chapter Twelve
* * * * *
As the final chords ring out through the arena, the crowd erupts into ecstatic, cacophonous bliss. The audience surges forward, clamoring to be as close to the stage as possible. The band members, sweat soaked and grinning, make their way to the front of the stage, arms outstretched. I’m jumping up and down, screaming despite my fried vocal chords. The incident in the mosh pit, Slade’s heroic rescue, his searing kiss before the whole wide world—everything about tonight has been strange, and scary, and ultimately beautiful. I suppose this is what it’s like in Slade’s world. Everything is amplified, everything is meaningful.
I look out into the gaping stadium, and for a moment the terror wins out against my other swirling emotions. Somewhere out there are the women who threw me into terrible danger. Somewhere beyond the walls of the arena, in a dark room in the underbelly of this place, the men who attacked me still lurk. I have to wonder whether there are others out there who would do me harm, just because Slade happens to be fond of me? Between what’s happened today, and the paparazzi earlier this morning, I can’t believe how much scrutiny and how much danger I’m opening myself to, just by being here. Is all of this really worth it?
Slade turns my way, his eyes light up with satisfaction and desire all at once. He stands, backlit by the blaring stage lights, his every muscle poised and perfect. That one glance is all I need to remind me that of course it’s worth it. Because even though there are terrible aspects of this whirlwind life, there are dark, scary things to be faced in the world whether you’re a rock star or a waitress or a nurse. How many upsetting, worrisome things have I seen as an ER nurse? I’ve seen gunshot victims, car accident fatalities, newborn children passing away moments after they are born. Ultimately, we’re all susceptible to the worst things life has to offer. There’s no escaping that, no matter who you are.
Tragedy can strike at any time, sorrow can knock on any door it pleases. But in the meantime, what’s the use of playing it safe? Why not live every moment like it’s your last? If anything, that’s what Slade’s taught me. We have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, next week or next year, so why hold back?
The band members take their final bow and rush off into the back stage toward me. Dodge and Joe capture me in a gigantic bear hug, and for a second I’m taken aback. Neither of them has exactly been a fan of mine before.
“I’m so glad you’re OK,” Dodge says.
“F*ck those guys,” Joe puts in, “Way to fight back, Julia.”
Annabelle shoos them away so she can give me a hug, too. She’s surprisingly strong for a waif-like songstress. “You’re really something,” she says simply, “I’m glad you’re sticking around. You are sticking around, right?”
Before I can answer, Slade steps between us and picks me up into his arms. The others trade loaded glances and hurry away, giving us a second of much-needed privacy. For the longest time, we stay locked in each others’ embrace, cherishing the simple contact of our bodies pressed against one another. Today has been terrifying for both of us, but we’ve come through it together. Despite everything, there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than right here, suspended for a moment in time with the sexy, famous, amazing man that I’ve come to care for so much.
“Thank god you’re OK,” he says, his breath hot against my neck.
“You were amazing,” I tell him, tightening my arms around his muscular shoulders. His shirt is totally soaked through—blood, sweat, tears, the works. “But no more Mr. Tough Guy. We need to take care of that cut.”
“Whatever you say,” he smiles, running his hand through my hair. His brings his lips to mine with a fierce, protective force. I greet him eagerly. Our mouths move together, speaking volumes all on their own without another word. I tug on his hand and all but drag him toward the exit.
“Call Anders,” I tell him, “Make sure he has a first aid kit on hand.”
Slade rolls his eyes but makes the call all the same. We step through the backstage door and are immediately flooded with cries and flashbulbs. Slade’s fingers tighten around mine, and I smile at him gamely. I’m prepared for this now. After what happened in the pit, this is nothing. As we make our way toward the car, I hear someone call my name from the crowd.
“Julia! Julia! Can I have your autograph?”
I turn to see a cute young girl holding out a pad and pen. She’s staring at me reverently. “You want...my autograph?” I ask.
“Of course!” she cries, “I’m starting nursing school in the fall, and I just love you!”
“Wow...” I say, flabbergasted, “Um...OK. Sure.”
Slade grins as I quickly sign my name for the girl. She lets out a wordless scream of enthusiasm, and we continue on our way. Anders opens the door for us, and we wave once more to the screaming, uncontrollable crowd. Slade slams the car door and we take off into the night, where to, I have no earthly idea...
There’s a first aid kit waiting on the seat next to me, and I go straight into nurse mode. “Take off that shirt,” I say sternly.
“Just like old times,” Slade laughs. He obeys my order, peeling the stained garment from his body. My concentration wavers as his defined, rippling abs come into view. But the cut that rakes across them is of more immediate concern.
“Old times?” I laugh, “You mean a week ago? You sure do have lots of occupational hazards to deal with, don’t you?”
“I do,” he says.
I'm surprised by the serious tone in his voice.
My hands work quickly, readying all the disinfecting solutions that I’ll need. I turn to face him, and he offers his torso to me. I swab at the cut, relieved that it’s so shallow. During his run-in with that skinhead, I had feared the worst for a moment. What if Slade had died trying to protect me? I have no idea what I would do if something happened to him, especially if it was my fault. We fall into heavy silence. I understand the serious look he’s wearing, now. Bravado is all well and good, but what happened tonight isn’t to be taken lightly.
“What were you doing in that pit, Julia?” he asks, as I attend his wound. “You should have just come backstage. The crowd can be dangerous, when the wrong people show up.”
I bit my lip nervously. As furious as I am with those women for what they did, I don’t want to burden Slade with this. But he’s looking at me intently, and I know that I won’t be able to evade his probing questions. “I tried to get backstage,” I tell him, focusing my gaze on his wound, rather than his intense dark eyes. “The bouncer didn’t know me, and he wouldn’t let me in. But then...Helena and the girls showed up. They took me inside with them. I wanted to watch from backstage, but they insisted that we watch from the crowd.
I was...overwhelmed. Really overwhelmed by what it’s like out there. I’ve never been in an audience like that. Everyone was at full throttle, as if there was this unwritten agreement that I feel like I never got to consider. And when the pit opened up...I tried to steer clear of it. I was already just barely managing to keep afloat in the audience, and...Helena. She and Ruby and Jackie...they threw me. They just grabbed me and tossed me straight into the fray. I thought I was a goner. And when those men got to me...I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t put a stop to it. I’m just so glad that you were there for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.”
“Thank me?” Slade spits. I look up, startled. His eyes are roiling pits of utter rage and contempt. “You should be furious with me.”
“What?” I say, forgetting first aid for the moment, “Slade, I’m pretty sure you saved my life tonight. What—?”
“I’m the reason that your life was in danger in the first place,” he growls. Every muscle in his body is hard with tension, his throat is taut with trying to keep from screaming. “You shouldn’t have been there. You should have been safe at home. And Helena...she’s jealous of you. Because of me. This never would have happened if it wasn’t for me. It’s my fault. If something had happened to you...I would just f*cking lose it. That would be it.”
“How do you think I feel?” I ask incredulously, “You got a knife pulled in you for my sake. You could have been gutted right there in the pit. How do you think I would have felt if you got hurt because I’d gotten myself into a stupid situation?”
“Stop it,” he says harshly, “You didn’t get yourself into anything. You’re not a f*cking idiot. You were there for me. You got thrown into that pit because of me. Those a*sholes got their hands on you because of me. What were you even doing here? You’re supposed to be at the hospital.”
Oh, god. The last thing I want to do is tell him what happened this morning at work. But we might as well get everything out in the open. “I couldn’t get to work this morning,” I say.
“Why not?” he presses.
I take a deep breath and dive in. “When I got to the hospital,” I begin, “There were a lot of reporters and a ton of photographers. They’d sort of set up shop in front of the ER. My supervisor wouldn’t let me stay. The crowd of press was obstructing our work. So, I decided to come to the show to tell you everything that was on my mind. How happy I was about all of this. About us. About...” I trail off as Slade’s eyes turn to iron.
“The paparazzi is following you,” he says in a terrifying monotone. I can tell it’s taking every ounce of self control in his body to keep from flying into a furious rage. “That is unacceptable.”
“Slade,” I say quietly.
“No,” he says, averting his gaze, “I won’t have this. I won’t have your life ruined for my sake.”
“It’ll pass,” I tell him, “I’m just a novelty for the moment. They’ll get sick of me.”
“You’re wrong,” he says, “Once they get their hooks in you, there’s no end. Trust me. I know a thing or two about it.”
“You’re upset,” I tell him, “We should talk about this when we’ve both cooled down.”
“This isn’t a dispute over dirty dishes!” he roars. I shrink back against the seat, surprised by the intensity of his anger.
“Why are you yelling at me?” I ask, my own temper beginning to flare up inside of me.
“I’m not—I’m just—” he splutters. “It’s all f*cked up,” he says, letting his head fall into his hands. We sit in silence for a long moment, staring at each other across the cabin. I swallow hard and edge toward him. Wordlessly, I ease him back onto the seat. I’m not done with my first aid yet. We don’t speak a word as I finish dressing his wound. We’re at an impasse. There’s nothing either of us can say that won’t force the question of whether I stay or go. I’m terrified of what comes next in this fight we’ve started. I blink back tears as I finish fixing Slade up, holding back my fear and anger as best I can. Time stretches out before us, ceaselessly.
The car rolls to a stop, and I look through the tinted windows to see where we’ve ended up. I’m surprised to see the neon lights of the now-familiar diner that Slade brought me to on our first day together. I turn to him for an explanation.
“It’s a tradition,” he says quietly, “Whenever we have a show within driving distance, we always come back for some chow.”
“Oh,” I say, trying to smile and failing, “Thanks for bringing me along.”
He lifts his eyes to mine. Pain has hardened his gaze beyond recognition. I can feel him closing down to me, cutting off our unspoken bond and communication. “You know that I care about you Julia,” he starts.
I can tell there’s a “but” coming. I wish that I could hold it back.
“I know,” I say, my voice thick with unspent tears, “I care about you too.”
“All my life,” Slade says, “I’ve been keeping people safe. My mom and my sisters. I couldn’t keep my dad from dying, but I was there for them. I kept them out of harm’s way. That’s been my job since I was ten.”
“You were just a kid,” I say softly, “You didn’t have to—”
“Yes I did,” he cuts me off, “If not me, then who?”
“You don’t always have to be the savior,” I tell him.
“I can’t put you in harm’s way,” he says, ignoring my words, “My job is to protect you. As someone I love, you’re my responsibility. I will keep you safe, no matter what it takes. And if that means that we can never see each other again...”
“No,” I breathe, “Slade, you don’t mean that. You can’t really mean that!”
“I would rather know that you’re safe and happy somewhere else than have you in danger at my side,” he says. “I’d rather you find someone, have a house and babies and all that with another man, as long as you’re out of harm’s way. It would be better than knowing that something could happen to you on my watch. I’d trade your safety for having you in my life, Julia. I would.”
“I wouldn’t want that,” I insist, “You don’t get to make that call, Slade. I’m a grown woman. I can do whatever I please.”
“Not if I won’t have you,” he says quietly.
“You can’t do that,” I say again. “I won’t let you do this, Slade.”
“Please stop,” he says, “Let’s just leave it for now. We have a tradition to uphold. We can talk about it later. Or not talk about it...I don’t even know anymore.”
He throws his dirty shirt back on and pushes past me toward the door. I follow, numbed by his proposition. He can’t really mean what he’s saying...He can’t really be ready to leave me behind out of fear of the unknown...can he? I stumble out of the car and follow him into the old diner. I feel my cell phone vibrate against my skin, and withdraw it from its hiding place in my bra. I have a text message waiting for me. My heart sinks a little when I see that it’s from Penny. I open it up with dread.
“OMG,” it reads, “Your pictures are all over the Web already. I can’t believe he pulled you onstage! What the hell happened?”
My heart tightens, and it’s just too much to go into. Penny’s enthusiasm is twisting the knife of Slade’s threatened abandonment. “Long story,” I write back, “Can’t talk now.”
A moment passes before a short, “OK. Text me later” pops up on my screen. I shut down my phone and slip it away. I can’t deal with any news from the outside world right now—I have a crisis to deal with right here. God forbid my parents call and muck up my thought process further. I spot another town car in the parking lot—the rest of the band must have beat us here. Slade opens up the door to the diner, his eyes hard with pain. I hesitate for a moment before going in. Why am I torturing myself like this? His mind seems pretty made up. Still, there might still be a chance of salvaging things between us. I put on a brave smile and walk into the diner with my head held high.
A raucous cheer goes up as Slade and I walk through the door. The diner is empty save for one big table in the back. Joe, Annabelle, Dodge, and Eddie are all enjoying a round of beers, and Maggie the waitress is standing by, beaming ear to ear. The sight of their happy party makes my heart ache. I want to be able to celebrate with them. I want Jackson to enjoy this victorious moment. But the cloud of our disagreement hangs heavy overhead.
I steal a glance at Slade and see that he’s grinning ear to ear. Either he’s a wonderful actor, or he isn’t as devastated by this whole mess as I am. I hope that it’s the former as I slide down into a chair opposite Annabelle. She notices my forced smile right away, and clasps my hand sympathetically over the table.
“You must be so shaken up,” she says kindly.
“What?” I ask. How could she know about our fight already?
“After what happened in the pit, of course,” she says.
“Right,” I say hurriedly, “The pit. Yeah. That was pretty awful.
A look of curiosity crosses Annabelle’s features. Her big, perceptive eyes don’t miss much. She can tell that I’m omitting something, but she’s nice enough not to press me about it in front of the group. Across the table, Eddie raises his beer in a celebratory toast.
“To Flagrant Disregard!” he says happily, “And the kickoff of another excellent tour!”
“Cheers!” everyone says, clinking beer bottles. Slade won’t meet my eye as I offer my bottle to his. I’m starting to get riled up by his cold shoulder routine, but I swallow my annoyance as best I can.
“What’s everyone having?” Maggie asks, pad at the ready.
“I’d say a round of cheeseburgers,” Joe says, “Everyone OK with that?” The group choruses assent, and Maggie heads back to the kitchen to fetch our food. Dodge leans into the table, eyes reverently resting on Slade.
“That was pretty epic what you did back there,” he says.
“It’s starting to become a bit of a habit though, isn’t it?” Eddie jokes, “Rescuing the helpless from the depths of the pit?”
“I’m not helpless,” I say sharply, glaring at the swarthy manager, “I was attacked.”
“You probably shouldn’t have been in there in the first place,” Joe says, “You have to warm up to that kind of thing.”
“I was forced in,” I tell him coldly, “By—”
“It was an accident,” Slade interrupts me, “Let’s change the subject.”
I look at him incredulously. Why did he stop me from ratting out that trio of evil band groupies? Is he trying to protect them, or something? Preserve their place in the group, so that once I’m gone, there will still be women on demand for the guys’ needs? I take an angry swig of beer to keep from interrogating Slade.
“I’m just glad you’re both OK,” Annabelle says, “Now we enjoy the rest of the tour together, bandages and all. You are coming on tour with us, aren’t you Julia?”
All eyes turn to me as I try and think of something to tell them. I look to Slade to supply an answer. I’m out of them myself.
“No,” he says quietly, “Julia isn’t coming. She has a trip of her own planned.”
“Well, ditch those plans!” Dodge cries, “Come with us instead!”
“She doesn’t want to,” Slade insists, “Rock isn’t her thing.”
“I’ll be the judge of what my ‘thing’ is, Slade,” I say heatedly. He’s not allowed to speak for me, even in band matters. “But no. I won’t be coming. I’ve been looking forward to my own road trip for months. So. That’s what I’ll be doing.”
Slade’s jaw twitches, and the rest of the table falls silent. Our cloud of tension has engulfed the entire table. I feel terrible for dragging down the mood of the celebration. All the more reason I should get out of their hair as soon as possible.
“Here we are,” Maggie says, returning to the table with trays piled high, “Five cheeseburgers. Medium rare. I should have just brought an entire cow out to the table, I imagine.”
“Thank you Maggie,” Joe says. “These look great.”
“Well, I know how you like them,” she smiles, “God knows you've all been coming long enough.”
I look around the table, wondering what these people must have been like before stardom swept them away. Were they better off for their success or worse? Suddenly, their fame seemed like a burden rather than a blessing. What if I had met Slade before he was famous? Or what if he had come to my hospital as a regular man? Would we have had a shot then? It was impossible to say. But it certainly seems like the preferable fate right this minute.
The rest of the group digs into their burgers. I do my best, but I can’t do much more than pick at my fries. My appetite has long deserted me. All I want to do is crawl into bed and cry for a week. I can’t even look at Slade across the table. It’s too painful. The others babble happily as they fill their stomachs with diner food. Only Slade and I are silent. But the party wraps up soon enough, and Eddie slaps the table with his hands.
“OK gang,” he says, “We’ve got a while to travel before we can call it a day!”
“What?” I ask, “Where are you—?”
“New York, baby!” says Joe happily, “We’re gonna press on until we get to the next city. Our tour bus will be here any minute. Talk about service, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say weakly, “That’s...really cool.”
“Can you at least come with us that far?” Dodge asks.
“No,” I say, “I’d better not.”
“Probably for the best,” Slade says. His words are like ice picks digging into my warm, bleeding heart.
“How are you getting home then?” Eddie asks.
“Oh,” I say, “My car is back in Philly.”
“Take a town car,” Annabelle says, “They can catch up with us later.”
“Is that OK?” I ask Eddie.
“Sure,” he says, “That works out. Let’s get a move on then, crew!”
We all say our goodbyes and thank you’s to Maggie and head out into the night. Sure enough, an enormous tour bus swings into the parking lot as soon as we emerge. I stare at the gigantic vehicle—it’s practically a airplane, it’s so big. I look despondently over at the waiting pair of town cars. They’re my ride, I suppose. I give Joe and Dodge big hugs, and even let the slightly creepy Eddie fold me in his arms for a second. Annabelle squeezes me tightly before handing me off to Slade.
He grabs hold of my elbow and walks me to Anders’ town car. With his mouth pulled into a straight, serious line, he opens the door and helps me inside. I go without protest, trying to salvage what little of my pride is left to me. Slade leans into the cabin, looking at me with hard eyes.
“Take care of yourself,” he tells me, his voice gratifyingly thick. Maybe he cares, even a little, that we’re saying goodbye.
“You too,” I tell him, “Change that bandage soon.”
“OK,” he says, lingering, “Julia...I really do care about you.”
“I know, but this could never work, we both know that,” I tell him, tears welling up in my eyes. “Goodbye Slade.”
“Goodbye,” he says, and he slams the door.
I watch his retreating form through a veil of tears. Finally alone, I let the heaving sobs I’ve been holding in all night take me. I bury my face in my hands, hot salty drops course down between my fingers. From beyond my range of vision, I hear the tour bus roar to life and take off. He’s gone. After everything that’s passed between us during this incredible week, he’s gone from my life just as suddenly as he fell into it. I let the weeping cries tear through my throat with abandon. I feel like I’m mourning someone who’s passed away. I suppose he may as well be dead—he’s gone from my life forever.