Moment(s)

  “I like it,” Katie, the make-up artist says, her blonde hair grazing his forehead when she reaches for a bottle from the counter. “Now they want you nice and moisturized, with a little shaping of your eyebrows.”

  Kasen looks in the mirror and rubs his chin. “I’m a little pale lately.” His very dark chin. “Can you give me a little tint?”

  She swats him with a towel. “I’m doing Julian. He’s quieter.”

  He laughs. “Doing?”

  Her eyes widen, mouth drops open.

  Kasen gives me a look when she turns to me. He mouths, “Likes you.”

  In a huff, she tilts my head up, dabs some white stuff on my cheeks, and rubs it in.

  I try to ignore him, closing my eyes against his gesturing. He clears his throat.

  Shite. “No, Kasen.”

  “Here,” Katie says and hands me a tissue. “Your eyes are wet.”

  Kasen perks up when I take the tissue. No, I wasn’t crying. She’d plucked a little from my eyebrows, and of course my eyes watered.

  I haven’t let myself cry since the day I left Emilie.

  Aye, and Katie says I’m quiet. She’s new to the team so she doesn’t know that’s not usual for me. I have to keep quiet now. If I open my mouth too much, what’s going on in my head might come out. There’s no sense in worrying everybody.

  More than they already are. They ask questions then blame my silence on a broken heart. But me, this, everything that’s happened—it’s just too close. There aren’t words to make anyone understand.

  A broken heart is what I have? No. It feels like my heart is leaking. A diseased, leaking organ with a constant ache. Every once in a while my chest gives me a sting. And sometimes it burns like being held to a flame.

  A long time ago I would’ve called a doctor, thinking I’m truly sick. But now I know. My heart isn’t broken. My soul is.

  Katie blusters around me a while, chats with Kasen, and then leaves me when someone else comes in to do my hair. I pull out my little notebook and stare at the newest bit of lyrics I’ve written.

  Aye, an aching heart makes a brain work harder I guess. Or maybe it’s the shortage of blood flow. But I’ve written five songs now. One I made into an acoustic video and sent it to Lauren. I’ve sent her the lyrics to all the songs, but I wonder if she’ll like any of them. She might toss the whole lot out, calling them too dark. I don’t care, do I?

  I’ll call this one “Destroyed.”

  “Your hair is always easy, but not as easy as Kasen’s,” the lady says.

  Kasen cracks up again.

  “All done,” she says. “Leona needs you in wardrobe.”

  “Where’s that?” I ask.

  “I’ll show you.” Kasen stands.

  But he’s—I notice he’s at his chair by himself. I guess he’s been done for a while now. Maybe my mind isn’t working that well. Maybe my heart’s infecting it.

  “Thanks, mate.”

  Katie is standing on the other side of the door when Kasen pushes it open. I give her a little wave. “We’re done. Thank you.”

  “Um, Julian.” She grips my arm then let’s go when I stare down at it. “Sorry. I just wanted to tell you I really loved your Super Bowl performance. You’re a great singer.”

  “Thank you,” I say again. Kasen nudges me. I turn and scowl at him. He thinks the quickest way to get over someone is find someone else. What I haven’t told him is that the thought of being with another girl puts me off my lunch.

  Rubbing my burning chest, I brush by her. I’ll find the blasted wardrobe by myself if he’s going to stand around acting like a choob.

  But I can’t be angry. He doesn’t know what his pushing does to me. Because I don’t talk. Emilie used to be jealous of the way I could say whatever. She can stop being jealous now.

  I stop on the worn path between the trailers and rub my chest harder.

  Kasen runs into me—“Hello.”—and grabs my shoulder. “You okay? Slow it down, Julian. In through the mouth and out your nose.”

  I didn’t realize I was panting. Forcing my hands back to my sides, I continue to the trailer marked Wardrobe. “I’m all right.”

  “Sure?” He gets around me and stands in front of the door.

  “Aye.”

  He rolls his black eyes. “Come on. Just talk to me, man.”

  A nice role reversal.

  “I said I’m all right.” I reach around him and jerk the door open.

  “There he is,” Luke says. “Julian, we have to wear vests. Do you?”

  When I walk in, Parker is holding a clothing bag inscribed with my name. “I found it.”

  “Lemme see,” Luke says, and makes his way through the racks toward his brother.

  Kasen growls and shuts the door behind me. “You’re gonna have to speak up some day. What about Lauren flying in tomorrow? I smell a therapy talk coming.”

  The last time I saw Lauren was after Doug was arrested. A damage control visit.

  Black, no-nonsense Leona walks through a rack of clothes and pulls my clothing bag from Luke’s hands. “Over here, Julian. Chop, chop.”

  Luke eyes me. “When I had to go for counseling, the order came from management.”

  I fiddle with my buttons to take my shirt off.

  “I’ll get it.” Leona reaches for my neck. “I’m faster, and ya’ll are behind schedule.”

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  Leona’s hands pause then go back to unbuttoning. “I don’t mind, Julian. These buttons are tight—I’ll get it.”

  “No, I mean—nevermind.”

  “Lauren knows you were close to Doug, Jules,” Luke says from the other side of Leona.

  “So was Kasen.” I shrug my shirt off. Leona takes a gray-and-white striped shirt from the hanger and holds it out for me. I hold my arms out, and she slides it on.

  “You were closer,” Luke says. “Blimey, Julian. How can you act like you’re not worse off? You lost your dream girl and your uncle…ish.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a few deep breaths. “I’m not acting like anything.” I unclasp my trousers and let them drop, then bring my hands to the buttons of my new shirt. “Just leave it alone, all right?”

  “No,” Leona says and slaps my hands away. “You have it cock-eyed, Julian.”

  “I’ll fix it. Just give me my trousers.” I’m not bashful, but I’m getting goose pimples standing around in nothing but my boxers.

  “Why doesn’t he have to wear a vest?” Parker asks.

  “Here’s one,” Luke says and grabs my hand, shoving my arm in a bright purple vest. “Go to a counselor. It’s great fun. I cheesed the man off at least once each visit.”

  My chest stings again, and now my lungs don’t feel big enough.

  Leona’s slaps Luke away. “He’s not wearing that.”

  “Not fair,” Parker says.

  Luke isn’t listening, though. She holds dark brown trousers out for me to step into. Luke pulls my other arm back and slides the vest on.

  “Give the dude some space,” Kasen says. “And I think he’s supposed to wear suspenders.”

  “Braces,” Luke corrects.

  Kasen jerks his head around. “What?”

  Leona pulls my trousers up and sets to buckling them.

  I shoo her away. “I got it.”

  She straightens up and eyes my shirt. Tilting my chin up, she fiddles with the buttons under my neck. I blindly work at the slide hook on my trousers.

  “Yes, space would be great, lads.” My neck and ears burn. I finish up with my trousers and rub my flaming chest.

  “That is ugly,” Luke says and tugs at my shoulder.

  I shrug out of the vest and grab Leona’s hands. “Please let me get the buttons.”

  For the first time ever, I think I’m getting Emilie’s claustrophobia.

  “I have to get out of here.” I storm out of the trailer, barefoot and my shirt hanging open below the chest.

  Kasen comes out a minute later. “We
thought you might need some shoes,” he says. “And your phone. Doug called.”

  He’s like clockwork. Once every day. At first I ignored the calls. But it’s not his fault something’s wrong in his head. And he did let…Emilie is alive.

  Kasen jumps when my mobile vibrates in his outstretched hand.

  I scoop it up. May as well get it over with—I never know how many calls they’ll give him at the pokey. “Hello.”

  After the collect call prompt is over, Doug says, “Hey, Jules.”

  “Hey.”

  Silence. Breathing.

  “Don’t you have the video today?” he asks. “Or is it the photo shoot?”

  “Doug, you know I’m not supposed to tell.” Of course he can’t harm us now, but they say he could have connections.

  “Yeah…I just like keeping up with you boys. You know I never meant you no harm.”

  I try not to sigh while I wait for him to give me his usual spiel: he loves us, misses us, he never meant to hurt that kid in Las Vegas.

  That’s the only crime he’ll admit to committing.

  “We’re at the photo shoot today.” I truly don’t think he would’ve ever hurt us. Or maybe he would have. Who knows how a cracked mind works? But I haven’t given us lads up. He still thinks we’re shooting in Stone Mountain, Georgia. Plans changed, though, and he doesn’t know. I still can’t believe we’re thirty minutes from Alexandria. The fates are really trying to torture me.

  “I miss you boys.”

  My throat swells. I want to shout at him. In truth, I have many times already. Why couldn’t he have sorted stuff before he flipped out? I still find myself turning to look for him, ready to ask him a question, ask for help.

  The door to the trailer slings open, and Parker comes out. “They’re set up.”

  Oh, thank the heavens. “I have to go,” I say and ring off.

  “Busy day today,” Luke calls over his shoulder.

  Being busy is much better than sitting around. Thinking only results in writing songs with titles like “Destroyed,” “Crying Heart,” and “Stupid Me.”

  “You know he’s not supposed to call,” Kasen says.

  “Don’t tell anyone.” I follow Luke and Parker.

  Kasen tugs on my shirt. “How is he?”

  I walk faster. “Behind bars. How do you think he is?” Why am I being a horse’s arse? “Gah! I’m sorry, mate.”

  “No biggie.” He shrugs. “You just need some shut-eye, and I’m not talking about the kind where you pass out in those hard-as-hell hotel chairs. In my room.”

  “I’ll stay out of your room then.”

  “I don’t care about you being in— Just go to the stupid therapist, if only to get back on the sleep meds. You know management is gonna make you anyway.”

  “I’m all right.”

  He gets in front of me and walks backward. “You keep telling yourself that, Jules. While you’re at it, you can pretend that it didn’t take you twice as long in make-up too. Those circles under your eyes aren’t doing you any favors, my friend.”

  Finally we get to the shoot site, the base of a cliff. Luke and Parker chat with the lighting people.

  Kasen looks up at the clear skies and scowls. “Has she called yet?”

  He keeps asking—so does Parker—but I’m positive Emilie won’t call. “You’d know if she had.”

  I think she always knew we couldn’t last; she must’ve dropped a hundred hints…doesn’t have to last forever to be perfect. I’m still trying to get to the part where I appreciate our perfect but short relationship.

  And I’m still rubbing my stinging chest when they arrange us around the mountainside.

  The shoot goes about as smoothly as getting ready went.

  Chapter 22

  We stumble from the hotel lift, knackered to the bone. I consider lying down. I might actually sleep after pretending to climb, fall and bungie jump from a mountain for half the day.

  I’m just out of the shower when a light knock comes from my door. For a split second, I let myself think it’s her. The lads bang and shout at doors—no little taps from them.

  “Julian, it’s Lauren,” she says, and I open up. “Hi.”

  “What are you doing here? I…We’re not meeting until tomorrow, right?”

  “I just wanted to talk to you before meeting with the rest.” She brushes past me and sits at the table on the other side of the room. “Let me see if I can work this thing. You know anything about Zipads?”

  She swipes her fingers across the screen, and blue and black swirls appear.

  “Aye.” I come over and sit in the chair beside her. “Just wait a sec and the screen saver will go away. See?”

  “Oh, and there’s our contract.” She taps on the file and it opens. “I’m sure you’ve already been told—we’ve gone back and forth enough about it—but we like our contracts to be three or more years.”

  That bed looks so nice right now. “Two years, Lauren. Me and the lads agreed already.”

  “There’s nothing I can say? You’re only gonna give me five years after all, huh?”

  “We might sign another with you after that.” I shrug one sore shoulder. “Who knows?”

  “You know you’re the break-out, right? If there’s anyone who can go solo from here it’s you. I haven’t been so bad to work with, so at least give me first shot when you strike out on your own. Will you?”

  “If I do, I’ll ring you first.” I glance at my bed again.

  “Okay then.” She stands and heads for the door.

  “You’re forgetting your Zipad.”

  She turns on her heel. “It belongs to you.”

  Aw, shite. “Bribery, Lauren? Really?”

  With a laugh, she pulls the door open. “Relax. There’s one for all you boys. I only brought it to you first because—Oh, I almost forgot.”

  I try not to roll my eyes when she comes back in.

  “The last of the files from Mr. DeHaven are on there. Doug is still denying all the Virginia murders, but he’s confirmed for being at the right place for all of them. For two of them, he says he was visiting his family’s gravesites in Alexandria.”

  “Lauren, no offense, but I’ve heard all this. And I’m tired.”

  “Oh, right.” She stares at me a second. “That’s the other thing.”

  “No, I’m not going to see a head doctor. I’m all right.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “I was going to say you did a great job with those illustrations for the book. And as for the songs you’ve been sending, they’re really great. Impressive.”

  “Oh.”

  “Julian, I can’t make you go to therapy. Seriously, I can’t lawfully force you. But you have to consider what happens to people who don’t take care of themselves, especially when something messed up happens like losing a father figure or girlfriend.” She shrugs. “Or your father figure tries to kill your girlfriend and is more successful with six of your fans.”

  “For fuck’s sake!” I drop to the bed. The door closes with a whoosh.

  All right, I’m back to hating her again. I almost wish we were meeting Philip tomorrow instead of her.

  My knee starts jiggling. Sleep is out of the question now. I scowl at the little computer Lauren left, knowing I won’t be able to resist going through those files.

  “All right, all right,” I tell my knee.

  I open up the file titled “Serial Murders” and scroll through the pages. Like always, my mind sticks with the names. All the Virginia boys had broken necks.

  It’s hard not to feel responsible. I missed all the clues. And Emilie’s been put through hell—all because of my body guard.

  If there was only something I could do make the families of those boys feel better. Donate to a funeral fund or something. Nah, they held the funerals long ago. And they don’t want money; they want their kid back.

  Ed Collins, Isaac Willester, Landon Shaw, Ian Norris, Meyer Beal, and Timothy Jones. Emilie’s ex-boyfriend, Mark, won??
?t be included in the list until his body is found. Or after so many years have passed without finding him. Seven, I think.

  There’s a candlelight vigil planned for him this week. It’s his nineteenth birthday. Except he’s dead.

  It’s pure dead hard to believe that the man responsible for it is the same one who kept me safe for three years. But I’ve no choice but to believe it.

  I could go to the vigil. I might see Emilie. It’s at the river she took me to that first night. Och! I’m exactly who she wants to see at her dead boyfriend’s gathering.

  My eyes begin to cross looking at the screen—I already took my contacts out.

  I’m froze up when I try to stand. How long have I really been at this table? I glance down at my phone. Two hours.

  Locating the remote, I flip the T.V. on and stand there, staring at it a while. My gaze lands on my sketchpad resting the nightstand. I almost go to it until I remember whose face is on most of the pages.

  Wait. Maybe I could do something for the families. The boys’ pictures are in those files, apart from Mark’s. I could do a charcoal of each of them. Would these families care? Would they throw it back in my face?

  What I really need to do is sleep. Sleep. Come on, you can do it.

  One hour later I’m still lying in the dark, no more asleep than a prowling wolf. My mind won’t stop thinking about Emilie, Doug, the murdered boys, and their families.

  Shite, just draw them already.

  Switching on the lamp, I get to it.

  ###

  It’s lightly out when my phone buzzes once beside me. A text.

  Kase: You awake?

  Jules: Yeah

  Then my phone is buzzing and buzzing. I pick up.

  “You’re up early,” I say.

  Kasen sighs. “You never went to sleep.”

  “I was—I tried but…did you ring me to fuss?”

  Silence.

  “A little, I guess. Julian, I want you to listen to me, okay?”

  “All right.” What’s stuck in his craw now?

  “I didn’t sleep much either. I’ve been thinking. All those murders could have been done by Doug. He had the opportunity, but something just keeps messing with my head. He was awesome to us. Me and you—boys. He was so awesome that it’s hard to understand how he could kill other boys. I don’t care if his son drove him nuts. In the past three years I’ve spent more time with him than my own dad. And now I keep trying to make Doug…less bad. If he’s less bad then I don’t have to feel so stupid. And that’s just me. I really feel for you. I know how attached you get. You think you hide it, Scottish boy, but I know how sensitive you really are. So if I’m doubting what Doug did, then I know you are.”