By Degrees (49 page)

“How long ago was that?
 
What day?”

“It was four days ago.”
 
Scott’s back to using his normal voice, so maybe I won’t have to slap him when I see him again.

“That’s the last time I heard from him,” I say, rinsing the soap out of my hair and off my face and body.
 
Shutting the water down, I listen to Scott’s response.

“What did he say to you?”

“I can’t remember.”
 
I climb out and grab my phone.
 
“Hold on, I’m checking.
 
If this thing cuts you off, I’ll call you back.”

“Holding…”
 
He whistles while he waits.
 
It’s the theme from
Snow White
where the dwarves are working.
 
I’ve changed my mind.
 
I will be slapping him when I see him again.

Looking at my texts, I find the last one from Tarin.

Hey babe.
 
In Germany.
 
Gotta take a quick side trip. No big deal.
 
Talk soon.

After reading it out loud to Scott, I think about Tarin’s choice of words.
 
At the time I’d thought he meant some sort of sight-seeing thing.
 
He and the band had been doing that pretty regularly on the tour, so there was no reason for me to question him.
 
Had he been vague on purpose to keep me from asking questions?

“I’m getting a really sick feeling about this,” I say, my throat closing up a little at the idea of it.

“He didn’t really say much, did he?” asks Scott.
 
“I wonder why.”

“Because he didn’t want to have to explain himself,” I say, getting angrier the more I think about it.
 
“If his plan was to go to L.A. and see Jelly, he should have just put that in the damn text.”

“What would your reaction have been?”

“I would have asked why.
 
I would have argued against it.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s in the middle of a tour!
 
Because she’s not his fucking girlfriend anymore and he shouldn’t be jumping around and being at her beck and call!”
 
I yank a brush through my hair, taking my anger out on my poor scalp.

“Maybe that’s why he didn’t say anything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Wellll, it
might
mean that you’re overreacting a little.
 
Or not.”

“Honestly, Scott.
 
Do you really think it’s overreacting for me to be upset about Tarin leaving in the middle of his European tour to fly halfway around the world to be with a pregnant ex-girlfriend, who would do just about anything to get her claws into him including lying about him impregnating her?”

“I have a better question,” he says, completely unruffled by my anger and hysteria.
 
“Do you really think that the guy who’s spent the last almost four months living, eating, breathing, and pooping Scarlett Barnes, getting his life on track, playing his heart out and filling up stadiums with his enthusiasm for his music, would dump it all for a bimbot dingo like Jelly Summers, a drug-using ho-bag who’s about to give birth to some other guy’s baby she doesn’t even know who?
 
Does that sound like the dude you love so much that you got your shit straightened out for?”

I can’t respond for about thirty seconds.
 
When I finally do, I’ve lost a lot of my steam.
 
“You’re such an asshole sometimes.
 
I hate when you do that.”

“I know when you say asshole, you mean angel, so thank you.
 
Better get your bags packed or you’re not going to make your flight.”

“I thought you said I have three hours.”

“I lied.
 
It’s more like two.”

“Scott!”

I shriek as he disconnects the call.

Chapter Forty-Nine

THE HEAT HITS ME FULL in the face as soon as I step outside the air-conditioned baggage claim area of the airport.
 
Ricky’s waiting at the curb for me, all smiles. I wish I could return the emotion but I’m too worried and upset to do anything but grimace.
 
The jeans and t-shirt I chose to wear are better-suited to Chicago’s cooler air than this muggy awfulness.
 
I’m glad I packed shorts.

“Miss Scarlett!
 
So glad to have you back!” Taking my bag from me, he ushers me to the front of the car, holding the door open for me.
 
I’m glad he’s not putting me in the backseat this time.
 
I really need to have my friends closer than that.

“Glad to be back.
 
Kind of.
 
Have you heard from him?”

“No.
 
But Zach has.”

My heart skips a beat.
 
I wait until Ricky has the bag loaded and is in the car with me before I grill him further.
 
“Where?
 
When?
 
What’d he say, and what’s going on?”

Ricky smiles.
 
“Easy now.
 
I don’t know a whole lot, just that Tarin called, he’s okay, and he needed Zach to bring him a few things.”

“Things?”
 
My voice is coming out too high so I clear my throat and try again.
 
“Things?
 
Like what things?”

“Zach didn’t say.”

“Holy crap you guys are terrible at this!”

Ricky doesn’t even look at me.
 
“Terrible at what?
 
Babysitting a grown man?”

“Yes.
 
Exactly.
 
You should have gotten more details.”

“Tarin doesn’t need that anymore,” he says softly.
 
“He’s his own man now.
 
He’s on his own two feet, standing proud, making a good life for himself.”

Real physical pain hits me from inside.
 
My chest actually aches.
 
“Sounds like you mean he’s made a life without me.
 
Is that it?
 
Is that’s what’s going on?”
 
I look over at Ricky, tears making my eyes yucky, but I can’t help it.
 
I feel way too vulnerable right now.

Ricky looks at me with pity.
 
“Hey, now, I didn’t say that.
 
Why are you leaping to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh out.
 
After I think about it for a little while, I answer as honestly as I can, even though it sounds ridiculous.
 
“I guess when things go really good for me, I start wondering when it’s going to go bad.
 
This just feels like the answer.
 
This is when things go bad … when Tarin leaves me to go be with Jelly.”

“Well … huh…”
 
Ricky seems to be mulling what I said over before he finishes.
 
“I don’t know how he can be leaving you, though really, when you weren’t even
with
him. Know what I’m sayin’?
 
You were in Chicago, remember?”

There’s censure in Ricky’s voice, but I ignore it.
 
I’ve decided I’m not going to speak to him for the rest of the drive.
 
What does he know about my life?
 
He doesn’t know that I couldn’t be here in L.A.
 
I never bothered to explain to anyone but Tarin that Austin’s ghost lives here.
 
That he might have died that night in Chicago, but this is where he lived.
 
This is where
we
lived.
 
Ricky doesn’t know that I need to be whole again before I can deal with being in L.A. on a permanent basis.
 
It just figures I’d get here just as Tarin decides he’s tired of waiting.

I try not to be mad at Ricky’s judgment of me.
 
He isn’t in the loop enough to know what my messed up head is thinking and needing.
 
But Tarin is.
 
He’s part of that loop I’m in, so the fact that he’d do this tells me things are going very, very wrong.
 
Or I really, really misjudged him and his commitment to us.

“Do you want a suggestion from a friend?” Ricky asks.

“Not really,” I say, looking out the window.

“Okay, then.”
 
Ricky says nothing else.

I make it about ten blocks before I cave.
 
I hate feeling stress between us.
 
Ricky’s such a nice person and has always been a good friend to Tarin.
 
I know I should listen to whatever he has to say.
 
“Fine.
 
What’s your advice?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions about what’s happening.
 
Wait until you talk to him before you decide how to react.”

“That would be ever so much easier if he’d just answer my calls, texts, or emails,” I say in a bitchy tone.
 
I can’t help it.
 
I’m so frustrated right now.

“He told Zach to apologize to everyone for him, that he’s just really busy.”

I snort bitterly.
 
“Whatever.”
 
Too busy to call me?
 
That must be really, really fucking busy.
 
I don’t even want to know what he’d be doing to be that
busy
with a girl who’s almost nine months pregnant.

That’s when it hits me.

“Did anyone call the hospital?
 
Where did Zach go when he brought stuff to Tarin?”

“Not the hospital.”

The tone of his answer makes me feel sick to my stomach.

“Where did he go, Ricky?”

Ricky sticks his head out, craning his neck a little.
 
“Why don’t we just wait until we talk to Tarin to figure this all out?”

“If you know something, just say it, would you?
 
I really hate the idea of people hiding things from me and helping Tarin play games.
 
It’s just not worth it, Ricky.
 
Honestly, I thought you knew that.”

“It’s not like that, Scarlett.
 
Just let it lie for now, all right? Tarin will get this figured out and then fix it all up for you.”

I look out the side window again.
 
“I don’t think so,” I mumble, as the palm trees and carefully manicured bushes flash past.
 
I’m lost in memories of Austin long since buried.
 
A vision of me sitting with Scott in Austin’s big house flits across my mind’s eye, the two of us watching television, wondering where Austin is and what he’s doing.
 
Everyone but those who loved him the most knew what he was up to.
 
I hated being in the dark then and I hate it twice as much now.
 
I thought Tarin knew better than to do this to me.
 
To us.
 
I hold in the sobs that feel like the undoing of all the hard work I’ve been through finding myself again.

Chapter Fifty

MY PHONE FINALLY RINGS WITH Tarin’s name coming across the screen at ten o’clock that night.
 
He sounds exhausted.
 
I’ve moved beyond worried and distraught into plain old pissed.
 
He’d better have a hell of an excuse because I’m ready to call it a day.
 
A night.
 
A lifetime.
 
My heart can’t take this kind of crap.

“Hi,” I say.
 
I don’t trust letting any more than that to come out of my mouth right now.

“Hi,” he says back.
 
There’s caution there, and maybe some guilt.

Please, don’t let it be guilt!

“Where’ve you been?” I ask.
 
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed in one of the guest rooms.
 
Everyone but Zach is downstairs in the family room playing video games like the world isn’t crashing down around our ears.
 
Zach hasn’t made it back yet as far as I know.
 
The traitor.

“I’m in L.A.”

Some of my anxiety slips out.
 
“Doing what, Tarin?
 
Are you with Jelly?”

“Yes, I am.”
 
He sighs heavily.
 
“Where are you right now?
 
Are you still in Chicago?”

“Thanks for asking.
 
Actually, no, I’m in L.A.”

“Please don’t sound so mad.”

My heart is cracking in two because I love him so much and I want to believe he wouldn’t hurt me like I think he has.
 
“Kind of hard not to, Tarin.”
 
I bite down hard on my lip to keep from screaming.
 
I punch a pillow and burn my knuckles with the friction of doing it several more times.

“I know.
 
But it’s not what you think.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?
 
It could be
exactly
what I think.”

“I doubt it.”

“Are you coming home?”

“Not yet.”

A tear slips past the barricades I’ve tried to erect.
 
I wipe it away angrily and school my features and voice to remain neutral.
 
“When?”

“Maybe tomorrow.
 
I have to get some things worked out.
 
Will you wait?”

“Why don’t you tell me what I’m waiting for before I answer that, because at this point, I’m not really sure.”

“I want to tell you.
 
I want to tell you everything, but I can’t do it over the phone.
 
I need to see you face-to-face.”

“Why?
 
What are you worried about?”

He doesn’t answer right away.
 
Then he breathes out long and loud.
 
“I guess I’m worried about you hearing the first sentence, hanging up the phone, and then taking a plane somewhere I’ll never find you.”