Moment(s)
Your bright shining eyes on me
Feels like I’m the one and only
But why can’t you be perfect?
You pull me close whisper in my ear
Your love leaves me nothing to fear
I wish you were flawless
(chorus)
The problem with you
Baby you’re addictive
If you weren’t like a drug
You’d be perfect
It’s every time you kiss my chin
Warm breath on my lips again
Why can’t these moments be perfect?
It’s when you hold my head to your chest
Each time full of love and tenderness
I wish these moments were flawless
(chorus)
The problem with our moments
Baby they’re addictive
If they weren’t like a drug
They’d be perfect
(bridge)
They say we’re young our moments are fleeting
And it doesn’t have to last forever to be perfect
But baby I say our moments are one
Its perfection is in forever
Love isn’t on a clock so don’t set the alarm
(chorus)
The problem with our moments
Baby they’re addictive
If they weren’t like a drug
They’d be perfect
Turn this addiction into a life
Our moment can last forever
I read it again and again, only stopping long enough to wipe my eyes with the already-damp towel. It sticks a bit, but I can’t bring myself to care.
One part of me, the musician side, reads her song and thinks it will be the most vulnerable and raw track we’ve ever had, and there’s no speeding this up. Everything has to be slow with haunting melodies. Piano maybe. The other part of me, the lover, flips a bird at the musician and wants to curl into a corner and cry my eyes out. But not for very long. I want to run as fast as I can (all right, there might still be some crying) all the way to Alexandria.
I flop onto the bed, somehow finding the only place that’s wet from the fizzy. But I don’t care. I can’t care about anything other than these words.
My throat swells and contracts. Emilie, I can’t—Why didn’t you—You could have rung me.
I want to go get her so bad. There’s only one thing stopping me. “Nothing’s changed, Emilie.” I’m still no good for her. I’m still the one who brought her into the chaos that almost killed her. My fault.
Aye, nothing’s changed except I know how she feels about everything now. She doesn’t care that I’ve screwed up her life. So…do I?
If only Doug would have—
If only I’d listened to Luke—
If only I could get out of this business, I’d go and be with her right now. I could stand by her side while she chased her dream. She could live the life she chooses, not the one forced on her because she loved the wrong person.
“Oh God, Emilie.”
But I can’t give that to her. I just signed that contract.
My chest stings. I wipe down my face and read her song again.
My song.
Something she wrote for me, and I can’t go to her. Even if she thinks she wants me and all that comes along with it. Because taking Doug out of the equation doesn’t fix my fears.
He may be gone, but would there be another like him? What about that scare in Utah where the fan was able to get in? There will always be mistakes, and I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her. Happened because she couldn’t live without me. Or me without her.
But I love her, and I miss her so much. “It’s killing me.”
My chest burns like it’s set on fire. I groan and fall over backward. Tears soon pool in my ears.
I can’t take Emilie from her life, but she deserves an explanation. Doesn’t she?
I sit back up and reach for the phone on my nightstand. “I need someone to call me a taxi, please.”
“No problem, mmm…Mr. McLane.”
Och, they’ll be sure to tell Tom where I’ve gone. I’m going to sneak out as it is. Everyone thinks my head is screwed on crooked right now, so they’d never let me go.
“Actually, no. I think I’ll wait until a more appropriate hour,” I tell the desk person.
“Sure thing,” he says, and I mind how Emilie chirps the same phrase.
Maybe I should wait until a better time. No, they’d never let me go.
Heading to the cupboard, I pull out a hooded jacket. With one last pat on my backside to ensure I’ve got my wallet, I strike out. I let the door hit my back to keep it quiet and look down the passageway at their office. The door is shut.
Whew.
I make my way to the lift on the other side of our floor. Bundling up my jacket, I push it up against the lift’s speaker panel. When it dings, it sounds more like the click of a pen.
Chapter 24
The feeling of stepping out of the lift by myself is magic. I can’t remember being so free.
I shrug into my jacket, pull my hood up and walk straight out the front door.
One look around, though, tells me I might have a little problem. I forgot that Rockville isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis. The most promising thing is a petrol station up the block.
It hasn’t long rained, so the road is steamy while I walk down the sidewalk. A shiny white car rides by slowly, the strains of violin coming from the inside. I pull my hood tighter around my face and walk faster.
A couple makes their way toward me, holding a leash with a trotting ball of white fur at the end, and I put my back to them when we’re almost even. I eye the other side of the street, another hotel on the other side of the sidewalk. Would it be obvious I was avoiding them if I went across?
I hear a quick intake of breath—like someone’s been hit in the stomach. Or someone has just recognized a rock star.
Fash.
“Julian McLane,” comes the lady’s voice from behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut. “That’s Julian McLane.”
I could keep walking and hope nothing comes of it (a stupid hope) or turn around and beg for…privacy?
My feet come to a stop after I’m about a meter away.
“Go,” comes the man’s voice. There’s a clomp of someone’s shoes flopping on the concrete, like they’ve been nudged and are finding their footing.
“No,” she whispers. As if I didn’t hear her before. “Don’t you think he just wants to be left in peace?”
“He’s in a multi-platinum band,” he says. “That’s begging for the opposite of peace.”
“Or,” she says loudly, “he just wants to make a living doing what he loves.”
“What’s the dude doing?” the guy whispers.
My shoulders lift and drop while I heave a massive sigh. By running away, I lose—a Twitter feed moves faster than me. But turning and offering an autograph, I lose because she’s going to want to call all her friends, and I’ll get torn to pieces. My hair, ears, fingers touted as souvenirs. What can I say? The security team has painted an ugly picture of being out in public without them.
But she sounds nice. Reasonable.
I turn around and her dark eyes double in size. Her bushy blonde hair vibrates. I’m close enough that their hairball animal can sniff my foot. “Is that a dog?”
“OhmyGodyouaresocute.” Her hand goes to her chest. “IusedtothinkParkerwascutestbutyouaresocute.”
I eye her boyfriend…husband. I’ve never figured that out. How do these lads take it when their girlfriends are going crazy over us?
“Oh, no, no.” Her hair shivers when she shakes her head. “He’s just my friend.”
I guess my look was kind of obvious.
He scowls and looks away. Friends, but not by choice.
My shoes make a creaking noise when I curl my toes. The dog yelps and jerks away. Seconds later it’s back, though.
&
nbsp; “I could get you concert tickets…posters…free downloads.” Anything to keep you from giving me away.
She covers her mouth and nods. “N-no.”
Huh?
“Huh?” Her friend scratches his ear.
“I’d love tickets, but only if you want to.” She looks down, her fists clenched at her sides. “I swear I won’t tell anyone you’re out either way. Just walk away if you want.”
She bends at the waist and whispers, “I’ve followed Jagged Black from day one. Read the news and tried to take away their spin on things. Tried to see the truth. I really do love every one of you guys, but I kind of understand all of you too.” The girl is leaning so far toward me, it’s curious that she isn’t falling. “And you. Just so you know, I shipped you and Emilie Gold right away. My cousin’s best friend’s sister went to school with her.”
My hand goes to my swelling throat, and I turn away. “All right. I’m going now.”
But at the last minute, I stop and pull my wallet out.
“Here,” I say, handing her my assistant’s card. “His name is Joe. Tell him I’m giving you tickets.”
Red, chipped fingernails clamp down on the card. I’m not sure, but I think they were nice fingernails until ten seconds ago.
“Thank you,” she says. “And good luck.”
Oof, luck. I’ll never take superstitions for granted again if I can just get to Emilie. I’d dump a whole container of salt over my shoulder right now if it would help. She says all it takes is a pinch, but….
“Bye,” I say to the lady and nod at her friend.
She bites her lip and waves.
I’m almost to the petrol station when I hear a squeal behind me. I turn to see her jumping up and down, her hand over her mouth. Maybe it’s just now hitting her. Maybe she’s just very proud of herself for not flipping out.
I enter the store with a smile on my face. There’s a metallic clang over my head, and I jump out of the way. Casting my gaze up, I see the culprit. A bell. Dude, mind yourself. You act like you’ve never been in a petrol station.
It’s been a really long time. The memory floods me of Mum allowing me to come in and buy my own candy. A Bounty—chocolaty goodness wrapped around coconut.
“A-hem.” I look over to find a lady standing behind a green counter. Her plump arm lifts, and she points to the sign overhead: No hats or sunglasses.
“Truly?” I ask.
She purses her lips and points to the three cameras set up in the corners of the station. “They want to see your ugly mug if you’ve got balls enough to rob me.”
“Wh—I didn’t.”
She crosses her freckled arms over her chest…barely.
“All right, all right.” But it feels good when I pull the hood back. I don’t have sunglasses or else that girl might not have recognized me so well.
“You talk funny,” she says.
“I—oh. All right.” Taxi. Get a taxi. “May I use your phone?”
“You must be lost because we don’t let just anybody use our phones around here.” She tosses a brown braid over her shoulder.
“I have money…American money,” I say but she doesn’t seem too impressed. Idiot, she’s a wee bit accustomed to American money now, isn’t she?
She leans her elbows onto the counter. “Honey, I can’t let you behind my counter. What is it that you need?”
“A taxi. You might ring one for me,” I say and pull out my wallet. “I’ll pay you.”
“Put your money away.” She fans her hand at me. “I’ll call one for you.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m walking out the door, the bell clanging behind me. I’m without a Bounty candy bar. Lucy, the attendant, says they don’t have those over here.
“You be careful out there,” she says, and I stop the door from closing with my foot.
“Yes, ma’am.”
When I open the shiny white door of the taxi, it feels like I’m a kid doing something mischievous, and any minute I’ll be found out.
When I tell the driver I’m going to Alexandria, he doesn’t ask me about my parents, my minder, my manager…nothing. Nobody.
The drive goes quickly because I’m locked onto finding an explanation in case the driver asks me what I’m up to. Why I’m sneaking away from my minders. Truthfully, I’m an adult, but somehow it doesn’t feel like I should have the freedoms others my age should have. I would look out the window more, but I’m afraid of catching the eye of a copper. They’ll arrest me for sneaking away from the security team.
My anxiety over seeing Emilie again and being in massive trouble for sneaking away from the hotel feel like blisters on the underside of my skin. I’m on edge when I catch sight of their house. Every light on. It’s never a good sign for a house to be fully lit in the middle of the night.
I start when the driver says something.
“Sorry?” My voice is high.
“Sorry for what?” He flips a switch on the meter. “Forget it. Are you going to pay me or what?”
I hand him all the cash in my wallet, not feeling like counting it. Aye, I probably couldn’t count past my fingers right now. On one hand.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks and hands half the bills back. “I’m not about to steal off a retard. Now get out of my car before you break something.”
My laughter pings off the tress. And it feels so good. Or it’s looking at Emilie’s house that does the trick.
Except the house is still lit up. Why?
Fash. Have they already missed me back at the hotel and rung everyone they could think of?
Shite, shite, shite.
The walk to the front door is short. With every step, I swear at my minders. Just one night of freedom. Is that so hard?
I knock on the door, and knock again. Either the T.V. is on, or everyone in the house is awake. I knock again, and Emilie comes, her eyes red and swollen. Not looking surprised at all.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she whispers.
They did ring her. I should be more cheesed, but don’t I care about the minders anymore. There’s no room for them; my head is full of the girl in front of me. My fingers twitch, full of a need to touch her chin.
“Go,” she whispers and gives me a hard look. “Go.”
“I wanted to explain,” I start, but I know I’ve been lying to myself. I never really wanted to explain anything. I’m here to start over. And she obviously doesn’t want it.
“Let him in,” comes a man’s voice from inside. Wait, that’s not Mr. Gold.
I walk in and spot a man standing at the bar on the other side of the living room. His hand is at the edge of a plate containing a white cake. He pushes it in front of Mrs. Gold.
“Julian McLane.” He turns and slips a party hat onto his dark head. Mark! Mark isn’t dead. “I should have known you’d show up. My luck has always been good. I give the credit to Emilie here. Come in. We were going to sing happy birthday to me.”
Chapter 25
The last E. Emilie is the last E!
But Timothy. My mind can’t make sense of it. There’s no relation any longer—the Las Vegas murder and the Virginia ones. Because there is no relation! Doug really did kill Timothy, but Doug’s problems aren’t connected to the Virginia murders. It’s all on Mark. EMILIE
Oh, my God. Emilie. My stomach drops, lands in my knees. My skin wants to melt away—shrink away in shame. Me. I’m the only one that had all the clues at once. I’m the one who should have figured this out. Kill me. Just kill me now.
After I get them out of this mess I’ve allowed to snow-ball out of control. Then you can kill me.
Doug. I want to tell Doug. And I want him to have my back and protect us like usual. He never had any thoughts of hurting us, just protecting us. That boy in Las Vegas…an accident because Doug was afraid the boy would kill someone if he got behind the wheel. And I wouldn’t believe. A shiver rolls up my spine. My back is incredibly vulnerable. Like I need to be against a wall because there’s no one
there to watch my back. No safety.
I look from Mark to Emilie and try my best to figure it all out in a second. Dammit, why? How come Mark has done this? What does he have against her? His dark blue, almost black, eyes are dancing and bulging. His thick eyebrows hover over them like bird’s wings. Aye, like those birds that fly in circles letting people know where the death is. In this case, it’s where the crazy is. He’s looking at me with a smile on his face. Waiting. For what? My eyes narrow on him—I’m not going to break down in tears if that what you’re wanting. And I’m not going to shake your hand and tell you good job either.
So is all of this because he thinks she cheated? The drugs! They make people angry. Angry enough to go on a year-long killing spree? Longer than a year. Where has he been this whole time?
My gaze swings back to Emilie. Her mouth is straight, no biting of the lip and no frown either. There’s no expression on her pale skin…no color on her cheeks. It’s all in her eyes though. She’s trying to be a blank page, but her eyes say she is horribly sad. She gives her head a small shake and looks away. Sad that I’ve come? Or maybe just sad that I’ve come into all of this.
“Emilie.” I need to know. Not that it’ll change what I’m going to do to this bastard, but I guess it’ll help me figure out what to do afterward.
She jerks her eyes back to me. Dark blue and soft—loving. Okay. I give her a small nod.
“Please tell me”—Mr. Gold’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat—“your entourage is following you.”
He waits for my answer with red eyes. I’m sorry, but I didn’t bring any help. I’m sorry.
I shake my head (sort of). More like rocking it back and forth morosely. Why did tonight have to be the night I chose to sneak away from the guards again? Kasen did it all the time, but the two times I do it, chaos erupts.
Not even one of the blasted guards would guess where I am at right now.
“You better be alone! I’m not done.” Mark waves a cake knife. “I’ll kill every one of you if you brought someone.”