Thirty-Seven
THIRTY-SEVEN
WHEN TRUST GOES BUST
It isn’t long before Kick finds me. He walks over slowly, hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans. It shows off the definition of his arms and I curse myself for noticing when my whole life is imploding.
“Mari,” he says, his voice tinged with confusion, a little desperate. The fact that he’s not calling me Goldie only amps up the tension. I wonder if he’s figured out what I know.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
I can’t look at him, can’t believe I’ve been put in this position, can’t believe everything I thought was finally right has gone so completely wrong.
My arms are crossed over my chest and I’m biting my bottom lip so hard I’ll probably leave teeth marks.
Kick paces in a slow, tight line in front of me. He’s probably worried about the performance, upset I left the stage, wondering if this will mess up his chances with Emily and Cheddar’s new label, hoping the investor doesn’t back out because I’m expendable .
“I don’t know what I did,” he says, “but I know it must be bad for you not to be taking shots at me right now. ”
He leaves space for me to make a snarky comment. I don’t take it.
“I thought I was doing something good, with the song. I thought…honestly, I need some context here. I can’t make things right if I don’t know what’s going on.”
There’s obvious sincerity in his voice, but it’s too late. I need to let myself spiral and he’s an easy target.
“You thought you were doing something good with that song?” My words spit out of me, angry and hurt. “That wasn’t for me. I know I’m just now catching up to what’s going on but give me a little credit.”
He stares, confused. “Going on?”
“Kick, the entire arena was eating out of the palm of your hand. You had them all yearning for you, which, great job, right on schedule. But that song wasn’t about me. It was about you being Kick Raines.” I do air quotes around his name. “Super charming sexy guy whose special talent is eye-fucking the back row through the giant LED screens. You making a big show about how that song was for me was…humiliating. You humiliated me.”
He shakes his head, his eyebrows drawn together. “How are you…what are you saying right now?”
“It’s all been about setting you up, hasn’t it?” My eyes flash up to his. “All of it, the flirting on stage, the songs, the signing lines, the photos, all the social media posts.” I pause, not wanting to say it. “Last night in my bunk. That will feed right into the new Kick Raines single, right?”
Kick pulls at his hair and takes a step closer.
“How can you say that to me?”
“Did you even write that song? Or did Emily and Cheddar have it written for you knowing it would make the audience love you?”
A shadow of confusion passes over his face and his jaw tightens.
“I don’t know why you’re being so mean right now,” he pauses, swallows, “but I wrote that song myself. I thought you understood what a big deal that is for me.” He throws his hands out to his sides and lets them fall, slapping against his thighs. “I was trying to tell you how I feel about you. How you dazzle me every single day. How performing with you is the most fun I’ve ever had in my entire life. And now you’re just, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening right now.”
Either he’s the best liar that ever lied or he really doesn’t know the whole thing, me and him and all of it, was manufactured from the start. And if that’s true, he thinks our chemistry is real. Earned. But we’ve just been playing into a script written for us. How can he know how he feels about me when we haven’t been real the entire time we’ve known each other?
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me to him, holds my hand over his heart. “Yes, I do.”
I could do it. I could give in to this moment, let him woo me, kiss me, hold me. I could pretend not to know about Emily and Cheddar’s plan to dump me as soon as I’m no longer useful to them. To Kick. But I’d know it was a lie.
“I thought we were building something,” I say. “I thought I could trust you. All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was for someone to see me. It’s always been Polly or my mother, never me. I’ve been invisible. Then when I met you, when we got on this tour, I thought,” I push him away, “but you used me, just like everyone else.”
“Please explain to me how I’ve been using you.” His expression shifts “You think I give a rat’s ass about your sister? I’ve known who you are since the day we met, Mari. I knew the whole time and I never cared. After everything we’ve been through, how can you say I’ve been using you?”
I stare at him, fuming. This cannot be happening.
“You knew?”
“I was waiting for you to tell me, to trust me. When you finally told me I thought it meant something. I thought we were finally?—”
“You knew the whole time.”
He blows out a long breath. “That’s the point, isn’t it? I don’t care. I never did. I care about you, period. No one else.”
I am going to throw up. “You knew I was Polly’s sister and you never said anything.”
“You never said anything either.”
Visions of Kick and Emily and Cheddar laughing it up at my expense flash through my mind. Have they all three talked about it? How I’m using a stupid stage name when everyone on planet earth knows the truth? Have I been a joke this entire tour?
“Who told you?”
“You’re not listening to me. I. Don’t. Care.”
“Who told you, Kick?”
He sighs, defeated. “It was at the party, at Jackson’s. When you left with Cass, some guy, a producer I think, came up to me wondering if I knew you. He wanted an in with you.”
Tears finally fall from my eyes as the knife to my heart plunges so deep it disappears entirely
“I can’t believe this,” I say.
“I don’t understand what’s happening here. You walked off stage in the middle of my song, which, thanks for that by the way.”
“You lied to me.”
He hangs his head, hands on his hips, and talks to the pavement. “I never lied to you. Not once. I didn’t tell you I knew your name, but I didn’t lie.”
“I knew this would happen,” I say, my heart splintering like shattered glass. “I knew the second I let my guard down I’d be disappointed. I am so sick of feeling this way, of being overlooked and thrown away like I don’t matter.”
“That’s not?—”
“I’m not done.” I glare at him. “I let you in. How could you do this to me? ”
He glares right back. “The thing I’m trying to understand is how you accuse me of being flirty and unserious all the time when you’re the one who runs away the second things start getting real.”
“I don’t do that.”
“You’ve been running from me since the second we met. You said you dated half of Nashville but did you ever have any real feelings for anyone? Did you ever let anyone in? You write these open, honest songs and yet you can’t let your guard down for a single second with me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I’m here, Mari. I’m ready. I’m in this for you, to be with you. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away. All I’ve done is care about you.”
Sounds like the perfect song title for his debut album about The Big Breakup.
“If that’s what you think you’re doing, you’re a bigger asshole than I thought you were.”
He wraps his hands around my arms, his eyes on fire. “You know what this is, what we are to each other. You know how I feel about you and, despite how hard you deny it, I know how you feel about me. You’re running so hard from something you’re sure will be bad, you’re missing the good right in front of you.”
Nice words, but he lied to me, manipulated me. He’s been scheming with Cheddar and Emily behind my back. I was right not to trust him. I never should have let him in.
“You two.”
We startle as Emily’s shrill voice bounces off the side of the bus. She and Cheddar are standing a few feet away, arms crossed.
“We need to talk,” she says. “Now.”