A Lush Betrayal (13 page)

“Look, I appreciate it. I’m flattered. Really. More than you could imagine. But I’m not cut out for all of this. Tammy warned me, and I can see she was right. I’m not like those women—the ones at your parties—I’m not worldly or cynical or whatever. You’ll get bored with me and I’ll get hurt, Joss. It’s not a good idea.”

He sits back, releasing my hand, and looks at me hard. He’s pissed, but there’s also hurt there, a pain in his eyes that reminds me of the look he had when I first saw him in the recording studio back in Portland. I realize now that he hasn’t looked like that in days and I wonder if it’s the tour or me that made the difference.

“Don’t you think if I wanted one of those women that’s who I’d have?” he asks. I have no answer to that so I keep quiet. “I’m not sure where you got the idea I want someone
worldly
or
cynical
, but I can assure you I don’t. I’ve been down that road, and I’m not interested. You can tell that to Tammy, by the way,” he says almost as an afterthought. “You’ve pigeonholed me in this rock star box and you don’t want to admit it may not be who I am. You’re going to listen to everyone else’s stories about me instead of really looking at
me
.”

“Joss,” I say, anguish in my voice. “You’re wrong, but you’re also a celebrity. You live a fast life, on the road, with sophisticated women and millions of dollars at stake every day and night. Until a month ago, I was a college girl. I’m starting a brand-new career. I don’t even know where I’m living after this tour is over. I’m not at a place in my life where I can keep up with you. Surely you see that?”

He stands up then, and my heart beats harder because I sense something has changed suddenly. “No, you know what I see? I see I was wrong about you. I thought you were someone who’d finally recognized me for who I really am. You’re obviously not. Sorry I wasted your time.”

I
DON’T
see Joss again before I go to my little cubby bunk. But before I shut down the computer for the night, I check my university email. I’ve been avoiding it, mostly because I’ve been engrossed in my job, but also because I’m worried about what I might find. With the experience from this gig, I probably don’t need the Eddie Adams award to get a job, but I still wish I could win it. It’s been this carrot dangling in front of me as I trudged through six years of school, and it’s become a symbol of how hard I’ve worked to get here. To have it yanked away because of one mistake, one naïve moment, seems so unfair. But life isn’t fair, and when I open my email, there is a message from the Dean’s office.

I hold my breath as it spreads across the screen, exhaling in relief when I find that it’s not about my case at all, just a note to all students about some server maintenance that will be taking place during the summer break. My fate is postponed for another day, and I’ve got more time to reflect on how dumb I was to allow someone like Professor Marin to con me. Someone who operates in a world with different values and customs than what I understand. His is the high-power world of academics, where you take chances on brief affairs with those who control your future so you can touch greatness.

It’s not unlike the world Joss lives in, and I have to always keep that in mind. When I got back to our suite the night after he and I kissed, I told Tammy the truth about what happened. I was surprised that she didn’t get angry with me, but she put her arms around me and she told me the truth too, that Joss does this. He picks women who seem unattainable and he pursues them, but he’s never had a relationship longer than a few weeks. Then she asked me if I would be okay in a relationship with Joss that only lasted a few weeks. It sounded so much like what had happened with Professor Marin, I knew the answer right away. Tim Marin had broken my spirit a little, but Joss Jamison would break my heart a lot, and I couldn’t let him do that.

Now, as I lie in my bunk listening to Colin snore like a freight train across the passageway from me, I have to keep reminding myself of the reasons why Joss and I will never work. Because the way I feel when he’s near is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and it’s killing me to say no to him. He’s a few feet away right now, alone in his bed, and more than anything in life, I want to go to him and lie next to him and simply listen to his heartbeat. It would be the most beautiful sound in the world. It would be enough for now.

Joss

T
HE MOTION
of the bus actually lulled me to sleep at a normal hour. As I start to wake, I can hear people walking around outside, so it must be pretty late because this is not an early morning bunch.

I go to roll onto my side and am surprised to find my arm pinned down. Under a person.
Fuck
. My first thought is that I brought someone on board with me and was too drunk to remember. That hasn’t happened in a long time, but it’s not impossible. Then I recall that we didn’t even have a show last night and the last thing I did before I went to bed was have it out with Mel—painfully stone-cold sober.

The next option is that some groupie snuck onto the bus and hid out until I went to bed. That too has happened once or twice. It nauseates me honestly, the idea of a stranger touching me while I’m unconscious. It’s kind of disgusting. Of course, if said stranger ends up having really great tits, it can lessen the blow somewhat.

I carefully twist toward the person and I’m met with a mouthful of dark red hair and the scent of lemon meringue pie. My heart swells. My head spins.

Mel
.

She’s here, with me, in my bed. I’m not sure how or why, but I give thanks to the powers that be for this moment, and I fix it in my mind like a prized photo so I’ll never forget the feel of her, the scent of her, the warmth of her. She’s got her head on my shoulder and one leg slung across my thighs. She’s on top of the covers and I’m under them, so the contact is limited, but it doesn’t matter. I’d take this with her over a full-on naked press with most any other woman in the world.

I reach over with the arm she’s not lying on and stroke her soft hair. She starts to stir and then lifts her head, looking at me from underneath the curtain of fire that falls over her face.

“Oh my God,” she says quietly, her eyes round as two tennis balls.

“Hi,” I say.

“What am I doing here?” she squeaks.

“Um, I was hoping you could tell me that,” I respond, trying to figure out if she’s serious.

“Oh my God,” she repeats. She starts to sit up, and I sit up along with her. Then she brings her knees up and puts her hands over her face, muttering, “This can’t be happening.”

I gently rub her back. “Mel? What’s going on here? I swear to you, I don’t remember anything after I went to bed—alone, I might add.”

She finally puts her hands down and turns to look at me. “I sleepwalk.”

I laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” She sniffs like she might cry. “Ever since I was a little kid. I haven’t done it in years, but I used to all the time, even when I was a teenager. I’d get up in the middle of the night and go into other rooms in the house and go back to sleep. Usually Tammy’s. She got so used to it she didn’t even wake up when I climbed in bed with her. My parents talked about locking me in my room at night because they were afraid I’d hurt myself, but after a while, everyone saw that I never went anywhere but to Tammy’s room or the sofa in the den, so they quit worrying about it.”

I laugh. “Well, maybe you were looking for Tammy last night and got confused. I would have liked to see the look on Walsh’s face when he woke up in bed with both of you.” It’s an image I’m having trouble banishing from my own mind now. I’m generally happy with one woman at a time, but damn, the DiLorenzo sisters together? Jesus.

Mel buries her face in her hands again. “I’m so embarrassed,” she cries into her palms.

I lean over and give her a one-armed hug. “Don’t be. It’s fine. It obviously didn’t bother me. And I got to tell you, if I’m going to wake up with a surprise guest in my bed, I’d pick you any time.”

She looks up at me then, and the absurdity of her sleepwalking falls away. It’s just her and me on a bed, and her hair is tousled, her camisole is thin, and she’s not wearing a bra underneath. I look at her shining, sleepy eyes and her full lips that are so very kissable.

“Mel,” I rasp out. “If you don’t get out of here right now I’m going to kiss you again.”

She blinks once, twice, then sighs. “Going,” she whispers as she slips off the bed and over to the door. She looks back at me once before she quietly turns the doorknob and tiptoes out.

A
FTER
M
EL
leaves, I know it will be a while before I can face the busload of people outside my door. I lie back down, just relishing the memory of her warm weight on me in my bed. The scent of lemon pie lingers on my pillow, and I bury my face in it, remembering the look in her eyes when I threatened to kiss her. Last night I was ready to give up, to try to walk away even though I know deep inside she’s meant to be mine.

But after this morning’s stunt, there’s no way I’m backing down. It could be a fluke that she sleepwalked to my room, but I don’t think so. I think her subconscious craves me as much as I crave her. Somewhere in there, past the bullshit her sister’s fed her, past whatever wrongheaded notions she has about me and who I am, she knows too. We’re meant to try this thing out. Something in her calls to something in me.

The door to my room snicks open, and I’m really glad I decided to sleep in boxers for once. My room is Grand Central damn Station. I roll over to see who the hell it is this time and find Tammy standing there, arms crossed, on the offensive already. I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Her eyes shift to my bare chest and then back up quickly. I can’t help but smirk. I hope I make her uncomfortable. Teach her to walk into my bedroom unannounced.

“Can I help you, Tammy?” I say as sarcastically as possible while I stand and start to pull on a pair of jeans from the floor. She works really damn hard at not watching me.

“Tell me I did not see my sister leaving your bedroom in her pajamas about five minutes ago?”

“I could tell you that, but it would be a lie,” I answer her, standing now. My jeans are on but not buttoned because I want to see her fucking sweat, and the more exposed I am, the more she will be.

“God, you’re not going to leave it alone, are you?” she hisses.

“Where is Walsh?” I deflect. “Don’t you think he’s going to wonder what you’re doing in my bedroom? After everything we’ve been through, let’s not have him catch you now.”

“He’s eating breakfast up front with Colin. He’s not going to catch us, and we’re not doing anything wrong anyway. I’m trying to have a conversation with you about my sister.”

“Really? Because I get the feeling you’re actually trying to have a conversation about you and me. The same conversation I tried to have with you dozens of fucking times over the last year.” I sit back down on the bed and lean up against the wall, feigning indifference to her and the discussion.

“You want to have that conversation, Joss? Do you really? Okay, here it is. If he ever found out, it would kill him. And I love Walsh. No one but him.”

“I know you do,” I answer quietly.

“And you used to also,” she says, sadness oozing from her voice.

“Yeah, I still do. “

“Then there’s nothing else to say about it, but this shit between you and Mel has got to stop. Don’t ruin her life too. Please.”

She really looks desperate, and I realize she genuinely believes I’m only chasing her sister to get back at her.

“Tammy. This thing with Mel—it has nothing to do with you and me. Why can’t you believe that?”

She shakes her head and sighs. “Even if it doesn’t, Joss, you just can’t. You can’t drag her into our lives. We’re a mess. We’re tainted, in this never-ending snarl together. I don’t want her tangled up with us. Can’t you see that? She’s special. Don’t do this.”

It’s almost enough to sway me—the despair in her voice, the love she obviously feels for her sister—but then I remember how she’s treated me this last year. I’ve been her whipping boy in so many ways, and I’m not fucking doing it again. It’s as if she’s the only one who was hurt by it. As if I don’t feel every bit as guilty or torn to pieces. It’s been slowly eating me alive for months, but in her mind, I’m the one to blame.

“No.” It comes out harsh and cold, but I don’t even care. “I’ve made all the noble gestures for you I’m going to. I won’t let you make me the bad guy yet again. You’ve got Walsh, he’s sober, and you’re in love. Go enjoy your life, Tammy. But leave mine the hell alone.”

Her eyes narrow, and I can feel the anger rolling off of her in waves. It’s hard to remember that there was a time when she was one of my best friends, someone I thought of as family. Her voice is guttural when she answers me. “I fucking hate you, Joss Jamison. You hear me? I
hate
you. You’re a bastard, and I will
not
let you take my sister from me.”

My voice is colder than I’ve ever heard it. “Get out.”