Star Struck (28 page)

‘Y'see?' Jack's voice sounded as though it came from years away. ‘It shouldn't have come as a surprise that we found each other, the TV world isn't that huge. But I'd changed my name and I'd never known he existed, so … and we worked together. It all worked.'

‘But he found out who you were.'

Jack bunched the hem of his T-shirt and scrubbed it over his face. The scar over his ribcage flickered in and out of vision for a moment, like a flip-book animation, as though two alternate lives rode one over the other. ‘It was Lissa. She got pregnant. My baby, Skye. My child. And I thought … I honestly thought that it would save me. That I'd finally be able to care for something, that I'd be able to leave the past behind and start to love someone.'

‘
Jack.
'

I couldn't stop myself from looking away from him, tearing my eyes from his hunched shoulders and glancing over at Gethryn. The expression of triumph on his face made me feel sick.

‘But by then I'd crapped it all up with Liss – and I don't blame her for it. Having a baby by a guy with my background, a drunken bastard who didn't love her,
couldn't
love her – who said I'd even be able to love the child? And she ran.'

Gethryn was nodding now, smirking at me and raising his eyebrows.

‘She ran to
him
?'

Jack's eyes were closed and new lines of strain creased around them. ‘Yeah. She said she loved me. He was all body and brawn, she said. Until … well, he
understood
. That's his real gift, Skye. He took all of them after that, all the girls I … every one I couldn't love, they all ran to Geth in the end. I damaged them and he
understood
.' Jack rested his forehead against my shoulder and just stood silently. I knew he was still crying because of the spreading dampness of the velvet across my skin, but he made no sound and no movement at all, until I put my arms around him, when he let out the single word, ‘Sorry.'

The Iceman had shattered.

‘She told him all about me and he's used it against me every day since.' He spoke into my skin. ‘Every day. Whispering Ryan's name, telling me what a lousy, fucked-up father I would have made …'

‘The baby …?' I felt his tears against my neck, felt his shoulders give one last, huge heave.

‘She lost it. Stress, they said, when Geth cheated on her. Geth cheated on all of them, in the end.' The words sounded as though they came from between clenched teeth. ‘No baby. No Lissa. No love.' A violent shudder. ‘
No salvation.
'

Gethryn had lost all pretence of gazing at the view or concentrating on the bottle. Those golden eyes were watching us and I noticed, for the first time, how predatory they looked. ‘You still think it was coincidence, don't you, Ice? You finding me, me getting that part on
North
, you bringing me onto
Skies
? No, I knew who to talk to, who to put pressure on, to get in. You stupid, fucked-up bastard, I knew who you were all along. People talk, you know that? Everyone back home in Leeds, in the old neighbourhood, they all knew when you came out of prison, all knew you'd changed your name and ponced off to live in York like nothing had ever happened – people don't like that sort of thing, see. They like men who stand up and take responsibility, not men who run off and try to pretend to be someone else. Must have had thirty letters that week, my family. Leeds might be a big city, but you get a name for things like you did, a name that carries with you, whatever you call yourself. No, I knew who you were; I was just biding my time.'

‘So you let me blame Lissa?' Jack's words were muffled against my skin.

Gethryn's laughter made my skin creep.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The pain was indescribable. Jack felt it take the strength from his legs and the will from his mind as it swept through, riding the train of memory. But Skye stood steadily, letting him embrace the agony and wash it out in tears on her skin. She was even holding him, murmuring words he couldn't hear into his hair, putting her cheek to his as if to share some of the pain.

‘You see what kind of man I am? Now, do you
see
? When I got out … I locked it all up tight, all the feelings and the guilt, all in a little box marked “alcohol”. I drank so that I could feel drunk. To reassure myself that I could at least feel
something
; even altered states of consciousness are better than nothing.'

He didn't tell her that nineteen years hadn't dulled any of the memories. That he could still hear Ryan's scream as the car hit, still hear the tearing, grinding sound of the car being peeled apart like an orange. Could still hear himself laughing, that stupid, piercing laugh of the recklessly high, blindly incomprehensive of just what he'd done.

Remorse stabbed at his gut and twisted. For the first time in nineteen years, he let it. ‘I leaned on alcohol and then I leaned on Lissa. Never really stood alone and faced what I'd done, just buried it all, the emotion, the guilt. So, you see, I'm not much use,' he said. Skye smelled of hot velvet and he wondered if he'd ever be able to pass an uncut moquette sofa on a warm day without thinking of her, and then frowned. That was the second time he'd compared this lovely, willowy,
tragically
sexy girl to a three-piece suite. ‘Really, not much use at all,' he repeated to himself.

‘But you've got potential.' Skye gave him a half-smile, which was more than he deserved, he reckoned. His heart gave a peculiar double beat which at first he mistook for lust, but then realised was hope.

A few muscles uncoiled from their rigid stance and he passed a hand over the back of his neck, almost surprised to feel the heat of his own skin.
Still alive. Bleeding inside, but still alive. And with her … with Skye, I might even recover.

He raised his head, knowing that his cheeks were smeared with desert dust, knowing that his eyes probably looked like hellpits. ‘I can get you help, Geth …
Tyler
, you know I can. Shit, I can even help you myself, if that's what you want.' Using Gethryn's real name for the first time, here like this, gave him back some of his certainty. He felt stronger now, as though some of her strength had transferred to him in that smile. ‘Get off the booze, clean up your act. Maybe do a stint in a clinic or something, yeah? Get yourself straight and maybe I can write you another part. I'll go and see your family … I'll do anything. I just want to make amends.'

Gethryn clambered to his feet. With his heart sinking Jack saw the giveaway signs: the lack of co-ordination, the shrunken pupils. Geth was beyond listening to whatever he had to say. He wanted revenge, pure and simple.

‘Fuck off. Leave me here. I'm gonna throw myself off, end it all. You've told them all about me, that I'm … what was it you said? “Unreliable, unprofessional and unencumbered by morals”, wasn't it? Fine piece of word-play that, I'd almost admire you for it, if it didn't mean that I'd be lucky to get a bit part in
Days of our Lives
. You've ruined my life, Jack.'

‘That's not true.' Jack knew it probably was, but that wouldn't help here. ‘Come back to Britain. We'll come up with something together, Ty.'

‘You just don't want me to tell them, do you? Kept it quiet, never breathed a word about Ryan, let Liss think it was all news to me – I didn't tell no-one, see. Get me Lucas James back and I might just manage to keep it all down a bit longer, might be able to see my way to “forgetting” what you did to my brother. What do you say, Jack?' Geth held his arms wide. ‘You overlook my little habits and I'll overlook you being a murdering son of a bitch. Okay?'

Jack felt the hope well up inside him. He could get out of this clean, get away; no-one need ever know what he'd done. All he had to do was bend a little. Make excuses. Tell everyone that Geth was re-hired and …

Her eyes. She was watching him as though she stood a million miles away, afraid to reach out because of the distance. Her dress was still stained with his tears. This woman, who'd overcome her own fears, who was building herself a new present on a shaky history. A woman whose past scarred her inside and out and yet was brave enough to be content to forget. No compromise, just moving on.

‘No,' he said aloud, startling himself. ‘No, Tyler. You go ahead, you tell them all about me. I've spent nineteen years denying myself everything I should have felt back then. I pushed it all down, the guilt, the fear, even the love; I wouldn't let any of it out in case it hurt, but now? Now I'm
sick
of running scared.' He tilted his chin towards the other man. ‘Sick of living in fear. I
want
it out in the open. Go ahead.'

‘Skye.' Geth's voice was slow, like something was taking effect. Jack cursed himself for having let himself take his eye off the man. ‘Come here a second. I want to tell you something.'

‘Geth …' Jack started forward, but Skye touched his shoulder, her simple, easy gesture paralysing him.

‘It's okay. I'm assuming I know the worst now?'

Her eyes were so wonderful. Why had he never noticed how lovely they were?
Iceman, you've not just melted, you've puddled.
‘Yeah. That was it.' He even managed a smile. ‘And I've always been kind to kittens.'

‘If I find
that
was a lie, I'll be very upset.' She crossed the roof, stopping just short of where Gethryn was standing. ‘What is it? What do you want, Geth? I'll listen, whatever. Just … just stop this.'

Gethryn took half a step forward, towards her. ‘I'll tell you what I want,' he said. Another step. ‘I want this over.'

And before Jack could move, react,
breathe
, Gethryn had seized her around the waist, thrown himself backwards, and taken them both off the edge of the roof.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

He sat alone in the white room on a chair that squeaked. From somewhere he'd found an old biro which jutted from between his teeth as he sucked and bit on it to keep the cravings at bay, cravings which crept up his spine like insects and threatened his brain. A cup of very elderly coffee occupied his hands, occasional whispers of its smell making his stomach churn.

‘Mr Whitaker?' The nurse put her head around the door.

Jack shot to his feet, the coffee sprawling out across the tiles, the biro falling from his lips. ‘Yes. What's happening? How is … I mean, how is she?' His stomach turned over again, but it wasn't at the smell of the coffee now. Cold, hard dread burned a hole through his gut, aided and abetted by hot fury.

The nurse shook her head. ‘I'm sorry, I just came to let you know that there's not going to be any news for a while, you might as well go home.' Her eyes flickered over the pooling coffee. ‘If there's anything, we can call you.'

Jack embraced the fury. It ran through his blood now, overflowing and flooding every organ, rushing his brain like a tsunami.
Nineteen years. Nineteen years of feeling nothing, of keeping it all shut away like a mad dog. I'm out of practice …
‘Look.' He tried to keep the worst of the anger from his voice but he knew it was shining from his eyes by the way the nurse took a step back and held the door half-closed between them. ‘I'm staying here. I will not leave until there is something that you can tell me, all right? So, if I were you, I'd get back to that
fucking
Emergency Room and not leave it until you can tell me what the
fuck
is going on.'

His whole body was vibrating with it. The terror that had taken over his brain when he saw Skye fall hadn't moved an inch, even though he knew she was alive, knew she was in good hands, knew all the right things were being done. It had simply changed form.

Jack went back to the squeaky chair and sat, elbows on knees, head in hands. He let himself sink just for a second into the sleep his body so desperately wanted, but the dreams were queuing up already; nineteen years of denial had built up a huge backlog of nightmares he was very afraid he was going to have to work his way through before he reached any sense of resolution.
Like having to read the whole series to find out whodunit. Except, in this case, I know who. It was me.

A sad-eyed orderly came in and began sluicing a desultory mop over the coffee spill. Jack let his eyes follow the movement, its hypnotic rhythm easing more thoughts from his brain. Why did Skye touch him in a way that no-one else had? Did he have a huge case of white-knight syndrome, wanting to ride in and rescue her from her lack of a past and an uncertain future? He rocked the chair back on two legs, the plastic squealing and flexing like a heretic under torture by the Inquisition and remembered her quiet acceptance of him as he was. Remembered the touch of that velvet dress. The scent of her skin. The way she'd let him cry …

His mouth let out a sharp sound as a backwash from the anger hit and then a hand touched his knee and made him jump.

‘Skye?'

Another chair squealed in protest at a sitting body. ‘Hi, Jackie-boy. Looking like shit, if I might say so.'

Jack sank back. ‘What are you doing here, Liss?' He didn't want to admit that he'd thought Skye might have died and visited him as some kind of farewell. Even as a writer,
that
kind of imagination was frowned on.

Lissa sighed. ‘Here for Geth. You might hate him and wish him to hell but … he's a good man, underneath it all. He's confused, is all. And I'm … hey, I'm quite fond of him, y'know? He's had a rough time.' She gave another sigh and rubbed the back of a dirty hand over her cheek. ‘I want him to make it,' she whispered.

‘Yeah.'

‘You waiting to hear about Skye?'

‘No, I'm hoping Elvis might stage a come-back tour.' His head sank lower until all he could see was a circle of tiled floor between his feet. ‘It's the memories, Liss.' He spoke to a cracked tile. ‘I can't lose them. They've ruined my life, and I can't lose them. How am I supposed to do anything, live a normal life with … with anyone, when I've got these
things
following me?'

He smelled a sudden billow of perfume as Lissa moved her chair closer. ‘Memories make us what we are, Jackie. Ask your Skye, poor little chick's scared to death that she's not real because her memory's all mixed up. And here's you, scared that you're too real, too tied to what's gone before.' Another hand brushed his shoulder. ‘It gets easier, y'know. When you turn around and face it. I found that when I had to look at you knowing who you were,
what
you were, and then after when … when I lost the baby.' She touched his cheek with a cool hand. ‘Learn to deal, Ice. That's all I got. Learn to deal.'

Jack felt a slow uncoiling in his chest, as though an overwound spring was losing tension. He put a hand to his throat where the leather lace felt slimy against his slick skin. ‘I'm holding it all like it defines me.' The quiet words weren't for Lissa, who was staring at a poster about sexually transmitted diseases. ‘I'm
letting
it define me.'

Without looking at him, Lissa shrugged. ‘Life, huh?'

Yes. Life. We're pitched into it, expected to know what to do, how to cope. How to manage those situations where everything spirals down. And sometimes we just can't adapt fast enough, it sucks us down with it and the weight of what we've done keeps us there. But sometimes …
he traced the curve of his throat, where the lace marked a line, echoed a scar …
sometimes life spirals upwards. And maybe the trick is knowing which is which …