Authors: Delia Delaney
The tour of Jared’s house took almost an hour, not because it was gigantic or anything, but because Maggie had to touch almost everything. I didn’t like her doing that unless she had permission, so every ten seconds she
would ask Jared, “Can I touch it
?”
It’s not that he had anything exquisite, but she did think his jukebox was cool, and there were some really cool chairs in the billiards room that she couldn’t get enough of. He had several masks on the wall of one room that she was fascinated with, and some swords and shields in another. One of the bedrooms had lava lamps that she wanted to turn on, so while those got heated up, we explored another
couple of
room
s
and then came back.
I thought his recording studio would be a different story. I knew there was a lot of expensive equipment in there, and I figured he wouldn’t want her to touch anything. But Jared didn’t mind at all, and he let her play with almost everything in there with his help. There were some guitars on the wall that he asked her not to touch though; he told her they were special to him and they needed to stay safe. I
figured
they were gifts from friends, or maybe other musicians. When I walked by, I noticed the signature on one of them.
“Does that say Pete Townshend
?” I asked.
Jared stopped playing the keyboard with Maggie and looked my way. “Uh, yeah. The only cool present my dad ever gave me.”
“Did he get it through an auction
or something?”
“No, he had it signed in person years ago. My dad kept it in his house all the years I was growing up, and threatene
d me to never touch it.
” He smiled and added,
“
If he knew I use
to anyways, he probably would have n
ever given it to me.”
I looked over the guitar with interest
, along with three other autographed guitars that were hanging next to it
. I studied Kurt Cobain’s signature on a baby blue Fender Jaguar.
There were so many musicians that had died because of careles
s lifestyles. It was sad to me
and I was glad that Jared wasn’t like that.
A sound caught my attention. Jared had an acoustic guitar on his lap as he let Maggie mess around with some digital drums. He was paying attention to her, answering her questions and encouraging her, but he was also
on
autopilot as he strummed the guitar without thinking.
I sat on a stool across from him and he looked at me, but he also stopped playing. “You getting bored?” he smiled. “I’ll skip the tour of my vintage banjos and mandolins.”
I laughed but shook my head. “I’m not bored. You really have vintage banjos?”
He grinned. “Actually I do. But they’re in my L.A. home. But I’ll definitely have to show you sometime.”
I felt uncomfortable with his gaze because he was literally waiting for me to offer some sort of reply. Tour Jared Miller’s L.A. home and view another part of his life as a musician? Absolutely. Spend more time with the man that wouldn’t stop making my heart race… That was another story.
“Play something for me,” I said, changing the subject.
He
lifted an
eyebrow and then shrugged. “What do you want to hear?”
Wow, what did I want to hear. And suddenly my thoughts drifted back to
the most recent
song he’d given me, and my mouth became dry. He wasn’t at the piano, but I had no doubt he could play it on a guitar, too. I couldn’t let that happen, so my brain had to think quickly.
“I heard you
do a pretty wicked cover of
‘
Wish You Were Here.
’
”
He raised both eyebrows, obviously surprised. “You want to hear some Floyd?”
I shrugged. “I would listen to
anything
you played. It was just a suggestion. You don’t have to if—”
“No, that’s cool,” he seemed to assure me. “I love that song but… I’ve never actually played it in a show or anything.”
“Oh,” I said, fee
ling embarrassed. How did I think he had
? Recently I’d read something…
Then I remembered
. It was on a
Breaking Point
video that I’d watched, kind of a behind-the-scenes thing from their last tour. Jack was filming Kurt eating Coco Puffs, but then there was Jared in the back of the bus, playing an acoustic guitar. “Oh, and the master is at work,” Jack had whispered, and we got a glimpse of Jared sitting on the edge of a
bed playing
“
Wish You Were Here
”
without knowing he had an audience.
“Well anyways,” Jared said, bringing me back from my private
memory
. “Yeah, I’ll play that. Don’t think I’ve ever played it for anyone though,” he playfully muttered with a smile.
“Oh. Does it have special meaning to you or—
?
”
“No,” he chuckled. “I’m just joking.”
Without further words, he began the song. I was instantly thrilled, like a teenager that was being given a private performance by her favorite rock star.
Okay, so half of that was true.
But man, was it
heartbreaking
when he began to sing
. My insides turned to hot molten lava with the sound of his voice. Of course I was familiar with his sound—way too familiar now—but this…him right in front of me, singing and playing…
I was so screwed.
Maggie climbed o
nto my lap to listen, and instead of looking into Jared’s eyes, I
focused on
his hands instead, fascinated by how well they created such a sound. It was five minutes of love and hate, and thank God Maggie took over the praise when he was done and told him he sounded “super cool.” I was honestly speechless and could only offer a quiet applause.
When the
house
tour was over,
we headed back upstairs and
Maggie was
immediately
content with Clyde again—who hadn’t even moved from his spot in the living room.
W
hile
her
a
ttention was directed elsewhere
Jared
asked, “So
when
are you going to give me your honest opinion about the song?”
Okay, so I didn’t get away with
it for long
. “Oh, uh, it was great. Beautiful. I mean your voice is a bit
coar
ser and just…” I wanted to say
sexier
, but held my tongue. “It was honestly better than the original. Not even kidding.”
He smiled uneasily, like I’d said something totally wrong. “Taryn, I wasn’t talking about that down there,” he said, pointing towards the basement. “I’m talking about the other song.”
“What song?”
He lightly laughed
, but it seemed a little bitter
. “Don’t give me that. It’s why you’re so uncomfortable around me, isn’t it?
”
My heart started hammering in my chest and my thoughts reverted to my own bedroom, listening to Jared’s very personal, very heartfelt message to me.
“
I told you
you
weren’t re
ady to hear it, and I was right,
”
he sort of shrugged. He was obviously disappointed, but my fear encouraged me to be defensive again.
“M
aybe next ti
me go with your instincts, then,
”
I barely mumbled.
He
scarcely
nodded. “And what if I
already
did?”
I sighed, feeling totally unequipped to have this particular conversation with him.
I wanted to run out of there, hop in my car and not look back.
“Taryn, you made me a promise. You said that you’d give me your honest opinion. I gave you the song trusting that you
would
do just that. I want to know what you think of it.”
“It was beautiful, okay? It had to be the most incredible song I’ve ever heard, and I listened to it over and over, and it made me cry
,
damn it
. A
nd I put in on repeat and I listened to it all night long. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
“Uh, yeah I guess, but maybe without the hostility.”
“I’m not—”
I stopped short and took a deep breath. I did feel a little annoyed, but it was because I felt so vulnerable at that moment. How could he write such a song for me? Some of the words in it…the things he said… I just couldn’t have him doing that when I was already in a relationship with
someone else
.
“I don’t mean to sound angry
because I’m not,” I said quietly
, trying to fight off the tears threatening to appear
. “I’m just not good on the spot, I guess. I’m sorry.”
“
I didn’t mean to make you
upset
.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not a genius, but I get the feeling that—” He paused and glanced back at Maggie, and then in a quieter tone
continued
with, “I get the fe
eling that you want this,
Taryn
.” H
e motioned between us. “I mean I can feel it right now. Can’t you?
I know you can because why else would you be here?
”
I didn’t answer. I was afraid to with my hear
t pounding and my emotions fighting with each other
. I wasn’t capable of
making a response other than—
“
Uh,
Maggie,
we need to
go,
hon
.”
“Aw, but I wanna stay with Clyde.”
“I know, but Zack gets off of work pretty soon and he’s coming over.”
Thankfully she gave the dog one last hug and stood up from the floor, but she just had to say, “Jared, can I come see Clyde again?”
I know he glanced at me, but I refused to make eye contact. He had to answer on his own, which was, “Sure
,
sweetheart
. You can come by any time.”
“Yes!” she cheered. “Thanks, Jared,” she told him, and she wrapped her arms around his legs to hug him. He knelt down so he could hug her back, and it was one of those moments—like the little extra stab to the heart—that I wished I didn’t have to
witness
.
“Thanks for the candy bouquet,” he told her. “That was seriously the coolest present ever.”
She
grinned
really big and said, “You’re welcome. But it was Taryn’s idea,” she shrugged honestly.
“I know, but I know you helped, and that made it even more special.”
I forced myself to be pleasant and thanked him for letting us visit. He in return gave me a very chipper, “Sure, any
time,” response.
When we were finally on the street headed for home, I exhaled a long, shaky breath. I was surely going to pay for the thoughts I was having at that moment.
Chapter Nineteen
“Taryn, his name is Gerard,” Detective Bronson said over the phone. “The waiter at La Note?”
“Oh, Gerard! Duh!”
“He doesn’t work at La Note anymore, but he remembered
Rachel
. He couldn’t recall when the photo was taken or who took it, but he did name the two other people in the picture.
And he did admit to going out with Rachel a couple of times, but nothing came of it.
”
I listened to her recount her findings in California, which wasn’t much. She still didn’t know who
Spencer
was, but both Gerard and another waiter at La Note remembered
Rachel
dining with an older man; they both assumed hi
m to be her father until their
physical affection spoke otherwise.
“We’re still working on that lead, and at the same time we’ve been questioning some of the professors at Berkeley again.”
I knew that was standard, and I knew that questions had to be asked to get answers, but I wished that we didn’t have to go through so many people to get those answers.
I know she also visited with my parents again, and she recapped some of that even though I’d already spoken to them about it.
After that t
he case barely went anywhere during the month of November. I learned a lot of little things about my sister, but none of it had anything to do with her death. I had even resorted to asking Maggie questions
again
—which I’d done before, but didn’t get anywhere—and she still knew nothing about her mom’s life. It was the little things that bugged me, like not even knowing the name of the man she was going to introduce Maggie to at the end of that week. Was it
Spencer
? And
who
the hell did my sister go out with the night she died?
Her purse hadn’t turned up yet;
neither had her cell phone. Her phone records led nowhere.