It’s when I lay the photographs out in sequential order, from the beginning of our love story until the day before he died, that I see what Austin had done. Up until now, I saw him as getting closer and closer to a flame, like a moth unable to resist the lure and willing to disregard his own health just to immerse himself in the brightness of its rays. But now I was seeing something else. Maybe it’s Tarin’s confession or finally being alone with my thoughts that’s doing it, but my vision clears and I see something else defining Austin’s last days.
As Austin got closer and closer to the flames, by degrees getting nearer and nearer to the thing that would destroy him, he pushed Scott and me away. He distanced himself from the ones he loved most. At the time I thought he was rejecting us, telling us in a very ineloquent way that we were no longer welcome in his life. But when I look very closely at the pictures of him, when the camera catches him staring at his little brother with longing and a certain sadness, I notice something different. A new emotion comes to the surface and nearly strangles me.
Austin wasn’t rejecting us. He was saving us. He was saving us from the thing that he knew would burn him up in the end.
And then I cry some more.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I WAKE UP THE NEXT morning, and after putting out all the photos, I look at my texts and emails. Scott is to the point of begging me to call, so I wipe the stale tears off my face and press the speed dial.
“Hey,” I say. I sound like I’m half asleep, but I’m too disinterested to pep myself up and pretend I’m interested in talking to him or anyone else.
“Oh my god. She’s alive! It’s a miracle!”
“Shut up.”
“Seriously. I’m so glad you didn’t jump off a bridge. I have so many questions for you right now.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“Like how many calories should Tarin be eating a day? Josh wants to know. And can he go to Gary Nash’s premier or should he decline? Jelly’s off the hook. Should I keep her away? And what about Tarin in the studio? Do you think I should force him?”
“I take it Mel was okay with you taking over.”
“He wasn’t excited about it, but he understood. You must have unloaded a hell of a guilt trip on him. If it was anything like the one you sent me on, I completely get why he signed everything over.”
I sigh heavily. “Can I go now?”
“Hell no, you can’t go. Answer my questions, woman.”
“Fine. Twenty-five hundred, yes to the premier, do what you think about Jelly, and yes to the studio. You should go in there with him.”
“Really? You mean that?”
“Yes, I meant all of it.”
“Do you still hate me?”
“I could never hate you. I could feel betrayed for a little while, but I’ll get over it.”
He breathes out a long sigh of relief. “Good. Because I really don’t like hanging out in Chicago, but I’m coming back there after finishing with Tarin. Roomies forever, Scar. Or until I find me a lady love, that is.”
A big part of me doesn’t want to know, but I ask anyway. I can’t help it. “How’s he doing?”
Silence.
“If you don’t want to tell me, just say so. I know I walked away. I don’t expect anyone to keep me in the loop. I was just wondering.”
“He’s having a rough time if you really want to know. He feels guilty.”
“Well, he should.” I’m angry again.
“Oh, come on. That’s total bullshit and you know it.”
I’m taken aback by the vehemence of his tone. “How so? He was there, Scott. He was there. In Austin’s last minutes.”
“Yeah. I know. And it just as easily could have been me, all right? I saw Austin do stupid shit like that all the time. We never know when it’s going to be too much or going too far, do we?”
His words echo around in my head, bumping into another memory. Tarin said the same thing once, when we first met on the boat, I think. That was the guilt talking.
“So. When you see someone doing that and you know it’s going to be bad, you stop them.”
“We didn’t. We didn’t stop him.”
I can’t answer that. I guess I’m just as guilty as everyone else.
“Goodbye, Scott.”
“Wait! I have more questions.”
“You don’t need me anymore. Figure out the answers on your own. You can do it.” I hang up and go back to bed. It’s ten in the morning and I’m too exhausted to go on with my day.
Chapter Forty
THE DOORBELL RINGS ANOTHER WEEK into my self-imposed bed rest. I blow it off, knowing that if I ignore the maids and delivery people long enough, they’ll go away and leave me alone. But this person is persistent. Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong … The pain in the ass is banging on the door with a fist now.
I drag myself out of bed and shuffle to the front door. “Jesus, Mary, and Jerome, I’m coming! Keep your damn pants on.” I look through the peephole, and stop breathing for a couple seconds when I see who it is.
“Come on, Scar, let me in. I know you’re there.”
“Go away, Jack! I don’t even know why you came here.”
“Of course you know. I’m here to help. Open the door or I’ll get someone in maintenance to let me in.”
“This isn’t an apartment complex, you big jerk. No one has a key but me.”
“Fine. I’ll just sleep out here in the hallway. Hopefully your neighbors don’t mind me singing.” He plays an acoustic rendition of Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones, his ragged, deep voice seeping through the door and turning my heart into a painful rock in my chest. I should open the door, but the lyrics and his voice bring me to my knees. I stay on the opposite side of the door, weeping onto the marble floor. Alone while ignoring all my responsibilities and the people I’ve left behind I can manage. Hearing Jack singing those words as I disappoint everyone I care about … this I cannot manage.
I know he’s just on the other side of the door from me, sitting with his back against it. I hear his shirt sliding around on the surface. He uses his knuckles and heavy silver rings to tap on the door when he’s done. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away, babe. Just open the door. You know you’re going to eventually.”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone, Jack?” I’m crying through the words. That song has always been special but now it means way too much. It’s too applicable to my life and I’ve always thought of it as melancholy.
“Because … you need me. And friends don’t leave friends when they’re in need like this.”
I’ve left people who needed me before. I torture myself with this knowledge, but I don’t share it because I don’t want him talking me down off the ledge I’m on. I want to skip and trip along the edge of it until I lose all my remaining strength and plunge into the abyss. I’m beginning to believe that dying could be so much easier than living.
“In the mood for a little Elton John?”
I stand up and open the door as he launches into his a capella rendition of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. He falls onto the front entrance floor, flat on his back, smiling up at me. He’s left his eyeliner off but his reddish brown hair is still a crazy mess like it always is. He’s always what I imagined an Irish guy to look like, with the addition of a full upper body of tattoos.
“What? No Elton John?” He grins big, his blue eyes practically twinkling he’s so pleased with himself.
I kick him gently in the side of the head. “No.” I leave him for the kitchen and get out a glass. Four gulps of water later and my voice is ready to work again. He hauls his duffle bag and guitar case in the door and then joins me there.
I launch into him, hoping a very cold welcome will get rid of him before he gets too comfortable. “I really don’t appreciate you just showing up here. You weren’t invited for a reason.”
“Actually, Scott invited me. And if you’d bother to pick up your phone once in a while, you’d have gotten my advance notice.
I actually hoped you’d pick me up from the airport. I got mauled by a group of chicks at the baggage claim. I almost lost a nipple piercing the painful way.” He rubs his chest for emphasis.
I snort. “Yeah, right.” I hold out my hand. “Hand me my phone. I’ll call you a taxi to take you back.”
He picks my cell up off the counter. “Nah. I’m gonna stay in Chicago for a while, I think.” He’s scrolling through my messages. “Hmmm... Looks like Tarin really wants to talk to you.” He looks up at me, his expression all innocence. “Is he your boyfriend or something?”
I jump up and lean far over the counter to snatch it from his hands. I shut the screen off without looking at it and put it back down on the counter. When I’m back on my feet in the kitchen I answer his questions. “No. He’s most definitely not my boyfriend.” I try not to look at the phone, but my eyes keep getting pulled over to it like they’re being controlled by the texts there.
“Did you have sex with him?”
My mouth drops open and I sputter. The good news is that I’m finally able to stop fixating on the stupid phone; the bad news is that Jack is so far up into my business he needs a good slapping with my boxing gloves. “What the … Jack! That is none of your business!”
“I’ll take that as a yes. I thought you had a rule about not sleeping with clients.” He leans on the counter with his forearms, taking up a completely casual stance as he stares into my eyes.
My usual smartass, sharp remarks aren’t leaping to mind. All I can do is stare back at him with my ears and cheeks burning.
“I can see how you’d want that rule in place. Sex complicates things. When you and I were working together, trust me, I wanted to sleep with you. There’s something very attractive about a heroine. You want to be closer to the person who’s there pulling you out of the darkness, you know? But I get it … that you can’t do that.” He traces patterns in the granite countertop with his fingers, not looking at me anymore. “So what I’m wondering is, why him? I mean, what makes Tarin so special that you’d throw that rule away?” He looks up again and stares at me. There’s hurt there in his expression.
Tears come to my eyes. I can’t believe I made such a horrible, horrible mistake. And with Tarin of all people. Why hadn’t I slept with Jack? He’s a much better person. He didn’t let Austin die. I can’t respond because nothing running through my mind is making sense right now. I would never sleep with Jack. I just don’t feel that way about him. That just goes to show how stupid I am.
“Scott thinks you like Tarin because he reminds you of Austin, but I don’t see it that way.” Jack narrows his eyes in concentration, nodding a little, tapping his finger on the stone. “Nah. He’s his own man. Definitely more intense than Austin. And I know the world’s seen some of the worst of Tarin lately, but deep down inside, I think he’s more careful than Austin was. He doesn’t give himself away that easy. When he slept with you, I guarantee it, it was a big deal for him. You’re not a groupie. You’re the real deal.”
“First of all, I didn’t admit to sleeping with Tarin. And Austin didn’t give himself away easy.” I’m angry that he’s talking about Austin like this. His attempts at making me feel okay about what Tarin and I did together are falling on deaf ears. I wish he wouldn’t waste his time. What’s done is done and nothing he says will change the fact that it was a mistake.
But oh, how my heart hurts even just thinking those words. I don’t want Tarin to have been a mistake. I want … I want … I don’t know what I want. Stupid, traitor heart. Just once in my life I’d like my heart and my brain to be on the same page.
“Yeah, Austin did give himself away easily. Like candy, man. He fell for you as a kid and gave everything to you for a while. It was intense, I’m sure. Kids always love hard and deep. Then he fell for the life of a star, giving that everything he had and leaving you behind. That’s how he went so far so fast … focus. Then he fell for about a thousand groupies who stuck their hands in his pants. He was like a puppy running around, distracted by squirrels. Zero focus after he left you behind. Selfish. You deserved much better.”
Steam is practically coming out of my ears. “You’re really lucky that you’re on the other side of this counter from me. You have no right to talk about Austin like that.” I consider taking a knife out of the drawer and waving it around but I don’t bother because I know I don’t have the lady balls to use it against him. He knows me well enough that he’d laugh at me even pretending like I’m going to cut him.
Jack smiles slowly. “What are you gonna do? Beat me up? Show me who’s boss?”
I don’t dignify his mocking with a response. He keeps talking even while knowing how much he’s upsetting me. I totally hate him right now.
“Listen, if you want my opinion…”
“I don’t, Jack. I really, really don’t.” I clamp my teeth together, the fury barely contained.
“…I’d say that Tarin is a better man, comparing the two. When he dedicates himself to something, there’s no going back. And he’s a grown-up. Austin was a child.”
“Tarin is no saint,” I spit out at him.
“Oh, no argument from me there. He’s a sinner from the word go. But that doesn’t mean he’s not a good person.”
“Yes, actually, it does.”
Jack starts moving around the counter separating us.
“Stay away, Jack.”
Of course he ignores me. “There’s a difference between sins of the body and sins of the soul. Besides, we all sin once in a while. Even you.”
“That’s just semantics. Sins are sins. I’ve made my mistakes, I know I’m not perfect.” I back up away from him as he rounds the last corner. My butts rams into the handle of the oven, stopping me in my tracks.
He quits walking when he’s a foot away, staring me down with those stupid blue eyes of his. His freckles should make him look like a little girl, but he’s annoying enough to make them all a part of his sex appeal. I really, really hate him for that right now. I’ve always had a hard time staying mad at cute guys when they’re really persistent. It was Austin’s greatest talent - convincing me to love him when I wanted to slap him.
“You can lie to me all day and all night about how you feel about Tarin and Austin. Doesn’t matter. I’m still going to love you. But don’t lie to yourself, okay, babe? You deserve better than that.” He reaches up and takes my hands, holding just my fingers. “How come you never let yourself have what you deserve? Why are you always settling for so much less?”
Tears leak out of my eyes despite my best efforts to keep them in. “Jack, I didn’t ask you to come here, and I don’t want you to be here. I don’t know what your issue is with me just trying to be alone, but that’s what I want. To be alone.”
He closes the distance between us and drops my fingers to wrap his arms around me. I struggle to get away, but he holds on.
“Stop fighting me, you wild banshee. I’m just hugging you.” He grunts when I punch him in the ribs, but he doesn’t let go.
When I realize I’m going to hurt him and he’s just going to stand there and let me, I quit fighting. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” My body starts shaking. Sobs are coming up from somewhere deep inside me because I know the answer to my question. He loves me and he wants me to know it. But I don’t want to know it. I don’t want to feel any love in this apartment; I just want the cold, sterile feel of its emptiness to fill and surround me. That’s what I’ve been telling myself for these past two weeks and I keep trying to tell myself now. But then the warmth of his arms seeps into the ice surrounding my heart and a thaw begins. The melted ice comes out as tears. I remember how good it feels to be held and remember that I really don’t like living in the cold.
He rests his chin on my head as I soak the front of his shirt with my sorrow. “I know you’re hurting, babe. I get it. You need to get through the pain of remembering and realizing not-very-nice things about the guy you loved. But you shouldn’t do that alone. Someone really smart
about people told me that. No one should hurt alone. Otherwise, you start thinking crazy things like you really are alone in the world and then you start wondering whether life is worth living.” He pulls away a little to look down at me. “Don’t go there, Scar, okay? You mean so much to me, to Scott, to all the other guys you’ve helped. Do you know what the music industry would look like today without you? So many songs would be missing. So many emotional connections not made. Don’t throw that away.”
I try to push him off me, but he’s not ready to go anywhere. He’s stuck like glue.
“I don’t care about the music industry or any of those people,” I say, my voice a raspy mess. “I just want to be left alone.” I’m lying. I know I’m lying, but I can’t stop. I want to punish myself for failing. Failing Austin, failing Scott, and failing Tarin too.
“Oh, bullshit. Do you see who you’re talking to? You saved my life. No sense trying to pretend you didn’t, either. You care about music and you care about the people who make it. And I know Tarin’s as grateful as I am that you feel that way. You’re a good person, Scarlett. It’s okay that you fell down. Everyone does once in a while. The important thing is to get back up so you can fight another day. Charlie wouldn’t want you staying down on the mat like this.”
Thoughts of Charlie make me feel embarrassed about my self-pity. I sag against him, all the fight gone for now. Besides, I’m too tired to keep it up in the face of Jack’s complete denial. The idiot thinks I walk on water and can do no wrong. He’ll never see the real me - the weak one who fools herself about people and refuses to see what’s right in front of her face. I hate that Austin’s ghost is still haunting me but now he’s turned into a dark specter instead of the vision of light I always saw him as. It makes me feel truly alone for the first time since he died.