Eventually I sighed and shut my computer.
"No luck?"
"Nope."
"You're probably tired from the drive home. Tomorrow will probably be better."
Maybe.
I moped around for a bit then remembered Cindy's letter.
Dear Amy,
Thank you thank you THANK YOU! I don't even know how to tell you how grateful I am. The day you picked me to be your assistant was the best day of my life.
I made a CD of your songs, all the ones that help me the most, and I played them over and over on the way to small claims court to face my ex-husband. I was terrified, but I kept singing your songs in my head.
And I won! I presented my case, didn't let Howard get me off-topic or make me feel bad because I wasn't exactly what he wanted in a wife, and the judge said I was right and Howard owed me the full purchase price of the car. He had to write me a check, and he had to make sure it cleared, and it did. It's over. Thanks to you.
I'm so glad you're going after what you really want to do, but I'm really going to miss getting to hear your new songs!
Keep in touch, okay? I miss you. Jo's signed a new girl, Courtney, to start after Christmas, and I'm probably going to be working for her. She's kind of like Angel, so... well, you know. :)
Anyhow, thank you again. A million times.
Oh, and if I don't talk to you next week, Merry Christmas!
Cindy
Attached was a check for two thousand dollars, made out to Amethyst Szczesniak, with "for the center" in the memo field.
I put my hands over my face and burst into tears.
Tim hugged me hard. "What's wrong?"
I pushed the letter to him.
He read it quickly then looked at me, confused. "Isn't this good? It's the last great thing Misty did. What a way to retire, right?"
I nodded, crying even harder. Yeah. What a way to retire.
Chapter Forty-Four
I cried for ages that night, and kept tearing up over the rest of the weekend though Tim did his best to cheer me up. I tried to keep myself under control, but on Sunday evening the movie we were watching reached its mushy conclusion and I completely fell apart.
As I sobbed into his shoulder, Tim said, "Amy. Look at me."
I raised my soggy face and our eyes met, and the tenderness in his calmed me.
He brushed the tears from my cheeks. "It's okay. Tell me what's wrong."
I'd been fighting it since reading Cindy's letter, and I couldn't fight any more. Actually, I'd been fighting it for weeks, maybe for years. But it was time to accept the truth, the truth I'd always known on some level. I let myself accept it, felt it reverberate through me and knew it was right, then looked into his eyes and said it. "I probably should do the center. But I'm not going to."
As I heard my own words, my shoulders relaxed like I'd been holding them up to support a heavy load and now the load had floated away. The room around us seemed to brighten and the movie's closing music sounded richer than the best symphony ever written. Before Tim could speak I burst out in giggles. "I can't tell you how free I feel. Everything's more alive. Talk about living out loud. I'm not meant to do it. Don't tell me I'm wrong, I know I'm not."
"I'd never say you were wrong. It's your life." He cupped my face in both hands, his eyes serious. "Did I talk you into quitting? Focusing on the center?"
I sobered. "I... don't know."
He winced. "Not what I wanted to do, I promise. I thought you wanted it so I was trying to help you get there."
I squeezed his hand. "I know. You didn't do anything wrong. I thought I should want it. I wanted to want it. But..." I shook my head. "It's just not me. It was Giselle. It's a beautiful thing to do but it's not why I'm on the planet. I need to do what's right for me."
"For sure." He tipped his head to one side, studying me. "Does what's right for you perchance involve wigs and miniskirts?"
The thought of being Misty again pulled my face into a smile I couldn't hold back.
"Don't bother answering." He smiled too, then kissed me. "Welcome back, Misty."
I grinned but had to say, "Do you mind?"
He shook his head. "You have to do what's right for you. By the way, got any idea what's right for me? With the stupid novel?"
I kissed him again. "I wish I did. But I think you'll find it inside you and have to accept it, whatever it is. You probably already know it. I sure did. Maybe you're fighting it the same way I was, because you think you should be doing something else."
He looked at me, his eyes sad and solemn. "What if it's not inside me?"
I poked his chest. "It's in there. You have to let it come out."
Chapter Forty-Five
When I left Tim the next morning, he was sitting at his laptop ready to work on his novel before seeing his parents in a few days for Christmas. On my return from Jo's office at lunch time, he hadn't moved. Without looking away from the screen, which was tipped down enough that I couldn't see it, he said, "Hey, gorgeous. How'd it go?"
I pulled over a chair and sat next to him, unable to hold back a grin. "She said if I quit again she'll kill me with her bare hands, and she warned me people will call the whole thing a publicity stunt, but she took me back. We'll announce it on New Year's Eve. Evan's headlining the outdoor show in Nathan Phillips Square, so I'll be the surprise guest and we'll sing our song together. Then in January, back to recording."
I couldn't wait. I'd been up most of the night writing down songs as they came to me, with Tim for awhile then alone when he fell asleep, crying sometimes with the sheer joy of letting my songs out with absolutely nothing standing in their way, and when I'd sung a bit of the 'climb a mountain and party at the summit' one for Jo she'd just hugged me and said, "Welcome back, kiddo."
Tim wrapped an arm around me. "Good stuff."
"How's the book coming?"
"The book. Yeah. Everything's great."
He sounded weird and I didn't know what to say. "You got a lot written?"
"Not a word."
"Then, um..."
He laughed. "How is it great?" He turned to face me for the first time and I gasped. He was lit up, glowing from within.
"What happened?"
He kissed me, his mouth sweet and joyful on mine. "It's all you, baby. Well, you and Evan."
"I'm sorry, I'm glad you're happy but I totally don't understand."
He turned his computer toward me and pointed at the screen, where his word processor was partially covered by a web browser.
"Oh, you found the video. I watched it with Jo." The video, and song, of the duet I'd done with Evan had been released online that morning and were available for free download until Christmas Day as a gift to our fans. The video was adorable, with Evan and I starting at opposite corners of a high school dance and gradually finding our way to each other, and the song was already finding its way to the top of the charts.
"I didn't watch it. Not really. I just listened." He shook his head. "I listened to my words. All about how important it is to be yourself and listen to yourself and go after what you want no matter what anyone else says. I heard it so many times while you were recording it, but it was different today. The words went right in and grabbed me. Everything's different."
His excitement and happiness were lovely, but I still didn't understand.
He must have been able to tell, because he took my hand and said, "I don't want to write a novel. I never have. So I won't. I was going to delete it but I wanted to wait for you so we could do it together. And then maybe we could write another song. Because that's what I really want to do."
His certainty made me pull him close and kiss him. "I'm so happy for you. But are you sure you want to delete it? You could keep it as a souvenir. And what about your parents?"
He was shaking his head before I finished. "I want it gone. It's no good, and I knew that all the way along. I've erased the backup copies so this is all that's left." He swallowed. "My parents are devastated
. I called them while you were gone. They don't want to see me for a few weeks while they recover."
I blinked. "But Christmas is this Saturday."
He nodded.
My parents weren't flying back from Florida for Christmas since they'd decided to go on a cruise instead, but I'd known that for ages. I'd been disappointed but I'd had time to get over it. For Tim's to cut him off like this, at the last second... My heart breaking at the pain in his eyes and melting at the determination there too, I hugged him hard. "It's your life, your career. Good for you."
He kissed me, then said, "So. Time to get rid of the wrong career."
To my surprise, he actually erased the book page by page, starting at the top and highlighting each page then pressing the delete key to suck his words into oblivion. It took a long time, but I sat with him and watched in silence as he destroyed the work he'd never wanted to do. Words and phrases danced before my eyes and disappeared, but I didn't try to read them. I knew he didn't want that.
When at last the screen was empty, he moved the mouse pointer to the save button but didn't click.
I kissed his cheek. "I believe in you," I said softly. "If you want it gone, make it happen. Live your life your way."
He pressed the button with a decisive motion. His book no longer existed. All those words, so hard for him to find, gone forever.
We sat still for a moment, then turned to face each other. Three words filled my heart and mind, and I saw them in his eyes. We smiled at each other, knowing we didn't need to say them, then said them together.
"I love you."
We'd had some amazing kisses, but the one that followed those words was beyond anything I could have imagined. Sweet and strong and deep in the way I'd grown to adore, and the connection pulsing between us was far more than just physical.
We moved together into his bedroom and onto his bed, where our clothes fell away as we explored each other. When I reached to undo his jeans, I knew what I wanted to do. I slid off the bed and pulled him to stand before me, then sank to my knees and began undoing his belt while pressing kisses to his bare stomach.
"Amy, are you going to— you don't have to, I don't expect—"
I looked up into the concerned eyes of the man I loved. "I know. I want to. I'm ready."
Not a single doubt in my heart and mind, and my eyes must have shown it. He bent over me, took my face in both hands, and kissed me sweet and tender, then straightened and let his hands brush over my hair as I unfastened and pushed down his jeans then disposed of his boxer shorts too.
I might have thought I'd feel nervous, or afraid I wouldn't be able to handle what I was about to do, but instead I'd never felt so happy. I loved him so much, and not just because he'd helped me get to the point where I could do this. Where I wanted to do this.
I took him into my mouth with pure joy.
He groaned.
White-hot passion tore through me and I whimpered around him. Hearing what I was doing to him felt incredible, and the more he liked it the more I did too, heat and hunger rippling through my body like I was feeling his response to my actions. I'd never felt so in sync with anyone, so connected.
I stroked and teased him, loving every second, until he said, "Amy, stop, I can't— I'm going to—"
"Fine with me," I mumbled, but he gasped, "Not with me."
I stopped, but didn't release him.
"I— trust me, I'd love to. But I don't want it like this the first time. I want to make love with you. Now."
Shuddering with desire at his words, I let him go, and he groaned again. "I can't believe I stopped you. Nothing's ever felt that good. But maybe next time, if you want to..."
I sat back on my heels and looked up into his eyes, and love and passion and amusement flooded me all at once. "Next time?" I raised my eyebrows and tried to look shocked. "What makes you think there'll be a next time?"
He held out his hands and helped me to my feet, then pulled me close. "I'm hoping you'll enjoy this enough to make it more than a one-time offer."
"Big words, buddy. Let's see you back them up."
He did. Oh, how he did. When, eventually, we lay in satisfied bliss in each other's arms, all I could say was, "That offer's good whenever you want it."
He kissed me. "I love you. And I'm free today."
"I love you too, and I happen to also be free today. But I might not be tomorrow. I'm a bubble gum pop princess, you know. Busy schedule."
He kissed me again, the hunger in it filling me with renewed desire, then said, "Well, your hot-pink majesty, if you're free now I'd better take advantage."
"Please do," I managed, then we were too busy kissing to talk.
Chapter Forty-Six
Evan and I moved into the last verse of our duet to the accompaniment of thousands of singing and screaming fans in thick coats and winter gear. I didn't feel the bitter cold, though, not even in my hot pink outfit with only a nude bodysuit beneath to keep me warm. Nothing bad could touch me tonight. I was where I belonged and I'd never appreciated it more.
The critics had indeed mocked my retirement as a pathetic attempt to get publicity and would no doubt feel vindicated when they found out I was coming back, the gossip pages were running with all sorts of ridiculous stories about my drug problem/porn addiction/illegitimate baby/whatever else they could make up as a cause for my quitting, and Angel had walked away without a word when I ran into her at Jo's office with Tim and a delighted Jez beside me. None of that mattered.
And while I loved how excited my fans were to see me again, way deep down inside me that didn't matter either. Nobody's opinion mattered. I'd needed to do what truly mattered to me, not what should have mattered, and now I was. How many people get to wear a pink miniskirt and wig to change the world?
My eyes found Tim standing in the VIP section near the front, and he snapped me that adorable salute. I couldn't salute back but I grinned at him and he blew me a kiss. We'd had a wonderful Christmas day making love and writing songs, and every day since had been just as good. I was heading into a new year with the man I loved and the career I adored and I couldn't wait to see what wonderful things would come next for us.
Evan and I reached the end of the song, and the fans erupted. He, as we'd rehearsed, said into his microphone, "Wasn't that fun, Misty? Are you sure you wouldn't you like to come back?"
I was supposed to look doubtful, play with the crowd a bit, and then give in and announce I was out of retirement and would be releasing a new song mid-January, but the fans' wild delight at even the possibility of my return overwhelmed me and all I could do was tell them the truth. "I should never have left. I love you guys so much. Yes, I'm back. Misty's back, right where she should be."
They shrieked so hard they couldn't possibly have heard Evan gamely trying to follow the script. But really, what else needed to be said?
BLANK SLATE KATE
Chapter One
My mouth tastes awful, like a thousand people have used it as an ashtray and garbage can. As I try to work up enough spit to swallow, my head begins to pound and my stomach churns. The flu's been going around my high school and I must have caught it. I want to yell for Mom but my throat's too dry, so I force my sleep-sticky eyes open so I can get out of bed.
Horror fills me, shocking the sick feelings away.
I'm not in my bed. I'm in a strange bed facing a sleeping guy. A guy I don't know. An old guy.
I can't breathe. Did I lose my virginity to him last night? I was going to wait until I got married. What happened? How did I end up here?
I scrabble backward and half-fall out of the bed, but before I can run away dizziness sweeps me and I throw up on the worn rug between my feet.
The guy blinks and sits up. "Kate? You okay?"
I stare at him. Kate? It doesn't feel right. I'm...
I don't know. I'm not getting Kate back as my name. I'm not getting anything else back either. My mind is blank.
I don't know who I am.
I'm in
a strange man's bedroom, with no idea who I am.
The shock twists my stomach beyond what I can stand, and as I bend over to puke again I realize, as if everything else weren't bad enough, that I'm naked. I don't worry about anything but barfing for the next few unpleasant seconds, but when I'm done I wrap my arms around my body to hide myself and take a quick peek at the guy.
He's out of bed now, fortunately wearing boxer shorts. I do not want my first sight of a guy's thing to be like this. Still, he's mostly naked, so I look away again as he says, "You're not okay. Geez, you must have drunk even more than I thought. I'll get you a glass of water."
He doesn't seem mad that I threw up on his floor, and I'd love some water, but I can't get past what he said. I was drinking? "I'm seventeen," I snap at him. "I don't drink."
His mouth falls open. "You're..."
We had sex. His horror tells me so. I can't believe I did it. I did it and I don't even remember it. "Yeah. You had sex with a minor. And if I was drinking, you made me do it. You're a rapist. And a..." I can't think of a word for 'making people drink' so I say, "You're a bad man."
"Kate, I didn't--"
"I'm not Kate!" My shriek hurts my own ears and reawakens my headache, and it makes him stumble back a few steps. "I don't know who I am but I'm not Kate. Stop calling me that!"
"You're... you don't..." He trails off and rubs a hand over his stubbled chin.
I had sex, drunk sex, sex I don't remember, with an actual man, one old enough to need a daily shave. My stomach flips over again and I give a nasty burp but don't throw up. One good thing today, at least.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then his eyes flicker down my body.
"Hey!" I grab a pillow and hold it to cover myself.
He blushes. "I... sorry. Look, I'm just totally confused." Another long deep breath, then he says, "Okay. Your name is not Kate. You're seventeen, and you don't drink. Have I got it right?"
Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9) Page 22
