25—Pittsburgh （The Ivy Leaf）
There was a lot more on my list to tell Larinda at our secret rendezvous, but once the kissing started, I forgot all about spy games. It just felt so good to be with her again, to absorb her smile and suck up her light. It wasn’t until Nash and I were making our way back to the hotel that I remembered I was supposed to mention how Jarvis sampled some of my work for his awful song—production I had done as a favor to Larinda during their final (very brief) “on” phase about ten months ago.
Since, technically, working with Jarvis would be a breach of contract, I don’t want credit anyway, but just the fact that he’d use my samples for this specific song has me on edge. It’s disconcerting to say the least, so we’ve added that to the list of likely threats to watch for.
I also forgot to mention that one of the more explicit threats (this one courtesy of Rena) was having me kicked off Larinda’s album if I tried to contact her before the end of the tour. That one would have held more weight if we didn’t suspect Larinda was going to be kicked off her own album soon. Most of the other warnings issued by Rena and Lakebend’s lawyers were similarly weak, but a few had my heart racing a little faster and dread pooling in my stomach. Since we don’t have a counterplan yet, we have no choice but to lie low and give in to their demands while we regroup.
I feel a little better about the situation now that I’ve had a chance to see her, though, even if our time was way too short and way too supervised. I don’t like that she’s essentially on her own in that viper den, but Nash promised to bring Steve into the loop, so at least she’d have one ally behind enemy lines. Her meddling PA was never my favorite person, but he loves Larinda, and most of his offenses stem from too much loyalty, not too little.
For now, I have my own battle looming.
“You don’t have to do this,” Paige says after the rideshare drops us at the fancy restaurant my parents booked.
“I do, and you know it.”
She squeezes my arm, but I avoid what I’m sure is a pitying expression. I don’t need comfort right now. I need to stay strong and emotionless, to lock away the years of pain and rejection. No one can see the true depth of the wounds that have punctured my soul, despite my best efforts to cover them.
Nobody needs you. Nobody even wants you.
I take a deep breath and force down the familiar chant that’s been echoed so many times throughout my life. Jarvis thought he was being so original, but he was just the latest voice telling me what I already know.
“Let’s do this,” I say. “Hopefully, this is one of those places that has fifty-dollar crackers with a dab of mush on it. I’ll be ordering all of those.”
Paige smirks as she pulls open the outer door to the restaurant. “Same. ‘Make that two mush-crackers, please.’”
I toss her a smile and hold the inside door for her. “Do you think I’m overdressed, though?” I ask.
She does a dramatic once-over of my “nice” jeans and only button-up shirt.
“I think you’re good,” she says dryly.
Unlike me, she looks the part in a sparkly green cocktail dress she insisted on wearing because “this might be her only chance.” Really, I’m betting she and Nash have plans after this, and she knows she’ll win every one of their arguments while wearing that dress. For my sister, that’s probably better than sex, although I’m guessing there will be some of that too.
Ew.
“Do you have a reservation?” the host asks.
“Should be under Andrews,” I say.
The host scans a screen, then my outfit, then makes a brow adjustment that comments on my outfit.
“For four? Two members of your party have already arrived. This way, please.”
As we weave through the restaurant, I can’t help but notice I’m not just the only person in jeans. I also appear to be the only person not in clothing one would wear to a debutante ball. (Or so I assume. I have no idea what people wear to debutante balls, but I’m pretty sure it’s not this.)
“Here we are,” the host says, leading us into a private room. “Please enjoy your evening. Your server will be with you shortly.”
He closes the glass doors on his way out, leaving us alone with my par—Burt and Rhonda Andrews. Guess I can’t really call them my parents anymore, can I?
“Perceval,” Rhonda, formerly my mother, says in a breathless voice. That alone is weird. Weirder still is her urgent push from the table and dash toward me. She pulls me into her arms and squeezes as I stiffen. Paige and I exchange a confused look over her shoulder.
“So good of you to come!” she says, stepping back.
She frames my face and gazes at me with an adoring expression that would be awkward even if we got along. This moment might work in movies, but I can say with certainty that it does not work in private rooms of The Ivy Leaf restaurant in downtown Pittsburgh.
I withdraw from her touch as awkwardly as she initiated it and take the seat across from Burt, AKA my former father.
“And Paige, what a surprise,” Rhonda says dryly.
“Really? You clearly made a reservation for four,” she quips.
Rhonda and Burt frown before directing their attention to me.
“We thought you’d be bringing Larinda,” Burt says.
Huh?
“Why would you think that?” I ask. “Besides, she’s halfway through her set right now.”
“Oh! Why didn’t you say so in your response?” Rhonda says with exaggerated regret. “We could have scheduled this for tomorrow so she could join us.”
“We roll out after the show. We’re only here for a day.”
And why are they being so strange about this? Since when did they care about Larinda’s schedule?
“But hey, I’m here, so let’s get this over with. What did you want to discuss?”
“Oh, honey! Why would you assume such a thing?” Rhonda says. “We told you. We missed you and wanted to mend our relationship.”
“Cut the crap. I know that’s not why I’m here. What do you want?”
“Sweetheart, how can you even think we’d want anything other than a reconciliation with our beloved son?” She even presses a hand to her heart like she’s just learned she lost the family homestead to a rail tycoon two hundred years ago.
“And you can stop talking like a Civil War soldier letter. It’s not making any of this more believable.”
Her frown is a step in the right direction. That I believe.
“Your mother and I just want to make things right,” Burt says.
“My mother? And who would that be? You made it very clear you don’t consider yourselves my parents.”
Those frowns—borderline scowls—I definitely believe.
“Yes, and we regret that.”
“Really…” I say, not even trying to hide my skepticism.
“Really!” Rhonda replies. “We shouldn’t have done such a dreadful thing. We know that now.”
“And which dreadful thing are you referring to? There are so many.”
“Oh, Perceval, please don’t be like this. We love you and accept your many interesting life choices. Including your charming face tattoo!”
I don’t even have a facial expression for that one.
“Yeah? Okay, well, it’s way too late for that. Just tell me what you really want so we can move this along.”
“We told you. We just?—”
“No! I’m so sick of this. I didn’t have to hear you out, but I came anyway, so what is it? Why am I here?”
“Nothing! Just?—”
“Tell me!”
“Sweetie, really, I don’t?—”
“Cut the bullshit! I’m not going to?—”
“We want to adopt you back!”
The table goes deathly still.
No one moves as those strange words echo around us. I think I heard them wrong, but the other stunned expressions indicate they heard them too.
A server must have been waiting for the worst possible moment to enter the room and approaches our table.
“Good evening. I’m Joan. Can I get you started with?—”
“A bottle of red and a bottle of white, most expensive you have,” Burt snaps. “And give us ten minutes.”
The woman stiffens before recovering with a tight smile. “Of course, sir.”
Paige and I shoot her an apologetic look as she turns away.
Yeah, sure. They’re just regular saints now.
“You want to adopt me back? What does that even mean?” I say, my stomach in knots despite my attempt at indifference.
“We want you to be our son again,” Burt explains.
I stare at them in numb silence. How do you even react to something like that?
Paige snorts a laugh
I suppose that’s one option.
“Are you freaking serious?” she cries. “You’ve treated him like shit our entire lives, legally disowned him, and extorted thousands of dollars from him. Why would you suddenly want him back? And even more important, why would he wantthat?”
They give her a hard look, and I brace for an explosion. We’ve rehearsed this script so many times:
Mom and Dad come down hard on me.
Paige defends me.
Mom and Dad come down hard on her just to make me feel even worse about the whole thing.
But it doesn’t happen this time. Instead, Burt takes a shaky breath and schools his expression into something eerily close to “calm.” Wow, could they actually be serious?
“We understand,” he says in a cool tone. “We made a mistake—several, maybe. That’s why we’re reaching out and extending this olive branch.”
“Is that what this is?” I ask, leaning back and crossing my arms. “You buy me dinner and I forgive twenty-three years of being tormented.”
“Tormented is a bit of a?—”
“Understatement,” Paige snaps. “He’s being generous. How about abused? Betrayed, terrorized… take your pick.”
Their eyes go dark as they rest on my sister, but again they don’t react the way I expect. Could they really have changed?
My head is a mess, my heart even worse.
Nothing they’re saying makes sense. This entire situation is ludicrous. So why is a piece of me still clinging to a shred of hope that it’s real? After everything they’ve put me through, how can I still be a little boy that just wants his mommy and daddy?
“This isn’t about you, Paige,” Burt says with a hard look. “We’re here for him. So what do you say, Perceval? Will you accept our apology and give us another chance?”
I swallow hard, my chest tightening with each breath. My nails dig into my palms as my fists clench beneath the table. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what to think.
The others are waiting with intense expressions but it’s all becoming a blur. The room is shrinking, the floor swirling and wavering beneath me. There’s no air in here. Just spinning and flickering and?—
“Excuse me,” I mumble, pushing up from the table.
I don’t even know where I’m going, just that I can’t be here.
I need… I don’t know! I just have to leave.
After escaping the suffocating room, I stumble toward the sign for the restrooms. Thankfully, it’s empty when I smash through the door and brace myself against the sink counter.
Several splashes of cold water help soothe the internal chaos, although it takes several more to bring much-needed air back into my lungs.
I stare at the face in the mirror for a long time. Drops of water cling to my lashes, and one slides over the small X beside my eye. I reach up and smear it across that volatile brand.
I shouldn’t even be listening to them, let alone considering their offer. It can’t be real, it can’t, and yet…
God, I’ve been alone for so long. Sometimes it seemed like Paige was the only person on the planet who gave a shit about me, who believedin me. Then Nash came along, and for the first time, it seemed like maybe this hard, lonely path had been worth the pain.
And he led me to Larinda.
I would do anything for her. I’m doing it now. Risking everything for the person who risked everything for me, and maybe this is something I owe her. Family is so important to her. I watched with a mix of joy and envy the other day as she and her family filled that room with a touch of chaos and a ton of love. It was a glimpse of what family could be. I have no doubt she’ll pull me into hers when the time comes, but what do I have to offer in return?
Can I forgive Rhonda and Burt for how they’ve treated me? For all the damage they’ve done and pieces of me they broke? I don’t know, but I’m not sure I can look Larinda in the eye knowing I had a chance to fix things and threw it away out of pride and resentment. Is that the kind of man I am? The kind I want to be?
I’m not sure what’s led to this sudden change of heart, but if there’s any chance it’s real, maybe I need to consider it. What if there’s a possibility that I could have this burden lifted and a huge cloud removed from my life? We don’t have to be the smiling stock-photo family in a new picture frame, but it would be nice to not feel a cramp in my chest every time a thought or memory surfaces.
You don’t have to love them. You don’t even have to forgive them, but wouldn’t it be better to have a civil relationship than a hostile one?
At the very least, they’d leave me alone and let me live in peace instead of actively trying to derail my life. What can it hurt to hear them out?
With a deep breath, I dry my face and move toward the exit.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
I’ll never have the future I want if the past continues to drag me down.
“Okay, I’m listening. What are you proposing?”I test the words out loud.
It sounds doable. It sounds necessary.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out to see a text from Nash. Shit. I don’t have time for this right now. I’m about to shove it back in my pocket when I see the words:
I figured it out!
Crap.
I force myself to read the whole text.
Nash: Jarvis used your samples because he and Lakebend want to bury you for breach of contract! The random photoshoot in his dressing room seals the deal. They can say you were working together on tour. Once that gets out, you won’t only get kicked off Larinda’s team, no one will work with you. Your career as a producer is done.
My career is done? Might be extreme, but it’s certainly not going to help my reputation to be the guy who betrayed his first artist.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Now what?
It’s not like I can defend myself and tell the world I didn’t consent to a sample no one knows he used on a track no one knows exists. And even if I did, it’s my word against his. You don’t have to know a single thing about words to know who’s winning that debate. Not to mention, he has a mountain of evidence supporting his version of the story, and I have… the fact that he’s a dick.
Yeah. No lawyer is taking those odds.
But none of it matters when Paige grabs my arm the second I exit the restroom.
“Ow!” I say, trying to pull away.
By the pinch on my bicep and furious expression on her face, she’s had a very different internal dialogue about the state of affairs over these last few minutes.
“We’re leaving,” she hisses.
“What? But?—”
“No! We’re not going back to the table.”
She yanks me down the hall, and I tug my arm from her grip.
“Look, I get that they don’t deserve it, but maybe we should?—”
“I said, no! We’re leaving!”
I lock myself in place and narrow my gaze. “How do you get to make that call? I’m the one in the crosshairs.”
“Just… can you please trust me? Not here. We need to go.”
“No. I think we should hear them out.”
“There’s nothing to hear! Let’s. Go!”
She grabs me again, and I tear my arm away with a hard look.
“I’m not a little kid anymore. I can take care of myself.”
I move down the hall, forcing her to follow.
“I get that but you can’t trust them.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I snap before entering the main dining room. “I’m not na?ve.”
“But this is?—”
“I know we’re never going to be a sunny, happy family. There’s more at stake than just me, though.”
“Okay, but?—”
“It’s my choice!” I hiss, pulling open the door to our room.
Burt and Rhonda rise when we enter, but they don’t look like the apologetic, hopeful parents I left. They look…
Oh god. Oh no. No, no, no.
“Dad’s trying to sell the company and wants to leverage your connection with Larinda,” Paige spits behind me.
I go cold.
My gaze locks on our parents, my heart cracking in my chest.
“Val…” Rhonda says. “Please just?—”
“Is that true?” I force out, my voice barely audible. Their gazes lower as the room shrinks further.
“Answer me!” I say a little louder. “Is it true this whole thing is about using me to get to Larinda?”
Burt shakes his head, his demeanor clearly in business mode. “It’s not what it sounds like. If you just listen to our proposal…”
I don’t hear the rest. Sound stops completely as I stagger out of the room.
“Val, wait!” Paige calls behind me.
I don’t. I fucking can’t as I weave through the restaurant toward the exit.
This is…
I can’t…
I drag my sleeve across my eyes as I push outside into the cool evening air.
“Val!”
I flinch when a hand grabs my arm and spins me around. Paige’s expression is tortured as she grips my sleeve. “I’m so sorry. I figured it out and confronted them after you left. That’s why I tried to stop you… god, Val. I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head, tears choking my lungs.
I still can’t believe it. It can’t be. It just can’t. They said… They were… oh god.
Even they wouldn’t be so cruel. But I just saw it. I…
What is wrong with me?! How fucked up do you have to be that your own parents don’t want you?
“Hey… look at me,” she says softly. When she searches my eyes, tears well in her own. “I hate them,” she hisses, pulling me in for a hug. “I hate them so much.”
I’m still numb as reality crushes me into a pulp right there on a city sidewalk. There are worse things than losing hope. There’s trusting in it. There’s believing in something better only to have it violently ripped away.
They were going to use me? After everything they’ve put me through, they were going to squeeze one last manipulation out of the little trust I had left?
And I almost let them. I did, I almost let it happen!
“I’m so sorry,” Paige whispers.
I can’t breathe as her arms tighten around me.
“Val, please talk to me.”
Tears leak from my eyes when I squeeze them shut.
“What’s so wrong with me, Paige? Why is loving me so hard? What am I doing wrong?”
She pulls back with a fierce expression. “Nothing! There is nothing wrong with you. It’s them. You know that.”
I shake my head, liquid obscuring my vision.
How am I supposed to believe that when all the evidence points at something else? Even my own sister gets punished for choosing me.
Nobody needs you. Nobody even wants you.
I wipe my sleeve across my eyes as I back away.
“Val…”
“No. I have to go.”
“Will you?—”
I yank my arm from her grasp. “Just… Don’t follow me, okay? I want to be alone.”
“Val, wait! Please!”
I ignore her as I charge down the sidewalk.
Nobody needs you. Nobody even wants you.
Not even your own parents.
The air outside is no less toxic. I still can’t breathe as I stumble along the sidewalk. Years of pent-up tears fall harder with each step. They sear down my cheeks and burn the collar of my stupid button-up shirt. I don’t even try to stop them. What’s the point? No one’s here to notice them.
Because nobody needs you. Nobody even wants you.
I undo the buttons as I walk, ripping the shirt off my shoulders and slamming it into a waste bin I pass. Several bystanders stare at me, but I don’t give a shit. I’d shove more stuff in the garbage if I had anything else.
It’s a chilly May evening as I continue on in just my undershirt and jeans, but it feels right. All that’s missing is a good old-fashioned mugging or hit-and-run to round out the evening from hell. Would anyone care if I never returned to the hotel tonight? No one would even notice. Paige and Nash have their own room on a different floor. Larinda won’t even be in the city for much longer.
I’m completely alone.
My phone is buzzing in my pocket, and I pull it out just to shut it off. I don’t need more lies from anyone. Not Paige telling me it’s everyone else who’s the problem or Rhonda and Burt trying to con their own son into a fucking namedrop. I especially don’t need Larinda pretending there’s a chance in hell our impossible situation will work itself out. I don’t doubt her feelings for me, but I doubt every other fantasy we’ve constructed about our forbidden fairy tale. That’s not how things go for me. I give everything and lose it. I surrender my soul only to be crushed and stomped on over and over. And still I’m willing to trust and get trampled again.
I’m the guy who gives up everything in exchange for a broken heart no one wants.
It’s a really bad fucking day when you realize the only person who’s truly been honest with you is Jarvis McKinnley.