66. Phoenix St. Pierre
PHOENIX ST. PIERRE
I’ve never seen Tom break down like that. Full-bodied sobs—as though he was being crushed from the inside. I hope to never hear those sounds come out of him again, but if they do, I want to be the one beside him—I have to be with him.
I can’t fucking imagine not being present for Tom. It’s by luck or destiny that I’m not in Europe when this happens.
We’ve all thrown on clothes, and they’ve alerted their private security we’re going to Manhattan Valley University to find Harriet. I’ve tried calling her three times. Nothing.
I’m worried about her, about Ben.
But I can’t stop thinking about Tom.
We pool into the hallway outside their apartment. The Cobalts’ bodyguards already wait at the elevator.
“Beckett,” I say quietly in the hall, and he lingers behind while Eliot, Charlie, and Tom stride ahead.
I see Tom checking backward, realizing I’ve slowed down, and before he waits for me, I up-nod him to go on.
He does, staying at Eliot’s side.
I turn back to Beckett. “You said he’s been okay?
” I ask to be sure. Of Tom’s brothers, I’ve mostly kept in touch with Beckett and Charlie.
Usually a three-way call that involves Charlie hanging up midway through, but his brisk personality has never been that off-putting to me.
I’m not exactly warm and fuzzy for a lot of people.
“He has been, but this, tonight, wasn’t normal,” he says quietly while we walk slowly behind everyone.
“I think finding Ben’s phone must’ve triggered him, but he’ll be okay.
Tom doesn’t like feeling stuck with no solution.
You’ll see he’s going to move on quickly.
” Beckett starts smiling. “Until he wants sympathy—from you, specifically.”
“Milking his tears for affection,” I say dryly with the shake of my head. Why do I want to be here for that? Because it’s him. It’s so Tom.
How the fuck am I going to leave in a week?
Coming back after two months away is magnifying how much I love being with him.
Beckett sees this torment on my face. “?a ira pour lui,” he assures. He’ll be okay. “He won’t want you to choose him over your brother.”
“Je le sais bien.” I know…I really do.
Beckett’s personal driver, Hans, takes all of us to MVU’s campus. I sit beside Tom in the limo-style SUV and try Harriet’s phone again.
Surely, these calls would’ve woken her up if she was just sleeping. How would they not?
Tension fractures among us once the Honors House comes into view. It resembles a sorority house with collegiate columns and a pristinely manicured lawn. But it’s not why a collective breath is released in the car.
The headlights swing onto Ben Cobalt. He’s running toward the car like we’re a refuge from a flash flood. He has no shirt on, let alone a coat. It’s fucking freezing this December, and his skin looks pink and angry from the wind.
Tom rolls down the window and sticks his body halfway out. “Ben Pirrip!”
Relief is all over Ben’s face, but Harriet isn’t with him. Where the fuck is she? Alarm grips my muscles. “Get out, Tom.” I reach around him and yank the handle.
I don’t have to tell him twice. He’s jumping out of the moving vehicle, and I’m right behind my boyfriend.
I just barely catch Eliot saying, “I love them together.” That’s going to fuck me up for a minute. He’s quick to follow us, but Beckett and Charlie wait for the car to stop before piling out.
Ben reaches us in the middle of the lawn, winded.
Tom puts a hand on his brother’s back. “Breathe, breathe, breathe.”
Eliot sheds his peacoat, but Ben is already rejecting the offer with two outstretched hands and a hard shake of his head.
I don’t think he’s cold. He seems pissed.
“Forgot your shoes and your brain?” Charlie quips.
Ben glares. “Fuck you, Charlie.” His socks are dirty as he stands on the soft, squishy grass. He’s only wearing blue drawstring pants—what he wears to bed. “You have no idea—”
“Forget Charlie,” Tom cuts in. “Are you okay, dude?”
“No—no, I’m not okay. I’m so fucking angry right now, and not at you, Charlie.
” He pushes a hot hand through his hair.
“I—I left in a hurry. Harriet called me crying, really crying. Worse than I’ve ever heard her cry.
Then my phone died in the middle of her call, and I just came here as fast as I could. ”
“Wake us up next time,” Beckett says, gentle but firm. “Even just one of us.”
“Preferably me,” Eliot adds.
“I will.” Ben nods repeatedly. “Sorry, Beck. I wasn’t thinking.”
“We’re aware,” Charlie snaps.
Ben lets out a tired laugh. “I’m glad I’m predicable, honestly. I’m glad you’re all here.” His eyes linger on me, as if suddenly recognizing I’m back. Like he forgot for a second tonight was my return. He slips a smile over at Tom.
It immediately inflates Tom like a fucking helium balloon. He looks ready to take off toward the night sky. I can imagine Tom has talked Ben’s ear off about my arrival.
Anger flames Ben again. His glare swerves over to the Honors House, lights off in the bedrooms. Even the front porch is dark. “Harriet’s mom showed up.”
“What?” I snap, shifting my stance with fury. “Here?”
“Yeah. She showed up where Harriet lives and told her dormmates pretty much what she told you and Tom.”
I choke on rage.
Tom rocks backward, his hands on his head. His horrified eyes pin on mine because we know how awful her mother was.
“The fuck is wrong with her,” I mutter under my breath. Her mom. Her own mom. Fuck Hope Danes.
“Where’s Harriet?” Beckett asks.
“The parking deck in her Honda,” Ben explains.
“I’ve been with her. She bolted out of the dorm with nothing but her car keys, and she doesn’t want to go back inside.
I ran here to grab her phone. Then I saw your car.
” He takes a single breath. “I need to get her stuff. But I’ve never attempted to go into the Honors House past curfew, so this will be interesting. ”
“We’ll help,” Beckett says, then strides toward the front porch with Charlie.
“Where’s the parking deck?” I ask Ben.
Harriet lets me into the passenger seat of the old Honda. She has her arms around the wheel like she’s considering either sleeping against it or driving off P4.
I shift the seat backward since I’m squashed against the dash, but I hear a crunch and glance backward. The footwell behind me is littered with so much shit: fast food containers, duffel bag, holiday wrapping paper, a hair dryer.
“I’m going to ask,” I warn her. “What the fuck?”
Harriet almost smiles. Almost. “I used to live in my car, dude.”
“Yeah, past tense.”
“Habit, I guess.” She still hugs the wheel. “No Cobalt calvary with you.” She sounds monotone. “Shucks. I was hoping to see Eliot ride in on a lion.”
I let out a laugh at the absurd image. “I told them I wanted to chat with you alone. So you’re just stuck with me. The pleb.”
“Commoner,” Harriet jokes, but her gaze drifts off. Faraway and pained. She’s wearing monogramed red silk pajamas. A Christmas gift from Ben’s mom last year, she’s told me. I’m not as close to Tom’s parents as she is.
For one, I’m almost certain they’ve known I broke my singer’s jaw from Sophomore Summer, especially if Charlie found out. They’ve been wary of me. It’s been an uphill battle, but one I’m not quitting.
I flick Harriet’s red furry dice dangling on her rearview mirror. “It’s nice here. Has character. Not at all emo.”
“I’m feeling very emo tonight.” Her red, puffy eyes can confirm.
“Same.” I stretch my shoulders back and wince, pulling a pencil pouch out from beneath my ass.
“Isn’t tonight your big reunion with Tom?” she asks, and after I nod, she tells me, “He got so mad when I said it was the least important day of the year. He’s been talking about it for weeks.” She grimaces and stares off, haunted. “I ruined it.”
“Nothing was ruined,” I say sharply. “Trust me, I know how to ruin everything, and I don’t think what Tom and I have can be destroyed, or else it already would’ve been.”
Harriet nods, loosening her hands on the wheel. She leans backward.
I take a tight breath. “Harriet. If things went up in flames tonight, that’s on her. Your fucking mom. Not you.”
“Isn’t it already burning, dude?” Harriet struggles not to cry. “I can’t go back in there. I told Ben I can’t go back in. She told my dormmates I’m a whore in grave detail.” Her eyes flood. “And the terrible part is she’s right—”
“She’s not—”
“I’ve sucked dick for favors, for a place to sleep. She’s right—”
“She’s not,” I snap. “Your mom is so fucking malicious. What she said was out of spite and hatred. You’re not a whore. You want to call yourself one the way Eliot calls himself one—then fine, but I’m not going to listen to you fucking degrade yourself because of an evil person. Fuck your mom.”
Harriet balls her sleeves up in her fists. “I hate her.”
“Don’t let her bury you,” I say. “I know what it’s like to have someone destroy you and take the things that really matter. Don’t let her.”
She inhales a long breath through her nose. “Yeah, maybe…I just can’t go back in there tonight.” She winces, her face contorting. I barely hear her mutter, “I’m so fucked up.”
“Okay. Enough of this pity party shit. Give me your keys.”
She digs them out of the middle console.
“You care if we make a pit stop on our way to the Cobalts’?” I ask.
“Does it include driving into the Hudson?”
I blink. “No, and I can’t wait to tell Ben you want to go swimming.”
She has a pinched smile. “I think he’d like the joke. He taught me to swim.” She tosses me the keys, and we switch sides.
I drive us out of MVU and make a couple calls. One to Tom, letting him know we’ll meet them all back at the apartment. They’ve made it inside her dorm without breaking and entering (I asked). They go back and forth with Harriet to see what she needs from her room, and then I call Birdie.
“Future Favor,” I say. “I’m cashing in.”
He groans out of sleep. “Man, it’s almost three a.m.”
“I need it now.”
Birdie is how I gain access to a rehearsal studio space in the middle of the night. He’s friends with the owner.
On the drive there, Harriet and I blow out her car speakers jamming to The Offspring. “Fuck,” I curse at the crackle, then I park on the curb.
“We’re here?” she asks, peering at the dark building. “Don’t murder me.”
“I would’ve brought Tom for that. He would’ve been pissed he didn’t get to say he slaughtered his…whatever you two are.”
“Nemesis.” She steps out in her pajamas. It doesn’t take long to get inside with a passcode. Thanks, Bird. I flip on the lights, and all the instruments illuminate under the fluorescent glare.
Her puffy eyes land right on the drums.
I pick up a pair of sticks. “Let it all out.”
She doesn’t hesitate when I toss her the sticks.
Harriet is behind the kit, and she unleashes on the drums. At first, it’s not a song.
It’s just her rage. Her blonde hair whipping with the thrash of her arms into the toms and snare.
Then she plays some blink-182 classics and eventually starts to tire out.
Tom was right. She’s amazing on drums, but I’ve known that. I’ve seen her play a few times now.
Harriet finishes with deep breaths. Her sweaty bangs stick to her forehead.
“How was that?” I ask.
Her face breaks with emotion. “You don’t even know.”
“I think I do,” I murmur. “Why do you think I brought you here?” How she plays reminds me of myself. Drums have been my gateway to releasing all the pent-up, choked feelings inside my body.
I need to play. I’ve realized that this year.
“Go on stage with us.”
“What?” Her eyes widen.
“One show next year. Play drums.”
“Seriously?” She’s about to cry.
“Seriously. Any song you want. Even ‘Hellbent’—but only one time. I do want to preserve Tom’s voice.”
Her lips tic upward. “Not ‘Hellbent.’” She wipes her runny nose with the back of her hand, then she says, “‘Dirty Rise.’”
I almost start crying. “Fuck, we really are emo.” The last noise we leave in the rehearsal studio is laughter.