27. Grae #2
My eyes light up. I pump a victory fist and do a shoulder dance, staying silent. Then I hear gasping for air. A hiccup. A choked sob.
Voice 2: “Sweetie, come here.”
Voice 1: “I… I…”
Voice 2: “Talk to me.”
Voice One doesn’t. She cries for twenty seconds.
I don’t know why I keep filming. I don’t know why I don’t respect their privacy. But no one does on a tour bus. Finally, through a sob—
Voice 1: “Jackson’s going to be so pissed.”
Voice 2: “Please talk to me.”
Voice 1: “He said it would help the band. That they’d get a new tour bus. He said I was lucky Jackson still wanted me. Most band members dump their girlfriends when they start getting famous.”
Voice 2: (indistinct murmurs)
Voice 1: “He said I don’t help write the songs. I don’t plan anything. I’m an extra body—eating their food, staying in their hotels, spending Jackson’s money.”
She starts crying again.
Voice 1: “All the girlfriends are the same. We have no value to the band but get all the benefits. We have the most to lose. He asked if I ever felt like an outsider. Like I didn’t fit.
Like I was only there because Jackson wanted it.
He said it was only a matter of time before the band turned and wanted me gone. He’s seen it happen a million times.”
Silence. My younger self’s goofy smile vanishes for furrowed brows and a sickly hue.
Voice 1: “But there was a way I could help. The company has extra money. They could upgrade the bus. Comfortable men put up with useless girlfriends longer.”
Voice 2: “Shit. Did he… did he force you?”
Voice 1: “No. That’s the thing. I wanted to help. And this was the only way.”
Voice 2: “Did he hurt you?”
Voice 1: “Not physically.”
Voice 2: “How long has this been going on?”
Voice 1: “Remember when they got that Late Night gig?”
Voice 2: “That was five months ago.”
Voice 1: “Back in October I told Jackson I was going home to see my parents. I spent the weekend with him. That’s how they got the Amanda Chase tour.”
Voice 2: “Shit. Do you think he’s doing this to Amanda?”
Voice 1: “No. He doesn’t touch the talent. It’s too dangerous. They’re always watched. They’re more likely to tell someone.”
A few sniffles.
Voice 1: “But the girlfriends never do. Who would they tell? Who would believe them? They’d be sent home, broken, watching their ex climb the tower of fame while they’re left alone at the bottom.”
Voice 2: “Are you going to tell Jackson?”
Voice 1: “No! What am I supposed to say? I fucked Terk Henderson so your band could be an endcap display at Best Buy in the Northwest region?”
The video ends.
I remember what comes after that. Jackson and his girlfriend were screaming at each other in a parking lot before our last show. I didn’t speak up. I let him say awful things to her. After the show, everyone went their separate ways.
I look at Alana, her gaze unfocused like she’s connecting dots and calculating. My beautiful, amazing, caring—my stomach drops. Memories claw their way to the front of my mind. No. I don’t want to remember. No. Stop. But it’s too late, April 26…
I’m wearing a suit that’s slightly too small. We’re staying on the hundredth floor of the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen. CJ, Lena, and Amanda—plus their security—are waiting at the elevator. I forgot my phone and tell everyone I’ll meet them downstairs.
I go back to the room. By the time I return, I’ve missed the elevator. Beautiful hotel. Slow-ass elevators.
Terk Henderson steps beside me and presses the same button I hit seconds ago. I start freaking out. My boss is standing right next to me.
“This is a big night for you.” My voice cracks.
Terk grins from the corner of his mouth. His perfectly cut hair even frames his facial hair. He isn’t handsome, but he knows how to fake it.
“Yeah, it is. I get a brand-new office on Monday. Already planned the redecoration.” The elevator dings. The doors slide open. He steps in first. I follow and press the lobby button. “You’re the one hanging out with Amanda, right?” he asks. “Are you two writing songs or something?”
“Um, yeah. We might have one or two ready for the next album.”
He goes quiet. “She seems to like you. But mostly, I think she likes your girlfriend. That’s big. Amanda hates everyone.” Every alarm in my body blares.
“She likes Lena,” I say. I don’t know why I feel the need to defend Amanda. To tarnish whatever picture he’s forming of her. Terk scoffs and jams his hands into his pockets.
“Nah. They’ll be at each other’s throats in a few weeks. I’ve seen it a billion times.” He clicks his tongue and leans against the back wall. “You thinking about moving your girlfriend to L.A.? Most guys dump their high school chick and upgrade when they finally get into business. But not you.”
Vomit rises in my throat. It takes everything I have not to spill it on the floor.
“My dad’s offer still stands,” he continues. “We’ll pay her tuition at LABS. What’s her name—Kelly? She could intern at the office.”
Floor 30.
I beg the numbers to move faster. Heat crawls up my spine. The suit feels like it’s shrinking around me.
Floor 25.
“Don’t you want to see her all the time? It’s got to be hard on her. On you.”
Floor 20.
I swallow. “We’re making it work.”
Floor 15.
“I was impressed with her ideas for marketing in Asia. It’s something I’ve been kicking around.”
Floor 10.
“But my dad didn’t want to take the risk.”
Floor 5.
“She’s very smart.”
Floor 3.
I nod.
Floor 1.
The elevator lurches slightly, rocking me. The doors slide open. And behind me, I hear him say, softly and fondly, “I liked that she called me Zeus.”
“I remember.”
The words hang in my mind, then fall with a sickening, wet thud.
My journal still rests in my lap. I flip to the page where the paper curls from pressure and too much ink.
A sea monster fills the page. It looks a lot like Terk, looming over a nearly naked girl.
She isn’t flinching. She isn’t cowering from certain death. She looks resigned.
A few people glance at the drawing. Silence spreads. Like steam rolling off a lake, realization hits everyone at once. Lena squeezes my arm. A soft, grounding hold. She needs something solid.
“So, Terk sexually coerced the girls in exchange for skyrocketing their boyfriends’ careers,” CJ whispers.
A broken laugh slips out. “Shit, this explains every relationship you had in your early twenties. No one lasted more than nine months. You never brought them to events. It’s probably why you started hooking up with guys.
You didn’t have a serious relationship until you were with me.
” His voice tightens. “Terk wouldn’t go near me. ”
I can’t look at Alana. I don’t want to see her face. The horror. The fear. Would she be relieved? Am I relieved? I didn’t cheat on her. Not really. I was trying to protect her. Lena’s grip tightens on my arm, squeezing until it nearly hurts.
“She would have done anything for you,” Amanda says but drops her head and whispers, “For us.”
Quiet blankets the room.
I was protecting her. That’s how much I loved her. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her. Relief spreads through me. Almost joy. I did something good. Something worthy of her. But Alana’s head is bowed, shoulders rigid. Her hair hides her face.
I take a step toward her, reaching out. “It was never because I didn’t love you.”
She knocks my hands away. Her eyes blaze with a rage I’ve never seen. Not her cool, quiet anger. Not her righteous fury in defense of others. This is different.
“No,” she says. “This is worse.”
I recoil. It feels like standing in front of a machine gun. “What?”
Alana destroys people with words. When she does, her voice is cold and surgical. She slices at insecurities without ever sounding wounded. Now her body trembles. Every word bleeds. “You let a monster into our home. Your lives were tormented by Terk fucking Henderson. Abused. Used. Thrown away.”
“He would’ve done that to you!” I snap. The words don’t land.
“You didn’t trust me,” she hisses. “I had to protect you from a distance for years because you sent me away. And you made him stronger.”
Confusion and anger boil up. “I did it all for you! Goddammit, why is it never enough?”
“I never said you weren’t enough,” she fires back.
“That’s your insecurities and issues. Not me.
” It isn’t a cheap shot, but it’s true. Lena reaches for her, but Alana jerks away, nearly knocking her over.
“Don’t touch me!” Her voice slams into the walls.
“I can’t be here.” She snatches her purse from the couch and the little gray cat.
“You shouldn’t be alone,” Lena pleads.
“I’ll go with you,” Lance offers.
At the top of the stairs, Alana turns back. “No. Your job is to protect Lena. That’s what I pay you for.” Her eyes settle on Lena. “When it comes to you people, I’m always alone.”
Lena crumples. Alana looks at Amanda. “I love the decor. Very nice.” She ignores CJ and Craig. Maybe she doesn’t have the words to cut them. She doesn’t look at me. “I’ll talk to you when I’m ready.”
Then she runs down the hall. The front door flashes open, light spills, and she’s gone. We remain. Broken. Bleeding. Left with the question—was the truth always worth knowing?