves through me. It’s such a conflicting energy; one minute it’s a burn that feels like it will incinerate you, and the next it’s a glimpse of promise that things can get better. “Fuck, why does life have to be so hard sometimes?”
“I don’t know, but sometimes things have to fall apart before they can fall into place. And I’m not talking about your sister here.” She takes a breath before pleading with me. “Promise me you’ll think about that.”
“I will.”
Fuck, I’m already thinking about it.
I’m wondering if the pain of shutting someone out of your life might be worse than the possible pain of losing them.
I’m wondering if Presley and I might have a chance after all.
An hour later, Mum leaves me so she can go and cook dinner. She’s making roast for my last dinner before I leave tomorrow. To say I’m looking forward to roast is an understatement. It’s been my favourite meal since I was a kid.
After she leaves, I assess our progress. Claudia had specified in great detail in her will where she wanted everything to go and she had also specified her wish we didn’t drag our heels on this. My sister had a huge heart and wanted most of her belongings donated to various charities, so today we’ve managed to box nearly everything up. However, I realise we haven’t gone through her desk yet so I do that now.
There’s so much shit in her drawers, it’s going to take me awhile to go through it all and make sure there’s nothing in there we want to keep, so I drag the first drawer out to the table and sit down to do this. I separate out the old bills she’s paid but not yet filed, the university letters, and other various documents.
And then I find a sealed envelope.
With my name on it.
My heart stills and my breathing slows.
Why is there a letter to me in here?
My fingers hesitate to open it but eventually I do.
My first tear drops after I read the first sentence and by the end, I’m a mess of fucking tears and heartache.
* * *
Dear Jett,
* * *
Don’t forget to dance in the rain…
* * *
If there’s one thing I wish for you, it’s a lifetime of happiness. I’m sorry I can’t be there to see that through with you but you need to promise me you’ll carry on now that I’m gone and fight for your happiness. I know you struggle to let people in and I know you’re so worried about losing the people you love, but you can’t live your life that way. Life is like a storm, big brother, one minute calm and the next it’s all chaos and mess. Promise me you won’t wait for the storm to pass. Promise me you’ll dance in the rain.
* * *
See you when you get to heaven.
* * *
Love, Princess
xx
* * *
My sister is looking out for me even from the grave.
40
Presley
I drag the casserole out of the oven, fighting with the oven door that wants to shut on me before I’m ready. It plays nice and I manage to get the dish out, but just as I’m about to place it on the kitchen counter, it slips out of my hold and hot casserole goes all over my kitchen floor and the dish shatters on the tiles.
Fuck.
I fling the tea towel onto the counter and storm out of the kitchen to the balcony. I need some fresh air and I need to escape the kitchen and the dining table. All I see when I look at that goddamn table is Jett, and after three weeks of nothing from him, I don’t want to think of his ass or his lips or his hands or anything of his.
The warm summer air greets me. It’s a little muggy but there’s a slight breeze tonight and I lean against the railing, close my eyes, and soak it in. The sounds of Florida Georgia Line drift across the night air and I smile as I listen to the lyrics. Someone close by has good taste.
The music pulls me in and it’s not until the song ends that I realise I got lost in it for a while there. The last three weeks have been hard and I’ve moped around for most of them, but today I made a decision and I’ve felt lighter since. I’ve avoided going to see Jett because of my fear of his rejection, but tomorrow I’m going to find him and make him talk to me. For one, I need to know he’s doing okay after Claudia’s death, and two, I need to know if it really is all over for us because if it is, I’ve decided to pack a suitcase and go travelling for a few months. It might kill me to think of him every time I look at the dining table, but I need to see him one last time and confirm he really isn’t mine anymore.
Pushing off the railing, I head back inside to clean up the mess I made in the kitchen. As I slide the balcony door closed, someone buzzes for me to let them up to the apartment. Erin has taken to dropping in unannounced lately, so she can check up on me, so I figure it’s her. I pick up the phone, laughing, and say, “You just couldn’t stay away from me, could you?”
I’m met with silence and I realise it’s not Erin. And then his voice sounds and my body reacts instantly. It’s like he has this power over me, causing my tummy to flutter, my core to scream out for him, and my heart to soar.
Oh God.
“Presley, can I come up?”
Is there any answer other than yes?
“Yes.” I press the button to let him in and then put the phone back in its holder.
And I wait.
And I pray that my heart isn’t about to be completely ripped to shreds.
I open the door to my apartment and when I catch my first glimpse of him in three weeks, my body begins to thrum with need. This man gets to me every time. He’s so damn sexy, from his smile, to his body, to the way he walks; he just has it, and I know I’ll never be able to say no to him. Ever. Because even thou
gh he can be an ass, he’s a good man. He’s just lost at the moment.
He approaches with the Jett confidence I know well. His eyes meet mine and then they travel appreciatively over my body. And when he gives his gaze back to me, I see the same need in his eyes that I have.
“Sweetheart,” he greets me in the gravelly voice he uses when he’s turned on, and it hits me in all the right places.
I reach out and steady myself against the doorframe. “Jett,” I greet him, trying like hell to keep myself under control but failing miserably. There’s no controlling yourself around him.
He chuckles and murmurs, “It’s good to know I still affect you as much as you affect me.”
I stare at him for a beat before ushering him in. Then I follow him and wonder where this is all going to end up because it’s sure as hell not feeling like we’re over. Not by a long shot.
He leads me to the living room and then turns to look at me. This time his eyes stay firmly glued to mine. “I fucked up,” he says.
Three simple words and yet there’s a whole lot of emotion behind them. His regret is written all over his face and laced through his words.
His beautiful blue eyes beg me to believe him, and I do. Nodding, I say, “Yeah, you did, but you had a reason.”
He shakes his head. “No,” he says forcefully, “There’s never an excuse for hurting someone the way I hurt you. I’m so sorry, baby.”
I love the way his lips wrap around the word ‘baby’; I always have. “I’ve been worried about you,” I say softly.
“I know, and I love you for it. I’m just an asshole who couldn’t appreciate what I had right in front of me, but I’ve come to my senses now and I hope to God you’ll give me another shot.” His eyes reach for mine again, pleading with me to give him what he’s asked for.
