Lick: Stage Dive 1

by Scott, Kylie

  He said nothing.

  “You’re all secrets and lies, David. I asked you about the earring, remember?”

  He nodded.

  “You lied.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

  “Did you do that before or after our honesty rule? I can’t remember. It was definitely after the cheating rule though, right?” Talking was a mistake. All of the jagged thoughts and emotions he inspired caught up with me too fast.

  He didn’t deign to reply.

  “What’s the story behind the earrings, anyway?”

  “I brought them with my first pay check after the record company signed us.”

  “Wow. And you both wore them all this time. Even after she cheated on you and everything.”

  “It was Jimmy,” he said. “She cheated on me with Jimmy.”

  Holy shit, his own brother. So many things fell into place with that piece of information. “That’s why you got so upset about finding him and that groupie together. And when you saw Jimmy talking to me at that party.”

  “Yeah. It was all a long time ago, but … Jimmy flew back for an appearance on a TV show. We were in the middle of a big tour, playing Spain at the time. The second album had just hit the top ten. We were finally really pulling in the crowds.”

  “So you forgave them to keep the band together?”

  “No. Not exactly. I just got on with things. Even back then Jimmy was drinking too much. He’d changed.” He licked his lips, studied the table. “I’m sorry about that night. More fucking sorry than I can say. What you walked in on … I know how it must have looked. And I hated myself for lying to you about the earring, for still wearing it in Monterey.”

  He flicked at his ear in annoyance. There was still a visible wound there with shiny, pink, nearly healed skin around it. It didn’t look like a fading earring hole at all.

  “What did you do there?” I asked.

  “Cut across it with a knife.” He shrugged. “An earring hole takes years to grow over. Made a new cut when you left so it could heal properly.”

  “Oh.”

  I waited to come talk to you because I needed some time. You walking out on me after you’d promised you wouldn’t … that was hard to take.”

  “I didn’t have any choice.”

  He leaned toward me, his eyes hard. “You had a choice.”

  “I’d just seen my husband kissing another woman. And then you refused to even discuss it with me. You just started yelling at me about leaving. Again.” My hands gripped the edge of the table so tight I could feel my fingernails pressing into the wood. “What the fuck should I have done, David? Tell me. Because I’ve played that scene over in my head so many times and it always works out the same way, with you slamming the door shut behind me.”

  “Shit.” He slumped back in his seat. “You knew you leaving was a problem for me. You should have stuck with me, given me a chance to calm down. We worked it out in Monterey after that bar fight. We could have done it again.”

  “Rough sex doesn’t fix everything. Sometimes you actually have to talk.”

  “I tried to talk to you the other night at that club. Wasn’t what was on your mind.”

  I could feel my face heat up. It just pissed me off even more.

  “Fuck. Look,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “The thing is, I needed to get us straight in my head, okay? I needed to figure out if us being together was the right thing. Honestly, Ev, I didn’t want to hurt you again.”

  A month he’d left me to stew in my misery. It was on the tip of my tongue to give him a flippant thank-you. Or even to flip him off. But this was too serious.

  “You got us straight in your head? That’s great. I wish I could get us straight in my head.” I stopped babbling long enough to drink more beer. My throat was giving sandpaper serious competition.

  He held himself perfectly still, watching me crash and burn with an eerie calm.

  “So, I’m kind of beat.” I looked everywhere but at him. “Does that cover everything you wanted to talk about?”

  “No.”

  “No? There’s more?” Please, God, don’t let there be more.

  “Yeah.”

  “Have at it.” Time to drink.

  “I love you.”

  I spat beer across the table, all over our combined hands. “Shit.”

  “I’ll get some napkins,” he said, releasing my hand and rising out of his chair. A moment later he was back. I sat there like a useless doll while he cleaned my arm and then the table, trembling was all I was good for. Carefully, he pulled back my seat, helped me to my feet and ushered me out of the bar. The hum of traffic and rush of city air cleared my senses. I had room to think out on the street.

  Immediately my feet got moving. They knew what was up. My boots stomped across the pavement, putting serious distance between me and there. Getting the hell away from him and what he’d said. David stayed right on my heels, however.

  We stopped at a street corner and I punched the button, waiting for the walk light. “Don’t say that again.”

  “Is it such a surprise, really? Why the fuck else would I be doing this, huh? Of course I love you.”

  “Don’t.” I turned on him, face furious.

  His lips formed a tight line. “Alright. I won’t say that again. For now. But we should talk some more.”

  I growled, gnashed my teeth.

  “Ev.”

  Crap. Negotiation wasn’t my strong suit. Not with him. I wanted him gone. Or at least, I was pretty certain I wanted him gone. Gone so I could resume my mourning for him and us and everything we might have been. Gone so I didn’t have to think about the fact that he now thought he loved me. What utter emotional bullshit. My tear ducts went crazy right on cue. I took huge, deep breaths trying to get myself back under control.

  “Later, not today,” he said, in an affable, reasonable voice. I didn’t trust it or him at all.

  “Fine.”

  I strode another block with him hanging at my side until again a crossing stopped us cold, leaving room for conversation. He had better not speak. At least not until I got my shit together and figured all this out. I straightened my pencil skirt, tucked back my hair, fidgeted. The light took forever. Since when did Portland turn against me? This wasn’t fair.

  “We’re not finished,” he said. It sounded like both a threat and a promise.

  *

  The first text arrived at midnight while I was lying on my bed, reading. Or trying to read. Because trying to sleep had been a bust. School started back soon but I was finding it hard to raise my usual enthusiasm for my studies. I had the worst feeling that the seed of doubt David had planted regarding my career choices had taken root inside my brain. I liked architecture, but I didn’t love it. Did that matter? Sadly, I had no answers. Lots of excuses—some bullshit and some valid—but no answers.

  David would probably say I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to. I knew all too well what my father would say. It wouldn’t be pretty.

  I’d been avoiding seeing my parents since I got back. Easy enough to do considering I’d hung up on the lecture my father had attempted to give me the second day after my return. Relations had been frosty since then. The real surprise was that I wasn’t surprised. They had never encouraged anything that didn’t directly support the plan. There was a reason I’d never returned their calls when I was in Monterey. Because I couldn’t tell them the things they wanted to hear anymore, it had seemed safer to stay mute.

  Nathan had been running interference with the folks, which I appreciated, but my time was up. We’d all been summoned to dinner tomorrow night. I figured the text was my mother ensuring I wasn’t going to try and wheedle out of it. Sometimes she sat up late watching old black and white movies when her sleeping pills didn’t kick in.

  I was wrong.

  David: She surprised me when she kissed me. That’s why I didn’t stop her right away. But I didn’t want it.

  I stared at my cell, frowning.
>
  David: You there?

  Me: Yeah.

  David: I need to know if you believe me about Martha.

  Did I? I took a breath, searched deep. There was frustration, plenty of confusion, but my anger had apparently burned itself out at long last. Because I didn’t doubt he’d told me the truth.

  Me: I believe you.

  David: Thank you. I keep thinking of more. Will you listen?

  Me: Yes.

  David: My folks got married because of Jimmy. Mom left when I was 12. She drank.

  David: Jimmy’s been paying her to keep quiet. She’s been hustling him for years.

  Me: Holy hell!

  David: Yeah. I got lawyers onto it now.

  Me: Glad to hear it.

  David: We retired Dad to Florida. I told him about you. He wants to meet.

  Me: Really? I don’t know what to say …

  David: Can I come up?

  Me: You’re here??

  I didn’t wait for a reply. Forget my pajama shorts and daggy old T-shirt, washed so many times its original color was a faded memory. He’d just have to take me as he found me. I unlocked the front door of our apartment and padded down the stairs on bare feet, my cell still in my hand. Sure enough, a tall shadow loomed through the frosted glass of the building’s front door. I pushed it open to find him sitting on the step. Outside, the night was still, peaceful. A fancy silver SUV was pulled up at the curb.

  “Hey,” he said, a finger busy on the screen of his cell. Mine beeped again.

  David: Wanted to say goodnight.

  “Okay,” I said, looking up from the screen. “Come in.”

  The side of his mouth lifted and he looked up at me. I met his gaze, refusing to feel self-conscious. He didn’t seem put off by my slacker bedtime style. If anything, his smile increased, his eyes warming. “You about to go to bed?”

  “I was just reading. Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Is your brother here?” He stood and followed me back up the stairs, his boots tapping loudly on the old wooden floors. I half expected Mrs Lucia from downstairs to come out and yell. It was a hobby of hers.

  “No,” I said, closing the door behind us. “He and Lauren went out.”

  He looked around the apartment with interest. As usual he took up all the space. I don’t know how he did that. It was like a magician’s trick. He was somehow so much bigger than he actually seemed. And the man didn’t seem small to begin with. In no rush at all, his gaze wandered around the room, taking in bright turquoise walls (Lauren’s doing) and the shelves of neatly stacked books (my doing).

  “Is this yours?” he asked, poking his head into my bedroom.

  “Ah, yes. It’s a bit of a mess right now, though.” I squeezed past him and started speed-cleaning, picking up the books and other assorted debris scattered across the floor. I should have asked him to give me five minutes before coming up. My mother would be horrified. Since returning from LA I’d let my world descend into chaos. It suited my frazzled state of mind. Didn’t mean David needed to see it. I needed to make a plan to clean up my act and actually stick to it this time.

  “I used to be organized,” I said, flailing, my fallback position for everything lately.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “This won’t take a minute.”

  “Ev,” he said, catching hold of my wrist in much the same manner that his gaze caught me. “I don’t care. I just need to talk to you.”

  A sudden horrible thought entered my mind.

  “Are you leaving?” I asked, today’s dirty work shirt clutched in my suddenly shaking hand.

  His grip tightened around my wrist. “You want me to leave?”

  “No. I mean, are you leaving Portland? Is that why you’re here, to say goodbye?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” The pincer grip my ribs had gotten on my heart and lungs eased back a little. “Okay.”

  “Where did that come from?” When I didn’t answer he tugged me gently toward him. “Hey.”

  I took a reluctant step in his direction, dropping the dirty laundry. He pressed for more, sitting on my bed and pulling me down alongside him. I sort of stumbled my butt onto the double mattress as opposed to doing it with any grace. Story of my life. Object achieved, he gave up his grip on me. My hands clenched the edge of the bed.

  “So, you got a weird look on your face and then you asked me if I was leaving,” he said, blue eyes concerned. “Care to explain?”

  “You haven’t turned up at midnight before. I guess I wondered if there was more to it than just dropping by.”

  “I drove by your apartment and I saw your light was on. Figured I’d send you a text, see what mood you were in after our talk today.” He rubbed at his bearded chin with the palm of his hand. “Plus, like I said, I keep thinking of stuff I need to tell you.”

  “You drive by my apartment often?”

  He gave me a wry smile. “Only a couple of times. It’s my way of saying goodnight to you.”

  “How did you know which window was mine?”

  “Ah, well, that time I talked to Lauren when I was first came to town? She had the light on in the other room. Figured this one must be yours.” He didn’t look at me, choosing instead to check out the photos of me and my friends on the walls. “You mad that I’ve been around?”

  “No,” I answered honestly. “I think I might be running out of mad.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah.”

  He let out a slow breath and stared back at me, saying nothing. Dark bruises lingered beneath his eyes, though his swollen nose had gone back to normal size.

  “I really am sorry Nate hit you.”

  “If I was your brother, I’d have done the exact same fucking thing.” He braced his elbows on his knees, but kept his face turned toward me.

  “Would you?”

  “Without question.”

  Males and their penchant for beating on things, it knew no end.

  The silence dragged out. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly. At least we weren’t fighting or rehashing our break-up one more time. Being broken and angry got old.

  “Can we just hang out?” I asked.

  “Absolutely. Lemme see this.” He picked up my iPhone and started flicking through the music files. “Where are the ear buds?”

  I hopped up and retrieved them from among the crap on my desk. David plugged them in then, handed me an ear bud. I sat at his side, curious what he’d choose out of my music. When the rocking, jumpy beat of ‘Jackson’ by Johnny Cash and June Carter started I looked at him in amusement. He smirked and mouthed the lyrics. We had indeed gotten married in a fever.

  “You making fun of me?” I asked.

  Light danced in his eyes. “I’m making fun of us.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “What else have you got here?”

  Cash and Carter finished and he continued his search for songs. I watched his face, waiting for a reaction to my musical tastes. All I got was a smothered yawn.

  “They’re not that bad,” I protested.

  “Sorry. Big day.”

  “David, if you’re tired, we don’t have to—”

  “No. I’m fine. But do you mind if I lie down?”

  David on my bed. Well, he was already on my bed but … “Sure.”

  He gave me a cagey look but started tugging off his sneakers. “You just being polite?”

  “No, it’s fine. And, I mean, legally the bed is still half yours,” I joked, pulling out the ear bud before his movements did it for me. “So, what did you do today?”

  “Been working on the new album and sorting out some stuff.” Hands behind his head, he stretched out across my bed. “You lying down too? We can’t share the music if you don’t.”

  I crawled on and lay down next to him, wriggling around a bit, making myself comfortable. It was, after all, my bed. And he would be the only male who’d ever lain on it. The slight scent of his soap came to me, clean and warm and David. All too well,
I remembered. For once, hurt didn’t seem to come attached to the memory. I poked around inside my head, double-checking. When I’d said I was out of mad, it had apparently been nothing more than the truth. We had our issues, but him cheating on me wasn’t one of them. I knew that now and it meant a lot.

  “Here.” He handed me back the ear bud and started playing with my cell again.

  “How’s Jimmy?” I rolled onto my side, needing to see him. The strong line of his nose and jaw was in profile, the curve of his lips. How many times had I kissed him? Not nearly enough to last me if it never happened again.

  “He’s doing a lot better. Seems to have really gotten himself right. I think he’s going to be okay.”

  “That’s great news.”

  “At least he comes by his problems honestly,” he said, his tone turning bitter. “Our mother is a fucking disaster from what I hear. But then, she always was. She used to take us to the park because she needed to score. She’d turn up to school plays and parent–teacher nights high as a kite.”

  I kept my mouth shut, letting him get it out. The best thing I could do for him was to be there and listen. The pain and anger in his voice was heartbreaking. My parents had their overbearing issues, certainly, but nothing like this. David’s childhood had been terrible. If I could have bitch-slapped his mother right then for putting that pain in his voice, I would have. Twice over.

  “Dad ignored her using for years. He could. He was a long-haul truck driver, away most of the time. Jimmy and me were the ones that had to put up with her shit. The number of times we’d come home to find her babbling all sorts of stuff or passed out on the couch. There’d be no food in the house ’cause she’d spent the grocery money on pills. Then one day we came home from school and she and the TV were gone. That was it.” He stared up at nothing, his face drawn. “She didn’t even leave a note. Now she’s back and she’s been hurting Jimmy. It drives me nuts.”