Plastic Confidence (Good Bye Trilogy #1) (16 page)

TWENTY
-FIVE

When I got back into the city, I made sure to get a coffee from the convenient store before I headed back to Johnny’s apartment. It was nearly one in the morning and I knew that I wouldn’t sleep tonight. I didn’t even know where I would go after I left Johnny’s. I cursed him again for being a fucking asshole but somewhere inside me I felt the pain start to creep up. I had a few more moments until one part of my life is over and the next part begins. I was dizzy. I couldn’t make sense out of what I wanted to say. I thought about the ways it would go down. I thought about the ways it wouldn’t go down.

Both ways, we were over and that recognition was mere moments away. Anxiety ripped up my body and I swerved a little again. I was really doing this. I was really fucking leaving after all these years.
All this time
. Tears came to my eyes and stung the shit out of them. I shook my head and yelled, “No!” at myself. Luckily only a few people on the streets turned their heads so I was quick to grab my phone and act like I was really talking to someone other than myself.

I walked up the four flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. I needed the physical build up. With a coffee in hand and being slightly out of breath, I used my key to open the apartment door. I heard soft music
playing in the bedroom. I shut the door with the normal force I always used and put the coffee and keys down on the living room table.

When I looked up to head to his bedroom, he was standing there, shirtless and weary. He wasn’t drunk. He hadn’t been partying. He was waiting for me. I fucking loved this man and I fucking hated him for what I was about to do.

“You came back,” he stated in a monotone voice.

“Yep
.”

“Didn’t think you would,” he said a bit more cautiously.

“Why is that?”

“Because I
... ”

“Because you what?” I snapped. My heart was beating so hard. I wanted to lunge at him and beat the fucking crap out of him. I took a deep breath. No ass
kicking, Jules. Just a quiet conversation that ends in me packing my shit and never seeing my best friend again.

“I
... ah... Jules, I slept with Amelia,” he stated. He held out his hands like he was handing me a tray. A tray of heartbreak and distrust.

“I know
.”

“You know?” he asked perplexed.
“How?”

“Brennan told me. I am just as confused about what today was supposed to be about.
My father? Brennan? Two men that hurt me? You wanted me to get answers? Why? Did you want me to remember that I have been screwed by every man I ever loved so this... this thing you did with her would be okay?” I was shaking so bad. My voice, my knees, my heart, my hands.

“No. No, Jules. No, I didn’t send you with them because of that. Shit, I didn’t know what was going on. I wasn’t sure if Amelia told him or not,” he started. “Then Kent called and said I had to let you go with your Dad and
... ”

“Kent? Why the fuck would Kent know about any of this?” I asked incredulously.

“I honestly don’t know.”

“So, Brennan was in the next frigging room when you fucked her.
The. Next. Room. He left her,” I said, flipping my wrist out at him.

Johnny threaded his fingers into his hair and stood flabbergasted with both hands on top of his head. “You have got to fucking be kidding me?”

“Why did you do it?” I whispered. I heard a little pain come through my tone but it wasn’t totally apparent.

“Jules, I was so hammered and you
… You were looking so beautiful that night and I wanted you and you were watching him. You were watching him the whole fucking show! You didn’t think I noticed but I did. It was unbearable. I started to drink... ”

I held up my hand. “I know the rest. You can stop there.”

“Jules, please. Jules.” He started towards me. I held up my hands again and shoved my body back into the sofa, so he knew I wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

“Where is your ring?” he snapped out
. His eyes on my hand were murderous and his jaw tightened.

I said nothing. My face said nothing. Moments passed.

I saw the moment he registered that we were over. His body sagged and his knees hit the floor.

“Oh my
God,” he cried. “In my mind, in my thoughts, it didn’t feel like this. I knew I would lose you but not with piercing pain like this, oh God,” he moaned as he rubbed his chest.

I took in everything he said, everything he said he felt with a wide eyes and a closed off heart.

“But this isn’t... no, this isn’t fucking right. I fucked up, okay? God, Jules, I fucking love you. I love you. I
love
you. Please. I will stop drinking. I will do whatever you want, whatever you need. I will do it all for you. Just please, please put that ring back on. Tell me it’s not over. Tell me it is all okay. Tell me you love me.
Please
... tell me you love me.”

I watched my best friend of ten years
fold into a fetal position and beg like a child. I watched him moan and swear. In a million years, I never imagined that it would go down like this. I could feel his hurt because I knew what betrayal felt like. It was so fucking palpable I couldn’t feel anything else in the room. I swallowed a few times. I cleared my throat of the moisture as one single tear continually streamed down my face.

“We have been friends for many, many years, Johnny. I have loved you. I have despised you. I have
watched you with women. I can’t figure out if I was just numb then and pretended I didn’t care. Now that I am aware or maybe because I fell in love with you a bit more, I do care. What you did. That... that wasn’t okay,” I said. “It wasn’t okay then and it isn’t okay now.”

“I know. I know. It was the devil. The drinking and being pissed off at you but I never wanted to hurt you. Never that,” he pleaded.

“What you have for me is called artificial love. It isn’t real. It looks like love, it acts like love, but when it comes down to all of this?” I motioned my hands like I was making an imaginary circle to encompass us. “This isn’t real. We are not true love.”

Johnny was on his knees and I stunned him silent with my last words. No more begging. No more asking for the words. He
was completely checked out. I took the ring out of my jeans pocket and placed it on the side table next to the couch. I turned back to him.

“I am quitting LSP. I am leaving you. I need you to
acknowledge what I am saying,” I said to him slowly and shakily. “I am going to pack a few things and you can toss the rest. I am leaving tonight and I don’t ever want to see you again. Do you understand me?”

We stared at each other. I was so amped on anxiety to get the fuck out of there that I didn’t notice the tears were still falling down my chin on to my hands and onto the floor.

Finally, I think he nodded through his wet eyes. His closed his eyes and the tears fell down his face. Eyes closed, he nodded again and said, “I understand.”

I started to hiccup on every breath I took
while getting my clothes together. I grabbed what I could from the bathroom and made sure I had my guitar and my favorite LSP shirt. One day I would wear it again or maybe I would burn it. Either way, I needed it with me.

With the duffel bag, my guitar, and my new sense of pride, I turned to him after I put my hand on the door.

“You are a beautiful musician. It has been a pleasure playing with you. I wish you the best. And
please
tell Dex I am sorry. I know you will be great without me. I know it,” I said ardently.

A small smile found its way
to my face. Who the fuck knows where it came from. I just had to smile. It would be the last thing I ever did as Johnny’s bandmate and his fiancé. I closed the door quietly and let my head fall back as I started to walk to the elevator.

The
booming smash of objects started within one minute. Heavy items, dishware, and the lamps maybe. I walked into the elevator to the sound of Johnny’s world crashing down all around him.

T
WENTY-SIX

2 YEARS LATER

MARTHA’S VINEYARD, MASSACHUSETTS

2014

The summer flowers were definitely in full bloom. The huge inhale of ocean, fish, and flowers made me smile bright as I rode my bike down into the small town of
Tinsbury, Massachusetts. It was called Vineyard Haven to most tourists that made it to Martha’s Vineyard. It was such a beautiful place that I about pinched myself every morning as I took in the magnificent view from my extremely pretentious mansion off of the main road. Ha, one main road on the island could mean anything.

I loved my Schwinn bike. I loved to coast down the road with my hands behind my head. When I was a kid, I had a Schwinn. Best bike ever. I was on my way to meet Pierre, a guy I met when I had taken my small
sailboat out one day and went aground. I was scared to death but Pierre, in his small kayak, calmed me down with his Parisian accent and gorgeous blue eyes. His tanned muscles made me drool as he used them to tow me and the boat to land.

That whole incident
was a little embarrassing. I tucked my baseball hat a little lower over my face while he took me into the slip and docked it for me. I became fast, but just friends with Pierre. Although there were times that I swear he had just walked off a modeling shoot and I wanted to lick his neck. He was so drop dead sexy. I bought Pierre a cup of coffee after my disastrous boat shit storm and it was then that I promised him I would go to Paris. I decided to plan to go that fall, after the leaves fell on the island.

Every Saturday morning we went to the Big Bagel on Main Street
where he would teach me to speak French. Well, he spoke French and I just got frustrated. It was never assumed that he would go with me but he did make references to “what he would show me.” I just smiled and knew the day would come when I said I was going on my own. I was on my own. It had been almost two years that I was just Julia.

After shit went down with Johnny and Brennan, I fled to my mother’s house. Surprised didn’t even begin to describe her face when I showed up at six in the morning. I was exhausted. I gave her a huge hug and fell into bed for a couple days. She was dating a guy seriously and he was thinking of moving in
, so she made it clear that as much as she loved having me, I needed to figure out my next step in life.

So I started from square one. I
decided one night to think like I was twelve again. I wrote out a bucket list as I listened to my mother answering the phone on my behalf.

“Listen, if I hear from Julia, I will let everyone know. I am just as worried as everyone else,”
my mother would say.

God bless that woman. There were at least twenty calls a day.
Even though it wasn’t on my bucket list, I had to contact a lawyer, who could make sure that I signed and paid for whatever I needed to, to leave the band. My lawyer also fought for royalties on the new songs I had written right before I left. Those songs hadn’t been recorded yet, so it was a fucking mess trying to figure out my percentages. I left it up to my lawyer. I wanted a drama free life but that didn’t happen for a while.

The media went fucking bonkers. I died my hair to a very dark
red, took out my piercings, and wore moderately conservative clothing. Red Sox hats were bountiful. I did all of my shopping on line and my mom helped me buy a bad ass Jeep, in her name, before I took off to Martha’s Vineyard with my bucket list. The list actually included learning to speak French, so it was funny that I met Pierre the following summer. However, the list included a lot of things. Learn to sail a boat. Check. Some of the things on the list were small. Bike more. Laugh more. Other things were harder to obtain and/or sustain. Find friends that were girls. Learn to cook. Write a book. Abstinence. So far, I was doing incredibly well at letting men down gently. The rest? It was a daily work in progress.

I didn’t have to let Pierre down
... yet. I have been waiting for the day. Pierre’s a funny guy and has made me laugh at some of the simplest things in life. He tries to impress me with little things. He picked me some Hydrangea wildflowers once and I had to tell him I couldn’t keep them in the house because Loves, my dog, eats everything. After explaining that the flowers were poisonous if eaten, he came back with red roses the following day. I thanked him, of course, but that was an awkward fifteen minutes, arranging them while he watched. Red roses? Really?

Then Pierre got
me a card that said, “I’m thanking you.” He meant to get one that said, “I am thinking of you.” I actually cried from laughing so hard. He was a good sport and laughed alongside me. I thought, maybe he knew who I was but I never confirmed it with him. He was just a nice guy.

He always insisted on paying
, which is comical, because I am pretty wealthy. Pierre asked me to dinner frequently but that was a tricky situation due to my no men rule. I really loved him, as a friend, and I wanted to
stay
friends. I knew Pierre wanted more and I just... didn’t. I didn’t feel the sparkle.

The Brennan Spark
le.
That is what my girlfriends, Kelly and Joanie, called it. When I first moved to Martha’s Vineyard, I stayed at their bed and breakfast for a month while I looked for a home to buy. They were an awesome couple. They were supportive of my new love for cooking and yes, they most definitely knew who I was. One drunken night Kelly confessed that she didn’t really care for my former band. I about peed my pants, I was laughing so hard. Their apologetic looks were hysterical and I ended up confessing that I didn’t really care for it anymore, either.

That was the night
that my friendship with Kelly and Joanie solidified. They fell in love and approved of my new, five thousand square foot home. It had six bedrooms, a sauna, a huge yard, and a portion of the house overlooked the ocean. I put in a bid at for asking price and we all went to town with decorating the massive home. They were awesome, so check that off the list. Girlfriends were back in my life.

Although the house was huge and I hardly saw
certain rooms for days, I thought “
what the hell
.” Kent and his family would visit. Maybe Mom and her new boyfriend would come at the same time. In the two years I had been on the island, they made plans once, but it never worked out. I understood they all had lives. I did, too, for many years. Now that my life was in slow motion, I guess I thought everyone else’s was, too.

Van Morrison sang in my earphones about how we were born before the wind as I glided my bike into the parking lot
for my Saturday rendezvous with Pierre. I felt so calm and free. I felt so complete. That night, the girls and I planned to hit the one and only club to dance. I loved to dance with them. They always included me in their seductive ass wiggling. I smiled to myself as I pulled out the earphones and put them in my backpack. I had a Trapper Keeper in my bag for French class with Pierre. He had eyed it suspiciously at our first meeting in which I responded with a shrug.

I was a kid again;
growing up all over again. I felt like I was becoming a real woman, taking care of my house and I started a small garden. Loves, my golden retriever, was my
best
friend during the winter months. We took lots of snowy walks together. He was a bit upset when I left him to roam the gated yard. When I took off on my red bike, I could hear him whine for a few minutes, hence the earphones. He had a fantastic way of knowing that I would be gone for hours
, poor boy
. He also had a great method of making me feel bad.

I walked in and my eyes instantly fell on Pierre. He smiled his delicious smile at me. Okay, I was a
woman. The abstinence thing was starting to make me question my sanity. Let’s just say I had ordered a lot of battery operated boyfriends over the past six months. He waved down at the table, showing he already had my cinnamon raisin bagel and mocha latte waiting.
God love him
.

“Hey Pierre,” I said with a dramatic flourish. I hugged him sideways and kissed him on the cheek.

“Français uniquement,” he responded in his flawless and heart stopping accent.

I nodded and took out my Trapper Keeper.

“What did you do last night?” I asked just excited to see him. He gave me the stink eye.

“Pierre,
désolé,” I answered. I just wasn’t up for the French lesson today. I wanted to play. I noticed we were both wearing cable knit sweaters and I giggled a bit.

“Belle
... um... sweater?” I asked. We hadn’t gotten to clothes yet.

“Pullover,” he smirked and took a bite of his bagel. He got busy pulling out sheets of information and I sighed.

“Do we have to do this today?” I asked.

“What would you like to do, belle
fille?” he questioned. I blushed at his use of calling me beautiful. Seriously, I knew it was just a word but the guy made it sound so seductive.

“Take a bike ride? Go out in the kayaks? It is such a gorgeous day,” I said, getting more and more excited with each idea.

“Ah. Well, my bicycle tire is... uh... flat? My boat, someone is using today,” he said, pushing out his lips in contemplation.

I’ve Been Loving You
by Otis Redding started to play over the sound system and I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes. I got lost in the long notes and felt my head swaying. When the song ended, I opened my eyes to find Pierre and several other customers close by with shocked looks on their faces. A roar of applause started and I covered my ears. It had been so long since I had heard that noise that I forgot how deafening it was.

Confused
, I looked to Pierre who was beaming at me.

“
Jules, you never sang for me before.”

“Was I just singing?” I asked mortified as I ducked my head.
“Oh God. Please. We need to leave.” The sudden rush that someone would recognize me had me storing all of my stuff in quick succession. French lesson officially over.

Pierre grabbed my bagel and coffee and followed me out of the door. Patrons had gone back to their business but I took a deep inhale of the ocean
air and let it out purposely timed.

“I am so sorry,” I begged Pierre. “I just don’t sing in public.”

He nodded in understanding. “Let’s walk down to the ferry landing and watch the tourists for a bit. Maybe that will calm you.”

He handed me my coffee and I slipped my arm through his. We were always walking arm in arm
around town. The girls had a bet going on when we would eventually have sex but it wasn’t going to happen. I loved Pierre but never in that way. He had saved me, literally. Figuratively, he showed me that a guy could be a friend without expectations. He never tried to kiss me. He was never pushy about getting together and, more than anything, I loved to listen to him talk in that French accent. I lived on a beautiful island with a Frenchman teaching me to speak French. I had to pinch myself to be sure it was my life after everything I had been through.

We sat on the platform and watched as the next ferry was set to arrive.
I finished off my bagel and he got up to toss our trash in the can nearby. I put my hand over my eyes to see how full the ferry was. It looked horrendously packed. How all those boatloads of people actually fit on the island, I would never know.

“It’s busy, yes?” Pierre asked as he sat down next to me.

“It’s wedding season. The girls are totally booked for the summer.” I shot him a sideways glance and he was staring at my profile.

“What?” I nud
ged him.

“I want you to sing for me like that again,” he said softly. I shook my head.

“I got carried away. I love Otis Redding.” I looked back to the boat that was just about to dock. The workers all started with their ropes and the people that worked the automatic ramp from the boat to the land called out instructions efficiently. What a boring job that would be. Roping and un-roping all day long? Yeah, no thanks.

“You have a magnificent voice
.”

“Pierre,” I growled out.

“Well? You do,” he exclaimed with his hands out in surrender. I smiled and nodded politely at him.

“Thank you, Pierre,” I said with sincerity.

“Sing for me again?”

“What? No
w... no! No way!” I stumbled through my words.

“Oh come on,” he insisted. I was getting really annoyed now and thought
Loves maybe wanted to play ball on the beach.

I started to get up and he gr
oaned. “Okay, I am sorry. It just... made me feel something. You are talented.”

I put my backpack on and he stood up to start walking back with me just as the tourists started to unload from the ferry. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and told me he wouldn’t mention it again. We got
mixed up in the crowd and as we walked side by side, we got lost in our own observations of the other people.

And that’s when I saw him. I stopped in my tracks and the people behind us bumped against us. Brennan’s hair was longer. He wore a black
V-neck tee and khaki shorts. Black flip flops and a gorgeous leggy blonde at his side completed his magazine good looks. I started to shake a bit. I wasn’t ready to see him again.