The Right Man

by Mankin, Michelle

  “Did you sell photos to Carter Besille?”

  Her eyes widened and filled with tears. “What photos?”

  “I’m not a fool. I saw the texts.”

  “I don’t know what you saw.” Trembling now, she hugged her arms around herself, so tragically beautiful in her black dress.

  So seemingly tragic. I hardened my heart. I had to.

  I’d been played. Every warning about her replayed through my mind. All of them were right.

  “You won’t admit it?” I asked.

  A single tear slid down her face. “I didn’t do anything except love you.”

  I was such a sucker for her, even now, it was hard not to look at her and believe her.

  I made a harsh disbelieving sound. “It’s over, Jewel. You got what you wanted. No more financial worries. Us at the end. And I got what I deserved for being a fool.”

  “Brad . . .” She turned to him, and that was the final straw for me.

  “Get out.”

  “I think you’re making a mistake, Rush.” That came from my manager.

  “Yeah, well, you’re the expert at cleaning up mistakes for me.” I barked out a scornful laugh, not sure who I was more pissed at. Him . . . or myself. “So take my latest one, and the two parasites she invited here, off the premises. Make sure they stay away. All of them. And then maybe I won’t add you to today’s list of mistakes.”

  Chapter 42

  * * *

  Jewel

  Cam wired me money to get a flight back to Los Angeles.

  In a daze, wearing my taffeta dress and no coat, I noticed fewer stares than I would have expected. A crushed girl in a funeral dress . . . who wanted to take that on? No one, not a single person, attempted to engage in conversation with me.

  Sure, Carter Besille attempted to contact me many, many times. He had my cell number. The pictures of Rush and his mother were from my phone. The texts from me supposedly demanding more money, they were all there. The trail pointed to me. I was guilty in Rush’s eyes.

  Except I hadn’t done it.

  And where was the money Carter had paid?

  I didn’t know, though I was pretty sure I knew who’d set me up.

  Back home in the apartment, I crawled underneath the covers in the bed Rush’s money had bought, and Cam tried to get me to talk to her. Hourly at first, in the beginning. Hourly, in those early days, I thought about calling Rush.

  But would he even take my call? And if he did, what could I say that would convince him to believe me?

  Days passed. Weeks.

  I went through all the stages, grieving for the love I’d briefly had and then lost.

  My body ached. My mind reeled. My heart hurt. The blackout curtain on the window made it difficult to tell when the sun was up or down. The world continued to spin. Time rolled on, though it felt like my world had ended.

  During all that time, the same thoughts ran on repeat, torturing me, stealing my sleep, making it impossible to work, to eat, to be a friend, to have a life.

  Our arrangement . . . all of me, without holding back.

  A deal I should never have struck . . . had struck me in the end.

  Loving him had left me in pieces. Predictably.

  I didn’t try to forget. I couldn’t forget. I replayed it all in my mind, punishing myself for being such a fool.

  No processing. No moving on. No painting.

  No escaping through dreams. After all, dreams were for the deserving.

  And all I had left were what-ifs.

  Chapter 43

  * * *

  Rush

  I stayed in Indiana for a while. Every day, I returned to the cemetery, a ritual that helped me cope.

  Brad redeemed himself keeping the photographers at bay during these visits, at first hiring off-duty cops for security. Then, as media interest to see me at my lowest waned, it was just him and one bodyguard. They remained at the cemetery gate while I sat on a stone bench beside my parents’ grave markers.

  I didn’t have much to say to them. I didn’t talk about Jewel, couldn’t talk about her. But I did talk about the past.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” I told him. “Sorry I never got to tell you I loved you. Sorry I wasn’t a better son.”

  When time ran out with my dad, so many words left unsaid, all that was left was regret. Alone in the windswept cemetery, I didn’t hold back the tears. They slid down my face, the only warmth to be had in that cold place.

  “I miss you, Mom.” I stared at her fresh grave through wet, blurry eyes. “I miss you both.”

  Apologies were my constant refrain. It all became very simple what was most important. Love and the absence of it when you had nothing left.

  My phone sat on the bench beside me, but I ignored it. It often lit up with messages. From my boss. My bandmates.

  But never Jewel. Of course, never her.

  In the beginning, every time the phone rang, I’d hoped it would be her. But hope was something that she brought. I didn’t know how to find my way to it without her.

  Loss consumed me, an overwhelming deprivation I couldn’t process. I didn’t play my guitar. I avoided everything that reminded me of her. That meant avoiding everything in my life.

  I couldn’t look out my bedroom window at the farm. It was an empty frame without her beauty to fill it. I couldn’t lie in the bed where she’d comforted me. I couldn’t stomach the knowing glances from my brother, my sister-in-law, or Brad. I certainly didn’t turn on the TV to watch the media pick apart the remains of my life as if it were carrion.

  Desperate for a change of scenery, I checked into a hotel. Days turned to weeks as we did what needed to be done to put my mother’s affairs to rest. Alone each night, there was no rest for me. I tossed and turned. Pretended I was over Jewel. Pretended I didn’t miss her.

  Yet whenever I closed my eyes, I could see her in my mind, taste her, smell her, feel her. Every minute with her had been an eternity to savor. Every minute without her felt like an eternity to endure.

  All that I’d had with her had been a lie. But that lie was better than any truth I’d ever known.

  Chapter 44

  * * *

  Jewel

  “Eat something.” Cam frowned at me.

  “I’m not hu—”

  “Don’t say it. I’m sick of you saying it. Sick of you sitting on that bed, acting like your life has ended.”

  I blinked slowly, focusing on her. Hands-on-her-hips mad, her green eyes flashing irritation, she was dressed up to go out.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To work.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes. One of us has to work, honey.”

  “But—” I glanced around at the things his money had bought, and only in that moment realized how many were missing.

  “I sold the TV,” she said. “The espresso machine, the electronics.”

  “What about the money I gave you?” The cash from my first night with him. That was the only money I’d accepted. I couldn’t take any after that. It wouldn’t have been right.

  “It went toward last month’s rent.” Her brow creased in concern as she studied me. “Wanda raised our rate this month. Don’t you remember me telling you?”

  I shook my head. It felt stuffy, as though it were filled with all the tissues that littered the floor around my bed. Had she told me that yesterday? Or had it been the day before that? Time barely had any meaning when time was all you had left.

  “She heard about all the deliveries. She’s also seen me carry stuff out. I don’t think she knows about you and him. But she’s got the idea that we’re flush.”

  “Let me get dressed.” Trying to stand, I swayed and reached back for the mattress to steady myself.

  Cam’s frown deepened. “I don’t think you’re up to it. Maybe if you move around a little more. Stop thinking about him. Eat something.”

  “I don’t—” I swallowed to moisten my dry throat. We didn’t speak his name. “I don’
t think about him.”

  “But you do.” She shook her head sadly. “You cry out for him in your sleep.”

  I dropped my head. Strands of my tangled hair fell forward, along with a couple of warm tears. How could I have any left?

  “I’m sorry.” I swiped through the wetness. “I’ve let things slide.”

  “It’s okay, Jewel. I want to throat-punch him, but I understand how you feel. I’ve been there.”

  She opened her arms, and I fell into them.

  “Softies, you and me. But we have each other, and we learn from our mistakes, right?” She squeezed me close for a moment, then stepped back to give me a searching glance.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. While I’m gone, I want you to take a shower. Wash your hair. Maybe paint something.”

  I vehemently shook my head. The last thing I’d painted was him and me. My Christmas present to him.

  Cam sighed. “You just can’t sit around wallowing anymore. I need you. It’s lonely without my best friend. When I get back, we’ll talk some more.”

  A billowy scarf trailing down the length of her spine, Cam left the apartment. Her perfume lingered in the air long after she closed the door.

  Feeling guilty about her worry for me, I did the things she suggested. And more.

  I cleaned the apartment. It didn’t take long, but I had to sit down to catch my breath. I’d let things go too far. I found some crackers and a jar of peanut butter, and made myself eat. But the food sat heavy in my stomach.

  Over the next few hours, my stomach started to cramp, and Cam didn’t return. I had a bad feeling. And then I got the phone call.

  When I jumped up to pull on my clothes, the room spun, but I powered through the dizziness. I had to be strong.

  I grabbed my purse and dashed out the door.

  • • •

  Rush

  “I can’t put off Timmons any longer,” Brad said.

  “Why the fuck not?”

  In the driver’s seat of his rental car, he cut the ignition, turned, and gave me his pissed-off look. “She’s the boss, Rush. Even with her releasing the songs you recorded over the break as singles, you’re bleeding money. You have to talk to her. We need to go back on tour. You know it, and I know it.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Stop it with the bullshit. It’s over with Jewel. She’s gone.”

  “But—”

  “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.” He gave me a sad look. “But staying here and avoiding everything in your life isn’t about your mom anymore. Not entirely. And you know it.”

  I glanced away. Snow was coming down hard. The trees in the front yard were covered in a heavy white blanket. It felt like I was buried in it, and without her, I couldn’t see a reason to keep digging out.

  “Thanks for driving me over.” I had to force myself to reach for the handle. One step at a time, one breath at a time. Pulling in one, I glanced at the house.

  Randy was going to hit me up for money I didn’t have to save the farm. The reading of the will and the hashing out of the finances today with the lawyers and the family accountant would detail the bleak situation.

  “Want me to go inside with you?”

  I shook my head. “It’s family stuff, not work.”

  “Okay. Call me when you want me to pick you up.”

  I nodded and got out, slammed the door, and trudged up the steps.

  On the porch, a flurry of memories hit me . . .

  My dad pushing open the screen door to greet me, my mom tucked under his arm. They’d always met me together at the door as soon as they heard my car come up the drive. But not anymore. The things that had seemed inconsequential, the ones I’d taken for granted, were now the things I missed the most.

  “Hey,” Randy said, looking harried as I stepped inside. “They’re in the dining room.”

  The Christmas tree was gone, the presents removed. Mine from my mother had been opened at the hotel—a leather-wrapped journal for lyrics I no longer felt inspired to write.

  “Where’s Brenda?” I followed him through the barren living room of the house that meant little to me anymore. The woman who’d made it a home for all of us was gone.

  A murmur of voices rose as I approached the formal space where we’d celebrated so many holiday meals.

  “She’s at her parents’ place,” he said.

  “Shouldn’t she be here?”

  The lawyers in expensive suits and the bespectacled accountant glanced up as we entered the room. Papers were strewn all over the glossy surface of the mahogany table.

  “I sent her away.” Randy ran a hand through his hair, avoiding my eyes. “We’re separating.”

  Stunned, I took a step back. “Why?”

  “I didn’t know, Rush. It’s on Brenda why she did what she did. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” My nostalgia faded, replaced by a sour feeling in my gut.

  Randy’s bleak gaze finally met mine. “They found a cash discrepancy. Twenty thousand dollars in the farm account that never should have been there. I’ll let them explain.”

  Chapter 45

  * * *

  Jewel

  Getting Cam back to the apartment from the hospital was no easy task. She was groggy from the pain meds, and I was weak from letting myself go and letting my best friend down.

  Sitting on my bed, I glanced over at hers.

  “No. Stop,” she mumbled, agitated as she rolled over, even in her sleep.

  My stomach clenched, knotted tighter by guilt. I stood and leaned over. With twin beds instead of cots, there was less than a foot between us. I reached for the comforter that had slid to her waist.

  “It’s okay, Cam.” I pulled up the comforter and tucked it around her, avoiding her broken arm.

  Tears pricked my eyes. The matter-of-fact accounting she’d given the hospital staff made my heart break for her, a heart I’d thought couldn’t break any more.

  I stroked a long strand of her hair back from her forehead and pressed a gentle kiss to her brow. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered to her, vowing to myself as I’d already sworn to her out loud that I would make this right somehow.

  Bone weary, I shuffled to the bathroom and took a shower to scrub off the grime, not only from the hospital, but also from weeks and weeks of just going through the motions.

  Afterward, I gripped the sink to catch my breath, then picked up a comb. Working a tangle from a long russet ribbon of my hair, I stared at myself. You’ve got to toughen up, Jewel.

  Cam had rescued me. She’d been the strong one. This time, it was my turn.

  Back at my bed, I drew a sleep shirt over my head and settled against the padded headboard.

  The furniture and decor Brad had chosen was stylish. Driftwood nightstands, comforters in soft teal, accents in ebony. Problem was, the luxury was out of place in our apartment, much like I’d been out of place in Rush’s life.

  As I reached to switch off the pretty crystal lamp, my gaze stopped on the portrait of my gran.

  “Hey, Gran.” My eyes filled as I whispered to her in the quiet shadowed room. Her beloved features wavered in my watery gaze. “I miss you so much.”

  A lump formed in my throat, keeping me from saying more for several long moments.

  “I messed up with you,” I said after swallowing through my regrets.

  I’d messed up with him too.

  Rush’s accusing gaze at the church had been so much like hers. Even though I hadn’t done what he accused me of, I’d withheld information from him. Maybe if I hadn’t, he would have believed my denial.

  I dropped my chin to my chest. A warm tear trickled down my cheek.

  What was done was done. Being sorry didn’t change things.

  I lifted my head and met my gran’s sympathetic gaze.

  Before I could be a woman worthy of being believed and loved, I had to fix things. I had to fix me.

  A wish, certainly. A se
ed of desire. A dream that required action.

  Another tear fell, slipping down my cheek and sliding between my lips.

  “I’m sorry, Gran, so sorry for what I did. Most of all for how my doing wrong hurt you. I can’t take back what I did. I can’t even hear you accept my apology. But I hope you can forgive me, that you can love me anyway.”

  I pulled in a shuddery breath.

  “But I think you would, because that’s the type of woman you are. You showed me time and time again by your example how I should be. Caring. Forgiving. Generous. Loving. Hardworking.”

  I lifted my chin and swiped the wetness away with the back of my hand.

  “It’s time for me to be like you.”

  • • •

  “Enchanté, beautiful.” Dwight smiled as he crossed the guitar shop to greet me.

  “Hi. Thanks for agreeing to see me.” Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I stood inside the doorway of Norman’s with the handle of my mother’s guitar case clutched tightly in my grip, trying not to cry.

  “Is that it?” His gaze dipped to the instrument. He didn’t comment on my watery eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t wait to have a look at it.” He turned. “Come on back.”

  He gestured for me to follow him. Bypassing the rows of guitars, he led me to the practice room where I’d last seen Shaina, War, and Bryan. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Inside, I placed the case on the bench and let Dwight unlatch it.

  “She’s a beauty,” he said, glancing from the guitar to me. “You even have a picture of your mom and the guitar with Dylan in here. That’ll increase the value dramatically. But are you sure you want to sell?”

  “Yes.”

  I had to. In the shelter Cam and I had been forced to move into without the money for rent, it would only get stolen, and I needed cash to take care of Cam. I needed cash to make things right.