Want (23 page)

“Are you done, Dr. Dave? You sound like my shrink.”

He stops rubbing. “Say that again.”

“What?”

“Dr. Dave. I really,
really
like that.”

“Shut
up
.” I smack him on the shoulder.

“No, I’m not done yet. Something you said at the beach in December stuck with me. Maybe you don’t remember, you were a bit tipsy, but when I tried to compliment you, you called yourself a freak.”

Oh, God, here it comes. I cover my face with my hands. I want to sink into the couch cushions.

“Don’t.” He drops my feet on the floor, gently grasps both wrists and pulls my hands away from my face.

My cheeks flame like five hours in the sun. He moves closer.

“I said you had amazing legs, smooth skin, and gorgeous hair. I still think that’s true. But now I know you’re just as gorgeous on the inside, which is why I have to tell you this.”

Dave moves even closer so his thigh presses against mine. He drapes a possessive arm over the back of the couch. My stomach tightens.

“I don’t mean to sound like an after-school special, but I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen girls like you who have everything and don’t know it, so they look for it in other places, from other people.
The
wrong
people.
It’s not healthy.” Dave shakes his head. “You don’t need to go down that road.”

“You lost me.”

He loops one of my curls around his finger and for just a second, I wonder what the hairs at the back of his neck would feel like on my fingertips. “You’re a people-pleaser.
A bit volatile, but still.
You’re like Stella. Can you guess who Stanley is in this equation? Like I said, I’ve seen this before, and the ending ain’t pretty.”

Oh
. This close, I can see flecks of green in his brown eyes.

“Now, because I’m more of a Mitch than a Stanley, I couldn’t kiss you properly in December. You were a little drunk and it wasn’t right. But I’d like to make up for that now.” He leans in and, just before our lips touch, he whispers, “May I?”

I part my lips in answer, but a memory floats to the surface.

“No.”

“No?”

“Not after what happened at the beach. I’m no older now than I was then, and you pushed me away.”

“Juli, that’s not—”

“Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done the last few days. You’ve been fantastic, and you’re my best friend. Truly, I love you as much as I love R.J., but I really don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to set myself up again just to have you find some other reason for it to be wrong. I don’t want to be strung along like all your other girlfriends between here and Boston.”

For a long time, he doesn’t say a thing. I guess no one’s ever told him no before. The back door slams open and shut, and Daddy breezes in
. I can’t decide if his timing
is perfect or terrible.

Dave clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I was saying goodbye to Julianne, sir. My plane leaves in two hours.” He stands in front of Daddy to shake his hand, just like he did when I came home from the hospital. “I hope I’ve been a help this week, Mr. Casquette. Please give your wife my regards.”

“Will do. And thanks for your help. It took guts to jump on a plane and show up here. I respect that. Safe travels.”

With a peck on the cheek
for me and a promise to call when his plane lands in Boston,
Dave’s gone.

Chapter Fourteen

The door creaks a little and the musty smell of disuse hits me as I enter my studio. My audition is just weeks away, and I have no idea if I can play a scale, let alone an entire collection of pieces.

I can use my arm again, but my range of motion is limited. I need to be able to extend my shoulder parallel to my body, both left and right, to go up and down the keys. If I don’t lift my fingers too far off the keyboard, I’ll be okay.

I start simple with a slow, three-octave scale. The middle octave is no problem because I can hug my arm to my side. It’s the upper and lower octaves that are a challenge. When I move up the keys and my left arm crosses in front of me, I stumble. White heat radiates up into my neck, across my back and down my arm. For a second, purple stars burst in front of my eyes. The lower octave isn’t so bad.

“I wondered when you’d give it a try,” Daddy says from the doorway. “You able to do anything?”

“It hurts.
Really bad.
I think I need a few more days for some of the soreness to go away.”

“That’s what I told Isaac Laroche just now.”

The mention of his name sends my heart into overdrive.

“He was here?”

“No. I called him. I figured you’d want to start practicing again ASAP. Your audition’s in a couple of weeks, right?”

“Yes.” Like I need a reminder that the most important day of my life will be here in three weeks and four days.

“Then you’ve got a lot of work to do, and you’ll need help.”

“Does he know about…?”

“I called him the morning after you went into the hospital. Told him you’d been injured and couldn’t play for a while. I didn’t go into details. Said I’d call when it looked like you were up to practicing again. I can’t believe you stayed away
this
long.”

“Neither can I. And he said he’d be over?”

“Tomorrow after therapy.”

Wow. Um, okay.
Does that mean he knows he falsely accused me of being a two-faced bitch and Marcie Swann’s stooge? I wonder how much he’s talked to Dave.

Dave. Another complication. I’ve tried not to think about it, but while Isaac was mauling me at Felix’s, he did say he’d thought about me.
That way
. If he knows now that it wasn’t an act…

Looks like tomorrow’s practice will be more painful than my arm.

***

“Still think I’m pretending?”

Isaac’s eyes go wide as he takes in my appearance. His gaze travels quickly to take stock of the damage. My shiners are more yellow today than green. There are still some bruises and scrapes on my arms, and I’ve lost fifteen pounds. A stomach full of mood stabilizers and pain pills sent my appetite into a death spiral. Granted, I had a few pounds to lose, but now I look a little gross. A little like her. I wonder if she’d be proud that she’s had this effect. I wouldn’t know since I haven’t gone to see her. Daddy bugs me about it, but I can’t. Not yet.

Isaac reaches out a hand to touch my face, but I recoil.

“I deserve that. Thought Dave exaggerated. I…
Jesus
.”

“Isaac, why are you here?”

“Your daddy called.” He stares at his shoes.

“Is that it?”

“You know it’s not.”

“No, Mr. Laroche, I don’t know anything.” I twirl a strand of hair around my finger.

“Didn’t…I don’t…not very good at this sort of thing.”

“What, apologizing? For being a complete jerk?”

“Yeah, that. Don’t usually care enough about people to bother.”

“Let me guess. You’re only here because you need the money from Daddy, and you feel like you owe him for what he did all those years ago. Yeah, I know about that. What I don’t know is how you could think I would side with Marcie Swann.”

“You’re right. I do need the money. And I do owe him.”

I grit so hard my teeth squeak. “Bastard. Get out.”

“Let me finish. What I’m most sorry about is I didn’t see this coming. Should have guessed about the scratches on your arms and bruises, and I
knew
you lied when you said you got mugged outside of Felix’s. I was there that night. You weren’t. I
knew
it was a lie, but I didn’t ask the right questions. I was too freaked out when you...” The tops of his ears redden. “Half expected Marcie Swann to jump out of your closet. And then at the New Year’s party.”

“That’s dumb. I don’t think she’s been to our house since I was little. Well, since your case.”

“I didn’t know that. I know how the Mystics are. They stick together.
Unless your daddy dies and leaves you without a huge life insurance payout and an inheritance.
Then you’re a poor relation twice removed.”

“Or unless your family sticks up for someone who was unfairly accused by the most powerful family in the Mystics. Not the most popular move my daddy ever made.”

“I was gone. Didn’t know how it all turned out.”

“Now you do.”

“Now I do.” He hangs his head and buries the toe of his shoe in the carpet pile.

I clear my throat. “So where does that leave us?”

“Leaves me to apologize. For being a dick, and an ass, and any other vulgar body part you care to compare me to. Sorry I didn’t believe you, and sorry if I scared you at Felix’s. If I’d known what you’d come home to
...
. Dammit, I—” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “All those times we argued and you flinched or cried. Thought you were being dramatic to get my hackles up. But you were scared, weren’t you?”

I shrug.

“Julianne. Please look at me. I am so, so sorry. It was not my intention to scare you or hurt you. There’s no excuse, but I hope you know I was only trying to get you to do your best. Music requires passion, and I forget how young you are.”

I can’t get past the shape of his mouth and the intensity in his eyes when he said “passion.” I’m trapped in his gaze, and I go all wobbly. After a deep breath, I ask what I really want to know.

“What about the other stuff?”

“Other stuff?”

“The, um, stuff you said before you asked how much she was paying me?”

His face turns crimson. “Think it’s best if we leave that alone. We have major work to do in the next couple of weeks, and I won’t fail you.”

I’d love to leave it in the past, but it surfaces every time I’m not thinking about
Mama
, or the audition, or Dave, or, you know, not breathing. Now that I’m a week or so removed from the incident at Felix’s, and I know he never planned to hurt me, I have to admit it was
something
. Thrilling? Perhaps it’s a sick, Freudian
side-effect
of my “hostile dependency” and “passive-aggressive tendencies”. Why can’t I be satisfied with someone nice, like Dave? He does all the right things, he’s funny and smart and talented.

And vanilla. Wonderful, but still vanilla, at least compared to Isaac. There’s something about Isaac’s massive presence and the challenge of winning him over. I like that I have to earn his attention and praise. There are so many musicians who’d kill for a minute with Isaac Laroche.

My ruminations come to an end when Isaac asks me to sit at the piano and show him what I can and can’t do with my injury. The results aren’t promising.

The next day, I walk into physical therapy and Isaac’s deep in conversation with my therapist.

“A little overkill, don’t you think?”

“Need to know how quickly you’ll regain your range of motion and if there’s anything we can do, any adaptations we can make, to get you through the audition,” Isaac says.

I’m impressed. Daddy’s never come to one of my therapy appointments, not that I’m surprised. He chooses to spend his spare time with
her
, at
her
appointments, bringing
her
things at the treatment facility.

I’m on my own, as usual.

***

Something’s up.
When I pull into the driveway after therapy, Daddy’s Lexus is in the garage. I shove open the back door, and he’s setting the table for three.

Not two, three. Which means…

My bag thumps when it hits the floor, and the room tilts a little to the left. My breath comes in short gasps.

“You okay, sweetie? I got a surprise for you.” Daddy looks up and turns pale when he sees me gripping the counter.

“W-why are there three plates?”

“Well, that’s the surprise. In fact, here he is.”

He?
I turn to the kitchen window and see a tall, solid form approach the back door. When it bangs open, I throw myself into his arms.

“Now that’s what I call a homecoming. Glad to see you, too, Sis.”

I squeeze his neck as hard as I can and grab fists full of his shirt in back. I don’t even try to control my sobs. “I thought…three plates. I didn’t know.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he says, smoothing my hair.

Behind me, Daddy groans. “Juli, it never occurred to me you’d take it like that. Thought you’d be happy R.J. was home for the weekend.”

R.J. plucks my arms from his neck and looks me in the face. “You okay? I thought I’d surprise you. Daddy made fried green tomatoes, your favorite. Let’s have a nice dinner, all right?”