Brooklyn & Beale, page 13
“The next day, I’m not sure when exactly, I woke up to a puddle of vomit. It must have been late afternoon, because I remember the sun reflecting off a glass frame on my mantel. It was the only time of day that happened. Everything hurt. And the smell . . . Fuck, it makes me sick just thinking about it. People were everywhere. I couldn’t believe how many of them were still up partying. I wasn’t sure if they were there the night before or if they’d just arrived. I didn’t care. I needed to sleep. I stepped over people passed out on the floor, stumbled to my bed, and fell face first on the mattress.
“When I woke again, it was dark. I flipped on the bedside lamp; it took all of my energy to keep from throwing up. I was so disoriented. When I noticed there was a girl beside me, I thought I was hallucinating. She was too still, too pale. That’s when I noticed the blood on her chin and chest. God, Chloe, I’ll never forget her face. Her eyes were wide open. They were so green. So empty. I knew she was dead. I didn’t have to check her pulse, her eyes told me all I needed to know. It was nine p.m. when I called the police. The report listed her time of death sometime around six p.m.”
Chloe’s hands covered her mouth as she processed his words. “She died beside you,” she murmured, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Reid nodded but kept his eyes downcast. “I found out later that she was the little sister of a guy who worked at the recording studio. Her name was Francine, but her friends called her Fran. She was visiting from out of town, and he wanted to show off his Hollywood connections. She was only seventeen. A fucking senior in high school. Her brother got fucked up and wasn’t paying attention to her. So when someone offered her a line, she did it. The reports said someone remembered her mentioning needing to lie down, but nothing after that. From what I can guess, she got messed up and needed a break. She somehow ended up in my room. I was so fucked up that a seventeen-year-old girl died right beside me and I didn’t hear a thing. I never even moved.”
Chloe reached for Reid’s shoulder, but he shrugged away from her touch. “If I hadn’t been so messed up, I could have saved her.”
“You don’t know that. You could have been sober as a judge and not stopped what happened. I know you feel responsible, and I understand why, but you have no way of knowing that being sober would have changed the outcome. You can’t beat yourself up over what might have been.”
“It’s difficult to be logical when I see her face in my sleep. When I think about a child dying in the bed beside me.”
Chloe slid across the sofa and pulled her feet under her, rising to her knees. Ignoring Reid’s protest, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her forehead against his temple. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I can’t imagine what that still must be like. But, Reid, you didn’t kill that girl. You’re not responsible for the mistakes of others. Be angry with yourself for letting drugs into your life. Be angry that you didn’t make better choices. Be angry that a young girl lost her life. Use that anger as a reminder of that lifestyle. But you cannot spend the rest of your life with that girl’s death on your shoulders. It’s not your burden to bear.”
Reid’s shoulders shook as the evidence of his sadness dripped onto Chloe’s arm. Tears pricked her eyes when he turned and wrapped his arms around her waist. She wished there was more that she could do, anything to help him. Reid pulled in several deep breaths then released Chloe. Reluctantly, she let him go and scooted away to give him some space.
“I know I didn’t kill her,” Reid said eventually. “When everything went down, Tom sent me straight to rehab. I didn’t argue. I knew I needed help. Not many people know that.”
“I did,” Chloe said, tugging hard on her lip ring the moment the words left her lips. She hadn’t wanted to bring up meeting Walker.
Reid’s eyes narrowed and his expression hardened. Chloe worried Reid would think she was playing some kind of game. That she knew far more about the situation than she was admitting, and everything he’d shared with her tonight was old news. “How?”
“Remember tequila night? When I went out with Josie and Anders?”
“Yeah . . .”
“During our club-hopping, we ran into a friend of Anders’s. When Anders introduced us, he told his friend that I was going on tour with you. His friend mentioned that he knew you. From rehab.”
“Walker?”
Chloe grimaced. “Yeah. I swear he didn’t say anything else, only that he remembered you from rehab and that you two shared a mutual fondness for cocaine.”
“I believe you. Walker stayed just as high in rehab as he does out. I don’t think he even knew why I’d gone there in the first place.” He scrubbed his hands down his face and let out a heavy breath.
“When I left rehab, I went back to Memphis. I needed to get my head straight, get my life back in order. That’s when I saw Jess again. After more than three years, it was like coming face-to-face with the memory of a better version of me. Who I used to be. We started spending a lot of time together and eventually decided to give it another shot. Since then, aside from being completely unable to create any kind of music, I’ve held it together. But this tour, the reminders of who I became, it’s starting to take a toll on me.”
“How so?”
Reid rubbed his palms over the tops of his thighs and dropped his chin to his chest. “I haven’t told anyone what I’m about to tell you. I know that I can trust you, but for my own peace of mind, I have to ask you not to repeat this. I need you to promise.”
“I promise,” Chloe said without hesitation.
“The night of the first show . . . I was in my room and I emptied my pockets. There were several scraps of paper that girls had put their number on and shoved in my pocket after the show. Which is . . . whatever. But apparently one of them added a little something extra. There was a small baggie of coke, too. I tried to flush it, I swear to fucking God I did, Chloe.”
“Oh, no.”
“I didn’t snort it,” Reid added quickly. “I wanted to. Christ, I wanted to, but I didn’t. I opened it, I dipped the tip of my finger in the bag, and I rubbed it across my gums. I thought I was going to throw up. I flushed it down the toilet right after, but I was so ashamed of myself. Disappointed.” Reid turned to Chloe and grabbed her hand. “I know I didn’t kill that girl, but every time a craving hits me and I start to rationalize that one line wouldn’t be that big of a deal, I feel like a failure.”
“You’re not a failure, but you need to be stronger than your addiction. Look how far you’ve come. You’re on tour—” Chloe waved her free hand toward the pile of pages on the table. “—you’re writing music, and instead of going out with Drew and Greer to do God knows what, you came here.”
“I knew her. The girl they left with. Well, I don’t know her. I don’t remember ever seeing her before in my life, but she knew me. Apparently, we partied the last time we played here. She invited me for a repeat. Told me she had her cousin score some killer snow, just for me.”
Chloe grimaced. “That explains your reaction to the guys leaving with her.”
“Yeah. The truth is, I can’t be mad at them. They’re the same guys they’ve always been. But when I saw them leave, knowing what they were going to do . . . Jesus, Chloe, I wanted to beat the shit out of something.”
“I’m so happy I didn’t go now.”
Reid’s posture stiffened. Chloe gasped when Reid tightened his grip on the hand he still held. “They invited you to go?”
Chloe tried to pull away. “Ease up there, Padawan.” When Reid didn’t loosen his grip, Chloe snapped her fingers in his face. “Reid, unless you want to find another violinist, you need to let go of my hand.”
Reid’s eyes widened as he released Chloe’s hand like he’d been burned. “Shit. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, but I figured if I wanted you to release me from your death grip, I’d have to turn the girl dramatics to high.”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Of course not,” Chloe laughed. “I’ll admit it wasn’t pleasant, but if you were really hurting me, I would have skipped calling you Padawan and gone straight to dickhead.”
“Shit,” he exhaled. “I’ll have to remember that I’m in the clear as long as you’re using Star Wars references.”
“That’s an excellent guide.”
Reid opened and closed his mouth before his eyes widened. “You did that on purpose.”
Chloe shrugged and looked away. “Did what?”
“Distracted me with your girlie dramatics to keep me from getting pissed about Greer and Drew inviting you out.”
“Okay, first, I didn’t keep you from getting pissed. You were already well into that emotion. And second, their invitation was completely acceptable. They’re my bandmates. They were going to party and extended an invitation for me to come along. I’ve toured with a lot of bands, Reid. I know what goes on after the show ends.”
Reid sighed. “This whole calling me on my bullshit thing . . . Will this be a common occurrence?”
Chloe grinned. “You better believe it.”
Reid relaxed against the back of the sofa, his eyes beginning to droop. Chloe looked at the clock, unsurprised to see that it was almost five a.m. Pushing off the sofa, she moved to the small closet and pulled a blanket from the top shelf. “Why don’t you get some—” The words died in her throat when she turned to find Reid’s eyes closed. With a sigh, she walked to the couch and draped the blanket across him. There was no way he would sleep comfortably, but she couldn’t bring herself to wake him.
Crawling into bed, her body melted into the soft mattress. A million thoughts bounced around inside her head. There was no way she could sort through the events that had taken place tonight, but as sleep closed around her, one thing was clear: her relationship with Reid had irrevocably changed.
Lightning flashed across the sky and dark clouds stretched as far as the eye could see. Strong gusts of wind rocked the bus as it sped down the empty highway. In the tiny bedroom at the back of the bus, Reid sat on the edge of the bed with a smile on his face. He flipped to the front page of the notebook he’d found on the table and read Chloe’s note again.
Things will only be as awkward as you make them. Don’t be awkward, be awesome, Padawan.
Never in a million years would he have believed that he’d be sitting on the bed grinning after the gauntlet of emotions that had barraged him since he crept out of Chloe’s room at dawn. Filled with apprehension and guilt, a million thoughts wreaked havoc on his mind. Sleep evaded him. Jess called nearly a dozen times before he found the courage to answer. At the sound of his voice, she yelled once before breaking down in a fit of tears. She was worried, scared, and completely in the dark. His guilt increased tenfold.
He reassured her the best he could, explained how he stayed up all night working on music with Chloe then crashed the moment he returned to his room. Her relief was obvious, but he didn’t miss her change in demeanor. The melancholy tone of her voice left no doubt that, as happy as she was he hadn’t made any stupid decisions, she hated that someone else had given him the support he needed. The thing was, Chloe had given him so much more than support. It was the reason his guilt swelled and crested throughout the day.
He was dishonest with Jess. He lied by omission. When she’d asked if Chloe knew about his addiction, he said yes and changed the subject. He didn’t tell her how he’d given Chloe a blow-by-blow of not only the night his life went to hell but also how he ended up there in the first place. In all the years he and Jess had been apart, never once had he expressed how angry he was that she couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive him. People only knew of his heartbreak. They heard it in every track he recorded. On top of all of that, he told Chloe about what he’d done the first night on the bus. He hadn’t breathed a word about that night to Jess, and he had no intention of doing so.
This, among other things, was the source of his apprehension. He felt vulnerable, exposed. More than a dozen times he questioned why he told Chloe such personal things, but in the end, the answer was always the same. He trusted her. She made him feel safe. A sudden dryness formed in his throat, forcing him to swallow several times to relieve the discomfort. Over the past twenty-four hours, Chloe had made him feel far less innocent things than safe. Shaking his head, he tried to focus on the notebook. Music notes covered the pages, an organized version of the chaotic mess he’d left in Chloe’s room that morning. She’d copied every note, every thought, creating a similar version of the notebook she carried everywhere.
A sudden burst of laughter from the living area broke his concentration. The sound made him smile. Closing the notebook, he cast a fleeting glance at his cell phone before turning to join the others. Moving down the short hall, Reid leaned against the wall and looked around the room. Chloe and Inky were stretched across the bench seating surrounding the kitchen table, while Greer and Drew kicked back on the sofa and chair. He hesitated, his gaze drifting to Chloe, before he walked to the sofa and knocked Greer’s feet to the floor.
“Hey!” Greer protested, scrunching his face in annoyance.
“Shut up,” Reid laughed as he fell heavily onto the furniture. He’d wrestled with how to approach the guys about the night before, but in the end, he knew it wasn’t his business. They were the same guys they’d always been, and as difficult as it was for him to accept, they’d done exactly what he asked. Kept it away from him. “So what are you guys up to?”
“Nothing,” Chloe answered, averting her eyes.
“Well, that wasn’t convincing at all.” Reid threw his arm across the back of the sofa and slouched farther into the soft leather upholstery, the new position straining the ripped and worn material covering his knees.
“How old are those jeans?” Chloe asked, deflecting.
Reid looked at his pants and scrunched his brows. “I have no idea. I think I found these in a drawer at my parents’ when I visited a few months ago.”
“Vintage. Nice.”
“Why are we talking about my jeans?”
“Yeah, Chloe.” Inky extended her leg and nudged Chloe with her foot. “Why are we talking about Reid’s jeans?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “It was my pathetic attempt at avoiding my turn in this stupid game. Clearly, you guys aren’t interested in sparing me from embarrassment.”
Reid grinned. “I like this game already.”
“Not you too,” Chloe groaned.
“What are the rules?”
“Well, they’re pretty simple—”
“And dumb,” Chloe interrupted causing Greer’s face to twist into an expression of mock annoyance.
“Don’t be a sore loser. You’re the only one who has managed to avoid embarrassing yourself.”
“Will someone clue me in on what’s going on?” Reid asked again, his eyes darting between Chloe and Greer’s stare down.
Inky sighed and rolled her eyes. “Two people roll a die. The one with the lowest number has to tell the story behind a tattoo of the winner’s choosing. Chloe hasn’t lost a match yet. Until now.”
“See,” Chloe muttered. “Dumb.”
“The more you protest, the more intrigued I am about what you’re hiding,” Greer said with a smirk.
“I should have worn a turtleneck,” she sighed before holding her arms out, the thin tank top exposing the tattoos on her arm as well as the ones wrapping around her shoulder.
“What are the rules on tattoos that aren’t exposed?” Reid asked, a sly smile pulling at the side of his mouth.
Chloe gasped. “You’re not helping!”
Reid shrugged and looked at Greer with an innocent expression. “If I’m going to get in on this game, I should know all the rules, right?”
Greer laughed before looking at Chloe with a face that was anything but sympathetic. “Sorry, Chloe, but he does have a point. Inky, what’s the rule concerning hidden tattoos?”
“Dogs and bones,” Inky muttered before giving Chloe a reassuring look. “Sorry, guys, but you can’t ask about a tattoo you haven’t seen. You have to describe the tattoo you want to know about. That means it would have to be one you’ve seen.”
“No more midriffs for me,” Chloe snarked.
“Hey, now,” Drew cut in. “Let’s not get too hasty.”
“You’re all ridiculous.” Chloe turned to Greer and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, pick your poison.”
Greer leaned across the small space and studied the ink covering her arm. When he reached out and lifted Chloe’s arm to inspect the underside, Reid shifted in his seat. Greer hummed and narrowed his eyes in thought before leaning back in his seat. “Explain the glowing, battling dicks.”
Chloe’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth to hold back her laughter. Reid wasn’t as subtle as he choked on the laugh trapped in his throat. “Those aren’t dicks,” Reid gasped, his hands braced on his knees.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Chloe giggled, tears leaking from her eyes. “Those are lightsabers, you idiot!”
Drew and Inky doubled over when they got a good look at Chloe’s tattoo. She tried to compose herself, but when Reid caught her eye, she lost her breath with laughter all over again. “You’re not going to get some crazy story out of this one,” Chloe said, her words broken. “I’m obsessed with Star Wars. I got that one completely sober.”
“Well, shit,” Greer exhaled. “That was a waste.”
Chloe wiped under her eyes. “It really was.” She turned her attention to Reid and lifted her brow. “Okay, mister, time for you to take a turn.”
Reid started to protest, but the words died in his throat with Chloe’s challenging expression. “Fine. Who’s rolling against me?”
