by Jean Haus
“What’s a wrastler?” I ask.
Allie drops a nibbled-on crust on her plate and glares at Shaya. “It’s not funny.”
Shaya rolls her eyes. “Somebody who faints but finishes,” she replies in a tone that declares the meaning should be obvious.
“Todd,” Allie says irritably, “unless it’s one of your regulars, do not ever kick it to third on someone again.”
Todd scrunches his nose at her, reaching for another slice of pizza. “I’m not a hacker, Al.”
“Then don’t act like one,” she snaps.
Other than the ever-present music playing, the shop is quiet while Shaya and Todd stare at Allie like she’s grown two heads. Apparently, her snapping at them isn’t normal. Finally, Todd shrugs and stuffs pizza in his mouth. Shaya turns to me.
“When can I come and see your band?”
“Not anytime soon,” Allie says, tossing cups in the trash by the counter. “He plays at bars.”
Shaya’s forehead wrinkles. “So?”
“So you’re not even eighteen much less twenty-one,” Allie says with a tone of finality.
I clear my throat. “Just tell me when you turn eighteen. We sometimes have gigs that are eighteen and over.”
“Sweet,” Shaya says, sounding like she hangs out with Todd too much.
Allie pauses from picking up plates to frown at me, but she doesn’t say anything.
I start helping and when we meet at the trash bin, I say in a low voice, “I’ll make sure it’s a mellow show.”
Not looking at me, she just nods.
Fuck. I want to ask her what the hell is wrong, but I’m terrified it’s the oh-shit-Justin’s-in-love-with-me thing and the shop is definitely not the place to talk about it.
A hardcore, thrashing guitar riff suddenly competes with the Paramore song coming out of the speakers behind the counter.
After tossing his plate on the drawing table, Todd digs in his pocket and yanks his phone out. He answers with a “What’s up?”
I could care less who Todd is on the phone with, but the instant stillness of his body, the scowl creasing his face, and the way his eyes flick to me catch my attention.
His scowl grows. “Yeah, so what?”
Allie stops cleaning and watches him too.
“You know me better than that,” Todd says. “I don’t take sides.” He sags onto a stool. “Dude, don’t even think about it. It’s not a good time.”
Allie moves closer to Todd, partially obstructing my view of him. He watches her as she apparently mouths something, then nods his head yes. I push away from the counter and step behind her. “Is he talking with Trevor?” I ask.
Her eyes are imploring. “I have an appointment soon. Can I walk you out?”
Even knowing Trevor’s on the phone, hell if I can say no to those eyes. “Ah, sure.”
Outside, we stand on the sidewalk in front of my car.
I turn to her and force myself to say calmly, “Tell me he’s not coming here. Tell me you got a restraining order on him already.”
She crosses her arms. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
“You’re not going to get a restraining order?” I ask in an incredulous tone.
She glances at the ground.
My stomach does this strange little drop thing I’ve never felt before. “What the hell, Allie? He basically attacked you on Saturday.”
“Listen, Justin, things are complicated. He’s my son’s father. I own a shop with him. Todd and Shay, even Mandy and Mac, they all rely on me. I have rent and bills to pay. I can’t make a decision based on what’s good just for me.”
The image of Trevor shoving her flashes through my head. “Good for you? He’s dangerous.”
Her chest rises and her arms tighten. “He’s just a jerk, but no matter what, he’ll always be part of my life. I can’t get around it.”
My head spins with incomprehension. I’m not sure what to make of this. On our nature walk, Holly had set my mind at ease about Trevor. I’d believed what she’d said—that Allie wouldn’t allow me to meet Ben if she still had feelings for Trevor. But if that’s true, then what Allie is saying makes no sense.
“What is going on between you two?” I ask, my jaw tight.
She rears back, blinking in confusion. “Nothing. He just…can make things difficult.”
I’m trying to wrap my head around what she’s saying. “So you let him control you?”
She shakes her head and lets out a sigh. “Of course you don’t get it. You have no responsibilities. You go to school and play in a band, while your parents…”
“Throw money at me,” I finish for her.
Biting her lip, she stares across the street and wraps her arms around herself. “I need some time, Justin.”
The entire world fades away as I stare at her while those words slowly seep into me.
Her pewter gaze lifts to mine. “I need to think some things through.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, refusing to believe what it sounds like she’s saying.
“Things are hard right now. I need some space.”
“From me?” I ask hoarsely.
Digging the tip of her boot into the cement, she nods.
“Allie, don’t push me away.” I reach for her, but she steps back. My newly awoken heart cracks like the damaged concrete on the sidewalk below us.
“Just give me some time.”
“So I’m supposed to wait?” She doesn’t answer, just stares at the sidewalk. Anger jolts through me. “What the fuck am I waiting for?”
“I need to straighten some things out.”
“Will you quit talking in riddles? Is this because of what I told you yesterday?” I finally ask.
Her expression is conflicted. “Partly.”
I step closer to her. Close enough our bodies almost touch. “I can’t take those words back because they’re true. But they were given freely, without any expectations.”
“I get that,” she says with a nod. “But those words are still weighing on me. Everything is weighing on me right now.”
“Does ‘everything’ have to do with Trevor?”
“I don’t want to discuss him much less think about him right now.” She reaches for then squeezes my hands. “Give me a few days, okay? I need some space to get my head on straight.”
She pulls away but pauses after taking in my desolate expression. “This isn’t the end or anything, Justin. It’s just a break.”
“A fucking break,” I murmur, trying to control my anger as it spikes again.
Her mouth tightens. “Please don’t make me feel guilty about this. I have enough on my mind right now.”
Though it’s harder than hell, I force down my anger, and hurt, and keep my face neutral. “A few days?”
She nods and tugs open the glass door. “I’ll call you soon, okay?”
I nod but as she steps into the shop, this break feels like it’ll be more than a few days. It feels like the beginning of the end.
Chapter 30
Allie
Even though I work only until eight, I haven’t taken a Friday night off in ages. But on this occasion, it’s Ben’s spring play at school, which is not something I’m willing to miss. Along with my parents, Holly and I have front-row seats. My father readies the video recorder while we wait for the kids to come onstage. I’m a little worried Ben might not show since he’s not too keen about performing onstage. Acting is one thing I can say is not in my son’s future. Which is why I was reduced to parental bribery in the form of ice cream. He does come on though—and afterward I applaud until my hands hurt.
It’s just a short drive from his school to the local diner near our apartment, where Ben insists on ordering a massive banana split.
While kneeling on the booth’s bench seat and diving into the ice cream, Ben says, “I thought Dad was going to come.”
“He must have gotten tied up with business stuff,” I say carefully, not wanting to give away how muc
h I hate Trevor right now. “Grandpa got it on video. You two can watch it together and laugh.”
Ben smiles. “I said my lines funny, huh?”
I wrap an arm around his shoulders. “You said your lines perfect.”
“Dude,” Holly says from across the table, “your performance was Oscar-worthy.”
“Who’s Oscar?” he asks.
“Not a who but a what,” Holly says, snagging the cherry from the top of the mound of ice cream while Ben frowns at her. “Every year a bunch of people get together and give out trophies called Oscars to the best actors.”
Ben pushes his lips together. “So where’s mine?”
Holly throws the cherry stem at him. “You have to wait for Oscar night.”
He throws the stem back and it lands in her hair. “When’s that?”
“Next winter,” she says, digging through her blonde locks for the stem.
He gives her a long glare, then digs into chocolate ice cream. “The banana split is better.”
“Way better,” I agree, skimming off some fudge sauce.
Even with three of us, we don’t make a dent in the massive mountain of ice cream in front of us. Holly, refusing to take no for an answer, pays.
We get home late. Well, late for Ben—it’s almost ten when he gets into the tub. I keep an eye on him through the open bathroom door while I pick up his room. Holly, with an overnight bag on her shoulder, pauses in the doorway.
“Just look at tonight. Trevor would never win. Stop worrying about it.”
She’s referring to Trevor’s continued threats about custody and the tight expression I’ve worn all week. The expression I’m wearing at the moment.
“You’re right. He probably wouldn’t.” I stuff a dinosaur book onto a shelf. “But he’d probably get joint custody. Courts are big on joint custody. The thought terrifies me because he’s just doing it just to get back at me. It would be different if he actually wanted to be a father.”
“Come on, Al.” She steps into the room to help pick up and bends to snatch a little coat off the floor. “You know he’s just yanking your chain. He doesn’t want to take care of Ben, even part-time.”
“Think about it, Holly,” I say sarcastically. “How can I not be bothered? It’s every divorced mother’s with a craptastic ex’s nightmare.”
“Okay, okay I get it,” she says, dropping the coat on a hook next to the dresser. “He’s freaking you out. But you have to get over it. Don’t let him rile you up like this.”
I toss socks into a hamper. “I’m trying but it’s easier said than done.”
Her gaze grows skeptical. “What’s going on with Justin?”
Shrugging, I chuck a Hot Wheel into a bin on the floor.
“Don’t tell me you broke it off with him.”
“I’m taking a break, thinking things over.”
“Oh hell, Allie. He’s got it bad for you, and I’m pretty sure you’ve got it bad for him. And I’m not just talking about in between the sheets.”
“I can’t deal with a relationship right now.”
She shoves some toys under the bed with the toe of her shoe. “Oh, and when’s a good time?”
I drop the Hot Wheel bin on another shelf with a thud. “Trevor has showed up every day at the shop. He’s not only talking custody, he’s talking about buying me out or taking me over or whatever. Every day his plans get more demented. Mac just about punched him in the face because he thinks he’s the boss now. Shay is scared she’s going to lose her job and be forced to move back in with her mom. Todd is threatening to quit if Trevor comes back. My mom has been giving me the third degree all week about the half-naked man she’s never met being in my apartment on Sunday. Ben was crying before he got in the tub because his dick of a father didn’t show up for the play and—and…,” I stutter, falling onto Ben’s bed with a plop. “Justin told me he’s falling in love with me.”
The bag on Holly’s shoulder drops to the floor.
I dramatically throw an arm out. “On top of everything else, I can’t deal with him right now. Thinking about him makes me crazy. I can’t do crazy with Trevor breathing down my neck.”
Dropping next to me on the bed, Holly wraps me in her arms. “Did you ever consider Justin might be someone to help you with all this shit, someone to lean on?”
“Oh, Hol, I’m not going to use him. I called him on Wednesday, but it was just short and awkward with my head caught in a mess.” I wipe my face, surprised that it’s wet because I hadn’t even known I was crying. “I’m super confused with all this Trevor crap.”
Shaking her head, Holly leans on my shoulder. “I should have never tried to get you to just have fun. It’s always all or nothing with you, isn’t it?”
As I rest my head against hers, a self-deprecating laugh escapes me because she’s described me perfectly. She lets out a sad chuckle too as we sit there leaning on each other.
“Why are you crying?” Ben asks from the doorway. He’s dressed in a fuzzy robe but still dripping water on the floor, his face frozen in a fearful expression.
I try to stand but Holly keeps her arm around me tight. “Sometimes mommies get sad too,” she says. “Everyone has sad days. You know those days when everything seems to go wrong?”
Ben nods.
“Your mom’s having one of those days. Why don’t you come and help me hug her?”
He nods slowly before rushing across the room and jumping in our laps.
After a long group hug, Holly bends until her nose is almost touching Ben’s. “Should we tickle her?”
“Yes!” Ben says.
Their attack is so fierce I fall back on to the bed. In a few minutes, I’m laughing and gasping, “Stop! I’m going to pee the bed!”
Ben scoots off the bed like lightning. “Yuck!”
Holly stands and heaves her bag from the floor. “When someone’s threatening to pee, my work is done.” She pauses at the door. “Unless you want me stay in tonight?”
I wave a hand. “Jake’s waiting. See you later.”
“All right, but call me if you need chick flicks, booze, and an assortment of Little Debbies.”
Zebra cakes and rum? Hard to resist but I wave my hand again. “Go. Jake’s waiting.”
She gives us a wicked grin before taking off.
After she’s gone, Ben crawls back into my lap. “Why are you sad?”
Running my hand though his damp curls, I try to find an explanation that doesn’t have to do with his father or with Justin. “Things were crazy this week at work. I’m a little stressed out.”
“Stressed out?” he repeats slowly, obviously trying to understand the word stressed.
“Yeah, like worried all the time.” I tug on the belt of his robe. “I don’t want to worry anymore tonight. How about you get your pajamas on and then we can read and relax?”
“That sounds good,” he agrees, and scrambles off my lap.
We read books until he falls asleep. I tuck him in, remove his glasses, kiss his soft forehead, and wander through the silent apartment. I fall into the chair next to the window and look outside. It’s almost eleven now, and a few people are coming and going. Some hold hands; others have their arms around each other. The silence grows. It booms loudly through me. Beyond the booming silence is loneliness, the dull ache I’ve grown used to and accepted over the past few years. But tonight it’s more crushing than usual.
Unable to take the loneliness anymore, I move to my easel in the corner and attempt to work on my most recent painting. The shadows get deeper along the street, but that’s all I can extract from my imagination because thoughts of Justin are filling my mind.
I’ve refused to think of him all week, but after talking with Holly, he’s all I can think of. His masculine scent. The bright flash of his dimples. The seriousness of his green eyes searching mine. The sound of his sexy voice singing in my ear. The desperate way he wants to prove himself better than his reputation or his past. The lighthearted way I feel when I’m
with him. Memories, images, and emotions swirl in my head until I’m rushing to the closet and yanking out a clean canvas.
I don’t visualize, just let the swirl in my head inspire me while I paint and paint and paint.
Sometime around four in the morning, I step back from my easel.
I’m shocked at the sight.
A picture’s supposedly worth a thousand words.
Mine depicts many, but mostly…
The truth.
Chapter 31
Justin
Of course, the last studio session is hell. Romeo is on a perfectionist tear. Sam is hungover. Gabe, as always, is being an asshole. And I’m a depressed piece of shit. Perfect time to play some music and record it. At least there will be an edge to our sound.
After four hours of playing, we take a breather to eat the Chinese takeout Sam ordered, declaring he needed some grease to help his hangover. I pick at gong bao chicken and pork pot stickers. The windowless break room is essentially a basement, but at least it has several round tables and is large enough that we can also take a break from one another. I’m sitting at a table alone, picking at my food and doodling in a notebook, when Romeo decides to join me. The ass is obviously dense. I’m not in the mood for company. I go to the pop machine for a drink. When I get back to the table, he’s reading over the bullshit I’ve been writing since the drive this morning.
I plop down at the table. “Didn’t know you were such a curious fuck to invite yourself into my shit.” I hold out a hand. “Give it back.”
“This is pretty good,” he says, continuing to read and ignoring me.
My hand reaches to tear the notebook out of his, but he leans back. I fly up and my chair hits the wall behind me. “I’m not fucking around.”
He still doesn’t look up. “I’m not either. This is really, really good.”
“Romeo,” I say through clenched teeth.
“I’ve been working on a tune this would be perfect for.” Ignoring me, he mouths the words from the paper and nods his head, obviously thinking in music notes. “A few tweaks and we could have one hell of a song.”
With one step around the table, I snatch the notebook away. “I didn’t write if for your album.”
