27. Claire
27
CLAIRE
Jonah makes it to soundcheck.
I knew he would. I’m not ready to see him, though, so I hide out in the girls’ dressing room. I half expect him to come looking for me, but he doesn’t, and I’m grateful.
Truth be told, I’m embarrassed. I’ve never, ever, done something like that before, and I’m shocked by how much I enjoyed it. I also feel a little remorseful for leaving him like that. I have to keep reminding myself that he did worse to me. I could have done so much worse to him. At least I didn’t say cruel things to him. At least I didn’t break his heart and leave him to sit in his own self-loathing. At least I didn’t?—
I shake my head. I can’t do this. If I’m to really try with Jonah, I have to be able to move past what he did and said in Madrid. People do cruel things when they’re hurting. Jealousy and anger are a volatile combination. I should know. I believe him when he says he’s sorry. I’ve chosen to believe him.
I sink back into the couch and close my eyes. The muffled music from soundcheck filters through the door, and instinctively I try to pick out the lead guitar. Then I groan.
I’ve always been one to fall hard, and always for the wrong reasons. For the wrong men . Admittedly, in the past, it hasn’t taken much to gain my affection. A well-timed compliment. A small thing in common. A perceived hint of the promise of forever .
Every single time, I’ve been wrong. Every single time, I ended up used and discarded.
The boy I loved in high school only wanted me for my body. The man I loved in college only wanted me for my connection to my best friend. And Conrad...Well, with Conrad, deep down, I knew he wasn’t who I wanted him to be. I gave him almost a year of my life, anyway.
I can’t help but wonder what I’m missing with Jonah. I can’t help but anticipate the moment it’s revealed what a na?ve decision it was to give in to this connection. I didn’t make the choice to fall for him. I have, however, made the choice to pursue it.
I try to revert my train of thought toward work. I reach for my phone and pull up Jonah’s social media. The last thing I posted is a carousel from Dublin that includes two pictures from the book sale. It’s gotten millions of likes, and it’s been reposted in dozens of media articles online. A quick search of Jonah’s name brings a smile to my face, too. My personal life might be a shit show, but I am succeeding with this job. It boosts my confidence just enough to make me stupid.
Out of habit, damn near muscle memory, I pull up my ex-best friend’s profile. The very first post makes me gasp. My hand flies to my mouth as my eyes fill with tears. Happiness and sadness. Loss and longing. A deep, deep sense of self-loathing, and a reminder of the worst thing I’ve ever done.
It’s a pregnancy announcement. Nothing flashy or over the top. Just a photo of my brother’s and nephew’s hands resting atop Lennon’s small belly bump.
Family of four coming soon, the caption reads, followed by two blue hearts and two pink hearts.
A baby girl.
With tears streaming down my cheeks and a pained smile on my face, I scroll through the dozens of comments. Well-wishes and congratulations from people in my hometown. There’s a bunch of heart emojis from my mom. My brother’s best friend Chris has posted ready for babysitting duty. And then I see a comment that halts my scrolling and steals my breath.
It’s from Samantha, a girl we went to high school with. A girl who is now my ex-best friend’s new best friend. A girl I used to both hate and envy for how comfortable she seemed in her own skin. For how brave and unapologetically her she was.
Her comment stabs me right in the chest.
Auntie Sam can’t wait to snuggle her!
Auntie Sam.
I bet my nephew calls her auntie. I bet the new baby will when she starts talking. I’m sure Lennon and Macon reinforce it. My mom and stepdad probably do, too.
In every single way, she’s replaced me, and I have no one to blame but myself.
I sigh and press my hand to my stomach as it starts to roil and twist. It always does this when thoughts like these threaten to overwhelm me. Guilt and loss and regret.
And jealousy. Always the fucking jealousy. Always the anger.
It’s toxic.
I am toxic.
My anxiety swells like bricks being stacked quickly on my chest. Crushing me. Burying me. Reminding me that I’m not enough. That I never will be. I’m ugly and twisted inside. I’m full of hate. I’m defective. It’s all my fault.
I fist my hands and squeeze them, trying my best to breathe through the maelstrom of insults swirling violently in my head. Ugly. Twisted. Evil.
Shut up.
I flex my toes into the floor.
Shut up .
I train my ear to the muffled music in the hallway.
Shut up!
Inhale and exhale. Picture a chess board. Dig my nails into my palms.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
I try so fucking hard, and like so often these days, I fail.
Slowly, I stand from the couch and walk to the bathroom. I kneel, tuck my hair into the back of my shirt, then make myself vomit into the toilet. I feel better knowing my stomach is empty. I calm just picturing a caloric deficit .
And then I hate myself even more.
I know what this does to my body. I know the dangers. I’ve always known. But reminding myself of them only makes it worse. It just fuels those feelings of failure. It shines light on my inadequacies.
How can I be expected to care about long-term damage when I hate myself?
I stand. Wash my hands. Rinse my mouth in the sink. I rinse it two more times. I grab Sav’s toothpaste, then curse myself for forgetting my small toiletry bag in the hotel suite. My toothpaste is gentle on enamel. Sav’s is whitening. I squirt some on my finger and rub it all over my tongue, shoving as far back as I can reach. I fill my mouth with water from the tap for a fourth time, gargle with it, then spit it out. Then I make myself look into the mirror.
I keep my eyes only on my face.
I force a smile.
I run my tongue over the backs of my teeth.
I’m still paying off the dental work I had done last year. I don’t want to ruin it. Then I swallow twice and bring my hand up to push on my throat. It doesn’t hurt. It’s not sore, at least not in the way that causes concern. Not in the way it did last time. I bend over and gulp down some more water from the sink. I stand, squeeze my eyes shut and breathe again.
It’s not out of control. I can handle this. I’ve gotten better before. I can do it again. It’s not as bad as it was.
As long as I start now, it won’t get that bad again.
I walk to the fridge and take out a bottle of water, then grab an electrolyte package from my bag. I pour the package into the water, give it a shake, and drink it. I try not to picture the cool liquid pooling into my empty stomach. I try not to fixate on it.
Then, because I’m feeling particularly bold, I grab something from the food display on the counter and make myself eat it slowly. Bite, chew, swallow, bite, chew, swallow, over and over, until it’s gone. I try not to think about the caloric intake of a medium-sized blueberry muffin. I try not to add it to the green smoothie I had earlier despite the fact I just emptied my stomach into the toilet.
It's all going to be fine.
I’m going to keep this muffin down. I won’t think about how many calories I have to burn in the morning. I won’t obsess over my size, or my appearance, or my facade of perfection. I won’t tell myself that it affects my worth as a fucking human being.
I’m a human being with a body. The body does not define me as a human being.
But what if the inside ? —
Shut up.
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head.
“Shut up!”
Inhale. Exhale. I’m going to be fine. Inhale. Exhale. I have this under control.
I need to be in control.
I open my eyes and grab a banana.
I’m halfway through the banana when the door to the dressing room opens, and Ziggy barrels in, followed by Brynn, Levi, and Sav’s security guard, Red.
“Claire. Hey. Sorry. Would have knocked if we knew you were in here.”
I put the banana down and smile at Levi. “Hi. It’s okay. I’m just hanging out until it’s time to get to work.” Ziggy sits down in front of me and nudges my leg with her nose. I pet her head, then give her a cheese cube from the food tray on the counter. “You’re all in a box tonight, right?”
“Yep.” Brynn steals a strawberry and takes a bite. “All of us. The Caveat boys, too.” She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I hope they behave.”
Red laughs and gives Brynn’s shoulder a nudge as he reaches over her and snags a few grapes. “Not everyone can be as mature as you, Boss.”
“They’re in their twenties. It’s annoying.”
I flick my eyes to Levi with a grin. He shrugs. “She’s not wrong.”
“Are you going to sit with us?”
I turn my attention back to Brynn and shake my head. “Probably not. I need to get pictures for Jonah’s social media.”
“His page looks awesome.”
“Thanks.” I arch a brow. “You have social media?”
“No. I saw it from Sav’s.” She huffs. “Dad and Sav say I can’t get my own until I’m thirteen. ”
“That’s smart. There are a lot of weirdos out there.”
“Yet I have to go on tour with Ezra, Crue, and Rocky.”
Red and I bark out a laugh, and Levi ruffles Brynn’s hair. “Not the same kind of weirdos.”
She huffs again. “Yeah. I know.”
Brynn trudges to the sofa and dramatically throws herself on it, then Ziggy jumps next to her and lays her head on Brynn’s lap. I look at Levi, and he flares his eyes, making me laugh again.
“She’s right, though. Jonah’s socials look great. Seems like the press is liking what they’re seeing, too.”
“Yeah, thank you. I’m happy with how we’re progressing.”
“Do you think you’ll be finished up, soon?”
It’s a normal question. Completely harmless. But it bothers me in a way that it shouldn’t. Finished up is synonymous with leaving . Will I be leaving soon. I shrug and force a smile.
“I’m not sure. I’d like to be a little more confident in the stability of the branding before I close it out.”
The words turn my stomach. They’re so impersonal. So professional . Jonah is a human. He’s so much more than a brand. He’s become so much more to me...
“That makes sense.” Levi grins. “Though, your work does seem to be influencing more than just the media.”
“How so?”
He flicks his eyes to Red, then back to me.
“I’m used to Jonah being a lot more...isolated, I guess. Reserved. I’m not used to seeing him smile, let alone laugh. He’s been doing that a lot recently.”
I nod and ignore the conflicting emotions swirling in my head and chest. I try not to think about the stability of the brand or what comes after I’ve finished up . I try not to question if this change in him is because of the actual work I’ve done or the other things.
“Mabel and Sav have said something similar.”
“I obviously don’t know him as well as they do. I only came into this world a few years ago, and by then, Jonah had already...”
Levi pauses, brows furrowed, and then shakes his head. Whatever he was going to say, he’s decided against it. But I know. Jonah had already succumbed to his demons. The thought hits a little harder right now. I wish I’d stop relating to him in these ways. These painful ways.
“Anyway, I did meet him once a long time ago. Right when the band was starting out. And... I don’t know. He seems...a little more like that guy, and a little less like the guy I’ve come to know.”
“Well...” I nod and force cheeriness into my tone. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Just then, the door swings wide, revealing Sav and Mabel. Soundcheck is over. The show will be starting soon.
“Well, I’m going to head out to the floor,” I say to everyone. “I want to get some fan photos before the opener.”
I leave before Sav or Mabel can try to convince me to stay. I didn’t lie. I do want to get fan photos. It’s something I’ve been doing since night one in Edinburgh. Admittedly, it started because I had to watch the show from farther back, so Jonah wouldn’t see me, but it’s gone over well with fans.
I take pictures of the crowd until the opening band takes the stage, and then I snap a few of them, too. I get into a groove. All of my thoughts are focused on work. No images of Jonah naked and tied to the bed. No thoughts of Lennon and Macon’s new baby. No guilt. No embarrassment. Just work.
Until The Hometown Heartless takes the stage, of course. Then I’m hit with a wave of images and memories from earlier.
When Jonah takes his place by his guitar, my cheeks heat. My pulse picks up speed. I have to fold my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling. I’m torn between wanting to sink into the crowd to hide and wanting to wave my arms until I finally have his eyes on me. He makes the decision for me, though. The moment he glances up from his guitar, he finds me. He doesn’t even have to look. Our eyes lock, he gives me a subtle smirk, and he...takes off his shirt?
Everyone around me starts to scream. This move is very out of character for him. His on-stage outfit is the same as his off-stage outfit. Jeans and a band tee. As far as I know, Jonah Hendrix has never played a show shirtless.
For a moment, I’m confused, and then I see it. The ASSHOLE I’d written on his chest with bright red lipstick is still there. It’s a little faded and smudged, and it blends a bit with his tattoos, but it’s there. I bark out a laugh before my jaw drops. If the ASSHOLE is still on his chest, then that means he hasn’t showered. And if he hasn’t showered...
His grin grows sinful. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. When he licks his lips slowly, it’s confirmed. He’s still covered in me. His stomach. His face. His dick. I’m all over him.
And from the look on his face, he wants to keep it that way.