Across the Distance

by Marie Meyer

  “What’s the name?” he asked.

  “Jillian Lawson,” I shouted over the crowd.

  He tapped the bar with his hand and said, “I’ll go check.”

  While he was gone, I turned around and saw a couple of roadies doing sound checks on the stage. A quick glance at my phone confirmed I had about ten minutes to get down to the floor. I wondered what was taking Mr. Biceps so long.

  “Jillibean Lawson?” he asked, strutting back toward me.

  My smile widened at the sound of my nickname. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “There’s also a note here that says your drinks are covered for the night.” He held the VIP credentials out to me.

  “What?” I reached for the badge, not really sure I’d heard him correctly.

  “Being with the band has its perks, beautiful.” He winked at me, handing my cash back. “You better get down there; the show’s about to start.”

  I hesitantly took the money. “Thanks.” I smiled. When Mr. Biceps went on to the next customer, I left a few dollars on the bar for his tip, and shoved my way closer to the stage.

  Moments before the start of the show, my phone vibrated. I pulled it from the confines of my clutch and read the text message from Griffin. Bean, I don’t like that you’re on the floor alone. Come backstage for the show. You can watch from the wings.

  My hands were full, and there were hundreds of people packed in around me, but I managed to type a quick response. I’m fine. Stop worrying and start your show!

  Seconds after I sent my text, the lights dimmed and the opening bass chords reverberated throughout the room. The crowd went insane when Adam came on stage. He mounted the drum set, gave it a few dry humps, and added a steady beat to the echoing bass filling the room. Adam’s pelvic thrusts sent the women in the crowd into loud convulsions.

  One by one, the members of Mine Shaft entered the stage and added their specialty instrument to the steady beat Adam supplied. Finally, it was Griffin’s turn. Being the front man came with some serious responsibilities, one of which was the ability to ooze sex appeal. Squeals and catcalls threatened to drown out the heavy bass guitar riff he strummed. I stood in awe, watching him do what he loved best. Griffin always put on a great show, but this was on a whole other level. He wasn’t the guy I’d just had Christmas dinner with a week ago. He was a hot, sexy rock god whose sensual voice sent every female in the room into a tizzy.

  Griffin moved toward the microphone and belted the opening lyrics to one of their older and more popular songs, “Silent Trauma.” With every growl and grunt, the crowd went wild. His command of the microphone pushed the females in the crowd over the edge and they screamed their appreciation.

  The crowd on the dance floor got into the music and danced, while singing along, shouting Griffin’s name, along with professions of their undying love. He’d done it. All the hard work, being so busy all the time—this was why.

  I was so proud of him. I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him with everything I had. I wanted that kiss to convey everything that I couldn’t articulate.

  Halfway through Griffin’s set, I was dying of thirst. I pushed my way back to the bar and found Mr. Biceps again.

  “Another stout?” he asked, remembering my drink.

  “No thank you. Just water, please.” It was too hot on the dance floor to even consider drinking. I’d abandoned my last drink shortly after the show had begun. He nodded and disappeared down the bar.

  I turned around, leaning on the bar, watching as Griffin adjusted the mic to accommodate him sitting on a stool. “We’re going to slow it down a bit,” he breathed into the mic.

  “I love you, Griffin!” A random fangirl cried from the balcony.

  Griffin smiled and laughed, ever the consummate showman. “Well, I love you too,” he replied in a bedroom voice.

  Several whistles and catcalls fell over the crowd. Griffin adjusted his stool and pulled his acoustic guitar over his shoulder. “This song is our brand new single, debuting tonight. It’s called ‘About Time’.” He strummed a few chords, adjusting the tuning knobs until the strings fell into the right key. The crowd bellowed in anticipation. I could see how much he enjoyed torturing them; he was in his element.

  “Here you go, Jillibean,” Mr. Biceps said. It sounded strange hearing my nickname come out of anyone’s mouth but Griffin’s.

  “Thanks.” I gulped the bottle of water.

  Instead of fighting the crowd on the floor, I decided to stay at the bar. Even though I couldn’t see the expressions on his face when he sang, there was something strangely intimate about watching him from afar. I moved to the center of the bar, positioning myself in a straight line from him to me. When he started strumming the chords, he looked up and pressed his mouth close to the mic.

  Once upon a time I pushed you away

  Looked into your heart and begged you to stay

  I sang of words I couldn’t speak

  You tried to taste them, but I was too weak

  Griffin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and continued to bare his soul to the hundreds of people in the room.

  And it’s about time I bury the lie

  Speak the words and let them fly

  Grab hold and pull you close

  It’s always been you I needed the most

  Pulled in every direction, but never near you

  I thought this would be easy, it’s time I got a clue

  My words run dry, my song unsung

  My actions a lie, and I know they stung

  Listening to Griffin’s song stirred something in my heart. The words brought back memories of the night I’d kissed him. He’d written this song for me.

  I’ll fight like hell, and make up for the past

  A kiss to break the lie, I want to make this last

  Taste the words on my lips

  It’s about time I let the truth slip

  And it’s about time I bury the lie

  Speak the words and let them fly

  Grab hold and pull you close

  It’s always been you I needed the most

  It’s always been you I needed the most

  The crowd remained still and quiet as the last guitar chord melted away. Griffin’s sexy voice and soulful lyrics cast a spell over the mass of people. No one dared a sound, not wanting to take responsibility for breaking his spell.

  I let the words soak into my heart. I needed to tell him how much that song meant to me, now that I knew what he really felt. I put my fingers to my mouth and gave a whistle I hoped he could hear on stage.

  There was a small beat before the crowd erupted into thunderous applause, torrents of screams, and whistles. Griffin stood from the stool and bowed with his guitar. He pointed at the crowd, and then ran off stage. In my heart I knew he meant to point at me, publicly confirming the love he’d felt all along.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mine Shaft played for another half hour before they started the countdown right before midnight. With each passing second Griffin strummed his guitar and shouted into the microphone. “Five…four…three…two…one…Happy New Year!” he screamed. The band instantly broke into a rock version of Auld Lang Syne.

  The dance floor looked like a living, breathing creature. It undulated up and down feeding off of drunken energy, and the drive of the music. From the bar, I watched hundreds of revelers ring in the New Year without a care in the world. However, I was still stuck in the last half hour. I wanted to talk to him so badly.

  “You need anything else, Jillibean?”

  I took my eyes from the crowd when I heard my name, giving Mr. Biceps my full attention. I didn’t like hearing him say my name; it didn’t have the right amount of emotion behind it. Coming out of his mouth it sounded stupid and juvenile.

  “The name’s Jillian. And no; I’m good, thanks.” I smiled at him and turned my attention back toward the stage. Griffin and the guys started playing their closer. I dug in my purse and pulled out a twenty, sliding
it onto the bar. Even though Griffin had made sure my drinks were on the house, I felt bad not tipping Mr. Biceps; he’d been good to me.

  Again, I worked my way through the crowd, heading to the left side of the stage. Security was tight at the venue. Standing between me and backstage was a monstrously huge bouncer. Seriously. The guy looked like he could be Hagrid’s twin brother.

  “Um, I’m supposed to meet Griffin Daniels backstage?” I said meekly.

  “That’s what they all say, girlie.” His deep voice was like a sonic boom over the roar of the crowd. “Do you have credentials?”

  “I have this?” I held up the VIP pass that hung around my neck.

  The bouncer held it close to his face, trying to decipher the words in the darkness.

  “That’ll work.” He stepped aside and held the door open, allowing me to pass.

  I climbed the stairs toward the side of the stage. The band was still improvising on stage, something they liked to do at the end of every concert. Griffin had once told me that improv was Mine Shaft’s muse. When they were playing off of one another and messing around, their best material developed. I smiled, watching Griffin do what he loved. He was so comfortable on the stage; he radiated confidence…something I was trying to learn.

  “Happy New Year, St. Louis!” Griffin shouted right before he ran off the stage. The crowd roared like a hungry beast, begging for more food. But I could tell the concert was over when Grif exchanged his guitar for a towel one of the roadies supplied.

  I stood at the bottom of the stage, near the back, careful not to get in the way of people who had work to do. Griffin ran the towel over his face and neck, drying off. Sweat soaked the front of his shirt. Saturated pieces of dark hair clung to the sides of his face and a few curls hung in his eyes.

  I raised my hand and shouted his name, “Griffin!”

  He didn’t hear me. It was so loud backstage.

  “Griffin!” I tried again.

  Recognition lit up his face when he heard his name, but he still couldn’t find where it originated. I saw him look around, so I raised my hands above my head. Thankful my boots made me taller. I waved and called his name again. “Griffin, over here!”

  Then everything froze when I saw Erin walk toward him. My heart twisted in a knot. Unable to pull my eyes away, I watched as she leaned in and gave him a hug. When they pulled apart, Griffin kept his hands on her shoulders and smiled. I felt sick. In the few days I’d locked myself in Jennifer’s guest bedroom, Erin and Griffin must have gotten back together.

  Instinct kicked in—fight or flight sent me running for the nearest exit. I turned around and sprinted, pushing people out of my way as I went. Tears streaked down my face and dripped off my cheeks as I sped toward the red exit sign. I was desperate to get away…desperate to start this year all over again.

  Desperate to cut away the pain.

  I slammed my car door shut and broke down. My head slumped against the steering wheel while my body shook uncontrollably. I thought of what Dr. Hoffman had said: Would my parents want me to cry all the time? I tried to command myself to stop. I had no right to cry over someone that wasn’t mine. I was so stupid.

  My phone lay on the passenger’s seat, repeatedly playing Griffin’s text tone. Occasionally, it would play his ring tone. I couldn’t listen to his voice. I’d let myself hope that Griffin was the one, but I was wrong.

  By 12:30 a.m. I had cried myself numb and started the car. When I got home, I parked in my usual spot on the street.

  Jennifer’s house was lit up like a beacon. That meant that Jennifer or Matt was still awake. I stole a peek at my reflection to assess the tear-stained damage to my face. I looked like I’d taken a jog on a manual treadmill in Hell. I hoped whoever was up would just let me go to bed. I was in no mood to talk, or argue.

  Flinging open the car door, I took a very different kind of walk of shame up the paving stones to the front door. After I unlocked the door and let myself in, I was greeted by the shrill voices of overly caffeinated five-year-old twins.

  “Mommy!” Mitchell shouted. “Jillian’s home!”

  “Aunt Jillian!” Michael launched himself onto my leg and held on for dear life.

  “Hi, boys. Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” My voice felt like cotton. I cleared my throat, but that didn’t help.

  “Mommy said we get to stay up until next year.”

  “Yeah! I’m never going to bed!” Mitchell sang as he flung himself off my leg. In his wake, I threw my arms out to the sides and balanced my teetering body against the wall so I wouldn’t fall.

  The boys took off down the hall, chanting, “Never going to bed! Never going to bed! Never going to bed!” at the tops of their lungs.

  It was entirely too late…or too early, for their five-year-old energy. I had started up the stairs when Matt came around the corner. “Jennifer went to bed about ten minutes ago. She wants to see you before you turn in for the night.”

  “Thanks for the message,” I said dejectedly.

  I trudged up the stairs and directly to my room. All I wanted to do was collapse on the bed, but I had to find out what Jennifer wanted.

  I pulled my dress over my head and tossed it in a heap on a chair in the corner of the room. I threw on my favorite two-sizes-too-big sweat pants and a tank top before I padded my way to the bathroom. After pulling my hair into a ponytail, I brushed my teeth and washed my face before gracing Jennifer’s doorway.

  I knocked two times and then pushed the door open. Jennifer was folded so tightly beneath the sheet and comforter there was no way she could have done it herself; I wouldn’t have been surprised if she made Matt tuck her into bed. She lowered her book and stared at me with her dark brown eyes…eerily like my own. We both had Dad’s eyes.

  “Matt said you wanted to see me?” I asked.

  “Griffin called on the landline several times tonight. Did you forget your phone?”

  Griffin knew better than to call Jennifer’s landline. Why wouldn’t he just leave me be? “My phone died before the concert ended. I’m sure he just called to see if I made it back okay,” I lied.

  “Oh. Okay then.” She glanced down at her book, clearly uncomfortable talking to me any longer than necessary.

  “Okay then. Good night, Jennifer. Happy New Year.” I stepped away from the doorframe, and was just about to close the door when I heard Jennifer say something. I poked my head back around. “Did you say something?”

  “Happy New Year,” she replied stiffly.

  Even though she sounded like a robot, I appreciated the sentiment. I knew how difficult it was for her to say that to me. I gave her a halfhearted smile and closed the door. Who knew my hugs were capable of melting Ice Queens?

  Once I shut the door to the guest room, I had no plans of leaving until I left for school. I pulled the comforter up to my chin and burrowed into its downy warmth. All the happiness and love that had filled me earlier was consumed by the urge to find something sharp.

  I just needed a tiny release.

  My mind cataloged all the sharp, pointy objects contained in my sewing kit: scissors, straight pins, seam rippers, an X-ACTO knife. It wouldn’t hurt if I just…. I’d feel better.

  Over and over, my mind cycled through the list of bloodletters until my eyes closed, and I fell into oblivion.

  * * *

  “Bean…” A breathy whisper tickled across my ear like a feather. I lifted a heavy arm and swiped at the feather with my hands.

  “Jillibean, time to wakey-wakey,” his voice rumbled.

  “Ugh…” I pulled the comforter over my head and rolled to the other side. “No,” I growled.

  The bed shifted and I realized I wasn’t alone anymore. A strong, tattooed arm squeezed my middle, pulling me closer. God, this hurt. Why was he here anyway?

  “You awake?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “You gonna to talk to me?” He squeezed my waist again.

  I shook my head no.

  “Ok
ay, then.” He kicked off his boots, pulled the comforter from under his butt, and threw it over the top of him. “Might as well make myself comfortable then.”

  For what seemed like an eternity, I listened to the rhythmic in and out of Griffin’s breaths. His fingers gently stroked my hair. What was there to say?

  Obviously nothing.

  “Red, huh? I like it,” he said, pulling a red streak from the blond rat’s nest that was my hair. “I bet there was no shortage of guys trying to get with you last night.”

  At least my head still knew how to communicate, shaking left and right.

  “Please, Bean. Talk to me. I’ve tried reaching you all day. You probably have fifty text messages from me by now.”

  With his arm still draped over me, I rolled onto my side to face him. The space between our noses probably measured just over two inches. My eyes roamed over the planes of his face, avoiding his eyes, and the rejection I was sure to find there.

  Griffin’s hand shifted from my waist to my arm. His fingertips pressed lightly on my skin as his hand traveled toward my shoulder…my neck…my cheek. In the wake of his fingertips, a trail of heat flared on my skin, sending need through my body. Why is he doing this? What about Erin?

  I pulled my hand from beneath the covers and stilled his thumb from circling across my cheek. My heavy eyes couldn’t resist the pull from his penetrating gaze any longer.

  I looked at him.

  Griffin’s pupils eclipsed the brown of his irises. His stare communicated a lifetime of unspoken words…not the rejection I’d expected.

  I didn’t want to think anymore. I wanted to feel. I mentally snipped the thread that led to my brain and decided to listen to what my heart wanted instead.

  I moved my hand to his chin. He hadn’t shaved. The stubble scratched against my fingertips, leaving a tingling sensation behind. Griffin closed his eyes and let out a breath. He didn’t stop me.

  My fingers continued their trail up his face until my hand firmly rested against his cheek. He exhaled again like it was the first time he’d ever been given the chance.