Perfect Regret ( BOOK 2) (13 page)

“I’m gonna head home. I can’t do class right now. See you later,” she said, grabbing her purse and heading out to the quad.

“Something’s got to be done, Mays. I’m actually worried about her,” I said, following Maysie to dump our trash. Maysie nodded.

“Yeah, Vivian and I have been talking about this a lot actually. Vivian said she’s gonna call Gracie’s older sister about it,” she admitted. I was glad to hear that something was being done. But I was also self-aware enough to realize that news expunged my feelings of responsibility about the situation. And that was extremely selfish.

Outside, the October air was cool but the sun was shining brightly. Midterms were just around the corner. I figured I’d ace them like I always did. Because doing well in school was one thing I still had going for me.

“So anyway, you didn’t answer me. Are you working tonight?” Maysie asked, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

“Uh yeah, I go in at five. I thought you quit,” I scolded, glaring at the offending object dangling between her fingers. Maysie rolled her eyes.

“You’re as bad as Jordan,” she grumped but dropped the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out.

“Just trying to do my part in reducing your risk for lung cancer. You’ll thank me when you don’t have to drag an oxygen tank around,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah. Me and my non-existent iron lung will be eternally in your debt,” she said with just a small bit of sarcasm.

“So why the interest in my work schedule?” I asked her, pulling out my phone to check the time. I had twenty minutes until senior symposium.

“Oh, because Generation Rejects are playing at Barton’s tonight. Just wondered if you’d be around for it,” she explained, her eyes saying more than her words. She was worried about my being in the same room as Garrett. Sheesh, when had my life become an episode of The Young and The Restless?

I was fully capable of being in the same room as the guy I almost had a romantic interlude with before being publically dissed. The same guy who had most likely seen the dimple in my butt cheek. What was troublesome about that?

“I’ll be there. At least I know it’ll be busy and I can make some decent tips. It’s been dead lately,” I said, avoiding the discussion I knew she wanted to have. Clearly our roundtable conversation about this very thing that morning hadn’t been enough for her. She needed to beat it like a dead horse.

“Oh, well that’s good,” she said and then surprisingly didn’t say anything else.

“Yeah, it is. Gotta go,” I said, making a hasty retreat. My afternoon was now planned out. First class then home to prepare for a night showing Mr. Thinks He’s Hot Shit On The Guitar that I really didn’t give a crap about him.

The problem was I was beginning to forget who I was supposed to be convincing. Him or myself.

“A
nd this one is dedicated to all of the bitches who love us. You know who you are!” Cole screamed into the mic, pointing at the girls clamoring at his feet for a moment of his attention. I think I threw up in my mouth a little.

“He really is a cocky bastard, isn’t he?” I asked Vivian, who was sipping on her rum and Coke at the bar, watching her on again, off again bed buddy thrust his pelvis seductively. At least I think it was meant to be seductive. Personally I thought he looked as though he had a bad case of crabs.

Vivian shrugged a shoulder and swirled the tiny straw around in the ice. She seemed completely unconcerned by the way the man who frequently screwed her brains out make a spectacle of rounding up the next warm body.

But I knew the whole thing bugged her. Vivian was a strong, take no bullshit kind of woman. Which is why this whole situation between her and Cole was extremely perplexing. But I wasn’t one to dwell too long on someone else’s problems. Not when two of mine were in the same room tonight and that made me all sorts of twitchy.

Damien had officially blown off all of Jaz’s advances. I knew this because every time she had tried to approach him this evening, she had been politely but coldly rebuffed. The backstabbing skank face had looked ready to bust a gasket. And yes, I loved it. If I could have bought tickets and a tub of popcorn, I’d have been front and center for Jaz’s abject humiliation.

But while Damien had jumped off the rebound train, he was clearly trying to reboard the Riley wagon. He was sniffing so hard around my skirt that I wondered whether I’d need to have him surgically removed. And this did nothing for any semblance of a good mood.

Because with every one of my ex’s overtures, I felt the cold, dispassionately watchful eyes of the lead guitarist of Generation Rejects. He bore holes in my back. While I worked, he played his gig and there was a gritty edge to his performance tonight.

I was no music connoisseur but even I could hear the frenetic energy in the way he played tonight. He had already broken two strings during the set by his angry ferocity. And I knew the reason for his super happy good mood lay entirely on my I-Swear-I-Don’t-Give-A-Damn shoulders.

“I married the ketchups for you, Ri,” Damien said with a hesitant smile, coming into my section to hand me several bottles of condiments to put on the tables. When we were dating we routinely helped each other finish up our closing tasks. It was as familiar as apple pie. But now, there was something desperate about it. And I really wish he’d back off. He wasn’t helping the fog in my head at all. In fact, Damien Green was stirring it into a thick pea soup.

There was a screech as Garrett hit a wrong note and my head snapped to the stage. Even from this distance, I could see the scowl etched on his face as he looked down at his instrument. Jordan frowned but didn’t miss a beat on the drums and Cole sang on, as though the massive screw up hadn’t happened at all.

Garrett’s head came up and his eyes fastened to mine. I swallowed thickly and then forced myself to look away. Damien was already sweeping under my tables.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, holding my hand out so I could take the broom from him. Damien’s eyes were shy as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“It’s not a problem, I like doing things for you, Riley,” he said, having to yell over the commotion of the song being played on the stage behind us.

Okay, enough was enough. I made a sound of irritation and snatched the broom from his hands. “Jeesh, Damien, lay it on a little thicker, why don’tcha,” I said nastily. Damien blinked at me, as though shocked by my annoyance. Which proved how little he truly knew me. After over a year together, he should have anticipated my bitter response.

“I’m just trying to help.” He sounded so wounded and that just made me want to smack him.

I laughed without humor. “Give me a freaking break, Damien. You lost the right to play the helpful do-gooder when you dumped me. So stop it. I don’t have the time or patience for your contrite BS,” I threw at him.

Damien grabbed my hand and I tried to pull away. He gripped me tightly making escape impossible and I widened my eyes in surprise. “I’ve told you I made a mistake. I’ve made it clear I want you back. We were good together, Ri. Perfect. Stop being so stubborn and let me make it up to you.”

I opened my mouth to say something. I wasn’t entirely sure what would come off my tongue. My mind was a mess of barely firing synapses. But then, as though saved by the hands of fate themselves, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out and saw my mother’s name flashing across the screen and dread instantly uncoiled in my belly. Why would she be calling me this time of night?

“I’ve got to take this…I’ve…” my words trailed off and I put the phone to my ear, hurrying toward the back of the restaurant.

“Hold on, Mom,” I said breathlessly after I answered it. I rushed past the stage and my eyes inadvertently met Garrett’s. They were on a break between songs, Cole was working the crowd and Garrett stood there, as he always did, his guitar around his neck, his hand rubbing up and down the fret board as he waited to play.

His face that had been pinched and closed off changed suddenly when he took in my anxious expression. I knew I looked worried. Because there was no reason for my mom to call unless there was something I
should
be worrying about. Nighttime calls past ten from your parents never heralded good news.

Garrett recognized something was wrong and his eyes changed just slightly enough for me to see that. I couldn’t think about him, or Damien, anything else. I pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen and practically ran to the smoking area. Thankfully most of the kitchen staff was already gone for the night so I was alone.

“Mom, you still there?” I asked, more than a little out of breath.

“Riley,” my mother’s broken sob on the other end had my knees buckling underneath me. Shit, this was bad.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s your dad,” was all she said and it felt like my heart had frozen in my chest. My face flushed hot and my fingers went numb.

“Is Dad all right?” I asked stupidly. Of course he wasn’t all right! Why else would my mother be calling me at a quarter till twelve on a Saturday night crying? Get with it, Riley!

My mom took a shuddering breath. “Dad’s in the hospital. He’s had a heart attack,” she said haltingly and I felt my world fade to black. Spots danced in front of my eyes and I found it hard to focus.

“What? A heart attack? That makes no sense! Dad’s so healthy he makes healthy people look bad!” I said, knowing I was bordering on hysterical. But this was every child’s worst nightmare. My dad was an ox. My Mr. T and Arnold Schwarzenegger all mushed together in a peace loving hippie package. He was bigger than life and now my mom was telling me that the man who I had hailed as my own personal hero my entire life was in fact very, very mortal.

“Sure he is but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his vices like everyone else. I’ve been on him to quit eating those damn greasy hamburgers at Sal’s. But he swore he exercised enough and drank his wheat germ tea so he’d be fine. Stupid ass man!” I was so taken aback by my mom’s use of curse words that I didn’t respond immediately. My mother never, and I mean
never
cussed. This was almost as scary as the fact that my dad was in the hospital.

“Will he…I mean, is he going to…” I couldn’t force myself to finish the statement. I just couldn’t ask my mother whether my dad was going to live or die. Somehow putting it into words would give it power. Making all of this way too real.

My mom took another deep breath, as though trying to collect herself. “I don’t know, Ri. I just don’t know. But you need to get here as soon as possible. I just don’t know…” she stopped talking and I could hear the sound of her quiet sobbing.

My hands were shaking and my palms were wet. The phone slipped out of my hands and when I bent to pick it up another hand reached out to get to it first. I blinked a few times, not understanding why Garrett was outside, stood beside me, with a look on his face that was both bleak and sad.

I took the phone from him and turned my back. I couldn’t deal with him right now. Definitely not right now. “I’m leaving work. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is Gavin there? What about Fliss?” I asked.

“Yes, Gavin’s with me at the hospital and Felicity will be here in the morning. Sam is staying behind with the girls. He’ll come...later…if he has to…oh God!” My mom started to cry again and I pressed the heel of my hand against my eye so I wouldn’t join her. It would do no good to fall apart. I was the strong one. The one who held everyone else together. I could do this.

“It’s okay, Mom. Dad will be just fine. I’ll be there soon,” I promised, guaranteeing something I wasn’t sure was the truth. Did that make me a liar?

My mom seemed to pull herself together a bit. “Okay, baby girl. But drive carefully. Please,” she ended tiredly. I reassured her I’d be safe and hung up.

I stood there for a long time, staring out into the darkened lot behind Barton’s. I needed to get home. I had to pack. I had to make a bazillion calls letting my professors and my internship and the Barton’s manager, Moore, know that I’d be gone. I didn’t even know how long I’d be home. And just like that my world imploded.

I fell to my knees and smashed my fists into the cold, hard concrete. I let out a deep, guttural yell and felt my body tremble under the stress of the last few minutes. I didn’t cry though. For some strange reason, my tear ducts felt empty and dry.

Arms came around me, strong hands rubbing my arms as I struggled to breathe around the pain in my chest. “Let it out, Riley,” Garrett said softly into my hair as he pressed his cheek against the back of my head.

I held myself rigid in his embrace, not letting myself give into the urge to lose it. Even though he was encouraging me to let him pick up my pieces, I wouldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.

I got to my feet and pulled out from his arms. My hands still shook and I shoved them into my pockets. “Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” I asked, cringing at the way my words wobbled.

Garrett looked at me shrewdly, not put off in the least by my attempts to change the subject. “What happened?” he asked, ignoring my question.

I was tempted to tell him it was none of his business. That he should get back to playing music and pretending like he didn’t care about anything. Because that’s what he was good at after all.

But I didn’t. Perhaps it was the knowing sympathy on his face that was surprisingly not condescending. The dull awareness in his eyes that spoke of some understanding of pain that I didn’t know he possessed. Whatever it was, I found myself telling him exactly what my mom had just told me.

“My dad had a heart attack. She doesn’t know…” I tried to steady myself to say what I truly feared. But Garrett said it for me, saving me from voicing the very thing that scared me the most.

“If he’s going to make it,” he said steadily. Our eyes met and I nodded.

“I’ve got to get back to the apartment and pack. I have to head out…tonight. I need to get home,” I said, feeling the surge of panic over take me.

“And where’s home?” Garrett asked.

“Maryland. About four and a half hours away,” I said, already calculating the time and distance in my head. At this rate, I wouldn’t make it to the hospital before five in the morning. The night spread out before me, long and lonely. Crap, I started shaking even harder.

“I’ll drive you,” Garrett said suddenly and that made me stop shaking and look at him as though he had lost his mind.

“I have a car, I’ve had my license for a few years now, you know,” I said, appreciating the opportunity to lob a bit of my normal snark. It made me feel normal, capable.

Garrett’s mouth raised into a small smile. “Yes, I’m aware, but you’re in no condition to drive right now. Not after getting that kind of news,” he said firmly, as though he dared me to argue with him.

Well argue with him I would.

“You can’t do that. That’s just ridiculous. You’re in the middle of a gig. You and me…well, we’re not even friends. I can’t expect you to drive me to Maryland in the middle of the night,” I said stupidly, really not grasping why he would offer such a thing. It made absolutely no sense at all. And my brain was so bogged down with a million other worries that this new complication in the ever-evolving Garrett and Riley saga was the last thing I had the patience for.

Garrett rolled his eyes. Yes, he actually rolled his eyes at me. “Stop it, Riley. We may not be ‘friends’ but that doesn’t mean I can stand here and watch you drive off knowing what you have to face when you get there. Knowing how you’ll be going over every awful scenario in your head for the entire drive. Trying to prepare yourself for the worst but terrified to expect the best,” his voice was strained and his eyes became glassy. He was speaking from experience. And my heart, already breaking, broke a little bit more at the pain on his face.

“So let me do this for you. Please,” he said gently. And I was too tired to put up any further resistance. I only nodded and went to drop my keys in his waiting palm. Then I hesitated.

“You haven’t been drinking or smoking have you? Because I promised my mom I would get there in one piece,” I said seriously, narrowing my eyes.

Garrett wrapped his fingers around my hand that held the keys. His gaze was unwavering as he answered me. “I would
never
risk your life like that. I would rather die then get behind the wheel under the influence. Trust me when I say you have nothing to worry about where that is concerned.” His words were flinty hard and there was more to his staunch testament than I knew. But I couldn’t think about it.