Chapter 12

Now it's closing time, the music's fading out
“He lives! The prodigal guitarist returns.”

Jack forced a smile as he stepped into the cramped office that doubled as a green room in the back of the bar. His old bandmates were lounging on a threadbare couch that was the color of split pea soup after it was left in a bowl in the sink for two months.

Brad was still on drums like he’d been since day one, Mark had taken over as lead singer when they ditched Steve, and Trevor was still the keyboardist and still a controlling asshole, something Jack should have figured out much sooner than he did. One was missing - Ash, the chick who took over lead guitar after Jack was shot, was MIA and probably hooking up with a random guy in a dark corner somewhere.

Brad was the one who made the announcement when Jack walked through the door, leaping up to give his old friend a hug. “Been way too long, Jack,” he said, patting him roughly on the back.

“Yeah,” Jack said, suddenly wishing he was anywhere but there at that moment. It wasn’t anxiety attack in the bathroom bad, but he definitely could use a cigarette and a drink at that moment.

“When we heard what happened …” Brad took a deep breath, his eyes sort of glassy and Jack took an involuntary step back, a little afraid that the guy was going to start crying on him. Brad had been his friend almost as long as Steve. They met in gym class, hanging back and avoiding as much actual gym as they could, plotting their escape so they could grab a smoke before the period was over. The fact that Brad had a drum set helped them seal their friendship. The drums had been a gift from his absentee dad, who probably intended more for the drumming to annoy the hell out of his ex-wife than for his son to actually learn how to play them.

“Would have been nice if Bobby had thought to call sooner than two weeks after it happened. We thought you’d made a wrong turn and wound up in Mexico or something crazy shit like that,” Steve said as he took a seat on the coffee table in the center of the room, pushing an empty pizza box out of the way.

Jack wanted to point out that they had all grown up in Detroit and it wasn’t like they couldn’t have picked up a phone and called the house – the number hadn’t changed. His brothers had been distracted at the time and his friends … part of him was convinced they had forgotten he existed. That wasn’t entirely true, Jack supposed. Steve had visited him in the hospital, keeping him company and bugging the hell out of Bobby. The other guys sent him a card and a strip-o-gram a week after he’d come out of the coma, but that was it.

“Whatever. It’s over, man. I’m fine. Water under the bridge and all that shit.” The words sounded lame to his ears, but everyone seemed to accept them. Well, everyone except Steve, who mouthed the word “Liar” at him. Jack rolled his eyes and discretely flipped him off as he ran his hand through his damp hair.

“You’re going to get a cut of each song you wrote, Jack. I promise you that,” Trevor announced in that cut through the crap and get to the point way he had, which was why he got laid way less than any of the rest of them but managed to have a well paying day job and a nice apartment. The dude wasn’t an idiot, just a complete jackass. And he wouldn’t know a decent arrangement if it bit him on the ass. Jack was still smarting over the way they’d butchered the songs he’d worked on perfecting for years.

Jack just nodded. Money didn’t matter to him, but Trevor saw everything in green and white. It was probably how the band had lasted long enough to actually have a record deal and shot at something big. Hell, using Jack’s injuries as an excuse and filling his spot with Ash proved he wasn’t stupid and Jack wondered just how long the guy had been plotting to kick him out of his own band. Probably that first day he walked into Steve’s garage.

Someone nudged his elbow and he looked behind him. Kathy. He’d forgotten she was there and immediately felt guilty. But finally confronting what he’d always assumed was going to be his future had fogged up his brain and the side effect was forgetting things like the girl who had unexpectedly fallen back into his life.

“Hey, guys – you remember Kathy?”

She stepped into the room and waved, half smiling, half grimacing and looking as awkward as hell. Well, that was definitely something they had in common.

Everyone stared at her and Jack could tell they were trying to process where they knew her from. It was one of the hazards of being a rock star – cycling through all the women clogging your memory, trying to remember if you’d ever known her in the more biblical sense or if your relationship was strictly platonic and fully clothed. Jack had never been very good at pretending when he had no clue who some chicks were. They usually laughed it off, but he did know what a good, angry slap across the cheek felt like.

Brad jumped up and pointed. “George’s clarinet!”

Steve groaned dramatically and shook his head. “Don’t remind me about that damn clarinet.”

“It was your idea for him to be in the band,” Jack pointed out.

“Don’t pin that on me, Mercer. My mom made me.”

Jack laughed suddenly, the tension in his chest easing up. “Oh, well, that’s better then.”

Kathy glanced around the room. “Where is George?”

“Still chasing your dog and his wind instrument,” Brad said with a shrug.

Steve looked over his shoulder and glared at the drummer. “He’s in MIT, studying something …”

“Mathematical,” Jack finished for him.

Everyone but Trevor laughed. He was too busy studying Kathy, his eyes narrowed. “Kathy Price,” he said suddenly, like he’d solved the riddle.

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, her face flushed from laughing.

“Wow. Can’t believe you’d give Jack here the time of day. Especially after what happened at the prom.”

She drew in a deep breath and it was like a door had been suddenly slammed shut. The room got very quiet, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jack growled at Trevor, but his eyes were on Kathy. She was pale and looked shaky and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was going on.

Prom was four years ago, not that he remembered much of anything from that night. What the hell could have happened four years ago … “Shit,” he said under his breath.

He reached for Kathy’s arm, but she dodged his grasp, rushing out the door.

XxXxXxXxXx

Kathy stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t decide if she should be happy or nervous, or a mixture of both. All she felt was oddly detached.

A stranger was staring back at her – one with a pretty dress on, shiny hair, and perfect makeup. For once her mother was interested in her life and this was the result. After her parent’s divorce, things had gotten worse. Her mother kept trying to mold her into something she wasn’t. She didn’t care about clothes and hair and parties. She loved books and writing and hanging out with her friends while they talked about college and working on the school newspaper. She was never going to be what her mother wanted.

Scrunching up her nose, she put her glasses on out of spite. Her mother tried to convince her she could do without them, but she didn’t feel like spending the next four or five hours half blind and squinting.

Prom was every girl’s dream, right? Then why did she wish she was going to a movie or staying at home with a book instead?

She heard a car pull up outside and she groaned. That would be James. Right on time. He was the son of a friend of her mother’s and he’d agreed to go with her. She’d wanted to go with her friend Chris who worked on the paper with her, but her mom shot that down, of course. Luckily Kathy hadn’t asked him yet or things would have been really awkward.

She heard her mother answer the door and glanced at her window, wondering if she could escape. Jack Mercer had snuck into her room once through that window, climbing up the tree. Thinking of Jack made her heart twist and she took a deep breath. He’d been her friend once, just for a few months, and she still missed him, even all these years later. She saw him in the halls every once in a while, on those days he actually showed up for school, and he seemed different and for some reason that made her incredibly sad.

“Kathy,” her mom called up the stairs and she closed her eyes, counting to ten. Weren’t you supposed to keep a boy waiting for stuff like this? She was tempted to keep him waiting all night while she made a mad dash for Canada; but she grabbed her clutch and cardigan instead, shutting the door to her room as she made her way down the stairs.

XxXxXxXxXx

The hip hop music and strobe lights were giving her a headache. Sighing, she ran her spoon through the melted ice cream in her bowl, smearing it with the strawberries that she hadn’t eaten. She was alone at the table, everyone else was out dancing.

Her date was off with some girl. They’d danced together the last three dances, clutched together like every song had been slow and dreamy, not fast and loud and pounding. Kathy had a feeling she was going to have to find a ride home. She didn’t dare call her mother. Failing at the prom was the worst thing she could ever do and she didn’t want to give her mother any more reasons to be disappointed in her.

Tugging on her dress for the hundredth time, she cursed the strapless blue nightmare that kept slipping down. She had her sweater on earlier, but James rolled his eyes at it and made her feel like such a loser.

The song changed to something slower and she dropped her fork. Maybe she could attempt at least one dance, give this whole prom thing a shot and not waste the whole evening feeling sorry for herself. She stood and scanned the crowd, looking for James and the girl with the crimped blonde hair who was hanging all over him. He owed her at least one dance. Scanning the crowded dance floor, she spotted them – lips locked, hands roaming, practically doing it on the dance floor. Her face grew hot and she knew she must have turned bright red, which clashed nicely with the blue dress her mother picked out for her.

She didn’t belong there. She felt like a wall was up between her and the rest of the room, like she was an observer, looking in from the outside. She was standing there in her school gym in a stupid, fake costume of normalcy while the world ignored her and passed her by. She might as well have a bag over her head for all the good it did her.

Turning on her heel, she headed for the exit, hoping some fresh air would clear the awful, gnawing, uncomfortable sickness that was swelling up in her stomach.

A smattering of people were in the school parking lot, leaning on cars, some smoking, some making out, and some just talking. She pulled on her sweater, suddenly chilled in the spring night air. She had to figure out what to do for a ride home and it was looking more and more like she was going to have to swallow her pride and call her mother.

“Woof woof.” Her heart sank as Matt Wilcox rounded the corner with his friends, his acne scarred face making her clench her fists. “What’s the matter, Fido, couldn’t find a pity date?”

She looked at the ground, willing for him to disappear, but it didn’t work. Suddenly, he was right next to her, his hot breath on the back of her neck, making her skin crawl.

“Where’s your date, Wilcox? Or was that the girl we saw puking her guts out in the bushes?” a deep voice slurred from a few feet away.

She looked up and saw him. Jack. He was leaning against the old clunker he drove to school, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, a liquor bottle loosely hanging from his fingertips. He took a swig and smiled. He was dressed for prom, but in an obvious, “I don’t care about this stuff” way. He had his leather jacket thrown on over a tacky ruffled blue tuxedo shirt and his bowtie was undone and hanging around his neck. His black Chucks were old and holey and at odds with the pressed black pants he wore. A tacky brunette with huge bangs and a tiny dress was sitting on the ground next to him, leaning against the car like it was the only thing keeping her from passing out across the pavement.

The door to Jack’s car opened and a couple of guys got out with their dates. His friends, Steve and Trevor. Trevor was the one who spoke. “Problem, Jack?”

“Nah. Just the usual shit. Wilcox still hasn’t figured out that he’s a worthless fuck who needs to keep his mouth shut.”

Matt stepped away from her and headed for Jack. “Fuck you, Mercer. You don’t seem to have a problem with me when I’m supplying your wasted ass with dope.”

“Even the village idiot has some value,” Jack said with a shrug, his words tripping over one another and he was obviously drunk or stoned or both. He took another long sip from the bottle and tears started to blur Kathy’s vision. This wasn’t Jack. She had no idea what happened to make him like this, but this wasn’t her Jack.

“Dude, let’s just go inside.” Steve was next to him, tugging on his arm, but Jack shrugged him off.

Wilcox laughed. “Let him fight me. It’ll be fun – over in seconds, if he can even stand up long enough to throw a punch. Let him defend Fido’s honor.”

Steve looked at her, his eyes pleading. “Kathy, maybe you should go back inside.”

She wanted nothing more than to go back inside, but her feet were cemented to the spot and she couldn’t move.

“Are you kidding? She won’t go; this is like fucking Romeo and Juliet. Detroit’s most pathetic star crossed lovers.” Matt snorted, the sound brutal and gross. “Admit it, Mercer – you guys are made for each other.”

“Shut up,” Jack said, taking a step forward, more steady on his feet that Kathy thought he would be.

Matt reached out and grabbed the hem of her sweater. She snatched it away from him. “I bet you dream about her at night. She’s always had a thing for you, you know.”

“That was a long time ago and it doesn’t mean shit.”

Kathy swallowed a sob and Matt looked at her, his beady little eyes locking with hers. “I bet it means a lot to her. Ain’t that right, Fido?”

“Stop it,” she said under her breath and he winked at her, grabbing her arm. He pulled her toward Jack and shoved her at him.

Jack barely caught her, and she clutched his jacket, trying to regain her balance in her high heels. He smelled like alcohol and a cigarettes and something she’d smelled once or twice before in the girls’ bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and he glanced at her, his eyes glassy and red and oddly vacant.

“Beast and the Beast. I was going to say Beauty, but Jack … you’ve kind of let yourself go.” Wilcox laughed again, his friends crowding in around him, like they could sense the fight was finally going to breakout.

With a growl, Jack swung and … missed, tripping over his feet and falling to the ground. Matt kicked out, catching him in the ribs, pushing him onto his side. When Jack didn’t make a move to get up and Steve and Trevor just stood there, not doing anything useful, Matt shrugged and strolled away, cackling in triumph.

“Too easy, Mercer. Way too easy.”

Kathy knelt next to Jack, at a loss for what to do, but wanting more than anything to help him. She touched his shoulder and he scooted back from her, like he didn’t want her to touch him.

“I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth, his hand grabbing his side.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop fucking saying that. You’re always sorry. Always following me around like a goddamn puppy dog.”

“Jack …”

“Kathy …” Steve said gently, his hand on her elbow, trying to get her to stand up and move away.

“Just leave me alone,” Jack said as he rolled onto his back, his eyes closed, shutting her out of his life once and for all. “Just leave me the hell alone.”


XxXxXxXxXx

Steve was silent during the ride home, glancing every couple of seconds out of the corner of his eye at her. Probably worried she was going to break down and he was going to be trapped in the car with a sobbing girl. But she’d moved past tears into a mixture of anger and confusion.

They pulled up in front of her house with a lurch as Steve pressed too hard on the brakes. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“There seems to be a lot of that going around tonight,” she said with a tired sigh as she unlocked her door and reached for the handle.

“Look,” he said before she could open her door, “Jack didn’t mean what he said.” She was so used to the flippant, joking Steve that it was weird to see him so quiet, so serious.

She looked down at her lap, her hands clutching her purse, the sequins digging into her skin. “Yes he did.”

Steve turned so he was facing her and waited until she raised her head and met his eyes. “Jack’s a mess right now,” he said.

“What’s going on with him?”

“I wish I knew.” Steve fiddled with the gear shift, his voice low, like he was telling a secret. “I dunno. I mean, Jack keeps stuff bottled up inside, he doesn’t talk and I guess whatever he’s been not talking about got the better of him.”

“How long has it been going on?” She wracked her brain, trying to remember the last time Jack showed up to school looking sober and healthy and his usual self. Was it weeks ago? Months? Had he been unraveling in front of her eyes while she watched from a distance, not his friend anymore because of a promise she made to her mother?

Steve sighed. “Long enough. Feels like I’m just waiting around to pick up the pieces.”

She smiled sadly. “If there are any pieces left to pick up.”

“I really am sorry, Kathy.” He turned the key in the ignition as she opened the door.

She looked over her shoulder at him as she stepped out of the car. “You don’t have to apologize for him.”

He shrugged, looking a little defeated. “Somebody has to.”

XxXxXxXxXx

Jack couldn’t tell which direction she would have gone, but his gut told him to go right. The snow had finally stopped, but it was colder than it had been when they first entered the club and he could see that the slush on the streets was turning to ice.

His boots slipped a couple of times in the snow as he hurried down the sidewalk, his knee threatening to give out on him as he moved faster than he really should. He was scanning the people dotting the sidewalks for a familiar face. It would have helped if she’d worn that goofy hat, but she’d left without her coat, which just underscored how much he’d screwed up.

He found her three blocks away, on an abandoned, snow covered couch that had a sign that said “Free” propped up on the empty seat. He skidded to a stop in front of her, trying to compose himself.

She didn’t look up. She was running her finger through the snow, cutting a loop into it. Jack leaned down, about to say something casually charming like, “Fancy meeting you here,” when he noticed she’d drawn a heart. His breath stopped for a second and he stared at it, crooked and haphazard and … he didn’t know what.

Kathy raised her head, her nose red and her eyes watery, pulling his attention from that heart and the weird tightening it caused in his chest. “Hey,” she said and he sighed in relief. At least she was talking to him.

“Hey.” He sat down next to her, the cardboard sign digging into his back, the snow soaking into his jeans. “How late is too late to apologize for being a jackass?”

“The statute of limitations runs out in …” She ticked off her fingers, counting under her breath.

“Four years?”

“I think so,” she nodded.

“Then I’m made it just under the wire?”

“Just.”

She turned to look at him. She was pulling the cuffs of her sweater over her hands as she worried her bottom lip. “Jack,” she said quietly, “what if you're not the only one who needs to apologize?”

“Then I’m made it just under the wire?”

“Just.”

She turned to look at him. She was pulling the cuffs of her sweater over her hands as she worried her bottom lip. “Jack,” she said quietly, “what if you're not the only one who needs to apologize?”
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