Cut Free (The Sublime Book 4)

by Julia Wolf

  Twenty-Four

  My week had been insane.

  With Rachel on her honeymoon and my upcoming trip, I’d been at the salon from open to close every day, stacking clients one on top of the other in addition to my regular duties.

  I could have delegated. Frannie offered to pick up the slack, and one day, I’d ducked out for a quick lunch with Charlie while she held down the fort, but mostly, I worked. Letting go wasn’t me.

  I was stressed.

  I needed to run. I needed to pound the pavement until I was too exhausted to think. And that’s what I normally would have done when I felt out of control or overwhelmed, but with the marathon only a little more than a week away, our runs were getting shorter and shorter. So I didn’t even have that to ease my mind. Even playing the baby grand every morning wasn’t doing it for me like it usually did.

  The kicker was, I was happier than ever with Charlie. We didn’t have a lot of time together because I had to work so much, but the time we did have was always good. Better than good. Spectacular.

  “Get out!” Frannie said firmly.

  “But what if you need me?” I asked.

  “Then I’ll call you. I’ve closed the salon before. Everything will be fine. I promise to scour every surface before I leave.”

  “I can come in in the morning and do that…” I said.

  She grabbed my shoulders and pushed me out the door. “You will do no such thing! You have tomorrow off, so enjoy, relax with your man. And have fun tonight!”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’m nervous.”

  Frannie let out a wry laugh. “No kidding. But Charlie’s cool, so I’m sure his friends will be cool too. Do you need tough love or a pep talk?”

  “Pep talk, definitely.”

  “Okay then, you’re Eliza, you’re sweet and smart. When people get to know you, they adore you. The same thing will happen tonight with Charlie’s friends.”

  I nodded. “I think it worked.”

  Frannie crossed her arms. “Good. I didn’t want to have to rough you up. Now scoot!”

  “Okay, okay! See you Sunday.”

  A bunch of guys from the band Charlie toured with were in D.C. for a show and we were meeting them for dinner. He’d billed it as one of our adventures because he knew I’d be nervous about it. What’s more rebellious than going out in the city with a group of rockers? I almost wanted to call my parents to tell them, just to hear their disapproval. Almost.

  What does one wear to have dinner with rock stars? I had personally never heard of the band, which wasn’t really a surprise, but Google informed me they had quite a following.

  I stood in front of my closet, contemplating my choices. I didn’t have ripped jeans or combat boots like the women Charlie usually hung out with. I didn’t think my cigarette pants and chiffon tops would fly either.

  Jeans—check. No holes in sight, but they did great things for my butt.

  Red ruffle tank top—check. Not too conservative and it had been established red was my color.

  Nude patent heels—check. Not combat boots, but I could kick some ass in these shoes.

  Smokey eyes, shiny lips, and too-long bangs—check.

  Every box was ticked. I knew I looked cute. I knew Charlie would think I looked pretty. And normally, that was more than enough. But tonight, I was meeting my boyfriend’s friends and “cute” and “pretty” didn’t seem like nearly enough.

  Sigh.

  It was time to get over myself. Tonight really wasn’t about me. Charlie hadn’t seen some of his friends in a year and he’d been positively giddy when he heard they were coming. And truthfully, I was looking forward to seeing a different side of him. He fit in so well with my friends, I sometimes forgot he had this whole other life, this really big other life. One I only knew the basics about.

  I grabbed my purse and phone, then ran outside to meet him. He was just pulling up when I stepped onto the sidewalk.

  “One of these days, I’m going to get to pick you up at your door,” he said when I got in the car.

  “Want me to go back inside?” I asked.

  He grinned. “No, but the fact that you’re willing to do that is why I love you.”

  I leaned over and kissed him. When I started to back away, he caught me and pulled me back, kissing me deeply, lighting me up from the inside.

  He leaned his forehead on mine and hummed. “We can just stay home.”

  I giggled. “No way! I’m going to hang out with rock stars.”

  “They’re not so great,” he said.

  I pushed him away and leaned back in my seat. “Oh shush. You know you’re dying to see your friends.”

  “Maybe. But I’d rather just be inside you.”

  “And you will. In about four or five hours,” I said.

  He groaned. “Too long!”

  “You’ll survive. Where are we going, by the way?”

  Charlie started driving, one hand on my leg, which I covered with my own.

  “We are going to a restaurant just outside D.C. You’ll love it. There’s live music and poetry reading. A lot of locals perform there. It’s a cool place.”

  “Oh, that sounds fun. Built-in entertainment for when I’m awkward and can’t think of anything to say to your friends.”

  He chuckled and squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry, Eliza. The guys have never met a silence they couldn’t fill with noise. And you, my love, have never been awkward a day in your life.”

  “I like that,” I said.

  He glanced over at me. “Which part?”

  “The ‘my love’ part. You’ve never called me that.”

  “Eliza.” He sighed my name like he was letting out a breath. “You are my love. My one and only love. Even though I like to play and joke a lot, I’m completely serious about you.”

  My heart. Oh, my heart. This man, my Charlie, he filled me up in a way I’d always longed for. In a way I believed was out there, but maybe not for me. And to think I’d almost settled for a man who barely filled me at all. I never would have known the feeling that my skin, my bones, my muscles, and organs could not possibly contain everything I felt for him. It was too big, but never too much.

  “Well, I’m not nearly as funny as you, but I love you, Charlie. And I can’t wait to meet your friends and see that side of you.”

  The restaurant was a lot bigger than I’d been expecting. It had the look of a warehouse. It was entirely possible it had been one in a former life.

  Charlie checked his phone as we stood just inside the door.

  “They’re near the back,” he said, reading a text.

  I followed him around and in between tables until he stopped at one near the stage. I moved next to him and looked around the circular table where five pairs of eyes were all on me.

  “Hey, Charlie!” A beautiful woman with a light accent hopped up from her seat and wrapped him up in a tight hug.

  “I didn’t know you were coming.” He was barely audible since his mouth was being muffled by her violet hair.

  She pulled back. “Surprise!” Then she looked at me. “I’m Malka.”

  I held out my hand. “I’m Eliza.”

  She grabbed my hand, using it to pull me into a hug. “I know who you are, silly!”

  Well, at least one of us had been clued in. She was a gifted hugger, I’d give her that.

  Charlie laid his hand on my back. “Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Eliza.”

  I sat down between him and Malka, and he went around the table introducing me to everyone. I made a mental note of a distinct feature to go with their names. Ian: blonde, drummer. Nick: neck tattoo, lead singer. Jasper: dreads, bass player. David: devastatingly handsome, guitar player. And of course, Malka. I wouldn’t forget her name. When I finally got a good look at her face, I realized I’d seen her before. Her portrait hung in Charlie’s living room.

  “Pretty Eliza, what are you doing with a miscreant like Charlie?” Nick asked. His voice was raspy, like he smoked a pack a day. He pr
obably did.

  “Hey, I’m a fine upstanding citizen now! I own property. That’s fuckin’ grown up,” Charlie said.

  There was a subtle difference in him now that he was with his boys. His voice was lower, more drawn out. He leaned back in his chair casually, manspreading to the max.

  “I never thought I’d see the day when our Charlie settled down,” Ian said, shaking his head.

  “Um, excuse me. He settled down with me!” Malka said.

  I looked at her sharply, but she was smiling at Ian.

  “How long did your marriage last? A month?” Ian asked.

  “Six, thank you very much!” she said indignantly.

  Charlie put his hand on my leg and squeezed, but I didn’t turn to him. I was too busy studying Malka, his ex-wife! She was almost too pretty to be real, with big, round blue eyes, heart-shaped pouty lips, skin like cream, and curves for days. On top of her classic good looks, her long hair was violet, one side completely shaved, and from the skin I could see, she was covered in tattoos, from her knuckles to her neck. It was impossible to compare myself to her because we were nothing alike.

  Charlie gripped the back of my neck, rubbing his thumb back and forth. I looked at him. He gave me a small, worried smile.

  “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know she’d be here,” he said.

  “You don’t have to be sorry. I mean, you could have warned me the gorgeous woman whose portrait is hanging in your living room is your ex-wife. But I’m fine,” I whispered.

  Malka touched my hand. “I’m so happy I get to meet you, Eliza. I always told Charlie he needed a nice girl.”

  “I’m happy to meet you too, Malka. I’ve only stared at your portrait a hundred times.”

  She laughed, loud and boisterous. The laugh of a woman who was used to—and liked—people looking at her.

  “Charlie, you still have that old painting of me hanging up? I think it’s like rule number one: no pictures of your ex should be on your walls when you invite your new lady over,” she said.

  He cringed. “Yeah, you know I can be stupid sometimes. First thing I’m doing when I get home is throwing it right in the trash.”

  I gasped, but Malka laughed again. “How ‘bout you send it to me?”

  “Deal,” agreed Charlie.

  “See, Eliza? Problem solved. You don’t have to look at me ever again!” she said.

  Her accent was captivating. I could see why Charlie married her after two weeks. I was already a little bit in love with her myself.

  “Are you German?” I asked without thinking.

  “Ja. Ich bin Deutsche. I’m forever trying to lose the accent, but no dice.”

  “No, don’t lose it! It’s so charming,” I said.

  She smiled. “You’re just as sweet as Charlie said. If I’d been choosing a partner for him, I don’t think I’d have put the two of you together, but I see it now. You fit.”

  I felt my cheeks growing hot. In a million years, I never expected to be sitting next to my boyfriend’s ex-wife, having a perfectly lovely conversation. But I was, and it made me happy.

  Malka turned to talk to Nick, and I looked at Charlie. He’d been leaning in, trying to hear what we were saying to each other.

  “Are we good?” he asked.

  “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  “It’s not weird?”

  “A little. But not as much as I thought,” I said.

  We had a fun dinner. The guys were rough, but hilarious. And their favorite topic seemed to be ragging on Charlie. He took the ribbing in stride, laughing right along with them.

  It’s funny how you can be completely in love with another person and not know their history. I had known he’d had a wild life, but I had trouble picturing him drunk and high, and when he wasn’t working their shows, more than a little out of control.

  It’s not like he’d hidden it, but that version of Charlie was so different than the one I knew.

  “He was so fuckin’ drunk that night—” David started.

  “And high. He was high as hell,” Jasper added.

  David nodded. “And high as hell. How many girls did you have in your room? It had to have been at least four or five.”

  “Gross exaggeration!” Charlie laughed.

  “I’m the lead singer, and ol’ Charlie boy pulled more women than I did!” Nick said.

  Malka caught my eye. “They’re so immature. Stunted. Half the shit they say is made up.”

  I tried to laugh. I wanted to. But I was having trouble finding the humor in any of it.

  “What about you, Eliza? You look like a little goody-two-shoes over there, but I bet you have a wild side. The quiet ones are always the wildest,” said David. I was switching my mental note about him from “devastatingly handsome” to “dickhead.”

  “What you see is what you get with me,” I said quietly.

  Charlie slung his arm around my shoulders. “Miss Eliza is too modest. She is very fancy. We’re working on her wild side, though. And she’s the fuckin’ raddest pianist I’ve ever heard.”

  “I’m not,” I said, shaking my head.

  He tapped my nose. “Don’t be modest. You know you’re rad.”

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “Can’t I brag about my girl?”

  “Charlie…”

  He huffed. “Eliza…”

  “I wanna hear you play!” said Ian.

  I smiled politely. “I really don’t like playing in front of people. Maybe one day, though.”

  Or never.

  David got up, saying he’d be right back, and the topic moved on, thankfully.

  The lights in the restaurant dimmed and an emcee walked on stage, welcoming everyone to open mic night.

  “We have a sign-up sheet in the back, so get your names in now if you have something to say, a song you want to sing, music you want to play—we want to hear it!” The emcee looked down at a piece of paper. “Looks like first up we have DeAngela with a poem!”

  I arched a brow at Charlie. “Did you know it was open mic night?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I mean that’s kind of what this place is known for. It’s pretty cool. Some really talented people show up here.”

  “I’ve gotten up there before,” said Malka.

  “Oh yeah? Do you write poetry?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, I’m a singer. That’s how I met all the guys. I open for the band occasionally.”

  “I don’t know how you perform in front of people. I break into cold sweats just thinking about it,” I said.

  She shrugged. “It comes easily to me. But then, I get depressed when I’m not the center of attention.”

  I laughed. Malka was definitely my favorite of all of Charlie’s friends I’d met tonight. She reminded me a lot of Frannie, so maybe that was why I was drawn to her. I had a feeling she was like the sun and held countless planets in orbit with her gravitational pull.

  We listened to several people read poems they’d brought with them and a couple people improvised. I was fascinated by how they were able to get up on stage in a room full of strangers and lay themselves bare. Some of the poems were deeply personal, and I wiped tears from my eyes more than once.

  The emcee got back on stage with his paper to announce the next person up. “Okay, looks like we have something a little different next. And the person who signed up seems to think highly of themselves too. We have ‘Pretty Little Eliza’ on piano. Come on up here, Eliza!”

  I froze. My stomach dropped, and my face was on fire, but I couldn’t move.

  “Get up there, Eliza. We wanna hear you!” said David. Definitely dickhead David. Right then, seeing his devilish smile, I knew he’d signed me up.

  I turned to Charlie, and he grinned. “Go!” he urged.

  I looked around the table. Everyone was staring at me, waiting to see what I would do.

  “I don’t want to,” I whispered to Charlie.

  He squeezed my hand. “Come on, I want the guys to
see how rad you are.”

  Run.

  My fight or flight instinct finally kicked in, flight overpowering fight without contest. I stood, my chair scraping against the concrete floor.

  Run, run, run!

  “Yeah, get it, Eliza!” called Nick.

  But instead of going to the stage, I turned and walked quickly toward the front door. I had to get out of there. I couldn’t breathe.

  I clawed at my throat, taking shallow, gasping breaths. Why was there no oxygen in this restaurant? They should really fix that. It’s dangerous.

  I pushed outside, and in the night air, I was finally able to take in huge gulps of air. I bent over at the waist with my hands on my knees, trying to calm my wildly beating heart.

  Panic attacks were interesting. I could know I was in the midst of one, but knowing it didn’t stop the panic, and it didn’t stop the real physical reactions my body had.

  My body was telling me I had to get out of there. I needed to be home, where I was safe.

  I took out my phone with shaky hands and ordered an Uber. Five minutes. I paced back and forth on the sidewalk. I could handle five minutes.

  Charlie burst through the door, looking as panicked as I felt. When he saw me, his shoulders heaved.

  “Eliza, shit, I’m sorry.”

  He rushed toward me, but I put a hand up, stopping him. My skin was crawling, and the last thing I needed was to be touched.

  “How could you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “I didn’t sign you up. David must have done it.”

  I wrapped my arms around my stomach. “I know that. But you tried to get me on stage. You know how I feel about it, and you still pushed.”

  “I fucked up. I just thought if you got up there, if you did it, maybe you’d get over your fear. I just wanted people to hear how incredible you are.”

  I ached. My body ached from the tension I was holding in my muscles, and my heart ached as it broke.

  “You’re just like my parents. You wanted me to put on a show for your friends. Fuck how I feel. This is me, Charlie! I can’t be what you want me to be. This is it!”

  He rubbed his face with both hands, then looked up at me, his eyes pained. “I knew I would mess this up. God, I knew it. I told you I didn’t know how to do this. Don’t, for one second, think you’re not what I want. All I want is you. You’re perfect.”