Frayed (Connections, #4)(67)

You knew better, I cry to myself. You did. I slam the steering wheel. I thought he’d be mad, but I didn’t expect disdain from him or his disgust. The flame of attraction that burned in his deep blue eyes whenever he looked at me was extinguished the minute my words registered.

The drive home feels too short and the walk up the stairs even shorter. The longest part of the day is yet to come—the night I was supposed to spend with him. I throw myself on the couch and lie here for the longest time. My phone rings and I glance at it, knowing it won’t be him. It’s not. It’s Tate. Why won’t he leave me alone? I ignore it and resume my blank stare, not wanting my numbness to vanish because the pain will be too much to bear.

I must have fallen asleep, because the sound of my phone ringing again wakes me up. I sit up and look around before reaching for it. Romeo Fairchild flashes across the screen.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Bell, it’s Romeo. Sorry to bother you at home but that band you recommended is playing tonight at a bar not too far from the showroom and since you told me you lived close by I was wondering if you would come over and tell me what you think.”

I contemplate the idea. Maybe some distraction is just what I need. Maybe a drink wouldn’t be so bad either. I need to get Ben out of my system. To not let this bring me down. I knew better than to go down this road with him. I knew there was nowhere else for it to end up. Ben just isn’t the kind of guy to open his arms and say I forgive you, it’s okay. Somehow I hoped it would be different, yet in my heart I always knew things would end up like this.

“What do you think, Bell? Tate said he’d try to make it too.”

His voice over the line jolts me from my thoughts. Something doesn’t feel right with this invite. I remember when I was leaving last night in a rush to see Ben that I saw Tate and Romeo and that girl I feel I’ve seen somewhere before standing together, the three of them at the makeshift bar.

“I’m sorry, I can’t tonight, but I’m sure you and Tate will find your own kind of fun.”

His laugh is a rumble. “Guess you’re not interested in our kind of fun. Sorry to hear that. But if you change your mind we’ll be at a place called Beck’s. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“I have to go.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he says, and hangs up.

I stand up and pace the room. The brown package is on the couch where I threw it. I open it up and place both books on the coffee table, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn on top.

I decide to call my mother. I can talk to her about this.

“Everything okay?” she answers.

“Yes, but you sound like everything isn’t.”

“I’m talking to Aunt Celeste. Jagger’s father is really sick and Jack and I are going to fly out in the morning to be with her. Can I call you back?”

“Of course. No rush. I hope everything is okay.”

“I’ll call you back,” she says, and hangs up.

I try to call Jagger but there’s no answer. I try Aerie but no answer there either. My aunt and Jagger’s father were close; at least they were when I spent a year with my aunt in Paris. She spoke to him every day. I felt they were in love, but they were two ships that passed in the night, star-crossed lovers, I remember thinking.

With sadness for my aunt and Jagger in my already broken heart and no one else to talk to about Ben, I head for the door, leaving my cell phone behind. I need to chase away the dark clouds storming in my head—a few bottles of wine, maybe even a bottle of vodka can certainly help me do that.





CHAPTER 21


Away from the Sun

Ben

The winds have picked up as I tear down the road. I haven’t wanted a drink in a long time, but I do now. I ride like hell to get out of town. I don’t pay any attention to where I’m going, turning right or left depending on which light is green. A few hours later I end up far from where I started, in West Hollywood, only a few blocks from Beck’s. The traffic is f*cking bumper to bumper and I can’t sit in it. I park in the first open spot I find and walk the rest of the way to his place.

The sign above the door is lit in neon red. It’s like a beacon lighting my way in a storm. I slip inside the hole-in-the-wall bar and look around. The place has really changed. The jukebox that sat in one corner is gone, as are the few booths that used to line the wall to the right. They’ve been replaced by a stage and a dance floor made out of parquet wood. The few bunches of tables that used to be scattered throughout have multiplied into many. The giant L-shaped bar is the same and the wall of beer taps that rests behind hasn’t changed. I sit at the end of the bar and a chick I don’t know approaches me.

“What are you having?”

I scan the more than one hundred beers behind her. “Whatever you want to give me,” I answer, unable to decide.

She pours a beer and sets it in front of me. I stare at it for the longest time as she tends to some other customers. Then I pick it up and down it.

She bends down in front of me to wipe a few too many times around where the condensation from my beer mug dripped on the bar. “Another?”

I nod. “Beck around?”

“Senior or Junior?” she asks, twisting to refill my glass.

“Junior.”

“No, he’s not around much anymore.” She bounces her tits in my face.