Morris held out his hands. I stepped into the circle of his arms. One large palm cupped the back of my head. I pressed my face into his chest.
I tried not to feel the absence of Harper's presence in his embrace.
“Morris.” Liam’s flat voice spoke from the doorway.
I stepped back from the hug, blinking back tears.
“Natalie wants you,” Liam told him.
Morris patted me on the shoulder and, after eyeing Liam carefully, went back into the main bar.
“What was that about?” Liam asked.
“Morris wanted to—”
“Write a song with you,” he interrupted. “Yeah. I heard.” His green eyes, normally so good-natured, were narrowed in suspicion. “I thought you didn’t write songs with people.”
“I don’t normally but—”
“I asked you to write a song with me and you wouldn't,” Liam cut me off again. His tone was oddly heated. And not in the good way. “But you’ll write one with him.”
“I’m thinking about it.” I frowned at him. “Why are you acting so weird over this?”
“Why do you think?”
“You’re upset because of a song?”
“I’m upset because I walk in here and see my girlfriend with another man,” he growled. “An engaged man, might I add.”
A shot of disbelief went through me. “And what exactly do you think was happening between us? If you’re trying to insinuate something—”
“You won’t write a song with me, you won’t tell the band about us—”
“Are you mad about that?” I asked, still taken aback by the turn of our conversation. “I thought we agreed to keep it to ourselves for now.”
“And how long is for now going to last?” he snapped. “Are you just biding your time with me? Are you just waiting for their relationship to fall apart so you can be with him?”
I pressed my lips together firmly. “Liam. I warned you. I won’t date someone who has trust issues.”
“And I’m not going to date a girl who’s in love with another man.” His eyes blazed with fury. “I’m not going to date a girl who will end up cheating on me with someone else.”
Shock flew through my system, sending me reeling, before I was overtaken by outrage.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” I made my voice low, matching the fire in his eyes with ice of my own. “Did you really just accuse me of cheating?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe you’re not right now. But how do I know you won’t just go running after him the first chance you get?”
My vision went white with anger. “Is that really what you think I’m going to do?”
“I don’t want you seeing him anymore.”
Liam’s words had a sense of finality to them. As if they were the last words he was ever going to say.
But I had a world of words to shoot back at him.
“You don’t get to dictate who my friends are,” I bit out. “You don’t get to come in here and throw a fit of jealousy. And you sure as fuck don’t get to accuse me of cheating on you.”
We stared each other down. The scowl on his face matched my own.
“If you see him again, we’re over,” Liam said.
My lips curled into a snarl. “We were over the minute you accused me of sleeping around behind your back.”
And for once, I didn’t regret whirling around on my heel and leaving.
30
I told the others I wasn't feeling well and left the bar in a taxi. Gael teased I was getting so old I wasn’t able to party like a teenager anymore without getting sick.
But it hadn’t been a lie. I did feel sick. My stomach was knotted into a heavy lump. Sharp daggers stabbed through my chest. My eyes burned with the effort to hold back tears the entire taxi ride home.
The moment I stepped into my apartment and closed the door, I slumped against it and let the tears come. I knew my makeup was leaving black streaks on my cheeks but I didn’t care. I was lost in a red haze of heartbreak, fury and a twisted sort of self-loathing.
As angry as I was with Liam, I was just as upset with myself.
How could I not have seen this coming? It wasn’t the first time Liam’s jealousy had caused tension between us. He’d been suspicious of Morris a few times before already.
I should have known eventually something like this would happen.
I threw my purse and phone on the sofa and watched them almost bounce off the cushions and onto the floor. I kicked my boots off with enough force to send them flying against the wall with a thud. I was wearing black socks, the only color I owned.
Liam had been disappointed at the boring color, hoping to tease me about some embarrassing design.
I took in a shuddering breath. I swiped at my cheeks. The back of my hand came back smudged with mascara.
The last time my makeup had been smeared over my face, Liam had wiped it away with a gentle thumb. He’d said my smokey eye was more of a forest fire.
It was hard to breathe around the clenching in my chest. The vise grip threatened to squeeze the life out of me. The tears wouldn’t stop falling down my cheeks.
How could things have gone so wrong so quickly?
I wanted to scream until my lungs gave out. I wanted to collapse into a heap of misery. I wanted to punch the wall until my knuckles bled.
I didn’t do any of that. I simply stripped out of my clothes and slid into bed, not even bothering to wash my face. A quick wipe with a tissue would have to do.
A shivery-cold feeling began to creep its way under my skin, into my every nerve.
It was happening again.
I'd opened myself up, given everything I had, let myself be vulnerable…
And now that it had all blown up in my face, I was falling apart. Again.
I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to feel. I wanted to fall into the oblivion of sleep where Liam’s words could no longer haunt me.
How do I know you won’t just go running after him the first chance you get?
I swallowed around the lump of rage and despair taking root in my stomach.
He couldn’t possibly think I might cheat on him. It had to have just been anger over seeing me hug Morris.
But even words said in anger couldn’t be dismissed.
I heard my phone ping. I rolled over and ignored it. It pinged again. And again. I flopped over onto my side and grabbed it.
The fuck is up with Liam? Gael had texted.
How should I know? I wrote back.
After you took off he got all pissy. Told us to call a taxi cause he was leaving. Fucker left us stranded and drunk.
I’m sure you’ll manage, I replied.
Do you need me to kick his ass?
No.
Cause if he did or said something stupid, I don’t care how talented he is, I’ll put my fist through his face.
I said no. Everything’s fine. I’m going to bed now. Get home safe.
Will do.
I put down my phone.
I stared at the blank screen.
I picked it back up.
I did a search for Cherry Lips. Dozen of blog posts and news articles mentioning us popped up.
I’d kept my promise. As hard as it had been, I'd gone weeks since last checking the rumor mill online. But what did it matter? My promise to Liam meant nothing anymore.
I had to know. Needed to know. People all over the internet were talking about Cherry Lips and not knowing what they were saying was killing me.
I scrolled mindlessly, skimming the words, looking for key phrases like “fucking rocks” or “totally sucks.”
I stopped. Scrolled back up hastily.
Someone had posted a photo of me and Liam on stage. It was during one of our brief duets, when he would lean into the mic to sing a few words along with me.
In this photo our eyes were locked onto each other's. His lips were mere inches from mine. It didn’t look like a duet at a rock concert. It looked
like a snapshot taken moments before a passionate kiss.
The sting of tears hit the back of my eyes again.
I remembered that concert. I’d dragged Liam into a dark office and fucked him senseless afterward. We’d almost gotten caught by the venue manager. We had to pretend we’d gotten lost. Between Liam’s undone jeans button and my messed up lipstick, we were pretty sure he hadn’t bought it.
Pressing my lips firmly together, I started to read the article accompanying the photo. It was the usual concert review, talking about how awesome we were, our crazy fan base, the accolades we’d received so far, even giving a bit of background on our past as an indie band.
But this article had a few sentences at the bottom I’d never read before.
On stage with Cherry Lips was Liam Knight, formerly of the band Forever Night, which was on the cusp of hitting it big before Liam left to pursue his own projects. Click here to view a gallery of Forever Night.
A gallery of photos. Photos of Liam.
I couldn’t help myself. I clicked.
There were dozens of pictures taken throughout Liam’s early career. In some of the photos he looked as young as he had when I’d first met him. In some he looked the exact same as he did now.
In most of the photos they were on stage, but there were also quite a few with them surrounded by groupies. One girl in particular showed up multiple times, always hanging off Liam’s arm. He never look annoyed at her clinging. In some of the photos he was even smiling softly at her, even as a handful of other women surrounded him.
Maybe she wasn’t a groupie. Maybe she was an old girlfriend. I wondered what had happened to them, if they were no longer together. Liam had never mentioned anything about the people he’d dated before me.
I continued flicking through the photos. When I got to the end, there was a another small blurb.
The former members of Forever Night are now known as Chaotic Neutral. Click here to read a review of their latest concert.
I hadn’t realized the members of Liam’s old band were still active in the scene. It made sense. Just because he was content to be a session musician didn’t mean they wouldn’t go on to form another group.
I clicked the link.
From the photo, Chaotic Neutral looked like a normal rock band. Lots of black, mesh, skinny jeans, leather jackets and a hint of eyeliner.
There was the same gallery of photos, both the band on stage and surrounded by groupies. As I scanned the pictures, I zoomed in on the guitarist. He looked like a regular guy, tall with dark hair and a cocky smile. He didn’t look like the type who would betray a friend. Then again, Liam didn’t look like the type to spit out horrible accusations like he had that evening.
I paused on one picture.
It was the same young woman. That groupie/girlfriend. But this time she was hanging off the guitarist’s arm. He was the one smiling down at her. Holding her against his side, hugging her tightly. There was a caption under the photo.
Chad and Paula.
I inhaled sharply.
I recognized her name.
It was the girl from the wedding invitation.
I examined the picture closely, my mind beginning to connect all the pieces.
If she was Liam’s ex-girlfriend… and she was now marrying his old guitarist… And it was his guitarist’s fault he quit the band…
Had Liam’s girlfriend left him for one of his best friends?
I sank back into the sofa cushions, air whooshing out of me.
His girlfriend had left him for another man. Just like his mom had left his dad.
No wonder Liam had trust issues.
I could almost understand his reaction now. If Harper had left me for someone else, I would have had an awful time getting over it.
I stared at the photo, burning her face into my memory. I didn’t know anything about the girl but I was mad at her. She was the one who had hurt Liam. It was her fault he had acted so unreasonably.
And it was unreasonable. I’d given Liam no cause to worry. He knew Morris and I were just old friends.
But he’d accused me of cheating anyway.
As much as I understood why that was where his mind had gone, I wasn’t about to brush it off. I wasn’t about to let him get away with thinking something so awful of me.
It was understandable yes, but I couldn’t forget the way he’d glared at me, the way he’d forbidden me from seeing Morris, the way he’d spat out that I might end up sleeping with someone else behind his back…
A pang of anger and heartbreak shot through me.
It didn't matter his reason.
Liam had accused me of something unforgivable.
I didn't know if that was something I'd be able to forget any time soon.
31
"Hey, are you guys Cherry Lips?" one of the event staff asked as he poked his head into the artist lounge.
“That’s us,” Liam and I said at the same time.
I flicked my eyes to Liam. He was staring back. I took in his messy hair, the dark circles under his eyes, the firm set of his clenched jaw.
I turned my head away.
Liam looked as terrible as I felt.
Good. He should feel miserable. He’d brought it all on himself.
Our fight felt like it had taken place months ago, and yet it had only been days. We couldn’t put the tour on hold just because the lead singer and guitarist had a tiff. We had to pile into the rented van and sit in silence as we drove to the latest concert. Luckily, this one was only in the next town over, barely a thirty minute drive.
I made sure to beat the others to shotgun. I couldn’t stomach the thought of being stuck in the back with Liam again. It was hard enough to keep the tears at bay when I was alone. Being next to Liam only made it a hundred times worse.
"Some local blogger dude says he's here for an interview,” the event guy continued. “Wants to talk to you before you get on stage."
All the guys in my band groaned. We'd done a dozen or more of these already, and it was turning into a chore. They always asked the same questions and we always answered in the same way.
"Can't he just rip off the answers from one of those other blogs?" Gael said, only half-joking.
"It's good publicity," I said. "We want people reading about us. Talking about us. The more of these interviews we do, the better."
Gael grumbled, but settled down into the sofa.
My brother had been oddly quiet until now. He kept shooting me careful looks. We hadn’t had a chance to talk in private, and I knew he was wondering how I was holding up.
Morris and I weren’t the only ones who had been keeping track of the days.
“So can I show him in?” the man asked.
I nodded and he disappeared.
A young guy with a haircut that looked like he'd time traveled from the seventies poked his head through the door.
"Red hair,” the guy grinned at me. “Awesome. You're the people I'm looking for."
He walked in and set up a tripod with his phone connected to it. He pointed it at us then took a seat perched on one of the armchairs, not bothering to shake hands or introduce himself.
"I almost interviewed the wrong band,” he said. “Those guys opening for you are terribly dull, aren't they?" He turned to me. "So what's with the hair?"
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"The hair." The blogger pointed at my head. "What's with that color?"
"I like red," I said, nonplussed.
"Yeah, but, isn't it sort of tacky to color your hair cherry red, when your name means cherry and your band is Cherry Lips?"
"Tacky?" I repeated, insulted.
But the guy had already turned his attention to Gael. "Rumor is, you're pussy-whipped now. How's that going for you?"
Nathan made a sort of half-snort, half-snicker sound.
"I'm not pussy-whipped, fuck you very much," Gael snapped. "I'm nailing a hot as fuck chick every night, can you say the same?"
Seth wh
istled long and low.
"Jessie's gonna kill him," he leaned over and murmured under his breath to Julian.
That got the blogger's attention.
"So Seth, how does it feel to be the runt of the group?" he asked.
Seth's eyes went wide, astounded, before narrowing dangerously. His lips pressed into a harsh line.
"We're not going to sit here and take this bullshit," Liam spoke up firmly. "You need to leave now."
The blogger sized him up and nodded. "Right, you're Liam Knight. Your old band never made it anywhere so now you're just a session guitarist. You ever think about going back to being a real musician, or are you okay with being a has-been?"
Liam’s fist clenched and shook. I had no doubt he was five seconds away from punching the guy in the face.
The blogger turned his attention back to me.
“Cerise, I heard you and the drummer from Feral Silence used to be in a band together but you broke up. What happened all those years ago? If you had stayed together, do you think you’d actually be a world famous band by now instead of just small time act?”
Gael flew from his chair, glaring at the guy.
My throat closed up, all air leaving my lungs.
I’d been trying not to think about it. Trying not to remember.
But of course, today of all days, someone had to bring it up.
Today, on the anniversary of Harper’s death.
I inhaled sharply through my nose and steeled myself.
"If you don't have any real questions to ask, you can get the hell out right now," I said.
“If you guys don’t want to answer the questions your fans are asking…” he shrugged blithely.
“No one’s asking those questions,” Gael growled.
The guy popped up from his seat. “Fine, then.” He began to put his tripod away. “I’ll go interview that boring opening band of yours. I’m sure they’ll have plenty to say.”
The guy strode out the door, leaving the band to stare at one another.
“What the fuck was that?” Julian asked, so shaken he’d actually joined the conversation for once.
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