Hard As Rock (3 page)

“I – I – I haven’t written it yet,” I managed to get out.

“Okay… so, take a week or two, and you can – ”

“I c-can’t – I can’t – I can’t write it, a-all I’ll be able to think about is him,” I said, and then I burst into tears, my entire body shaking.

Ryan crossed over to me in two strides and pulled me close to his chest. “Shhh. Shhh. It’s going to be okay.”

“N-no it’s not… Glen’s already m-mad at me and n-now I can’t even write any more and I owe him so much money – ”

“He’ll understand.”

“No he won’t! He’s an asshole, but he’s right – I’m not being a professional, I-I’m scared, and I can’t write it, and I’m n-never going to be a writer – ”

“Yes you are. Yes, you are,” he whispered to me as he held me against his body.

“I j-just fucked up the biggest break I’ll ever have – ”

“It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”

No it’s not, it’s NEVER going to be okay!
I wanted to scream, but instead I just cried – not about the article anymore, but about the man I had loved lying to me, and cheating on me, and destroying any chance at happiness I would ever have again.

After a few minutes I calmed down. Ryan sat me down on the bed, then went to get me a glass of water. I covered my bare legs with my bed sheets, then took the water gratefully.

He pulled up one of the wooden chairs and sat in it a few feet away from me. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I sighed wearily. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

“It’s okay.”

I kept sipping the water and staring dully at the dirty linoleum floor.

There was a dead roach lying feet-up on his back. Next to him was a dust bunny the size of a mouse. Paint chips the size of quarters lying on the ground. And a wall that looked like somebody had raked the claw of a hammer over it.

And no matter how ugly my surroundings were… my interior world was worse.

My life was shit.

In the course of 24 hours, everything –
everything
– had turned to shit.

“Kaitlyn,” Ryan said softly.

I looked over at him, moving slow and robot-like.

“Come back with me to South Dakota.”

At first his words didn’t register. When they finally did, my eyebrows raised slowly and my eyes widened.

“…what?”

“Come back with me to South Dakota.”

All I could hear, though, was,
Derek wasn’t the only one who fell for you years ago.

“I… I can’t,” I whispered.

He smiled. He knew exactly what I was thinking.

It was a little unsettling how he could do that.

“I’m not asking you because I’m trying to sweep you off and carry you away and make you fall in love with me,” he said, and the smile was absolutely genuine. It let me know he was serious, and that he wasn’t lying, and that it was a little goofy for me to think that. Then the smile faded, and he was serious again. “I’m asking because I care about you, and I don’t want to think of you in this apartment for the next three months, tortured and alone and trying to finish some goddamn article that rips your heart out with every word you write.”

I murmured aloud, “Wow, you’re serious.” It was involuntary – it just came out of me.

“Of course I’m serious.”

“No, I mean… you cussed. You only do that when you’re serious.”

He stared at me in surprise – and then burst out laughing.

I laughed, too. I couldn’t help myself. It felt so nice… another brief reprieve from my prison of misery.

“I guess I did,” he conceded, smiling. “So I guess I am.”

“Thank you… I really appreciate you asking. But… I can’t.”

He looked at me intently. “Because I told you I fell in love with you four years ago?”

BAM. Just like that. No pussyfooting around.

I swallowed hard. Then I nodded ‘yes.’

He nodded slightly, like,
Yeah, I was expecting that.
He paused, as though gathering his thoughts… and then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.

I thought he was going to try and give me money. I was about to protest, but instead he fished inside one of the side pockets and pulled out a business card.

“You got a Sharpie?” he asked.

“A… a what?”

“One of those indelible ink pens. If you don’t have that, a regular pen will do.”

“Um… hold on,” I said, bewildered, and got up to go rummage in my kitchen.

I came back with a black pen and handed it to him. He nodded and started to write something on the back of the business card.

“You ever see that
Seinfeld
episode? The one where Jerry says that when you start a relationship, you should get a ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ card? You can give it to the other person at any time, and you get to leave, no heavy discussion, no questions asked?”

“Um… I didn’t see that one.”

“Well, take my word for it, there was an episode… and here’s your ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ card.”

He handed me the business card. On the front was Bigger’s logo, Ryan’s name, and a phone number and email address. On the back was ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ scrawled in black letters.

I stared at him. “What’s this for?”

“I want you to go to South Dakota with me. I don’t want you to be alone. I want you to get away from all this so you can chill out and relax.
And,
if you start to feel weird about it at any point… if you start to feel, I don’t know, pressured or anything… or if you just decide you want to come back… give me the card. I’ll say, ‘Are you sure?’ You’ll say, ‘Yes,’ and that’ll be it. I’ll drive you to the airport and buy you a ticket home. I won’t try to make you stay a second longer, or argue with you, or anything. I’ll just send you on your way, no questions asked.”

I sat there, my mouth slightly open. “…why?”

“Because I care about you. And I figure your life is going to be hell for awhile. And I don’t want you to have to go through that if I can help it.”

I looked down at the card. Tears formed in my eyes.

Nobody had ever done something this nice – this selfless – for me before.

But…

“I really appreciate this, Ryan,” I whispered. “I do. But… I can’t.”

He nodded slowly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I – ” I stopped short and looked at him sideways. “Wait… are you doing the thing where you get the card back?”

He smiled. “Yup.”

I held it out tentatively… and then pulled it back, not quite sure. “Um… can I think about it for a little bit?”

“Sure.”

“How long are you going to be in New York?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I basically just flew here to come get you. If you came back with me – or if you didn’t – then I was going to fly back to South Dakota.”

I stared at him. “What about all your luggage?”

He grinned. “You’re looking at it.”

“But all the stuff from the tour – your guitars – ”

“I had Miles ship it overnight to the ranch. It’ll be waiting for me when I get back.”

“But – but – you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday!”

“Yeah. Hope I don’t stink too much.”

“What? No, you don’t – that’s not what I – what hotel are you staying at?”

“Kaitlyn… I just got off the plane about an hour ago. Then I came straight here.”

I stared at him, not comprehending. “What?”

He smiled. “The best flight I could get was a red eye that connected in Philadelphia. So… I got here as fast as I could.”

I put my hand to my mouth.

I’d forgotten that I’d bought the last ticket on the last non-stop flight out of Vegas. And I still arrived after midnight.

Ryan had flown all night and come directly from the airport.

Just to see
me.

I started crying again.

“Hey… hey, it’s okay,” he said, and put his hand on mine. “I got a lot of sleep on the plane, I’m cool.”

I laughed at him through my tears, then became alarmed. “You must be starving… oh my God, I should’ve offered you something… if I
had
anything…”

“I’m alright. If you need a little time to think about it, that’s fine, I can grab a hotel for a day or two. No problem.”

Wait –

If Ryan had caught a plane here last night…

“You said Derek doesn’t know you’re here.”

Ryan’s face set the slightest bit. “No. He doesn’t.”

“Is… is he coming here?”

His face darkened the slightest bit more. “Um… I don’t know.”

I stared at him intently. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He gritted his teeth and looked away.

“Ryan…?”

“He came and tracked me down before I left. He said you weren’t in the hotel room and all your stuff was gone, and he asked me if I knew where you went. He was… he wasn’t frantic, exactly, but he
was
pretty worried. I told him to tell me what happened, and he wouldn’t – not at first. But I knew you wouldn’t just split without saying goodbye, to him
or
me, unless something really bad had happened.”

Knots formed in my stomach and tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about where his story was going. But more than anything, I felt guilt. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not saying goodbye.”

He smiled wryly. “You had a lot of other stuff going on at the time.”

I smiled back, despite the tears trickling down my cheeks.

“Anyway, so I kept asking him and asking him, and he said you’d had a fight. But I knew it wasn’t just
any
fight, so I kept badgering him… and he finally admitted what had happened.”

I sobbed. Just once, a little exhalation of air… but then I got it back together.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded and wiped my eyes. “I’m fine. Just… go ahead.”

He paused, unsure… then started again. “So, anyway, I told him he had to go after you. And, well…”

There was a long pause.

“He’s not coming,” I realized.

“I don’t know. He was seesawing back and forth between ‘I screwed up’ and being angry that you’d walked out on him.”

ASSHOLE!

Anger flooded me so forcefully that I forgot about my heartache for a second.

“I knew he would flip out if I told him
I
was coming, but there was no way I was going to leave you alone with nobody to talk to. And you weren’t answering your phone calls. So when I left for the airport, I switched my flight from South Dakota to New York. And… here I am.”

I frowned a little, perplexed. “You said… you don’t
know
if he’s coming or not.”

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I haven’t talked to him since I left Vegas. He hasn’t left me any messages or texts. So, for all I know, he might have changed his mind. He might be on his way here right now.”

My heart skipped a beat.

From hope or from terror, I wasn’t really sure.

Probably both.

I looked over at my phone, charging next to the bed. I’d turned it off so I could sleep – but I still hadn’t looked at anything more than a few of the texts, or listened to anything more than that first voicemail.

“I… I need to… think for a little bit,” I said haltingly.

Ryan followed my gaze and understood immediately. “I think that’s a good idea. I’m starving. I saw this little place as the cab was driving up – bagels and stuff. You want me to go down and get some food, bring it back up? It’ll take me about… oh, thirty minutes or so.”

I knew exactly the place he was talking about. And there was no way it would take him ten minutes, much less thirty.

I was so grateful to him for lying, though.

“Yeah. That would be great. Thank you.”

He smiled at me. We both stood up… he put a hand on my shoulder consolingly… and I leaned in and hugged him again.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back.

After Ryan left, I listened to all the voicemails and read all the texts. In fact, another eleven popped up when I turned the phone back on.

Ryan’s were all super-concerned about me, and all of them were really sweet.

“Hey, Kaitlyn, it’s Ryan… I’m really worried about you. Give me a call and just let me know you’re all right.”

“Hey, it’s Ryan… I’m a little concerned that I haven’t heard from you. Could you give me a call or text, just to let me know everything’s okay?”

“It’s Ryan. Just to give you fair warning, I got your information from Miles, and I’m dropping by your apartment in New York. I don’t want to freak you out, so I’m letting you know ahead of time. I guess I’ll see you in about eight hours. Hope this isn’t a problem for you. If it is, just leave me a message and I’ll turn around and go back.”

I smiled throughout each of them.

Derek, by contrast, was like listening to Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde, depending on the message. Half of them were pathetic, half of them were assholish to the extreme.

“Kaitlyn, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. TALK to me, don’t shut me out like this. Call me back. I’m borrowing this phone from one of the guys on the crew, so just… call me back.”

“Kaitlyn, pick up, dammit. Look, I know I fucked up – okay? I’ve said that. Quit trying to punish me and fucking talk to me, goddammit.”

“Kaitlyn, you… you are the most important thing in the world to me, and I completely fucked it up. I am so, so sorry… please call me back. We can work this out, I KNOW we can… just give me a chance, babe. Please. Call me back.”

“God DAMN IT, Kaitlyn – what the fuck?! Where do you get off judging me like this? Like you’re Little Miss Perfect, and never – AAAARHHH! GOD DAMN IT! FUCKING CALL ME BACK, YOU STUPID – Jesus FUCKING Christ!”

“Okay… Kaitlyn… look… I NEED you to call me back. Please. This is fucking driving me insane. Just call me. Text me. Whatever. I need to talk to you. Please. Call me.”

“What is with you? Is this your pathetic little ploy to torture me? To try to control me? Huh? Is this how immature you are? You’re going to cut me off and that’s it? Not even say goodbye, not even say ‘it’s over’? Seriously? Fuck you. I don’t need you in my life if this is how you’re going to act. I don’t need somebody in my life this controlling, this conniving, this passive-aggressive, this… this… ah, fuck it.”
Click.