by Deana Birch
⸎
On Saturday afternoon, Louana sat on the couch with a beer. She’d barely touched me since I’d told her I loved her, and I was worried.
“You’re a day drinker now?” I asked.
She glanced up, but a couple of blinks were all she could manage. This was bad. Very bad. And it wasn’t about Karen or Gina.
“This is about us, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“You want me to leave.”
“No.”
“But you’re gonna ask me to anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
I shrank. Where had this come from? My hands moved to my face, rubbed my scruff, and covered my eyes before they landed on my hips.
“Why? We love each other. What kind of new ‘why not’ did you dream up now?”
“I’m not sure I’m cut out for what comes with your lifestyle.”
Whoa. What?
“So you’re not just kicking me out, you’re fucking breaking up with me too? Jesus fucking Christ, Louana.”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.” She focused on the burgundy pillow she hugged into her stomach.
“What? Why? Why would you do this? Where the fuck is this coming from?” The volume of my voice raised with every word.
She took another drink without looking at me. Her not fighting back was a worse sign than the day drinking.
“Baby?” I sat down on the couch next to her. When I met her eyes, I found fear, worry, and sadness. They mirrored my own emotions. “Tell me you don’t love me and maybe I’ll understand.”
“I do love you,” she admitted, giving me a glimmer of hope.
I took the beer out of her hands and sat it on the coffee table. “Do you really want to end this?”
We loved each other. It was fast, yes. But I knew what we had. Why would she take it away? I hated to think she was talking to the ex again, but I had to wonder.
“No,” she whispered.
I rubbed her knuckles with my thumbs, grateful for her answer and the small amount of contact. “What can we do to make it work?”
She finally looked me in the eyes. “I think I need more time to sort through a few things.”
“Done. But can we at least talk about it? I hate seeing you like this.”
Her mouth twitched to the side. “I think it’s better if we don’t. Just let me think it through.”
⸎
Louana and I agreed to add two more weeks to our trial period, but it was an odd shift of power. I could sense she was wrestling with bigger issues, but I didn’t dare ask what they were for fear of giving her the wrong answer. Before, it had been about living together, but now she had thrown in the extra threat of breaking up. The stakes were higher. For both of us. The rest of the weekend was quiet. We stayed in and she read on the couch while I walked on eggshells around her. We slept in the same bed, and even though I held her tight, there were a million miles between us.
On Monday night, when I got home from the studio, the fridge was empty. Shit was majorly wrong if she wasn’t cooking. I could feel her slipping away from me and had no idea how to get her back. There was something more brewing, and I wracked my brain trying to figure it out. I crawled into bed. The light from the courtyard shadowed her face and her eyes were open.
“Baby?” she whispered.
Calling me ‘baby’ was a turn down the right street.
“Mmm?” I burrowed into the bedding.
“Is what we do in bed enough for you?”
She had to be kidding. I couldn’t get enough of her. I didn’t even think about my cousin’s friend in the white bikini anymore.
“Is that what you’re worried about? Our sex life?”
“A little bit. I mean, I know you like other things.”
“I told you—I’ll take you any way I can get you. Of all the things to be worried about, I never thought you’d say that.”
I kissed her on the top of her head and allowed a tiny blanket of relief to cover me. Sex? That was never going to be a problem. But she’d said, “other things.” I thought back to Vegas and the scene she’d witnessed with Candace. We had talked about it, and I really hoped she knew that while I was adventurous, I never wanted to be pushy. Maybe I should have never asked her for those beads. But it couldn’t be that either. Her physical reaction proved she was into it. This was something else.
⸎
Her phone rang while she was in the shower and woke me up.
Dimitri Le Clerc calling…
Great. He was all I needed. The proof of her newfound hesitation. I propped myself up on my elbows and waited for her to come back to the bedroom.
“You’re up?” she asked, surprised as she buttoned the cream blouse she had on.
“Your phone rang,” I said dryly.
“Oh, sorry.” She reached for it and read the missed call info on the screen. Then fear flashed in her eyes.
I sat up a little straighter and her phone beeped with a message. She looked back and quickly scanned it.
“Him again?” I said, trying like hell to keep my cool.
“Yes.” She sat down on the bed and stared into my eyes. “He and I are friends. He called me yesterday about a painting his father wants to buy for my grandmother. He heard my voice and knew something was wrong. His message now says I can call him to talk if I need to.”
I chewed my inner cheek and thought about what she’d said. Whatever she was struggling with, she deserved to have someone listen to her. Even if it wasn’t me. And Gina was probably not very receptive these days. She moved to get up and I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down.
“I’m sorry about this jealousy thing,” I said. “I’m gonna do better to control it. I promise. You should be able to talk to whoever you want. And you definitely deserve to have a friend.” I prayed my words came off more convincing than they felt.
“Thank you.” Her shoulders dropped a few inches. “And the next time he calls, I’ll talk to him about boundaries.” She stood, turned, and made her way to the doorway.
“Was he this jealous too?” I asked.
“Nope.” She turned around. “A jealous boyfriend is new for me too.” She smiled slightly and left. If this was progress, I’d take it.
⸎
On Wednesday morning, Fern sat by the pool with a cup of coffee while Archie swam laps at my side. After thirty minutes, I was more tired than he was, but we both got out anyway. I reached for my towel, dried off, and slumped into the wooden chair next to Fern.
“She brought home Taco Bell last night,” she said. “You’ve officially broken her.”
“Is she talking to you? She won’t tell me what I did. And I’m not being conceited here; I don’t know what set this off. I told her I loved her, then bam. Ice.”
Archie licked his paws on the other side of the courtyard, then rolled his scent into the concrete. If only life were that simple.
“If she was talking to me, I wouldn’t tell you. I’m team Louana.”
I pivoted in my chair to get a better look at her. “Fern! I thought we had something. I’m hurt.”
“You fix my girl and we’re golden.” There was nothing playful in her stare. In fact, her words may have been more of a threat than a promise.
“I’ll do my best, but either way, you and him stay in my life.” I pointed to Archie, who had lain down and stretched up in the sun’s warmth. I pecked Fern on the cheek, and she shooed me away before I went back inside to shower and get ready.
From the car on the way to the Valley, I swallowed a bitter pill of pride and called Gina.
“What do you want?” Her voice rang over the speakers in the Jeep.
“Hi, Gina. How are you?”
“Cut the shit, Riley.”
“First of all, I wanted to say I’m sorry. You’re right. Sam is like my brother in this band, and I shouldn’t have left him hung out to dry with no songs. That was selfish and shitty. I’ll say the same thing to him in thirty minutes when I se
e him face-to-face.”
“Especially because the other two are egomaniacs with jackass tendencies.”
I signaled my blinker and hopped into the left lane. “That is a fair and correct assessment on your part.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“I need you to talk to my girlfriend.”
24
Decisions
* * *
LOUANA
The receptionist buzzed my desk.
“There’s a Gina here to see you.”
I walked down the hall from my office and greeted her with a warm smile. We said our pleasantries, and even though I hated mixing my personal affairs during my working hours, I was happy to see her.
I brought her a bottle of water from the fridge and ushered her into the conference room.
“This is a surprise,” I said as I circled around the table and sat.
Gina spun back and forth in the swivel chair and said, “I’m not gonna lie. Jake sent me.”
“I thought you were pissed at him, us.” I shifted in my seat.
She huffed a small sigh. “I am. I was. But I know I shouldn’t be. It’s not even my money. I get so freaking overprotective of Sam.” She swung the huge bag that she’d kept on her shoulder onto the table between us. Her posture dropped at the same time as the bag’s handles. “I’m sorry if I was bitchy. It just all seems so unfair.”
“I get it. It’s totally fine.”
“Cool?” She wrinkled her gorgeous gypsy face.
“Absolutely.”
She unscrewed her bottle of water, took a little sip, and slowly turned the cap back to its closed position. She planted both hands on the table, palms down. “So what’s wrong with you?”
I wished I could tell her the truth. She was probably the only person on the planet who could understand the situation between Jake and Shane. But I didn’t know what she knew, and there was no way news of a previous relationship between the singer and drummer was coming from me.
“I guess it boils down to a lifestyle,” I lied. “I mean…” I spread my hands around to display the stark conference room. “This is my life.”
“Shouldn’t you have thought of that before falling in love with a rock star?” Her head tilted to the side and she raised her eyebrows. “Listen, I know it’s insane. I have nightmares about stripper tits. How unnatural is that shit? But Sam would do anything for us, even if it was quitting the band. And because I know that, I wouldn’t ever put him in the position to choose. Jake’s never been in love before, and he would risk everything to hold onto you. If you love him, don’t make him ruin his dream.”
“I know you’re right. But I’m a little afraid of getting lost in the whirlwind.” Even without the Shane factor, it was a true statement.
“You’re his anchor; you can’t get lost. Plus, I’ll kill you if you leave him. Now that I’ve had you backstage to hang with, I selfishly want you there forever.”
⸎
On Friday night, I declined Fern’s offer to drink my problems away. I needed a clear head and wanted to get out of this state of limbo. My mom had a boyfriend growing up who would say, “Either shit or get off the pot, Charlotte.” It used to make him crazy when my mom couldn’t make a decision. Even if I had the temper of my diva grandmother, the distaste of planned confrontation was just as strong.
I wrote out a list of why Jake should stay and why Jake should go. On the staying side: I loved him. He loved me back. I wanted to take care of him. Archie and Fern loved him. He filled the cracks of my life and proved I was capable of a balanced relationship. The only reason I could find for Jake not to stay was Shane. But Shane’s name was written three times:
1) Shane is an asshole.
2) Shane and my boyfriend had sex.
3) Shane isn’t going anywhere.
I had to be honest—the fact Jake had slept with a man was throwing me. It wasn’t even because Shane was in his band, or that Shane wanted him back. It was because Shane was male. The true root of my problem was there. I knew Jake was into anal sex; I had known since the day he pushed me against my front door and slid his finger between my cheeks. It had been 100 percent confirmed in Las Vegas, when I overheard a stripper saying she was going to let him fuck her in the ass. But I never once imagined he had been with a man.
I also knew I didn’t want to spend another week of uncertainty. I had to face Jake and somehow get the reassurance I needed without showing all my cards and therefore ruining his career. Because if I told the truth about how Shane had been hitting on me to get him back, he would go mental. He would probably quit the band. I could choose to let the past haunt us or live in the present.
After burning my Shane list, I put out my smoke and climbed the stairs to Richie’s apartment. He opened the door with trepidation, but my grin put him at ease. The lights were out, but the TV glowed with a frozen screen in the background.
“I need to borrow your car.”
“Uh…okay.” He dug into his pockets and pulled out his keys. I loved that he didn’t even ask why.
I scanned his living room. It had the same layout as Fern’s, and if her furniture was dated, his ripped, checkered couch and multiple soda cans on the cheap table were depressing. The dining room was filled with cardboard boxes.
I held out my hand for the keys then noticed a black sweatshirt on a hook next to the door.
“And the hoodie,” I said, nodding in its direction.
He swallowed hard but fetched it.
“I might be a few hours. Do you want me to give you everything back in the morning?”
Richie squinted and turned sideways, probably pondering if I was going to commit a murder. “Nah, I’ll be up.”
I stopped myself from turning to say goodbye. “Oh, not a word of this to Jake. Got it?”
“Whatever.”
Maybe he was less interested than I thought.
I drove to the recording studio and parked in the mini-mall on the other side of the street. I killed the lights and engine of Richie’s black Camry, pulled on the hoodie, and sank into the driver’s seat.
About a half hour later, Sam pushed the glass door open, hopped into Gina’s little convertible, and drove off. After ten more minutes, Jake, John, and Shane spilled out the doors. Jake waved behind him and got into the Jeep. I watched him check his phone, then toss it to the passenger’s side and pull away. Shane and John climbed into the same dark grey Jetta.
Shit. I had hoped Shane would be alone, and I prayed as I tailed them onto the freeway that John would be dropped off somewhere. I kept a few car lengths behind and followed them into a little neighborhood in Echo Park. They parked in a driveway and I inched along the curb three houses down. They both got out of the car and headed toward the front door. It was now or never. I killed the engine.
The door on Richie’s car banged shut and I sucked in every drop of courage I’d ever known. A brief flash of my confident grandmother’s face calmed my nerves as the anger beat through my veins.
“Shane!”
John’s keys were in the door, and they both spun around at the sound of my voice. I marched toward them. John’s face dropped to the doorstep, but Shane’s eyes lit up like a traffic light, giving me the signal to move ahead.
“Fucking hell, Murphy.” John forced the keys harder in the door and glared at me, then back to Shane. He pushed open the wooden front door of the little house, then held it open with one arm. “I don’t want to know a fucking thing about this.”
He went in, slammed it behind him, and disappeared into the house. A few lights switched on and muffled cursing brought a small twitch to Shane’s already pleased lips.
“Stalking me. Impressive.” His chin titled slightly up.
I set my shoulders back and narrowed my eyes. “I came to tell you, you lose.”
He rolled his eyes.
“No, seriously. He chose me. And I choose him. If you care about him or your career at all, you’ll let us be.”
“
Or you’ll tell him to quit the band? He’d never do that for a chick, sweetheart.”
“Is that a gamble you’re ready to make? I’ve heard his songs; Jesus, the whole world has heard ‘Faster.’ Without him, your next album will fail and you’ll all disappear like so many one-hit wonders before you.”
“Pfff.” Shane ground his teeth, and I knew I’d hit the right nerve.
“I mean it. You and I are gonna play nice in front of him, and your innuendos are over. You can make a pitiful fool of yourself and try and get him back, but you will never be what I am to him. He doesn’t want you. And pushing him into an uncomfortable situation will only drive a wedge between you.”
He stared off into the empty street and rubbed opposite biceps.
“I’m not a bad guy.”
“I never said you were.” Out loud, anyway. “Just respect his choices.”
A groan and another eye roll brought his attention back to me.
“Fine,” he said, his tone flat and eyes still in the roll.
I fought the corners of my lips to stay down.
“Thank you.” I turned around and walked down the driveway. I didn’t need to see behind me to know he watched me the entire way.
As I drove home through the darkened streets, I thought about Jake being with a man and decided to let it go. He had assured me, time and again, I was what he wanted, and he had never given me a reason to doubt him.
Now what? A logistical list of living with Jake formed in my mind. I would need to tell my mom. Maybe she would have an idea of how to break it to my grandmother. I no longer had an excuse to keep his family at bay either.
When I got home after dropping the hoodie and keys back to Richie, Jake was in bed. The lights were off and the backlight from his phone illuminated his face.
“Hey. I was wondering where you were. Your car’s here. I thought you would leave me a note.”
