by Aimee Salter
I place a quick call to Amber with an idea the conversation with Dan sparked, and she agrees, says it probably would have happened anyway. Then I try to go back to the app on my phone, but the screen’s making my headache worse. By the time a nurse comes in, I’ve texted Tommy to get Kelly back here so I can fill them in, and I’m staring at the ceiling, stewing in my own juice, wondering what’s taking so long.
“Time for your blood-pressure Mr. Moretti.” The nurse is in her thirties, pretty the way Kelly will be pretty when she’s old.
“Call me Crash.”
“Well, okay, Crash. Is there anything else I can get for you? Anything at all?”
She says it with no discernible tone. No suggestive wink or smile. And yet, the way she’s looking at me, my blood runs cold.
I stare, and she stares right back, waiting.
Houston, we have a problem.
Chapter Eight
Three months ago
Crash
She’s a trim woman, this side of forty, polished, though there’s a smudge on her scrubs.
“Crash? How can I help? Is there anything you want?”
Did I imagine the emphasis on “want?”
Then, in my mind’s eye, she becomes a woman a few years older, with a power-suit and a throaty laugh. She carries a touch too much weight to be fashionable, but it gives her amazing cleavage which is why, she once told me, she decided never to diet. “Most men can be controlled with a dirty tongue and a nice rack.”
My palms begin to sweat. I rub them on the blanket.
“. . . You’re looking so good since you started working out with Robert, Crash. It’s like you aged ten years—in the best way . . . ”
I’m flattered. Pretty sure she’s flirting with me—or at least wants me to think so. So I grin and flirt right back.
Because flirting was harmless. And I needed to keep her on my side.
“Crash?” The nurse is at my shoulder, reaching for my arm.
“Get your hands off me!” I throw the blankets off and leap out of bed on the opposite side. My feet hit the linoleum, but slide out from under me and before I can grab anything to break my fall, my temple bounces on the railing of the bed.
My head sings, and not in the good way.
Nausea roils in my stomach. I sink to the floor, arms over my head.
“Crash!” She races to me. Her arm’s behind my shoulders, trying to maneuver my head on to a pillow. I try to squirm away from her. My head’s hurting so bad, and my stomach feels like the more I move, the more of my breakfast it’ll decide to revisit. But all I can feel is the way my skin crawls at her touch.
“Just breathe, Crash. I’m sorry I startled you. Let’s lay you down. Careful. Careful.”
“Let me go!”
“I will. But we need to get you lying down so there’s no chance of another fall. So you help me out and lay down on your back, that’s right.”
“. . . On your back, Crash. I want to look at you. That’s right . . .”
In the hallway, multiple sets of feet pound towards my room. The nurse gets me flat on the floor, then pats my shoulder. “You stay there while we get a doctor to assess you, then get you back in that bed, okay?”
I put my hands over my face and curl onto my side, shivering.
No one will touch me if I don’t want them to, I remind myself.
I’m famous and rich. I can tell anyone in this hospital to leave me alone, and they will. They’ll lose their jobs if they don’t.
Three people—a male doctor and two nurses, one male, one female—arrive to stand near my feet, casting glances at me as they listen to the nurse describe what happened.
“Not sure if he blacked out, or what. But I was speaking to him and he didn’t answer. So I reached out to touch his arm. It startled him.”
I’m trembling. Can feel my fingers twitching. My knee, bent awkwardly because of the hard floor, is shaking.
“What happened?” It’s Tommy, somewhere on the other side of the bed where I can’t see him.
“Crash? Are you okay?” My name on Kelly’s tongue warms me—then renders me ice-cold when I realize I’m collapsed on the floor in a backless gown. I roll onto my back, hands over my face, mortified.
The next few minutes make me glad I’ve never been a blusher. The doctor examines me, thumbing up my eyelids and flashing each pupil with a penlight that feels like he’s stabbing needles into my brain.
“Sorry, Crash,” he says, as if he means it, “but I need to make sure your pupils are responsive. Are you nauseated?”
“A little. It was worse when I first fell.”
“Well, that’s to be expected with the sudden movement. How’s your head? How hard did you hit it on the bed?”
“It aches, but I didn’t hit it hard. It just kind of bounced. On the railing.”
The doctor questions me and the nurse further and then, very, very slowly for maximum embarrassment, the nurses help me into a chair, and finally into the bed. I’m wishing I could pound sense into my own skull.
Nothing happened. Stop being a child and get a grip!
Once the doctor’s confident my vision isn’t blurred and I won’t throw up, he pats my arm and tells me he’ll be back to check on me later. “I think, under the circumstances, we should keep you at least one more night, just for observation. But if we don’t have any more mishaps, you can leave first thing tomorrow, okay?”
Which means you can bill my insurance and forget this whole exhaustion ruse, right?
A minute later, the only people in the room are the first nurse, who’s busy tucking my blankets around my bed, Tommy sitting in the chair next to the bed, and Kelly, leaning against the wall with her arms folded, eyes too wide.
I’m surprised she’s still here.
“I’m very sorry I scared you, Crash,” the nurse says.
“It wasn’t your fault. I was thinking about a song and tuned out. Don’t worry about it,” I finish lamely.
She stares like she’s trying to figure out whether to say something. But I glance at Tommy and Kel. “Welcome to the madhouse. We’ll be here all week.”
Tommy’s brow is pinched into lines. Kelly stays near the door, arms folded, one knee bent. She looks towards Dan’s room, then the hallway, then back to me. The nurse finishes tucking in my blankets, makes a note in my chart, and excuses herself.
I wait until she’s closed the door to let go of the breath I’d held onto for too long.
“What was that?” Tommy says.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? You spaced out and fell out of bed. That’s not nothing, Crash. How bad is your head? Are you being honest with the docs about not taking anything yesterday? ’Cause you know they won’t care. They won’t report you. You don’t want to mess with that sh—”
“You know I didn’t.” My Mom’s an addict. I will never be.
“Are you all right, Crash?”
She’ll hear the truth in my voice, so I nod.
After who-knows-how-long of me staring, and her not giving an inch, Tommy steps between us.
“I’m cashing in my chip, Crash.”
“No,” I say. “You’re not.”
“I’m cashing in my chip, or I’m walking out on the tour,” Tommy says. I snort. “You think I’m joking?”
“You’d walk out on the band for this?”
“I’d walk out because you’re lying to me.”
“I’m not.”
His pierced brows lift.
“Anymore,” I say.
“Cut him some slack, Tommy,” Kelly says. Her voice is too thin. Weary. But I can’t see her face because Tommy’s in the way.
“You’re sticking up for this piece of shit after what he did to you?”
She sighs. I want to pull her into my chest the way I did that first night in my house—
I kill the memory in its tracks.
“He would’ve got you in the divorce anyway,” she says with a watery smile she doesn’t mean.
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“Shared custody,” Tommy says with a grunt.
“Nah, his fancy LA lawyers are too good for that.” At least her grin holds a little warmth this time.
“If you two are finished talking about me like I’m not in the room,” I say. Without looking away from Kelly, Tommy gives me the middle finger, which I ignore. “I need to tell you both about a chat I had with Dan when you were gone.”
Kelly’s already pale face loses another couple shades.
“Don’t worry! It’s good. I hope.” For the first time, it occurs to me that Kelly might balk at the idea of me interfering. Well, she can hang with Tommy if it’s an issue. I just want to help get her out of that house.
They both stare blankly. I beckon them closer to the bed, just in case the asshole’s listening at the door. Kelly comes only as far as the foot of my bed. I speak directly to her. Tommy can kiss my ass. “I told Dan I was struggling with the album and need your help with the songs.” Which is partly true. “I said I needed you to come to the house and work with us. He said yes.”
Tommy grins. “Fame-hound, for the win.”
“Exactly. So here’s the idea: You come to my house—or Tommy’s—every day after school and hang out. Get you out of that house.”
Kelly’s face is unreadable. “Wait, what?”
Aware of Dan in the next room, I lean in and whisper, “It would be great to write with you again, Kel, but even if you don’t want to do that, at least it’ll give you some space, right?”
Kelly’s looking down at the bed, but I can still see the little lines she gets on her forehead that always make my stomach clench.
“You don’t have to come to my place if you don’t want to. We can work at Tommy’s. But Dan’s approved a couple hours a day as long as you’re, you know, working with us.”
Why can’t I read the expression on her face? I used to know all of them.
“Good idea,” Tommy says, offering a fist for me to bump. “Your place would be better since my mom’s around, but whatever.”
“Kel? I’m serious. You can go to Tommy’s. If you don’t want to help me, you can still help him.” There’s a note of pleading in my voice that I can’t quite keep out. Kelly’s so pale. I can’t tell what’s going on her in her head. I don’t like it.
“You’d prefer that,” she says, still not looking up from the blankets over my feet.
“No!” I say, a little too loudly. I lower my voice. “I just meant, I’d understand if you don’t want to be around. It’s still a deal.”
Kelly bites her lip and suddenly all I can think about is teasing that lip out from under her teeth so I can see it all plump and red.
“You heartless bastard.”
I’m stunned. “What?” If I were standing, I’d take a step back. I might have anticipated fear; if Dan finds out we’re lying, it’s Kelly who will pay. I would have understood a reluctance to spend time together, or even awkwardness if she doesn’t want to and feels bad about telling me that. Kelly is the kindest person I know.
But the sheer fury she’s blazing makes me want to cover my balls.
She counts off on her fingers. “You lied to me, left me, lied to my friend so he’d dump me too, and then straight up disappeared out of my life like you never existed.”
“I went on tour!”
“Uh, guys—” Tommy says.
“Oh, I know where you were. Do you have any idea what that was like?” She’s still spitting whispers in case Dan’s listening. “I went from seeing you every day, being a part of your world and—and having you in mine, to nothing. No one.”
Tommy takes a step back. “So, I’m going to go.”
“I’m sorry,” I say and mean it. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” she says as Tommy disappears out the door behind her. “But I don’t think you even know why.”
I run a hand through my hair, massaging my aching head. “Of course I do. I was an ass. I know that.” She bites her lip again and my chest aches. “Kel—”
“Now would be a really good time to shut your mouth.” She puts her chin in the air. “You had your say that day. It’s my turn.”
Chapter Nine
Three months ago
Kelly
I square my shoulders and grip the end of Crash’s bed so he won’t see my fingers tremble.
“Do you have any idea what it was like?” My voice slides high at the end of the sentence. “Not only did I lose you and Tommy, but after that summer we had—I didn’t even get a heads up. Zero.”
“I told you it wasn’t about—”
“Shut up.”
He does. Still holding my gaze, he settles back on his pillows and motions for me to continue.
I plow on before I lose my nerve. “Imagine for a minute that I had dumped you—less than a day after that night.” Crash closes his eyes, but I force myself to push on. “And then, I was gone. And you went back to school and had to tell everyone we’d broken up—try to explain a conversation you didn’t understand to begin with. Try to answer questions you were still asking yourself—like what the hell just happened? And then, imagine how you’d feel if pictures of me with other guys showed up. Everywhere. On the news, on every corner of the internet. So no matter where you went, or what you were doing, you kept seeing my face. Not just my face—pictures of me with my arms around a different guy every few days. And right away, people look at you sideways, whispering when you walk past, laughing behind your back.”
Crash drops his head into his hands. I steel myself. I will not feel sorry for him.
“And imagine after losing me, and your closest friend—with no warning—that everyone else you’d ever hung out with decided there must be something wrong with you. Because you’d been part of something good. And if I’d walked away from that—and I was getting paid lots of money and flown all over the country—then it must not be my problem, right?”
My breath catches. “Imagine that people cut out those pictures from the magazines, or print them off the internet, and put them on your locker, or in your bag. Or between the pages of books you were reading so they’d fall out when you weren’t expecting it—” I want to cry, but force it back. “Imagine how it would feel to be the joke of the entire school when you didn’t even know what you’d done wrong. And even your stepdad said you screwed everything up. And you didn’t have any way to defend yourself. Because you had been part of something amazing. Something you thought would be there forever. And when I left, I took everyone with me. Until you were nothing. To anyone.”
Crash’s hands fist the blankets over his lap. His Adam’s apple bobs.
“You did that to me. You left. I don’t care how many songs you can write, Crash, or how good you sing. It doesn’t mean that you’re worth more than me—”
His head snaps up. “I never—”
“—and it doesn’t mean I’m worthless when you leave.” I grip the rail on the bed so hard it hurts. “And it definitely doesn’t mean that when Tommy finds out what a liar you are, that you get to just walk back into my life and play the hero because you’re feeling generous—or guilty.
“There’s more to my life than you,” I lie. “But letting you back in, where you can take the rest away if something goes down? I don’t know if I can do that.”
I can’t look away. Having his intensity focused back on me makes me ache. So when he doesn’t say anything, I huff and head for the door to Dan’s room. But it only takes two steps to realize I don’t want to talk to him either. So I turn again, toward the hallway.
“Kelly?”
I stop, still facing the door.
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault, what happened. And the girls in those pictures? They were all set up by our publicist. It was just to sell more downloads. That’s all. They were nothing.”
“The problem is you made me look like nothing.” I lock eyes with him. “I’ll never forgive you for that.”
Crash opens his mouth, then closes
it and looks away, ashamed. And he should be. But I wish my first instinct wasn’t to comfort him.
Am I strong enough to be the one to walk away this time?
Chapter Ten
June, Last Year
Kelly
A couple months before the best day of my life, Crash snuck over to my house.
With my mom gone, Crash was banned from our house when Dan wasn’t home. But, desperate for some time alone, I’d agreed to risk it. Crash parked on the block around the corner and snuck across our neighbor’s property to come in the back door.
Blinds closed so no one could see us from the street, we were on the couch, me in the corner, facing him, my leg bent up against his thigh, Crash sitting with his arm on the back of the couch. His fingers combing through my hair sent goosebumps up my neck.
I don’t know how long we’d been kissing when his phone rang.
He hesitated like he might ignore it, then sighed, “It’s Amber.”
I sighed too. This was happening more and more. The band had been doing well for months—gigs every Friday and Saturday. They had even booked a couple of summer festivals. Amber had signed on as their manager in the spring with big promises Crash and Tommy were scared to believe. I knew it was just a matter of time.
Patting my leg, Crash grabbed the phone off the coffee table and swiped to answer it. “Hello?”
“Are you sitting down, Crash?” Amber’s voice sounded tinny in my silent living room.
Crash’s eyes jumped to mine. “Yeah. Why? What’s up?”
“Not much . . . Just time to pack your bags, because Crash Happy’s opening for Fire in the Hole at Barkleys!”
Crash’s fingers tightened on my knee. “What?”
“You heard me!” Amber sang.
“But . . . but they turned us down.” Crash sounded like he might faint.
I squeezed his hand in both of mine, beaming. Fire in the Hole was one of the headliners at the biggest rock festival in Portland this summer.
