by JA Huss
I don’t know what to say. I just sit in my living room, with a living legend I have admired and emulated my entire life, and weep.
She gets up, hard as it is with her health and age, and walks over to the couch to sit down next to me. She holds me as I cry. Strokes my hand, pets my hair, assures me everything is gonna turn out just fine.
Mothers me.
And I cry harder.
Chapter Forty-Eight - Ixion
I charter a jet to Denver. It takes me several hours to get myself together and drive out to the airstrip in Sheridan, so I don’t arrive in the city until almost seven PM. I get to the performing arts center in Downtown a few minutes after eight. But there’s no music yet—was she waiting for me?—so they let me in the doors, clutching my VIP pass in my hand, and direct me to the stairs, because I have a balcony seat.
I expect Jordan to be there, at least. Or Lucinda. But it’s a private box, so I take my seat just as the lights dim and the cacophony of voices dulls to a murmur.
The deep scarlet curtain opens and the entire theatre immediately becomes silent.
Evangeline walks onto the stage with no gloves. No hat, no coat, no scarf, no sunglasses.
The entire room erupts in a standing ovation.
I stand with them. Smiling.
She looks up at me, right at me. Like dead in the eyes.
And I stare back at her.
She’s holding the Stradivarius. Cradling it in her arms like a baby. She wipes a tear from her eyes, whispers, “Thank you,” to the crowd as they continue their applause. And then nods to me.
I nod back.
And when her bow touches those strings… the whole theatre cries. Tears of joy over the beauty of her gift.
I sit mesmerized. Barely able to remember to breathe. Still. Eyes only for her. And maybe for the first time since I gave up my life for my best friend, I feel… whole again.
She’s wearing the dress I left for her that last day. The whole ensemble. The diamonds and sapphires sparkle under the bright lights.
She keeps her eyes closed most of the time. But every time she opens them between pieces, she’s looking up at me.
And I understand why I’m up here in the box, and not down below with Lucinda and Jordan and a few other special guests she’s invited.
It’s so she could see me, seeing her.
It’s so the spotlight that erases the crowd right in front of her won’t erase me.
I am the only person in this entire theatre she wants to see.
So I watch her. I watch her shine the way I knew she could. I might even cry when she stops, and wish for more.
When it’s over—and man, it’s over way too soon—she accepts her flowers. She takes her bow, and then a curtsey, just like she used to when she was little, and says, “Thank you,” in a small, but very sincerely appreciative voice.
I don’t know what to do after that. So I sit in my box for a while. Eyes on the people down below. Jordan, Lucinda, Chella and her husband, Smith. And Dan. That guy from the used books and record store.
“Ixion?” a voice whispers behind me.
I shake my head, unable to believe it’s really her. But when I turn, there she is.
Augustine. Older than I remember. Sadder too. And alone. “I just want you to know—“
But I put up a hand and cut her off as I stand up. “Another time, huh?” I say it without malice. Just matter-of-factly. “This night isn’t yours, Augustine. It belongs to someone else. So… just another time, OK?”
She sucks in a breath, but nods her head as I pass her, pulling the curtain aside so I can enter the hallway and find my way backstage.
There’s only one person I need tonight.
And she’s got nothing to do with my past.
Chapter Forty-Nine - Evangeline
Mei Ling sits with me in my dressing room after the performance. Just her. Only her. I know Ixion came because he was up in the box I saved for him. I watched him watch me as I played my way through a spectacular comeback show.
And he has the pass to come back here and see me.
But he’s not here.
“He’s coming,” Mei Ling says, patting my hand.
She is more of a mother to me in this moment than my own mother was my entire life. And I have known her less than a day.
It’s a very sad realization. To understand that your parents never loved you. They only loved the opportunity that came with you.
I think this was my problem. And even though Ixion was the one who broke the prison walls I’d built around myself, it was Mei Ling who led me back out into the light.
I was going to play the show before she showed up, but I wasn’t going to enjoy it.
She changed everything.
A soft knock at the door has my heart beating out of my chest with excitement.
The door opens a crack as the stage manager pokes his head in and says, “Ixion Vanir to see you, Miss Rolaine.”
I stand, smooth my dress with both hands, and nod. “Please, show him in.”
Mei Ling gets to her feet, but I turn and say, “You can’t leave yet.”
She smiles at me and says, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” And then she leans up to kiss me on the cheek and turns away just as the door opens again and Ixion Vanir appears.
He smiles at Mei Ling, who takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “Thank you,” she tells him.
Ix shrugs, like this is all just a normal part of his day, but graciously replies, “You’re welcome,” as Mei Ling leaves us to figure things out, closing the door behind her.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” I say, pointing at my long-lost violin.
Ixion smiles at me. It’s a familiar smile, but strange too. I saw that smile in the greenhouse. In the coffee shop. But this is the first time he’s smiled at me being… me. And not the scared little girl who couldn’t stand the heat of a gaze.
The first time he smiles at me being him, too.
“Hey,” Ix says. “What the hell am I gonna do with millions of dollars anyway? My apartment up in Wyoming goes for six hundred and fifty dollars a month and my Jeep still runs, so not in the market for a new car yet.”
“How did you know she had it?” I ask.
“Dan called your phone and left a message. Said you’d asked about the violin and he knew who had it. I might’ve been prying into your personal life and found that message. And then I might’ve called Dan back and told him to wrap that shit up, we were taking it home.”
I shake my head and look down at my feet, but quickly recover and meet his gaze as I say, “I never want you to stop looking at me, Ixion.”
He nods back. “Well, I guess you’re in luck. Because I don’t think I can. I think you might be stuck with me, Miss Rolaine. And even though I have a shitload of money, I’m not really much of a catch. I was in jail this morning, ya know.”
My laugh escapes as a huff of air. “Jordan told me. Told me what you did, too. Beat the shit out of a truck. Twice.”
He shrugs. “Asshole had it coming. I’m not really a creepy spy, Evangeline—“
“I know that,” I say, cutting him off. “Jordan told me all that stuff too. You’re an investigator, right?”
He nods. “I do watch people, that part’s true. I expose them, just like I did you. But it was never my intention to hurt anyone.”
“You didn’t hurt me, Ixion. You saved me.”
“No,” he says. “That was all you, Miss Rolaine. You were always the one with the plan. I just supported you.”
“It’s what I needed,” I say.
“Me too.”
“And now… now what?”
He swallows hard, like this question makes him very nervous. “Tell me what you want. And I’ll give it to you.”
“No,” I say. “I’ve taken more than my share in this lifetime. I want to give you something.”
He laughs.
“I’m serious, Ixion. Tell me what you want.”
He
sighs now. A long breath of air escapes him. Like he’s getting rid of things. Like he’s considering my question. And finally, after many long seconds of silence, he says, “I just want you. No games. No cameras. No lies. Just you.”
I walk towards him. He opens his arms and embraces me. Kisses me on the head, then the cheek, then the lips.
Our kiss is brand new.
And when we step out of my dressing room door our life together is brand new too.
Totally exposed for who we really are underneath all the fear, and regret, and mistakes.
And ready to live with it.
Epilogue - Jordan
“So listen,” Chella says. “I have an interesting job for you.”
We’re sitting in her tea room, having tea, of course, just catching up after the shitstorm called Augustine blew through town and upended everything about my life. She’s still here, still not talking to me after I admitted it was me, not Ixion, who filmed her and sent the footage to Alexander all those years ago.
Still driving me fuckin’ nuts.
Augustine already knew. Alexander told her the truth after they got married. But hearing those words from my own mouth… well, that’s something completely different.
So I’ve been in a funk ever since I came clean, and Chella, annoyingly perceptive person that she is, picked up on it. I can only imagine that’s why I was invited to tea today.
“Does Smith know you’re doing this?” I ask her.
“Smith,” she huffs as she rubs her very pregnant belly. Chella is the most adorable pregnant woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. “He’s all about helping people. You know that.”
“So he doesn’t know,” I say.
“I mean, look,” Chella says. “I can’t help it if he’s too busy to really pick up what I’m throwing down, right? I tell him all kinds of things, Jordan. Everything I do, I report at dinner.” She opens her hands, palms up. “I am an open book.”
I laugh. “So Smith hears what Smith wants to hear? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Exactly,” she beams. “Like, I told him I have this friend who might like to spice up her life.” I raise an eyebrow at that. “And she’s looking for a game, OK?”
“What did Smith say?”
“He said, ‘Game’s over.’” And then we both laugh. “And that’s it. Right? So I told him. Basically spelled it out as far as I’m concerned. And he just heard what he wanted to hear.”
Fuckin’ Chella. “This shit is gonna catch up with you, ya know that, right?
“What shit?” she asks, innocent, bewildered look on her face. “I’m just trying to help a girl out. You know, kinda like you do.” And then she winks at me.
“I dunno,” I say. “I’m kinda sick of games. Maybe I should just... be a fuckin’ lawyer? Ya know? Stop all this bullshit. Settle down with a girl or something.”
“Just one?” she teases. “And no men?”
I roll my eyes at her. “My point is, maybe it’s time to just butt out let people live their lives.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Chella laughs. “And besides, people need this, Jordan. Like this girl I know. She’s a really cool chick, right? Got her shit so together… I mean, her life is sewed up tight.”
“Sounds kinda boring,” I sigh.
“Exactly! She’s dying of boredom.”
I shake my head and give in. “What kind of game is she looking for?”
“Well, there’s the thing, OK? She’s not exactly looking for a game. But she totally needs one. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Chella,” I say, my tone cautioning.
“Trust me,” she says, “I know what I’m doing. She needs this, Jordan. Just give her what she needs.”
I shake my head. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Listen.” She says, putting up a hand to stop my objections. “The game is called… The Pleasure of Panic.”
“You got a name for it already?” I ask, kinda chuckling at her audacity.
“It’s good, right?” She laughs. “So much better than Total Exposure. Say it with me, Jordan. The Pleasure of Panic.”
“So this girl you’re just looking to help out—she needs…?”
“Take a guess,” Chella says, her Cheshire Cat smile wide and wild. “You’ll never guess.”
I can take a good guess at what The Pleasure of Panic Game might look like.
And if you wanna play along with me and this unsuspecting girl… well, you can get that book RIGHT HERE.
END OF BOOK SHIT
Welcome to the End of Book Shit. This is the part in the book where I get to say anything I want about the book, or the process, or whatever. It’s just me, rambling on like a… rambling person.
So right now, as I write this, it’s January 10, 2018 and I’m sick as a fuckin’ dog. And I was gonna record this EOBS now for the audiobook so you could get the full effect, but somehow I didn’t think my audio publisher would find that cute. So whatevs. Telling you I’m sick is really just a warning for what might a pretty incoherent EOBS. Just sayin’.
Anyway – so hey, it’s 2018 bitches! How about that? Why don’t we have flying cars yet? Like, this is the future!
So I’m in this little author group on Facebook and I’m pretty new to it, so I think this is my first new year with them. They have this thing where we pick a word for the year to concentrate on. Like it could be… FOCUS or PRODUCTIVITY stuff like that.
Well, my word for 2018 is BOLD.
I’ve done lots of bold things in my life.
One. Raised two kids as a single mother.
Two. Went back to school as a non-traditional student.
Three. Went to grad school.
Four. Started my own business.
Five. Said no to a job offer to become a full-time author.
When people think of what it means to change their lives, BOLD is the word that should come to mind. Risk, too. But risk as a lot of negativity attached to it. All those things I listed above were also risky, but BOLD is an action word. Bold is something I can be. Risk isn’t. Right? Risk is a reason not to start if you ask me.
So the theme of this book is BOLD, not risk. I don’t think Evangeline took a risk, because honestly she had nothing to lose. She was already gonna lose everything. And even though Jordan thinks you can lose something twice, I’m kinda with Chella on this. It’s an outlook, I think.
Your perception is what makes a decision bold instead of risky.
So for 2018 I’ve decided to be BOLD. I’ve taken on a new writing partner (Johnathan McClain). We’re trying to sell The Company script to Hollywood. We’re releasing seven books together in 2018. I’ve now got a PR person, and entertainment lawyer, and a photoshoot in LA coming up in four weeks.
All of these things are outside my comfort zone so yeah, they’re a bit risky. But really, can I lose if I never had those things in the first place?
I don’t think so. And I think that makes a huge difference when it comes time to decide if you should take a RISK.
Since Total Exposure is my first book of 2018 I would like to encourage all of you to be BOLD with me this year. Be more like Evangeline. Do something you’ve always wanted to do. Find an old friend and reconnect. Start up a hobby you left behind long ago, or get a new one. Check one thing off your bucket list.
Take chances.
Live big.
Be loud.
Play the game, you guys. You can’t win if you don’t play. And if you fail, for fuck’s sake, celebrate that failure. It’s the failures that make you a better person. Failures are what teach you things. Failures stick with you, shape your future decisions, and make you take a different course next time—IF YOU LET THEM.
So if you’ve been reading my books for a while you probably know that a lot of my early stories are centered in and around Fort Collins, Colorado. That’s because Fort Collins was where I made the biggest change of my life. That’s where my kids and I ended up after leaving my boyfriend behind to be
a single mom. I was in school. I actually got accepted to Colorado State University on a free-ride scholarship for first generation students. I was the first person in my family to complete a bachelor’s degree.
My first few months at school were horrible. Every day I’d come home from class and just cry. I was older than everyone else by almost ten years, I had responsibilities they didn’t, worries they didn’t, and no money at all. Like none.
On top of that I was studying to be a scientist. I wanted to go to vet school and math was never my strongest subject. In fact, I’m only average at math. So chemistry, and physics, and calculus were really hard for me. I had to drop those classes the first time I took them because I was failing. All three of them. Not at the same time. These failures happened in different semesters, thank God.
The first one I had to drop was chemistry. I tried taking that the first semester I went back to school at a community college, before I transferred to CSU, and I was like WTF is this shit? Because I had never taken chemistry in high school. It was all very new. Plus, I was like twenty-eight or twenty-nine at this point. So everything I did take in high school was practically obsolete.
I dropped chemistry that semester and picked it up again the next semester. That time I had a better idea of what was expected in order to pass the class. At least I was prepared for what was coming. Sometimes I just need a failure to grasp how to succeed. If that makes sense. A little exposure goes a long way as far as I’m concerned. Going in blind is always harder than being prepared.
Same thing happened in Physics the following year. I just had no clue what that guy was talking about. The theory was interesting but the math was too hard for me. So I dropped it. That was my first semester at CSU and I was pretty overwhelmed with all my BOLD changes.
By the time I tried to take calculus for the first time, I’d gotten this class-dropping thing down. I mean, look, I was a great student in all my other classes. I regularly got straight A’s. Just these three classes were challenging. So like first week into calculus I realized this grad-student TA who was teaching the class was an idiot. He was reading from the textbook for fuck’s sake. I was never going to learn calculus from this kid.
