By Degrees (41 page)

“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.

“Come on,” urges Jack.
 
“Let’s sit down on the couch and talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”
 
My tears have turned into a full-on pout.
 
I want to kick everything near me.
 
The table, the couch, the chair … Jack, maybe.

“Yeah, but let’s do it anyway.”

He guides me over to the couch and pushes me into a sitting position.
 
He drops down next to me as I stare into my lap.
 
My hands are there, palms up, my fingers mostly open and limp.

“Tell me why you ran.”

“I didn’t run.”

“Tell me why you disappeared without saying anything to anyone and abandoned a job just a few days into it.”

I sigh heavily.
 
I really don’t want to talk to him or anyone else about this.
 
Avoiding the whole idea of it has done wonders for my ability to sleep.

“Scott says things were going really well.
 
Tarin got on board with minimal fuss, most of the band went on vacation, and the losers got booted out with only one mess-up.
 
Crazy fan attack or whatever.
 
It was your smoothest operation ever.”

I shake my head.
 
“Now we know why Tarin got on board right away.”
 
I can still picture his face on the boat and his question about bringing lawyers into the mix.
 
“He was worried he was going to be busted for being there when Austin …”
 
Whatever.
 
I can’t even finish my sentence.

“When Austin killed himself.”

My throat closes up with the pain.
 
I’ve used up all my tears for this today, though.
 
Nothing else will come out.
 
“He didn’t kill himself.”
 
I know it’s a lie as soon as it leaves my lips, but I stubbornly hold onto the idea anyway.

“Yes, he did.
 
Stop kidding yourself.
 
No one does the things he was doing and expects to live.”

I was wrong.
 
I do have more tears left for Austin.

“Tarin’s still working with Scott and doing really well from what Scott says.
 
He’s got the whole healthy living thing going on, and he’s even taking cooking lessons from Josh.
 
I guess he didn’t really catch on with the painting thing, but Greg says he’s great with photography.
 
He’s got a web page up with a portfolio already, thanks to Scott.
 
We can check it out later.”

I frown, momentarily distracted from wallowing in visions of Austin’s last moments.
 
They thankfully disperse into smoke at the idea of Tarin finding something that makes him happy.
 
“What?”

“Yeah, he went in for more painting in the studio and just totally sucked at it, so Greg handed him a camera.
 
I guess Tarin’s been taking pictures his whole life, but with a few pointers from Greg it all just gelled for him.
 
Greg says he’s the real deal.
 
Like he could go pro if the music gig doesn’t work out for him.”

I smile faintly.
 
Even though I’m mad at Tarin, I’m proud that he’s found another creative outlet.
 
He needed something like that.
 
I know it will help calm and center him to focus through the lens on other things besides his own life and future.

“There’s the girl I know.
 
Smiles.”
 
He leans over and strokes the side of my face.

I smack his hand away.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Jack asks, standing up and walking into the kitchen.
 
He opens up my fridge and cupboards.
 
“Man, what have you been eating?
 
Dust bunnies?
 
That’s not very PETA of you.”
 
I hear him opening up a drawer and then a big book hitting the counter.
 
Turning around, I see him going through the yellow pages of the phone book.

“I’m not eating dinner with you,” I say, turning back to stare at the black television on the wall.

“Sushi?
 
Pizza?
 
Italian?
 
What’s your poison?”