Part 9 (1/2)

Soon we were back out on the dance floor, laughing, and at one point, singing along with a couple of covers. About thirty minutes after the break, I gasped when Crank pulled a girl out of the crowd, up onto the stage, and kissed her on the neck as she screamed. Then he reached around and grabbed her a.s.s. What an obnoxious s.h.i.+t! But, she was laughing as she rejoined the crowd.

Serena took the microphone about two hours into the show and said, ”We're just about done, because poor Crank has to go babysit! But first, we're going to play our newest song, written by Crank Wilson just this week. It's called, ”Julia, Where Did You Go?””

I froze as Crank opened the song with a slow, ascending arpeggio, the song a mournful wail. Then he started singing, and I felt my face flush. The first verse described the moment we met, just on the side of the stage in Was.h.i.+ngton. I took a deep breath, then another, as he launched into the chorus.

I didn't know how to say no Oh Julia, where did you go?

Jemi leaned close and shouted over the music, ”What's wrong?”

”I gotta go!” I replied.

”Are you okay?”

I nodded, but it wasn't true. I wasn't okay at all. I started to push my way through the crowd, but that was a losing battle. All I could see in my mind was Crank singing that stupid song, Crank grabbing that girl's a.s.s on the stage, Crank kissing me and me actually taking it seriously.

I didn't want to take it seriously, and the last thing I wanted was for him to take it seriously. Why did he have to write that song?

I wasn't even halfway to the door when the song stopped, and Serena yelled, ”Metro Somerville, good night!” The crowd screamed and cheered and called for more, but the music didn't start again for almost two minutes, and then it wasn't live.

Finally! I got to the door and shoved it open, gasping for air. It was relatively quiet, despite the packed traffic. I took a few breaths to gather myself and then turned to walk around the building and back to my car. I barely made it five feet before my cell phone started ringing.

I took the phone out of my purse, snapped it open and said, ”h.e.l.lo?” in a tone I would normally reserve for my worst enemy.

Turned out it was my mother. Again. My mother, who never, ever called me on my cell phone.

”Julia. We need to talk.”

I stopped in my tracks and rolled my eyes. ”Don't you think we've done enough of that tonight, Mother?”

”Julia ... maybe I was wrong. Too hasty.”

I closed my eyes, feeling my entire body tense. I started walking, quickly. ”Mother, I am so done with this!” I spat the words out in a rush, not caring that they couldn't be recalled. I reached my car and fumbled for my keys, finally getting the car door open and slipping inside as she spoke again.

”You're done when I say you're done, young lady,” she said. I cranked the engine as she continued. ”I don't know where you get your att.i.tude, or why you hate me so much.”

”Maybe you should look in the mirror?” I said.

”Julia, I've never done anything to make you hate me!”

I gripped the wheel, the phone in the crook of my neck, as I shouted, ”Oh, that's rich, Mother! Will you just leave me alone for a little while?”

d.a.m.n it! Why did she have to call me now? I turned my head back to look over my shoulder, and phone still cradled next to my ear, put the car in the reverse and pushed on the gas.

My head snapped back when the car slammed into something with a loud crash, and the phone went flying into the back.

”Oh, s.h.i.+t!” I cried out.

All he needs is to be accepted (Crank) ”Go take care of your brother,” Serena said, a half smile on her face. She was drenched in sweat, beads of it sparkling in the hollow between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She looked hot as h.e.l.l. ”We've got this.”

I put a hand on her upper arm. ”Thanks, I owe you one.”

”Go, before we change our minds!” Mark called.

I nodded, and as I ran toward the back door, Serena shouted, ”Crank! That was the best show yet!”

I pumped a fist in the air then hit the back door, slamming it open with a bang.

The c.r.a.ppy car I bought earlier this week was for this sole purpose. Sometimes my dad was on s.h.i.+ft on the weekend, despite the fact that he shouldn't be on patrol at night at his age. But it was what it was. Mrs. Doyle would come over those nights if I had a show, but she couldn't say past two A.M. and getting from wherever the h.e.l.l I might be to Southie by two could be a real problem on the T. The car meant I could almost guarantee being there on time.

I pumped the gas pedal three times then cranked the car, only relaxing once the ancient engine came to life. It was wheels, but not exactly high end. Did I give a s.h.i.+t? No. I did not give a s.h.i.+t. It was going to do the job. I pulled out in the parking lot and drove toward the exit. I checked my watch. One fifteen. I should be there in plenty of time.

Too late, I saw the reverse lights whiten on a car to my right. It backed out, very suddenly, and I only had time to shout in alarm when it slammed into the pa.s.senger side of my car. Gla.s.s went flying, and I shouted a curse. My whole body went into adrenaline shock, and I threw open the driver side door.

The entire pa.s.senger side of the car was crumpled in, and the right front wheel twisted at a crazy angle. ”G.o.dd.a.m.n it!” I screamed and stalked over to the other car.

It was a brand new Honda hybrid, the b.u.mper crumpled in a little, but with little other damage. I was shaking with rage when the driver of the other car opened the door, and they hadn't even got out before I shouted, ”Why the h.e.l.l weren't you watching where you were going? You could have killed someone!”

The driver got out and turned toward me. She was shaking, in shock, and probably in fear with me screaming. And then I recognized her.

Holy s.h.i.+t. I stared in shock. This couldn't be happening. It was Julia.

I shook my head in disbelief. What in G.o.d's name was she doing here?

”Oh, my G.o.d,” she blurted out. ”I am so sorry!” She saw the damage to the car and raised her hands to her mouth. Then her eyes darted back to me, and I think only then did she recognize me, because they widened suddenly, and she muttered again, ”Oh, my G.o.d.”

Slowly, now. Calm down. I took another deep, shuddering breath, then said, ”You seriously could have killed someone. What were you thinking?”

She shook her head. ”I ... I ... oh G.o.d.”

This time she completely covered her face. She spoke through her hands. ”I'm so sorry. I'll pay for the damage. It was an accident.”

I blinked, confused by her reaction. Of course, it was an accident. What else could it be?

”I ... kinda a.s.sumed that. Unless you were trying to kill me.”

She looked up from behind her hands then and shook her head rapidly.

By this time, two or three people from the club were approaching. Some guy, obviously drunk, said, ”Fuuuuck,” then leaned over to puke behind a car.

I checked my watch. Jesus Christ. It was 1:25. ”Listen ... Julia. I gotta go. I'm pus.h.i.+ng the d.a.m.n car into a spot, and then I gotta catch a cab to Southie to watch my brother. Give me your number, and we'll settle this ... tomorrow.”

She nodded. ”I can give you a ride. I am so, so sorry.”

I opened my mouth to answer and closed it. Fine. ”That'd be great.”

It was official. She was frickin' nuts. But, whatever. I needed to get to Southie and catching a cab all the way from Somerville at this time of night was going to be a huge problem, anyway.

So, I put the car in neutral and got a couple of the drunks to help roll it back into a vacant spot. The car had a serious wobble now. I didn't have to worry about locking it up. There weren't any pa.s.senger side windows, anyway. I just grabbed the keys, took my guitar case out of the back seat, and trotted over to her car.

”Okay,” I said, trying to catch my breath.