A Lush Betrayal (22 page)

“Let’s do this,” says Mike as he plays an intro to the song that I didn’t write but sounds wickedly great.

I sing and Colin hops in as Walsh catches the rhythm and then speeds it up, nodding his head when we follow his lead and change the pace. When the chorus comes, Mike and Colin chime in and Walsh laughs as he tries to keep up with the words. I look over at Mel, whose smile is like a one hundred-watt bulb, and I catch her eye. She gives me a wink, and my heart soars. My beautiful girl, my band, and good music, if only it were this simple all the time.

W
E’VE FINISHED
the show in New York and now the guys are partying. I go to have a drink, but Mel’s gone back to the hotel, saying she had a headache, so I don’t stay long.

When I arrive at the suite, Mel’s in bed with the lights out. I undress and climb in beside her, stroking her hair. “Are you okay, baby?” I whisper in the darkness.

I hear her sniff. “Yeah, just tired I guess.”

“Did you take something for the headache?”

“Um, I don’t really remember,” she answers as she sighs softly.

“C’mere.” I gently pull on her shoulder to get her to roll over so she’s not facing away from me. “Hey, what’s going on? You seem upset about something.”

She clears her throat then says, “No. Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah? So our music isn’t finally hurting your head?”

She laughs, but it’s empty, not her usual giggle. “No.”

“Did you talk to Tammy tonight or something?”

“Joss, I’m fine. Just leave it be,” she snaps at me. She’s never snapped at me. Mel simply doesn’t do that. Now I know something’s wrong, and if something’s wrong with Mel, I have to fix it. I just have to.

I sit up and reach over her to turn on the lamp next to the bed. She cringes away from the invasion of light until her eyes adjust. I look down at her as she blinks. Immediately I can see that she’s been crying. I can also see the moment she realizes I know. She tries to turn away from me quickly, but I catch her, grasping each of her shoulders and lifting her up until she’s sitting beside me. Pushing the hair out of her face, I run my thumb along the puffy skin below her beautiful baby blues.

“What happened, sweet Mel? You know I’m not going to stop until you tell me, so out with it.”

She looks at me briefly, and I can see a certain fear flit across her face. She nibbles on her lower lip, and I reach down and gently pull it free before stroking her cheek. She’s making me hurt somewhere deep inside. I don’t want to see this look on her face ever again, and I feel like I’d do just about anything to erase it.

Her gaze drifts down to the sheet lying across her lap. “It’s about school. I was hoping for something that didn’t work out is all.”

“I’m so sorry. I thought you were all done with school though.”

“No. I mean, I told everyone I was—” Her voice fades as she looks away from me and struggles not to cry. Finally she takes a deep breath and forges on. “I made a mistake, Joss. A huge mistake, and now it looks like it might cost me everything I worked for all these years.”

“Oh, baby, what happened?” My chest aches to see the pain in her eyes.

“My last semester of school, this winter, I took a class from a professor who’s really important. He’s famous in photojournalism, and students would kill to get into his course, but he hand selects the top students for this final section before they graduate.

“From the very beginning of the semester, he was really encouraging about my work. Saying I had a bright future and he could help me make contacts after graduation. I was so flattered, Joss. I’d worked hard to get to where I was. I was the top student in my program, you know?”

I nod and kiss her on the forehead, not saying what’s going through my head.
Of course you were. You’re brilliant at everything you touch
.

“One thing led to another, and pretty soon Professor Marin—that’s his name—was asking me to come to his office after hours and then to coffee with him. Before I knew what was happening, I’d started seeing him. Like
dating
him.”

I feel my stomach twist inside of me, and my heart burns with a surge of acid that strips it raw.

Mel looks at me, her expression serious and so frightened. I try to school my features because I don’t want her to think I’m mad at her.

“It’s okay,” I say a little gruffly. “Go on.”

She gives one quick little nod. “So, we slept together for a couple of months. Then, toward the end of the semester, he called me less and less and quit talking to me in class. I figured it was just that the whole thing had run its course. I didn’t care about him, I swear. He was interesting and he knew everyone who was anyone in my field. I was flattered someone like him would want to spend time with me. It was for kicks though, nothing more.

“Then we turned in our final projects. I got all A’s through school, Joss. I’d gotten all A’s in Marin’s class. But my final project came back with a grade of a C.”

I can’t control myself anymore. “That fucking bastard,” I snarl. Mel jerks like I’ve slapped her. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Tell me the rest.” I try to relax as I rub the back of her neck while she talks.

“I still would have passed and gotten the degree, but that C meant I was out of the running for the award given to the top graduate in the program every year, the Eddie Adams award. I’d worked for six years to get that award. Everyone knew it was mine for the taking. Then one of my friends told me people had been talking about me being involved with Marin, and I realized he’d given me that C to throw everyone off the scent. They’d be expecting him to show me favoritism so he did the opposite.”

There’s a flame of fury pulsing through me now, and it’s taking everything I’ve got not to get on the next plane to Seattle and kick this fucker’s ass for screwing with my girl. I seriously want to see his blood on my hands.

“I went to the Dean’s office,” she continues. “I told them about the affair and asked for a review to try to get my grade changed. It was probably stupid. Marin told me I was lucky to get off as easy as I did. But it seemed so unfair, and I wanted that award more than I’d ever wanted anything.”

She sighs heavily, and I wait, giving her time to pull the rest out of that place we all have deep inside, where we bury the things that hurt us, and often those around us.

“I got an email today. The committee met and they’ve tossed out my grade, but they’ve ruled the class is invalid. Now a different committee has to decide if I can retake the course or if they won’t let me get the degree at all.”

She stops talking and slumps back against the headboard. I lean forward, arms on my bent knees, and run a hand through my hair. The only thought that keeps cycling through my head is that if it’s the last thing I do I’ll make this fucker pay. Screwing coeds and then punishing them for going along with him? What an asshole.

I look back at Mel, who has fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. I reach over and pull her to me, squeezing her tight. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, sweetheart. The guy is a fucking prick and he deserves to spend about a month strung up by his balls somewhere public.”

She giggles through her tears.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Mel. You were human. Impressed by someone who was supposed to be fostering you professionally. He’s the one who was wrong, and you are
not
going to give up. We’re going to get my attorney on this and we’re going to fight it. If you have to retake the class, then so be it, but you
will
get that degree
and
be considered for the award you want, just like you should have been.”

“What?” Mel gasps as she leans back to take in my expression. “A lawyer?”

“Damn straight. My guy is going to come down on Seattle College so hard they won’t know what hit them. He’ll threaten them
and
that dick with exposure. They’ll be too terrified to
look
at you once we’re done with them. And if we have to, we’ll charge the asshole in civil court. I’m sure Patterson’s office can find ten different charges to file against him, and we’ll ask for punitive damages that are so high Mr. Ivory Tower will be quaking in his Birkenstocks.”

“Oh my God, Joss. You can’t be serious?” she asks, her eyes like huge saucers.

“Hell yes, I’m serious. No one treats my girl like that and gets away with it,” I growl.

Then, like I pressed some button, Mel starts bawling. Like flat-out ugly crying. I’m ruined, totally lost. I don’t know how to make her stop, and I don’t know why she started in the first place. I gingerly pull her closer as she continues to wail. Good God, how did I get myself into this? I rock with her gently, shushing her and hoping like crazy she cries herself out fast.

After a couple of minutes, she slows down and I whisper, “Was it something I said?”

She laughs through the tears and wipes at her eyes, her little nose tomato red and wet like a dog’s. I place a kiss on the end of it, because I just can’t help myself.

“I thought you’d hate me,” she finally says. “For being so naïve. For sleeping with some middle-aged jerk and ruining my future. I just never imagined you’d be on my side.”

If I didn’t have this whole rock-star tough-guy image to maintain, I might cry a little myself right now. I take her face in my hands. “Mel,” I say, deathly serious, “I am always,
always,
on your side. You didn’t ruin your future. If anyone’s going to be ruined here, it’s him. I told you, I take care of what’s mine. You’re mine, Mel.”

I take a deep breath. “I won’t change my mind. I won’t give up on you. I’m always on your side.” I stop short of saying the three words I know I should and watch her eyes tell a mysterious story that I want to read forever. I pray to God that I’ll get at least a fraction of that time. “That’s all,” I say before I cover her lips with mine and fall into her again.

Mel

T
HE
D
EEP
South. Who knew they loved my boyfriend so much? Since we came south of the Mason-Dixon line a week ago, it’s been nonstop screaming women, hairspray, cleavage, and false eyelashes. Through Baltimore, Washington, D.C., Charleston, and Lexington, I’ve photographed them on the sidewalks in front of the hotels. They camp out overnight and bring battery-powered curling irons, bags of makeup, and crates of hairspray.

As much as Joss hates dealing with hysterical fans, he agreed to come out onto the sidewalk at the hotel in Raleigh so I could get shots of him with the crowds. He walked out, a smile on his face, waving to everyone. The roar that went up could probably be heard for blocks. When they saw him, the crowd surged so hard and so fast that, before the security guys could stop her, a woman at the front ran past their lineup, grabbed Joss, jumped up, threw her legs around his waist, and kissed him full on the lips. Afterwards, he said he was just glad she hadn’t been a very big woman because it would have really ruined his image if he’d collapsed under her weight.

It was at that moment I knew I had the best boyfriend in the world. He’d subjected himself to all that for me. And yes, I call him my boyfriend. Somehow the word doesn’t seem adequate for Joss Jamison, but in lieu of another, I use it. Just not in front of my sister.

As Joss and I have spent more and more time together, the crew and band have slowly adjusted, but we’re still careful not to flaunt it in front of Tammy and Walsh. Tammy and I have a tentative truce. When she and I sat down to dinner the night after she found out I’d slept with Joss, we agreed to disagree and decided we couldn’t talk about it anymore. But while that approach keeps actual arguments from erupting, it does nothing to dispel the awkwardness that’s descended between us like a thick glass wall. We can
see
each other but not really
hear
each other. These days, we only talk about things like where will be the easiest place for me to set up cameras and what the schedule for the day is.

Today it’s a conversation about some pictures I need of Walsh.

“Will he let us shoot him while he’s setting up?” I ask as Tammy and I share a limo from the hotel to the auditorium in Memphis. “I can’t believe I’ve never gotten shots of Walsh getting the drums out.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t mind. You know Walsh. It’s all good,” she answers dully.

“Tammy? There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, but I wasn’t sure how to do it.”

She looks at me sharply, and I’m guessing she expects this to be about Joss.

“We haven’t addressed Walsh’s recovery at all in the pictures we have. It was all over the papers when it happened though, so it’s public knowledge. He goes to AA meetings in every town, talks to his sponsor on the phone every day, and says the devotional with the guy from the crew before the performances. Don’t you think we need to deal with it at some point?”

Tammy looks straight ahead, eyes glazed over as if she’s reliving something that happened far away in time or distance.

“I don’t want him exposed that way. Opened up to people’s cruelty. You can’t photograph the AA meetings anyway. What else would you use?”