Blur (Changing Colors Book 2) (48 page)

“You want to know the truth? Fine!” I point my finger in his face. “I’ll lay it all out for you. I’ll tell you every horrible detail, just so you understand an inkling of how I’m feeling. I met Dylan in Paris. I fell in love with him. I’m
still
in love with him. But you know what? I’m not with him, because I’m too busy being your
fucking closet
!”

Jamie’s jaw drops.

“I’m not with Dylan because I’m too busy hiding your secrets and faking a relationship with you! I’ve lost the one person I should be spending the rest of my life with because of your goddamn demons!” I’m screaming, yet tears are pricking my eyes.

Stupid fucking tears.
Why am I crying? Why am I screaming? Why am I doing this right now? I know this is wrong. I know this isn’t how things should go down, but I can’t stop. The dam is open and everything is pouring out. I’m beyond emotional at this point. God, I’ve careened past emotional and barreled straight into crazy.

And all Jamie can do is watch everything unfold. A helpless victim to the words I lash out.

“You have a shitty, controlling father, who’s made a job out of making your life hell. But you’re not a child anymore. You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. You shouldn’t have to pretend you’re something you’re not. Being gay should be something you embrace, something you’re proud of. It shouldn’t be something you spend your entire life shoving in the closet.

“I’ve supported you. I’ve loved you. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend. I can’t lie. I destroyed Dylan because of these secrets that are consuming both of us. I might as well have ripped his heart out and stomped on it. That’s how badly I hurt him.

“And I know you’re sick. And I know the medications and treatments you’re taking on a daily basis are expensive, especially when you’re paying out of pocket because your father would disown you if he found out, but I feel like there has to be another way. There has to be another fucking way that doesn’t include me.”

“So that’s it?” he asks, voice breaking. “You’re done with me?”

My hands gesture wildly. “I never said that!”

His eyes turn cold. Mouth set in a firm line. “Then what are you saying, Brooke? What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m telling you that I’m done being your closet.”

“I’ve got one better, baby girl. Let’s just be done with this whole fucking thing. Have a nice life, Brooke. I’m out.” He pushes past me, moving towards the door.

“
What?
You’re giving up on our nearly twenty year friendship because I’m tired of hiding your secrets?”

He stops in his tracks, glaring back at me. “No, I’m giving up on our friendship because you just made it very clear I’ve done nothing but make your life miserable. So, I’m giving you the freedom to live your life without the hassle of tolerating my bullshit.”

Before I can say another word, he’s stalking out of the room and down the stairs. The front door slams. A car engine roars to life. And then, he’s gone.

Dylan Bissette reveals a black, haunted cover of The Smiths, “I Know It’s Over”

SteadyBeat.com

Careless Cockups were in Paris last night, filling the City of Lights with something that can only be described as incredible.

It’s one thing to hold an audience while backed by a full band, but what happens when a musician finds himself alone and unplugged?

It’s a risk. A big risk. And we’ve all seen those types of awkward, cringe-worthy performances playing acoustic can reveal.

But sometimes, like last night, something else happens.

Careless Cockups had just finished playing Blue Daze, and all but Jesse and Dylan Bissette left the stage. They sat down on stools with acoustic guitars in hand.

Before they began, Dylan spoke to the crowd. “I’m a bit out of sorts tonight. I’ve got this song in my head. It’s been there the past few weeks. Constantly nagging. Demanding to be heard. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to play it for you. The Smith’s created this masterpiece and years later Jeff Buckley covered it.

“‘I Know It's Over’ is easily one of the most harrowing and desperate songs penned by Morrissey and Marr. When Morrissey wrote the lyrics, he was revealing how he had felt this melancholia for most of his life, and how he had eventually accepted it as being an important part of his life. And it wasn’t meant to be depressing, it was meant to reveal beauty in that melancholia.

“To some, this song might mean what Morrissey and Marr intended. Or maybe, to some, this song means something else. Maybe you’re sitting back and watching the man or woman you love marry someone else. Maybe you’re watching the person you know you’re supposed to be with walk away, and fall into the arms of another, even though you know, you fucking know, they don’t love that person like they love you.

‘Maybe this song is your ballad. Your heartbreaking truth. Maybe you can feel yourself being buried alive beneath your own heartache. And maybe, in this moment, that’s what this song means to me. So, tonight, you get to hear me cover Jeff Buckley covering The Smiths. Here’s, ‘I Know It’s Over.’ I hope you enjoy it.”

He then proceeded to play one of the most magical, spellbinding performances we’ve ever heard. His brother was merely there supporting him, playing soft, acoustic chords to create an enchanting layer to Dylan’s sound. It was the kind of performance that spurs goosebumps on goosebumps.

It was just…magic.

Keeping the attention of a sold-out crowd takes skill, but making an entire crowd fall silent is nothing short of a miracle.

That’s what Dylan did last night.

He turned the upbeat, on their feet, Paris audience into this sort of hushed reverence.

Our readers know we generally just talk music. We tend to ignore the juicy gossip surrounding our favorite bands and musicians. But after watching a man bare himself on stage, we’re finding it hard to ignore what might have inspired such a dark, haunted performance.

Like everyone else, we can’t help but notice that Brooke Sawyer has not been in the last two episodes of Mad Sounds. Nor has she been seen with Careless Cockups during the Europe half of their tour.

And we’re left wondering, was that song meant for Brooke?

Brooke

“I’ve been lying to you.”

“I know.” Susan’s expression doesn’t change. Her eyes stay steadfast on mine.

“Y-you know?”
I stutter, surprised.

“Brooke…
Obviously, I’m not a mind reader, but give me a little credit.” A small smile crevices her mouth. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I know you haven’t been completely honest with me, but—”

I cut her off, voice rising in irritation. “Why didn’t you call me out on it?”

My outburst doesn’t faze her. “Because I knew eventually you’d be honest with me. You just needed time to process everything on your own. And that’s okay. I never expect my patients to reveal all of their deepest, darkest secrets and thoughts within the first few weeks of therapy. It takes time. There are always reasons behind our walls. And they’re important reasons—ones that I respect and would never push. A true breakthrough doesn’t happen because someone forces us into it. It happens because we decided,
on our own
, that we’re ready.”

“I really fucked up,” I mutter, looking down at my hands.

My knee bounces.
Up, down. Up, down
. The steady pace is a blatant contrast to the chaotic rhythm my heart is beating to. Opening up and admitting things I’ve kept buried deep is not an easy thing to accomplish. It goes against everything I’ve ingrained in myself over the past decade.

“I really fucked up,” I admit, louder now. My eyes meet hers. She’s still calm, eyes serene. No judgment lies within them. She’s merely here, listening. Nothing else. Nothing more. And it’s exactly what I need. “I’ve been lying about my relationship with Jamie. Ever since the day he tried to commit suicide, we’ve been faking a relationship. Telling everyone we’re together—
boyfriend, girlfriend, fiancé
, whatever label people wanted us to put on it, we did.”

“Tell me why you guys decided to fake a romantic relationship.”

“Because Jamie is gay.” The words coat my tongue in betrayal. I feel bad for telling someone else his truth, but Susan is my safe place. And God, I need to do this. I can’t hold it back anymore. Too many people have been hurt by my lies. “He has been struggling with being open and honest—with his family, his friends
, everyone—
about his sexual orientation, his entire life. Alistair, his father, isn’t the nicest man you’ll ever meet, and deep down, I know that he knows Jamie’s truth.

“He’s not an easy man to live with. He’s very strong in his opinions, so to speak. And on more than one occasion, several in fact, he’s voiced his opinion on the gay community. I once saw Alistair fire a band from his label because he found out the lead singer was gay. Of course, he took the coward’s way out. He never told the band why he let them go, he merely acted like they were the ones at fault. He found some stupid clause within their contract that he felt they had not followed. And that wasn’t the only time, either. I’ve seen him make similar decisions like that.”

“What made Jamie open up to you?”

“I had known since we were about twelve, but he didn’t tell me until after he attempted suicide when we were fifteen.”

“How did you know?”

“I just knew. We were best friends. At times, I was closer with Jamie than I was my own sister. We told each other everything. Shared everything. Did everything together. And I noticed Jamie was into all of the same male celebrities and musicians I was. He was pretty obvious about it in some ways, even when he didn’t mean to be. When we were fourteen, the band Incubus had become popular. Do you know them?”

Susan nods, grinning.
“Do I know them?
Of course, I know them. Brandon Boyd? Sheesh. Yeah, I know Incubus. Huge fan of their music, too.”

“Well, Brandon Boyd was my
big
crush when Incubus started getting popular. I never did the boy band phase the rest of the girls my age did. I would be more likely to say Gavin Rossdale was my dream man than one of the guy’s from Backstreet Boys. But anyway, I wasn’t the only one that noticed Brandon Boyd. Jamie loved him just as much, if not more. He had posters of Incubus, specifically Brandon Boyd, all over his bedroom. No big deal, right? I mean, what teenage boy didn’t like them.

“But there was a guy at our high school who had Brandon Boyd-like qualities. He was gorgeous in his own right. And Jamie noticed. And I noticed that Jamie noticed. He looked at this guy like someone with a crush, an infatuation, would look at the object of their affection. Jamie was never a quiet guy. He was fairly outgoing. But with this guy, this gorgeous teenage boy with lips and hair like Brandon Boyd, he was a bumbling mess.”

I smile at the memories. “It was adorable, really. And I think that’s when it all started to click. The Brandon Boyd posters. Jamie’s lack of interest in girls our age, or any girl for that matter. The nervous voice and blushing cheeks around his secret crush. He tried to hide it from me, from everyone, but we were so close, basically attached at the hip, so it was the little things I observed. It all really clicked the day
his
secret crush asked
me
out on a date. Jamie’s reaction was nothing short of jealous. But he wasn’t jealous of the guy, he was jealous of
me
. Which is why I declined the guy’s offer. Jamie was my best friend, and I didn’t care how cute Brandon Boyd’s doppelgänger was, I’d never let something like that come between us.

“What made you think Alistair knew?”

“God, where do I begin?” An exasperated sigh leaves my lips. “Alistair has been riding Jamie’s ass since the day he was born. Always critical, he never went out of his way to praise his son. He spent most of Jamie’s childhood and adolescence berating him and telling him he wasn’t good enough. When we were ten, my grandmother had dropped me off at the Wallace’s. I had brought a bag full of Barbie dolls. And believe me, I had all of the accessories. Well, I was up in Jamie’s room, playing with my Barbies while he was playing video games. At one point, he was teasing my choice for Ken’s attire, and joined me on his bedroom floor, messing around with the dolls and their accessories.