Ava frowns. “And why do you think you can’t trust Elliot with yours?”
“Because if Elliot isn’t sure about anything, how can he be sure about me?” I blurt out.
Ava nods slowly. “I see. That’s what you are afraid of,” she says. “You’re afraid you might fall for him, really fall for him, and you don’t feel safe.”
I look down at my feet. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He has Clara.”
“He doesn’t have Clara,” Ava says. “Listen to me, I’m the one-dimensional sidekick, and I know better. And you’re being stupid.”
Ava goes to head back inside, and when the door swings open, there is Elliot. My breath stops for a second.
“Hey,” he says.
“Oh!” Ava says. “I was just . . . You did a . . .” She pats him on the shoulder as she walks by, then looks back at me open-mouthed and is still giggling when the door swings closed.
“I was just heading off,” I say.
“Annabelle,” he starts. The door swings open into the club and a pack of girls are there, peering out at Elliot.
“Looks like you have people waiting.” I start to turn, and Elliot grabs my arm.
“Stop!” he says. “You are driving me nuts. Are you really still this angry at me about what happened at the beach?”
I look at him and want to cry. If he really has to ask, it shows how little it all really meant. I am too afraid to speak right now so I don’t say anything.
“Annabelle. Listen, we had a fight. That doesn’t mean this has to be over. Fights are something to talk about and work through. But you won’t let me. Unless it’s more than that. Unless you regret everything that happened. And if that’s the case, fine. It sucks, but I can take it. Just don’t be weird, okay? I don’t like life when you aren’t in it.”
The door swings open again, and this time Clara peers out.
“You said I was an itch that needed scratching,” I manage to say.
“E?” Clara calls as the door swings back shut.
“I was angry.” Elliot has never looked more serious in his life. “And . . . I was wrong. I’m so sorry, Annabelle.”
The door swings open again and some people exit onto the street.
“Was it for you?” Elliot says. “An itch?”
Just as I am about to open my mouth, a stranger taps Elliot on the shoulder. He’s older, around thirty, wearing a leather jacket with a plaid shirt underneath and black jeans.
“Elliot, hey. Great show, man,” the guy starts.
“Thanks,” Elliot says without looking at him, still waiting for my response.
“Do you have a moment?” the guy asks.
“We just need a minute,” Elliot says, still looking at me.
“Of course, my bad.” The guy backs off. “I’m Jay Jermaine, by the way. Just wanted to say I’m a big fan.”
Elliot’s head whips around. “JJ Jermaine? KCRW JJ Jermaine?” he asks.
Jay grins. “Big fan, like I said. I’d love to talk to you when you have a second.”
“Your radio show is my life,” Elliot whispers.
JJ outright laughs. “Look, I can see you are busy, but I’d love to chat because I just got signed on to do the soundtrack for a big new blockbuster—it’s that author Lucy Keating? Not sure if you’ve heard, but Across the Sea is being made into a movie, and they’re looking for really original stuff, and I think you guys would be a good fit for at least two tracks.”
Elliot looks back at me helplessly, but it’s not him I’m mad at now. It’s her.
23
Having Fun Yet?
UP UNTIL this point, I think it’s fair to say my relationship with Lucy Keating has been complicated. I resented her deeply for butting in to my world, but I also didn’t hate her guts.
Now, however, I am going to make her pay.
What kind of sick individual manipulates the life of a perfectly happy teenage girl, and messes it all up for her own professional gain? She wants to give me happiness, she says, but all she is doing is causing me is pain. She continues to create conflict after conflict, giving me low after emotional low, and for what? Just to better her story?
It’s almost midnight, and I’m sitting in Sam’s car, which I borrowed despite his protest, in front of Will’s house, waiting for him to come outside. I texted him fifteen minutes ago and said to meet me, and as I wait, I let my mind wander briefly to what is probably happening at the club right now. Elliot is surrounded by women, and Clara has her body draped over his. He’s probably playing hard to get with her, but their spirits are lifted, happy they’re going to license two songs to Lucy’s movie. Maybe she’ll lean in for a congratulatory hug. And that congratulatory hug will last a moment too long. And as they pull away, foggy and beer-filled, they’ll look at each other—
Maybe I am not so bad at creative writing after all, I think, and then lean forward and rest my head against the steering wheel.
The thing is, as long as Lucy Keating is around, there will always be a drumstick or a Clara, an A&R guy, and a broken-down car. I am going to put a stop to this once and for all, and nobody is going to get in my way
“This chick is going down,” I say as the passenger door opens and Will’s adorable face is there. He looks exhausted.
“What is it?” he asks, rubbing his eyes as he climbs in.
“We’re going on an adventure,” I say.
“Oh, yeah? Where?” he asks.
“We’re going to get to the bottom of this Lucy Keating thing once and for all. We’re going to see her in person. Because no matter how much we try to change our own stories, how many cliffs we jump off of or bathrooms we talk in, there’s only really one person who can fix it.”
“I like it,” Will says. “But do we really have to go right now?”
“We have to go now,” I say. “There’s a chance she’s asleep. And if she’s asleep, then she can’t see us coming.”
“Genius,” Will breathes. “Can we get coffee first?”
We stop at an all-night diner so Will can get some coffee, and I get a milkshake. It may be one A.M., but I’m so high on adrenaline, I don’t need anything else. We are finally going to fix this, I can feel it.
“So, just one more question,” Will asks as we buckle up back into the car. “Minor detail, really.”
“What’s that?” I ask, taking one last gulp of chocolate goodness and setting it in the cup holder, feeling like a superhero who runs on ice cream.
“How exactly do we plan to get there? Did you ask Epstein for her address?” he says.
I shake my head. “There was no time for that, and I didn’t want to risk her figuring it out.”
“So . . .” Will says.
“So, I’m just going to feel it.”
“Annabelle Burns, the most practical person on earth, is going to feel out direction to a destination where she has never been before. . . .” Will does not try to hide his skepticism.