Torn(37)

"I want you to be there with me, Falon. If you're not interested in the job, that's fine, but I want to know you're near the stage when I'm performing and I want you in my bed at the end of the night."

Her stance softens slightly, her shoulders lower. "I'd need to see the venue to understand the available light or where I can position lights. If you have the name of it or a link I can look at, that will help. I can go over that tomorrow and let you know if I'm comfortable taking on the shoot."

She's all business. This is the woman people bear witness to when they book sessions with her. It's the same woman I went toe-to-toe with the first day I met her. She didn't back down from me then. She's confident in her craft, as she should be.

"I'll get Dita to send you all that and a proposed contract." I look down at my guitar. "That's the business part of the trip, Falon. I want to talk about the pleasure."

"Pleasure." The word rolls off of her tongue. "Does that happen after the concert?"

"That happens tonight, the night of the concert, hopefully a lot more nights after that."

Her mouth curves. "Are you asking if you can come home with me tonight?"

Leaning forward, I kiss the tip of her nose. "I want you to come home with me tonight."

***

"I don't have anything other than water or juice to offer you." I stand behind her as she gazes at the view of midtown Manhattan. "I don't drink alcohol. You might have noticed that."

"I don't either," she says softly without moving. "I don't like the taste of it. I never have."

"I like the taste," I admit as I move to stand next to her. "It's a gateway for me. It opens the door to other things. Things I need to avoid."

She turns to look up at me, her eyes catching mine. "I understand. My sister has addiction issues. I've gone to my fair share of Nar-Anon meetings."

"You probably saw my brother, Gabriel, at a few." I turn my head towards the window. I shouldn't feel ashamed. I've used my recovery as a tool to shape the life I want. Gabriel helped me with that by attending dozens of Nar-Anon meetings when I was using. It gave him the insight he needed to offer me a guiding hand. I never would have recovered without him.

"I can't say." Her chin tilts up. "There's a reason it's anonymous, you know."

I laugh. "Maybe I've seen your sister in some Narcotics Anonymous meetings. Does she look like you?"

She pauses. "She's never been to a meeting. She's not where you are. She still uses."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say honestly. "Are you close to her?"

She takes a quick, deep breath, her hand jumping to touch her forehead. "She's not close to anyone. Her pills are her best friend."





CHAPTER 29


Falon




I stare out at the city. The views offered from my apartment aren't like this at all. At any given time I can gaze out my bedroom window to see the street below. It's generally quiet since it's on one of the brownstone lined streets on the Upper East Side. I love it there. I'm not complaining but this view, from Asher's apartment, is what a photographer's dreams are made of. I can see the landscape of much of the city from here. I feel like I'm almost on top of the world.

I feel his hands on my waist as he takes a step so he's behind me. He rests his chin on the top of my head. "You're staring, Falon. You love this city as much as I do, don't you?"

I cup my hands over his, savouring the way it feels to be this close to him. "I do love it here. I think about moving to London sometimes though."

"London?" He runs his cheek over my hair, his lips settling next to my ear. "What's in London?"

I have to stop and think before I answer. "Freedom."

"Freedom?" He tugs on my waist to turn me so I'm facing him. "Freedom from what?"

I don't look up at him. I can't. I've never admitted this to anyone before, not even Maya. She's suspected. I haven't confirmed it to her, or maybe even to myself, because it borders on abandonment in my eyes, and in my heart. "My family."

He sucks in a short breath. "I think I might understand. There was a time, not that long ago, when all I wanted was freedom from my family."

"You don't want that now?" I look up at him even though I know I might see disappointment or judgement in his eyes.

"All I want now is to belong to them, all of them."

***

I don't press for more. I want to. I can tell by the way he releases me and takes a step back that he's trying to shield himself from whatever he's feeling. I don't know any of his family, although he was right earlier, when he joked that I might have been at a Nar-Anon meeting with his brother. I was. It wasn't the brother he mentioned though. I saw Caleb Foster at three meetings when I was in college. I didn't realize it until the other day when I was searching for Asher facts online and saw a picture of him with his two brothers.

Only a few people from the meetings have rooted up residence in my memory the way Caleb has. When he spoke in one meeting about his younger brother's addiction he cycled from bitter anger to inconsolable sadness. He was scared of losing him. It struck such a deep and resounding chord in me because I saw myself in him. I was terrified of one day waking up to the reality that Shirley had overdosed. I still feel a pang of anxiety each time I see her and she has that faraway look in her eyes.