Chapter 17: Do You Want Me?

Kelly

I thought about leaving, of course I did. There were days when Dan's hovering was so oppressive I dreamed of running away. But I was practiced in smoothing it over. Trying to please. I was good at that. Mostly.

When Mom was still alive, she always ran interference when Dan's controlling got too bad. And Dan did a lot of good things too—not the least of which was providing enough money that the worry lines in Mom's forehead virtually disappeared.

Yet, since she died, his grief made the controlling worse. He was in pain. Whether I liked being around him or not, I knew he loved my mom. And now he was alone. That would be hard for anyone. I figured it'd let up in a few months when he felt less sad. And I didn't want to add to what he was already going through.

But, because of my own grief, I retreated. I didn't have the energy to deal with my friends, let alone the tornado Dan would unleash if I defied him. The only people I could relax with anymore were Tommy and Crash—so I had to stay. I couldn't leave until I was eighteen and could get my own place.

Dan's been my stepdad since I was four. Since Mom died, he's shared legal guardianship of me with aunt Holly, my mom's sister. Running to her would mean leaving Los Angeles and moving to San Francisco where she lived. Hours from Crash and Tommy.

I couldn't do it.

Crash knew that.

"I'm serious, Kel," Crash says in the voice that means we'll have to argue because he's not backing down.

"Crash, please, let's just celebrate—"

"We wouldn't have gotten here without you," he said firmly. "I'm not saying you have to tell Dan where to go. But we have to at least ask. Maybe Holly would help?"

"Maybe." I knew Holly would be happy for me to go—but Dan wouldn't let her. He'd get wind of Crash and Tommy headed to Portland and know if I asked to visit Holly that I'd sneak away to see them play. And he'd put his foot down—with a long lecture about what a whore I'd be if I "groupied" my boyfriend.

I could hear his words in my head. The guys have always suspected he hit me because they'd seen him lose his temper. But Dan's not like that. He doesn't need to hit. His weapons are words, sharp enough to eviscerate.

His protectiveness isn't all bad. He makes sure my car is always serviced. He plans meals ahead so I don't have to think about what to cook. And he watches out for me. If anything happens at school, he's on it. But the day-to-day stuff with him is exhausting. And moments like this, when I know he'll be an obstacle I can't overcome, make me really angry.

Crash leaned back, his attention still fully on me. I wished it wasn't. "Why don't you ditch Dan?"

He knew the answer to that—it just frustrated him. Crash had this crazy idea about becoming an emancipated minor so I could get my own place. But how would I pay for it?

"Listen, Crash," I said, squeezing his hand. "I would kill to be there. You know that. But it's not a good time."

"It's never a good time with that asshole," Crash pointed out. Which was true, but didn't need repeating.

"Let's not talk about that right now, okay? I'll see if I can come up with a way to be there. And if I can't, it doesn't matter. Because you'll be awesome." I squeeze his hand and force a smile that I hope looks real. "Crash . . . it's happening."

After a couple more seconds of brooding, his lips pulled up in the wicked grin that I adored. "Yes," he said, leaning in to kiss me. "It is."

Crash and Tommy went to Portland without me. The festival provided studio musicians to fill out their sound for the bigger venue. And they rocked. Of course they did. I knew they would.

Then everything began to change.

They rushed to finish the demo CD they'd been working on with Amber.

Record executives called.

Contracts were offered. Promises made. Amber was forever calling or showing up with new legal papers or suggestions for songs.

Tommy's mom told everyone on Facebook that Tommy was famous—sending him into an anxiety tailspin because he thought God would never let it happen since she'd tempted fate.

At first, Crash got really quiet. Then distant. He stopped sneaking over to my house. We texted, of course. But with him writing until three or four every morning, then sleeping all day, and me working afternoons as a waitress at the diner, then cooking for Dan, I never saw him.

Then, on a day two months after the call from Amber about the festival, my boss texted.

Skip your shift this afternoon.

We have a broken water main

and the restaurant's closed.

I stared at that message for a couple minutes, arguing with myself. This was a chance to spend the afternoon with Crash. Dan would think I was at work. But if he found out I'd lied . . . I shook my head and shoved my phone back into my pocket. Then I got in my car and drove to Crash's house.

The little trailer Crash shared with his mom was surrounded by scrub grass, and had what I think used to be hedges on either side. Usually when I pulled my car up, Crash came out. He hated me going inside to see the tiny rooms and threadbare carpet. I didn't care.

When I stopped the car in a small cloud of dust and he didn't come out, a little knot of dread bloomed in my stomach.

I mounted the rickety steps carefully. The wood was beginning to rot and there was a soft spot on the middle stair. The door was open, but all the curtains were pulled so I couldn't see anything but shadows.

comment 0 comment

Vote

SEND GIFT

Load failed, please RETRY