“I didn’t know, Silas.”
Christ. I may have just accidentally ruined his career, too. I may have singlehandedly brought down metal’s hottest act, right in the middle of their sold-out world tour. Suddenly I feel an overwhelming need to run. I just need to get out of here.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, “You suddenly got all quiet on me.”
“Yeah. I’m okay. Just thinking about your situation.”
“Don’t over-think it. I’ll be fine. Most of this is just hazing really. They’ll eventually accept me as one of them. They’re going to start seeing the reviews in magazines like Guitar Player and Rolling Stone and they’ll have to accept me. But enough about that. You didn’t come all the way out here to listen to me whine about my sad life did you?”
“I didn’t.”
Silas shifts so that his knees touch mine. I feel his hand on my back, and it’s giving me goose bumps all over. I slip under his spell as his fingers run through my hair. I open my mouth to say something, and he stops me with a finger on my lips. I don’t feel any calluses there. I really should feel calluses from years of mashing those steel strings down on the fret boards of his guitar. What a thing—
His lips brushing up against mine put an end to that thought. His mouth is warm, firm but not rough. Just perfect. When his tongue touches mine, my guard come crashing down. Any reservations I might have had about getting horizontal with my rock god have just flown out the window. I’m a slave to my desires, and I couldn’t care less. The intense longing that’s been bottled up in my head bursts, and all I can think of is him. I want him right now, the concert can wait. Silas and I have more important things to do.
“Hey Silas, you in there?” there’s a sudden pounding on the door. “Silas, it’s time!”
“Dammit!” Silas groans, “Sorry June, thought we had more time.”
“Oh come on, Silas. Fifteen minutes”
“Only fifteen minutes?” he grins, “I think we’re gonna need more time than that.”
“You know what happens when you don’t satisfy a woman, don’t you Silas?”
“Is that a threat?”
“Call it a friendly warning.”
“Silas,” shouts a voice through the door, “You coming or not?” I’m inclined to keep ignoring the voice until I hear the unmistakable sounds of the door unlocking.
We both scramble to sit up and look natural as Hammer and Stewart come in. By the expressions on their faces, they know exactly what has been going on here. Silas gives them a dirty look before turning back to me.
“Duty calls,” he sighs, “Look, if you’re tired, you don’t have to watch the show. If you want you can just kick back here, take a nap if you want and wait for me. No one will disturb you.”
“You really don’t mind that?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, if you’re sure your cool with it...I guess I’ll stay and take that nap.”
“Perfect.”
He gets up, gives me an affectionate peck on the top of my head, and walks out. I make myself comfortable on the couch and close my eyes. If memory serves me, I’ll have about a two hour and fifteen minute nap.
I climb out of the limo five hours later exhausted but fulfilled. We didn’t end up sleeping together after the show. It had been a rough night, and Silas was in a foul mood. We talked some about the show, but he was really not up for chatting. We just kind of spooned on the couch with me dozing intermittently until Stewart came knocking, telling me it was time to get back to the airport.
All in all, it was a good trip. We actually got to know each other a little bit. We have some things in common, it would seem—that’s always helpful in a relationship. Oh wow...the R word. Are we really in a relationship? I don’t know. If we are, I’m gonna have to deal with Brand first or this is really gonna get messy in a hurry.
Chapter Seventeen
Confessions of a Lunatic
Not fifteen minutes after I wake up the next morning, my phone is ringing off the hook. I pick it up reluctantly.
“Hello Bran,” I say, trying to shake the cobwebs from my sleep-fogged brain. I need to be really focused if I’m going to get out of this call in one piece.
There’s a long silence, then: “Why did you do it June? And how did you do it?”
Oh man, it is too early for this conversation. “Can we talk in person Brand?”
“Why not. I’m not going anywhere, so you may as well come over.”
With my stomach fluttering, I climb into my Prius and head over to the hospital. Over and over I keep playing opening lines in my head. Which one sounds the best? Which one will most likely get me out of the trouble I’m in?
That’s really why I’m doing this, if I’m going to be honest with myself. I’m going to see him in person so that he’ll feel something for me again and won’t press charges...if it’s not too late, that is. I’m hoping that I love June password thing hasn’t turned into I hate June. What will happen when I am face to face with Brand I don’t know.
As I ride the hospital elevator up to the fourth floor, I start to feel the anxiety building up again. This is going to be rough. I knock softly at his door.
“Come in,” says a very familiar, very stern voice.
With great trepidation I walk in. Brand is sitting up in bed watching some news channel in TV. He turns it off when he sees me enter.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, taking a seat in a chair at the foot of his bed.
“I was feeling fine until a couple days ago. Why did you do it, June?”
I hang my head in shame. I certainly won’t have to fake that feeling. “I just didn’t want you to ruin Silas’s career. He deserves his big break.”
“He deserves his big break but I don’t deserve mine? And his big break, by the way, isn’t even legitimate. They guy can’t play. Maybe none of them can. By the sounds of things Silas doesn’t deserve anything. He never worked a day in his life for what he has today! What makes a man like that more deserving than a man like me, who’s worked his ass off trying to create a life for himself? What is it about him that makes him more deserving than me June?”
I guess he’s had a few days to stew about this while I’ve been jet setting off to LA and back with the enemy. “What makes you say he’s more deserving than you, Brand?”
“He’s not. I’m not saying he’s more deserving than me. Your actions say he’s more deserving, at least in your eyes. Why didn’t you answer my calls? Where have you been I asked a friend to drop by your house and he said you’ve been gone for several days. Where’d you go June? Did you run off to see your new boyfriend?”
“My new boyfriend? You’re my boyfriend, or at least I thought you were.”
“Wow. If you treat your boyfriends this way, I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies. You went to see Silas, didn’t you?”
“I went to see my favorite band. I am a Lunatic, you know. I had tickets and the day off, so of course I’m going to go.”
“Yes, you certainly are a lunatic June, but I think we each have a different interpretation of that word. So how’d you get there so fast? Your car’s been in the driveway. You take a taxi?”
“The band’s manager picked me up.”
“The manager? He flew all the way out here to pick you up? So you flew in some fancy jet, did you? Got the royal treatment. Jesus. You’re like one of those high priced call girls. A dressed up hooker. May as well call a spade a spade right?”
More and more venom is seeping into his voice. He’s becoming even more animated. Maybe I should have had this conversation over the phone after all.
“Look, he did pick me up,” I reply defensively, “And yeah, we did fly out in a private jet, but Silas is not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend.”
“Yeah right. A rock star sends his private jet to pick up a beautiful girl to do what? Just chat? Have a cup of tea and talk music?”
This is really getting awful. I had hoped to leave out anything about
the trip to LA or any relationship I may be having with Silas, but it’s not working.
“We’re just friends,” I tell him.
“At the very least, at this point I would have hoped you could be honest with me. But you just can’t, can you? Why did you even come here, June?”
“I just...I just wanted you to see how sorry I am over this whole mess...”
“Sorry? You’re not sorry. I think you’re here because you’re afraid. What are you afraid of June? You came here hoping you could convince me not to press charges, didn’t you?”
I hang my head in shame. I cannot look him in the eye. “Well of course I don’t want to go to jail, Brand. But I came here because I figured you deserved to hear it in person from me.”
“You figured I deserve it, do you? I deserve it, but you can’t even look at me or be honest with me. Do I deserve that? You must really have a low opinion of me.”
“I’m sorry things just got out of hand...”
“I can’t believe I forgot to sign out of my Gmail account,” he mutters, “That’s the last time I forget to do that! But something good might come out of this after all.”
“Really?” Maybe I’ll get out of this after all.
“I’ve seen your true colors now, haven’t I? I know what kind of person you are now. You’re not who you seemed June. But that’s not all. I spoke to one of the editors, and it seems they really like my writing style. In fact, they’re considering giving me an assignment even if I don’t win the contest. Who would have thought?”
“Oh my god, that’s amazing. If I hadn’t—”
“That doesn’t excuse what you did. You still betrayed me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I do win, so your new boyfriend’s days are numbered.”
“I’m so sorry Brand, I—”
“I don’t think I can help you June.”
“What?”
“I know you came here to try to get me to not press charges. You thought that if I don’t press charges everything gets dropped, right? But it’s not up to me. The wheels that are in motion are beyond me to stop. I’ll give you a free piece of advice. Get yourself a good lawyer.”
Chapter Eighteen
A Little Birdie Told Me
It’s almost ten when I finally stumble into my apartment and collapse on the living room couch. That could not have gone any worse. Now I just get to wait for the police to come cart me off to jail. It’s almost like calling a lawyer will make it happen. If I talk to someone, it makes it more real.
I wish I could just go to Silas and...shit. I can’t talk to him. I can’t tell him that he is about to lose his spot in the band. I can’t tell him that I have just singlehandedly ruined his life and then what? Cry on his shoulder? How the hell did I get myself into this mess?
I’ve ruined my best chance at a good relationship, and now I’m ruining another. It’s not like I have had a lineup of guys trying to date me either. Suddenly I have two, and I’m screwing them both up. I just wanted to help Brand. He was in the hospital, and I just wanted him to have his chance at the career he wanted more than anything in the world. I had good intentions. I was just helping a friend in need.
But it’s not my intentions that are the problem. It’s the choice I made to get into Brand’s email account and impersonate him. That was wrong. But is it so wrong to try and protect Silas? He doesn’t deserve to have his life ruined either. I don’t believe that he’s a fraud.
I’m exhausted, but I know that if I lie down there’s no way in hell am I going to be able to sleep. I need coffee. That will help me feel better. As I walk into the kitchen I see the calendar on the fridge. I’m scheduled for work tonight. This is not good. I really need to sleep before pulling a 12 hour shift. If I don’t get some rest, my judgment may very well be compromised. I crash out on my bed, still fully clothed, and close my eyes. Sleep has to come.
My shift begins at eleven, and by the time I walk through the doors to the ER I am dead to the world. The nice thing about working in the emergency room is that time flies by. A little coffee and a lot of adrenaline is all I need.
Twelve hours later I’m in the nurses lounge changing out of my bloodied scrubs and jumping into the shower. As the hot water sluices over my tired body, the events of the last couple days come rushing back to me. That’s the other thing about where I work. It is so completely consuming, everything else takes a backseat to what’s going on here.
Not one time did I think about my boyfriend troubles or the prospect of going to jail, Sadly, now that I am heading home, it all comes rushing back to me. I feel like I’m halfway into a tunnel and walking down the tracks with a freight train opposite me. I can’t escape the blaring horn or the blinding light. I’m going to be crushed like a bug on a windshield.
By noon, I’m walking in the door to my apartment, once again greeted by my phone ringing off the hook. I don’t bother checking to see who. They can wait for about 12 hours, ‘cause that’s how long I plan on sleeping. It’s going to take at least that for my body and mind to even begin to recover. I trudge over to the couch to watch a little TV before crashing. It usually takes me an hour or two to shake off the workday and relax enough to sleep. The moment I find a good program to watch, there’s a knock on my door.
“That can’t be good,” I mutter to myself, wobbling over to the door. I look out the peephole and see that it’s Stewart. What the hell is he doing here uninvited? For a moment I consider just not answering the door, but he knows I’m in here and the only way I’m gonna get him to leave is by answering the door. I’ll just politely tell him I am too tired to go visit Silas. It’ll have to be another day.
“Just a second Stewart!” I holler through the door. I undo the chain and open it. The moment I see his face, I know there’s something wrong. My first thought is that something happened to Silas. He must have gotten hurt.
“What’s happened?” I ask as I let him in.
I offer him a seat but he remains standing. “He’s going to be okay. There was an accident at the show last night. He was standing too close to a flash pot when it exploded.”
“Oh my god! Oh no, oh no...” It’s all I can manage for a couple minutes. I can’t believe this is happening. First Brand nearly gets killed, then Silas has a terrible accident. This is all too familiar. This scene has played out before, when my little sister was killed in that accident. Now I nearly lose two guys I care about all within a couple weeks of each other. It can’t be a coincidence. People who matter to me are always taken.
“He’s asking for you, June.” Stewart’s face is a study in pain. He obviously cares a lot about his nephew. He has to be wondering if Silas will ever play again. Oh my god, his fingers must have been badly burnt. “June?”
“What? Sorry, it’s a lot to take in.”
“He wants to see you if—”
“Of course I’ll come.” I may be totally exhausted, but I’d fly around the world if he asked me to. “I just need to grab a few things.”
“Sure. Take your time. There’s a car outside. I’ll wait there.”
“Okay,” I reply over my shoulder. I grab my overnight bag, my purse, and another change of clothes. I have no idea how long I’ll be gone. I should be prepared to stay more than just a few days if he needs my support. I climb into the back of the limo and take a seat across from a very worried-looking Stewart.
“Drink?” he asks as the car pulls out into the street.
“Sure, what do you have?”
“Well, before we pulled up I had an excellent gin and tonic.”
“Sounds good to me.” After a few long pulls on the fiery liquid I ask, “So which hospital’s he at?”
“Uh...It’s a private one.”
“Oh. Sisters of Providence?”
“No, it’s Catholic.”
“That is a Catholic hospital, Stewart.”
“It’s a private teaching hospital.”
Never heard of that one. He must have the name wrong or something. I wasn’t aware of
any private catholic teaching hospitals down there. “What is his prognosis?”
“Good.”
Since when does the talkative Stewart clam up and stop talking? It’s like he doesn’t remember me or something. There’s a question that’s been eating me up ever since he told me of the accident, but I’m terrified to inquire.
“Is he going to still be able to play guitar?” I ask softly.
“He’ll be able to play.”
Looks like Silas dodged that bullet. But a sudden thought cuts through me like a knife. His face must have been burned. That would account for Stewart’s strange behavior right now. He probably knows Silas is going to be deformed or something from the burns and he’s wondering if I’m the kind of girl who bails when her prince charming isn’t so charming to look at.
“Stewart...his face burned?”
“Oh no. He’ll still have his rock star good looks. Don’t worry, June.”
I let loose a burst of pent up air. Until now I hadn’t realized I have been holding my breath. What luck. A flash pot blows up in his face but neither his hands or his face has been burned. How is that possible? I’m just about to ask that very question when we pull into the airstrip. When we board the plane, Stewart disappears from my sight. He has to be taking this whole accident pretty hard. Maybe Silas is his only family.
An hour later we’re landing at another private airstrip. There’s a limo awaiting our arrival. I assume it’s going to take us straight to the hospital. The chauffeur escorts me over to the limo and opens the door for me. The door closes, and I’m surprised that Stewart isn’t already in the car waiting. I’m just about to ask the chauffeur about it when my window rolls down. Stewart is standing there, looking even more ragged.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m sorry June. I’m really sorry.”
Before I can ask what he means, the window is already up. I grab the handle, but I seem to be locked in. Before I can protest, the door opposite me opens and in steps the last person I expect to see.
“Silas!” Instinctively I reach out to hug him. I am so glad to see he’s okay. But then he holds out his hands between us, palms facing me. I get it. His chest. The burns are there and my hugging him is going to be excruciating. “Silas, you’re okay?” I ask.
Broken Strings (A Rock Star Novel) Page 14
