Part 54 (1/2)

”What's that?”

I shook my head. ”Did you offer a joint because you have one?”

Immediately Gavin was patting his suit pockets until he came out with a s.h.i.+ny, silver cigarette case. He popped it open to reveal a string of pretty, professionally-rolled joints. I fumbled one out and cracked the window before lighting it up.

”I'll figure out a way around this, Noah, I promise you. I'm not going to let you spend a day in prison.”

The air from the window was cold and wet on my face, the earth still soaked from showers during the night. Gavin's high-grade pot definitely helped. I felt the anxiety in my body melting into itself and disappearing. I felt myself letting go of control, and anger. For the time being, it was the only positive sensation I had to hold on to.

We didn't speak another word to each other for the rest of the drive into Seattle. I wasn't even sure how long the drive was; part of it felt endless. Hands in my pockets, I followed Gavin through the pristine skysc.r.a.per lobby and could hear the whispers and feel the stares, but I couldn't get up the energy to care. I let them hit me and kept my eyes on the back of Gavin's suit as we entered the elevator and rode up to the offices of the label.

We walked into the conference room to find Ash lounging, bored, in one of the chairs. Quinn stood against the wall opposite him. They weren't talking. I caught Quinn's eyes when we entered the room, and I saw his face fall when he looked at mine, like he could read everything that had happened in the car. He looked sick.

Gavin stood near Quinn and leaned on the table. I kept walking past him, heading for the windows. I didn't say a word to either of them.

”Guys, we've got some bad news. The DA is proceeding with charges against Noah. He'll probably have to turn himself in by the end of the week.” Gavin wasted no time.

After that, I blanked the whole thing out and let my stoned mind get caught up on watching the speedy, mutating clouds forming over the mountains and the bay. I could only hear Quinn's raging, tearful voice, but not the words he was saying-nor Ash's bitter, shorter ones. It wasn't long until I didn't hear Ash's voice in the room at all.

Quinn came up behind me, his reflection in the gla.s.s hazy. I turned to face him. His face was red, eyes already full of tears. He looked angry, like he wanted to fight me. It actually made my shoulders tense up.

”It wasn't supposed to happen like this,” he said in a shaky voice. ”We can't just let this happen to you, Noah.”

The sight of my best friend crumbling under this pressure started to break the haze of numbness around my head. Pain began pulsing in my chest. I felt my lip quivering when I responded. ”There's nothing else we can do, man.”

”We have to-” Quinn couldn't continue. He cried freely, clenched fist pressed against his lips, until I took a couple steps toward him with an open arm. He threw his arms around me tightly. My neck and shoulder grew damp with his tears.

”This isn't over,” said Gavin. As sad as his voice was, it still had a fire to it.

I didn't argue with him. I would never tell either of them, but for that moment in the conference room, the feeling of giving up filled me with a sense of sweet relief. Prison would be horrifying, but what else was new? My life had always had horror in it. This rock star thing-this was a lucky prize I was never supposed to have gotten in the first place, let alone keep.

People had been trying to beat me down into the dirt since I was a kid. Put me in my place. Make sure I didn't get any big ideas about who I was. And every single day I had fought them. Some days harder than others, sure; and there was no perfect record to speak of. But I fought. I always promised myself I would fight.

Right then, though, I didn't want to fight anymore. I was tired, and this fight was so big. And what was I fighting for now, anyway? A band that didn't want me. A career that wouldn't exist once the dust settled. And an empty bed, an empty home. Whatever Laurel might have felt for me, I wasn't so sure it was going to survive me being a felonious ex-rock star. And why should it? She deserved much better.

I had nothing. I had no one. And now, I was probably headed to prison.

As glad I was it had happened, I suddenly wished Laurel had never met me.

~ Fifteen ~

Laurel

Once I got my travel plans cleared through the magazine, nothing was left except to see Noah and tell him I would be gone a few days. It was a conversation I was not looking forward to; I couldn't shake the dread that clung to me with every step as I got up, showered, and prepared for the day.

My flight to LA left first thing in the morning, so I told Noah we should have a nice dinner and go see what was jumping at the Graveyard Club if he felt up to it. He didn't text me back right away, but when he did, it was with a promise he'd take care of dinner. All I needed to do was show up.

Ringing the doorbell at his house, I could already smell the spices inside. Noah opened the door to me, but he was the reverse image of the man I expected to see. Something dark and pale had overcome the skin of his face, and his eyes had that gla.s.sy look of insomnia I recognized all too well. But he was smiling, happy to see me, and bent to pick me up in a tender bear hug. He sighed against my body like he hadn't held it in a while.

”This was a good idea,” he said. ”Thank you.”

I tightened my grip around his neck and planted kisses on his beard and cheek. ”I hate to give away my secret, but most people actually eat meals, like, a few times a day... I can't take credit.”

Noah pinched and squeezed me in the spots he now knew were ticklish as h.e.l.l, and I kicked, squealing, trying to get out of his strong grasp. But there was no chance for that unless he wanted to let me go. He tortured me a few seconds and dragged me inside the house, closing the door behind us.

”Smells like curry,” I said as I took off my jacket.

”It's from the Indian place around the corner,” said Noah with a nod of his head. ”I... don't really cook much, as you can imagine.”

”Good thing you're rich enough to get someone to cook for you,” I said. ”And not a prisoner of Ramen Island like the rest of us.”

Noah's eyes s.h.i.+fted from side to side. ”Right, sure. On a totally unrelated note, do not look in the cabinets above the stove, okay?”

I burst out laughing at the look on his face, half-embarra.s.sed, like he was fifteen and I'd just found his p.o.r.n stash. On my tiptoes I leaned up and kissed him and asked him for a piggy back ride to dinner. He laughed at me a few seconds but then shrugged and flipped me over his shoulders for the short walk to the kitchen, claiming every grasp of my inner thighs was 'for balance'. The small dining room table he had near the sliding back door was filled with different containers of Indian food, two plate settings, and open beers. A bunch of mismatched candles flickered throughout the room, on the counter and table and windowsills.

”This is beautiful,” I said.

”You sound surprised,” he said, nuzzling into my neck. His beard tickled my skin, but his lips quickly undid it.

”A little, I guess. This is... no one does things like this for me,” I said.

”Well, now someone does,” said Noah, brus.h.i.+ng the hair out of the side of my face. He kissed the side of my cheek and held out my chair for me as I smiled up at him.

It wasn't expected, but it certainly wasn't unwelcome, to discover that sitting at a table having dinner with Noah was every bit as delightful as anything else we did together. For half a minute, I actually felt normal. When was the last time I actually sat down and had dinner-with anyone, even a co-worker? Half the meals I ate were on the go, and the other half were quick fixes scrounged up at two AM to keep me through another night of edits.

But sitting across from Noah, enjoying my food, sharing laughter with him, it was recharging my soul in ways I hadn't realized I was lacking. There was never a dull moment between us, or hardly even a lull in the conversation. We both had enough experience in the industry that we could talk to one another with lingo and insider knowledge that often kept me, at least, alienated from a lot of people.

Lots of people saw the music industry as a thing you dream about when you're a young idiot, a place for children to get filthy rich acting out their stupid fantasies. And sure, lots of the stars in every genre were kids who had no idea what was going to happen to them when their popularity faded. But behind the scenes, it wasn't kids-it was people like me and Noah, who did start out chasing fantasies, and ended up sewing ourselves into the foundation of what we loved. It was difficult to explain that kind of thing to someone who had spent their time following the school-college-marriage-kids life plan handed out to us when we were young.

I didn't have to explain anything to Noah. He just understood.

We were on our fourth beer each, and Noah on his third serving of Indian, when things got a little quiet. It wasn't uncomfortable; quite the contrary. It was more comfortable than I'd felt in years. I felt home.

Lost in my own feelings, though, I hadn't noticed Noah's mood s.h.i.+ft. When his voice finally came from across the table, it was with a heaviness he clearly couldn't hide anymore. ”Laurel, look, I've got to tell you something.”

I'd had my feet propped up on one of the empty dining chairs. s.h.i.+fting to face him, I put my beer down. ”Of course. What's up?”

He stared at his plate, like he didn't have the strength to lift it and look at me. I could see him lick his lips. ”I had a meeting with Gavin today, and... he told me...” Noah bit his lip and forced himself to continue. I could feel my heart beating faster with every second. ”He told me the DA is going ahead with charges against me for Sun Fest. I might... I might be in jail by the end of this week.”