“People judge you whatever,” he said. “People fucking love their own opinions and are all too happy to throw ’em at you, whether you ask or not. You have to be happy with yourself.”
“Yes. But you care what the guys think,” I said.
“Sure.” He started jogging again, more slowly this time, thank you, god in heaven.
Ever so reluctantly, I fell into step beside him. My poor calves and thighs burned. Without a doubt they hated me with a fiery passion and I didn’t blame them at all. “And Ev and Anne. You care about them.”
He grunted.
“And Mr. Ericson.” Sadly, I struggled to keep up even at this lesser speed. “Though you do mangle your words occasionally, don’t stop to think before you speak. But don’t we all?”
“Let’s move onto another flaw,” he said.
“All right.” I searched my besotted mind for ammunition. “How about…”
“I’m self-centered.”
“Yeah. That’s true. You’re pretty arrogant and narcissistic.”
A lady jogger bounced on by, clad head to toe in form fitting Lycra. She gave Jimmy a wide inviting do-me-on-the-spot smile. He nodded to her, then concentrated on the path once more.
“Not entirely without cause, granted. But you don’t date,” I said, stopping (he halted too, happily). Jogging and talking at the same time just didn’t work for me. Of course, neither did jogging and breathing. “Why is that? You put all this effort into your looks, buff up your body, buy the best clothes. And hey, kudos to you, it works. But you don’t go out unless it’s business or something to do with the guys, you’re basically a hermit.”
“There a question in there somewhere?”
“Why?”
“Why do I take care of myself or why am I a hermit?”
“Let’s start with the first one,” I said.
He shrugged. “I’m vain. What are you gonna do about it?”
Huh. “So you’re completely happy with yourself?”
“With how I look? Sure.” He raised a brow. “My looks are the one thing that’s always worked for me, always gotten me attention. If I’m pouting on the cover of some magazine, then that helps sell records. It’s a fact. I’m not a poet like Davie or crazy talented on an instrument. I sing okay, sure. But what I have is this face, that’s what I contribute. And in this business, you use every advantage at your disposal.”
I frowned up at him, amazed. “You actually believe that.”
He frowned back at me.
“Jimmy, you’re more than just a pretty face. You’ve got a beautiful voice.” And I should know. He sang me to sleep on my iPod most nights. “God, how many Grammys have you won?”
“That’s a popularity contest as much as anything.” He licked his lips. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you happy with the way you look?”
For once, I took my own advice and actually thought before moving my lips. “Obviously not given our conversation of a moment ago. But I try to be. It’s not always easy with all the media representations of beauty, blah, blah, blah. I’m never going to be six feet tall with legs up to my armpits, and as you said, I like pie. I’m not willing to rule out eating it for the next fifty years just to have less dimples on my thighs. Little pleasures matter.”
“Yeah, they do.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “My going-out-wise, I don’t want to fall back into bad habits. Sex, drugs, alcohol, they all went together for me. If you’re changing your life, stopping the destructive shit, then you have to know what your triggers are.”
“You haven’t had sex since you dried out?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
My eyes felt as wide as they could possibly be and then some. “Oh.”
Wow, extreme, but it had obviously worked. The man had conviction. In truth, his openness and honesty stunned me. I guess he was serious about my deprogramming.
“You never drank or did drugs when you were alone?”
He flinched. “Yeah, I did. That’s why you or one of the guys are usually around, just in case.”
“We’re not all the time. But you’ve still stuck to it,” I pointed out. “I think it takes real courage to do what you’ve done, to turn your life around.”
He scowled. “Don’t make excuses for me, Lena. I am not a nice person. I fucked my brother’s first girlfriend. Did you know that?”
I shook my head.
“Yeah, broke his heart. I was so jealous of him I could barely breathe. I lied. I cheated. I stole. I destroyed everything that meant anything to me and hurt everyone around me. I blacked out constantly, OD’ed twice, nearly died. What do you think that did to them … to the guys? Visiting me in the hospital, seeing me like that?” He looked everywhere but at me.
A cold wind blew between us.
“That’s the truth, that’s who I am. Don’t make excuses for me. I’m still the same moody selfish fuck I ever was, sober or not.” His breathing hastened even though we stood still. “Thing is, you’re never going to have much of a life being at my beck and call. You’re better off away from me, and I know that, and I still don’t care. That, Lena, is who I am.”
I had nothing.
Jimmy about-faced and headed for home.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thanksgiving dinner for the band happened Thanksgiving Eve. I’d given mom many excuses about why I couldn’t go home. Luckily she’d accepted them.
Everyone gathered at Mal and Anne’s new condo, opposite David and Ev’s old one. Old as in they’d lived there for six months or so. Both places were gorgeous with lots of shiny, expensive, and new, much as you’d expect. The balconies looked out over the Pearl District. Very nice.
A picture of Lori, Mal’s mom, took up prime position on the mantelpiece. Jimmy had lingered over it when we first arrived, just taking a moment. His brother had approached after a time and they’d quietly talked. I don’t think anyone’s pain over losing her was going away anytime soon.
Apparently, Ben hadn’t told a soul about my announcement to quit. I appreciated his discretion immensely. Jimmy had barely spoken since our talk yesterday. He had unfortunately hammered again on my door at dawn this morning and tossed tennis shoes at me, however. I dragged my sorry self around behind him, sweating all the way. Hard to say exactly how far we went, it all blended into pointless agony after the first few yards. Later in the day, a beautician-masseuse-type person arrived to pamper me, thus fulfilling another of the points on the list. I have to admit, those three hours of bliss paid for by Jimmy made up for a lot of jogging.
Not all of it. But a lot. It felt like a silent apology or perhaps encouragement on his part. Or maybe it was just another lure into convincing me to stay.
Now he sat opposite me, hair artfully in his face. Aesthetically, the man reigned supreme as king throughout the land. Whether I cared to pretend he was my type or not, it couldn’t be denied. He always seemed so polished, so perfect, you could almost ignore the chaos and pain living inside of him. But the things he’d said to me kept turning around and around inside my head. God, he’d screwed over his own brother. No wonder things seemed strained between them sometimes.