Artificial Love (The Goodbye Trilogy #2) (3 page)

Chapter Four

Emily

(Last Name in Question)

The same sentence repeated itself on an endless loop as I drove my nice car back to our nice home in Wakefield.

“Are you in love with me?” I asked. When he shook his head, something real in my chest shifted and I started at him for a long time. I couldn’t remember why I had asked him. I had already known the answer somehow. But for Michael to flat out tell me that I was not the one for him was murder. He murdered something inside of me.

“Are you in love with me?” I asked. He shook his head. I forgot to open the garage door so accidently; I ran the car right through the door. Metal and panel started to bend and break off. Things went flying everywhere. The front of my car was dented up in a weird position.

“Are you in love with me?” I asked. He shook his head. I needed to get the car parked in the garage in case it rained. I took the gear out of reverse and tried to drive through the door again.

I guess I made it half way in and thought, “That should be enough.” I started in through the front door.

“Are you in love with me?” I asked. He shook his head. I threw up all over our brand new Oriental rug. The doorbell rang and my neighbor, Jillian, was standing in the open doorway that I hadn’t closed. She was a friend. Most neighbors were after I brought them the expected and traditional pie every month. She looked horrified.

“What’s wrong, Emily? You drove the car through the garage door and you’re sick? Have you been drinking?” she probed.

“Are you in love with me?” I asked. He shook his head. I laughed. I wished I’d been drunk. I headed to the bar area and poured half a pint of vodka in to a glass and put a little umbrella in it for décor. Lovely.

“Thanks for checking in. I’ll be leaving shortly. It turns out my husband had sex with half the women in the city. Perhaps on this street,” I said the latter part with suspicion. I eyed Jillian up and down and she went stock still. I took a large swill from the alcohol and coughed on its brutal force.

“Yeah? You fucked him, too?” I asked. “Was it nice?”

She shook her head, started to cry, and then ran out the open door. I rolled my eyes at the nice dramatics. He fucked her, too.

“Are you in love with me?” I asked. He shook his head. I found my suitcase and looked through the caller ID to find Jules’ phone number. No such luck. If anyone could help me escape from the reckless and perverted husband I had, it would be her. She was hard core and living life. That was nice. I needed a little bit of living.

I heard a car door slam shut and I ran into my bedroom, slamming the door shut. I knew that me calling Michael a bastard, slapping him across the face, and yelling manwhore all the way out of his office probably pissed him off. This was the first time he had ever come home before five in the afternoon. Funny how me flipping my switch would make him consider coming home to me for once.

“Are you in love with me?” I asked. He shook his head. Fucker. He was coming after me for what? Reconciliation was out. Apologies were out. So, I sat on the floor in the corner and watched the door. I flinched when it started to jiggle.

“Emily, please open the door,” Michael demanded. “You will not disrespect me at my work place nor in my own home.” The more words that came out of his mouth, the louder they got. I closed my eyes against his anger and pressed my two fingers to the pulse vein in my neck. Why was I so nervous? Did I think he was going to hurt me?

I climbed on to the bed and dialed information for Julia Delaney in Merrimack, New Hampshire. While Michael continued to scream demands and obscenities at me, I spoke with Julia’s mother, who seemed like a robot as she gave out a number for either a manager or a guy named Johnny Lennox. She must have given the number out a million times a day because she didn’t even seem pleased that I, Julia’s childhood best friend, was calling.

The word “bitch” came to mind and I widened my eyes at my thought. Wow, that was not very nice at all. Why would I call her a bitch for giving me a phone number? I shook my head from that thought.

“You better open this fucking door, Emily, or I’m busting it down,” Michael screamed.

I ran across the room and unlocked the door. When I opened it with a smile and slowly passed him with grace and dignity, he watched with intensity. I was gutted. I had nothing inside. But no there was no way in hell I was going to show Michael the putrid thoughts that were streaming through my mind.

“What are you doing, Emily?” Michael asked calmly. He eyed the little duffel bag I picked up on the way out to grab my toiletries from the bathroom.

I let out a deep, relieved breath. He isn’t going to yell anymore. Thank God.

“I’m going to head to New York City to see an old friend,” I said haughtily. “She’s expecting me any hour so I have to get on the road.”

“And which friend is this?” Michael inquired, with an incredulous smile on his face. He acknowledged I didn’t have any friends in New York City or anywhere else outside this godforsaken town. Just by his manner of asking, he was putting me down. That was certainly not very nice of him. I had friends… I thought. They were decent friends but yeah, the more I thought about it, they were probably likely to have been friendly with Michael, too. I needed to get tested for sexually transmitted diseases once I found out exactly what I was going to do with my life. I had only ever envisioned a life with Michael. This turning point was sure to set everything upside down and backwards but no way, mister! I was sick of being nice and pliable and a fucking doormat.

“An old friend and that is none of your business, mister. Go. Go be with Terry or Theresa or Trina or Taylor, whichever T girl it is for Tuesday night,” I shot back at him, flailing my arms all around like a monkey in a cage.

“I’m not going to be with another woman, Emily. We are going to go to a therapist and work on loving each other again. You are the one I want,” he soothed as he tried to move closer.

“Oh yeah? Do you think a therapist is going to make you fall in love with me? From what I gathered at the office, I don’t think you ever fell in love with me in the first place,” I snorted and it wasn’t in a nice way. I sounded like a child having an argument in the halls of school. I immediately thought about Julia again and the ways I could find her. If I had her manager’s number, they could certainly get a message to her and maybe if her band wasn’t playing too far away, I could meet up with her there. Something good had to come out of this horrendous day.

Michael sighed heavily and put his hands on his hips. “Actually? Yes, I do think that I could fall in love with you. We need to talk about my sexual needs, because men enjoy sex. All types of sex. It isn’t just you. I’ve been careful not to scare you with some of my bedroom ideas. You are perfect in every other way…but you just aren’t willing to try,” he deadpanned.

I laughed so loud, I was sure it was echoing down the street. I didn’t notice that he had slipped his hand into mine until he squeezed it. I pulled away from him like he had just burned me. He made me sick. How many women had he put those hands on?

“I am leaving,” I articulated each word so his Dumbo brain would catch up. I took the umbrella from my glass of straight vodka and took a big gulp. Blech.

Immediately, I spit it out - all over Michael.

“And for the record, I might’ve been willing to try that doggie position thing everyone likes but in no way will I ever want to be slapped on the bottom during intercourse. That is not nice, Michael. Not. Nice. You should be ashamed of yourself.” My voice had never been so loud and I inwardly gaped at my behavior.

As usual, he didn’t hear me. He never listened to me and my thoughts about topics I found despicable but the heck with him. I wasn’t staying here to give him a lecture on how to treat the woman he married. Loser.

“You can’t drive your car. You fucked it all up when you drove it through the garage door,” he spat out as his hands flew up in the air.

I flinched, thinking he was going to hit me. But Michael never placed his hands on me in a negative way.  “My car is perfectly fine. It just has a little dent is all,” I said back to him as I started to throw toothpaste, perfume, deodorant, shampoo, and whatever else I saw and wondered if I couldn’t live without.

“Please stop. I know there isn’t any friend in New York. I know you are just playing a game to threaten me. You win. I’m losing my mind thinking that you are leaving me,” he groaned out.

“Julia Delaney. Love Sick Ponies. Best friends at age twelve? Ring any bell?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Now it was his turn to laugh out loud. I bit my lip against crying. Why is he laughing at that? I knew Julia would help me. I don’t know how she would, but at least it was far enough away from here and not too far away to go home if I needed to.

“Just get out of my way. I’m leaving you, Michael. No game, no joke, just gone,” I said in the nicest, calmest voice I could manage. He was a monster and it was necessary to go before he ate me up with his charming words.

Michael continued to try to talk me out of leaving up until the point that I actually had two suitcases in the trunk and my keys in the ignition. He finally slammed his hands on the window of the driver’s side, making me flinch once more, before he walked back to the house and had his own little childish fit.

The last words that came from that man’s mouth were, “You can’t leave me, Emily. You belong to me.”

I didn’t have to look in the rear view mirror to know that he had already walked back into the house. He would be on the phone with someone important to get me back into his home, making his meals, and pretending everything was perfect.

Somehow I needed to outsmart my own husband and wasn’t that depressing to realize.

Chapter Five

Johnny

As I looked out over the crowd, I played the bass like I hadn’t played in centuries. People were chanting my name during the solo in the last song and I couldn’t help but grin brilliantly at them while I struck the strings to the beat of the melody. It was fucking unbelievable. I even caught Ethan giving my fingers a stunned look like he had never seen me really play before. And maybe I hadn’t truly put my heart into the songs for a long time.

It was sadly everyone’s loss because I was
that
good. When he regarded my face, I flashed him a sincere smile, which of course threw him off his next lines. I didn’t make a point of it. It was probably the funniest shit I had seen out of his perfect ass yet. Maybe he was a good kid after all.  The girls tonight were in full force. I made sure to single out a few of them with a blatant wink. It was always the Good Samaritan thing to do, you know, making a woman feel exceptional. I certainly hadn’t felt special to anyone in a while. Maybe if I paid direct attention with each of my fans, that sensation I got when I was the focus of Julia’s attention would come back to me in some way.

Dex slapped my sweaty shoulder after the show.

“You looked like the old Lennox out there, man,” he said, seemingly amused as he shook his head. “Who knew that one ‘Come to Jesus’ intervention would get you back like that on stage.”

I chuckled along with him and took a plastic water bottle from Danielle’s full hands. She still looked completely harried. God, does the woman ever stop?

“We should give that girl a raise. Every time I see her, she is putting out fires and taking care of our lazy asses,” I said, as I took a long drink of the blessed juice of heaven.

“Dude, we voted on her fifteen percent pay increase two months ago, remember?” he laughed with incredulity. “Nah, you had ear plugs in so you could revel in her voice.”

Shit. I was caught. Did everyone know about my secret playlist? I felt a rush of red hot skin roll up my face and I am sure I also looked like a deer in headlights.

“Dude, I’m sorry. But that’s perfect and all. Danielle really works hard. I hope she was happy with it.” I waited a beat. “Was she happy with the increase?”

Dex shrugged his shoulders and looked over to her as she was dealing with the line of fans that would soon be surrounding us three guys.

“How the hell would I know? All she talks is business. I don’t even know what she does when she isn’t on tour with us.” Dex looked pensive for a moment until he looked over at Ethan, who was already sucking face with a red head.

“Dude, you better cut the shit while the VIPs are in here. Every girl will think they can tongue your throat like that,” I jeered at Ethan. His head popped out from under the red hair and he smiled.

“Good! The more saliva the better,” he practically shouted to the masses. Dex and I laughed and began to stand casually for people to approach us. A lot of handshakes and “Oh my God! I’m your biggest fan,” were what these meet and greets were about. The question I hated the most was, “Where’s Julia Delaney now and will she ever come back?”

I waited for the question to come but after thirty or so people, I realized that maybe it was over. She just might not be associated with the band anymore. I sent up a private thanks to a higher power and went in search of the bar. By the time we left the back stage party, I was ready to hit the bars.

Dex and Ethan decided to tag along with me and we found a pool table and darts dive bar right outside of Harlem. It was perfect. No one recognized us other than a few punk kids in comparison to the staunchly old men that undoubtedly ate, slept, and shit there. We played a couple games of pool, checked out the very few women that obviously frequented the bar, and decided to call it a night. As I took a cab ride home, loneliness set in and I thought about the wall of Julia back at the house.

I couldn’t even feel the anticipation that I normally did when I knew I was going home to her photos. It made me feel like the loser that I was. I laid my head back on the ripped up leather seat and considered my next move.

“Get rid of the photos of her,” I heard Dr. Know- Stupid-Shit say in my head. What would I do with all of them? Scrapbook? Photo Album? Box under the bed? Before I could come up with a concrete plan, the cab stopped in front of my apartment building and I paid the cabbie.

With a couple of suitcases and her phone in her hand, a long blonde haired woman sat on the front stairs of my apartment building. She hadn’t taken notice that we had driven up.

“Hello? Can I help you with something?” I slurred a bit. Okay, I was drunk again. Dr. Fuck-It-All would have to understand that I did it for the brotherly bond of the band. We made progress today, I was sure of that.

Green eyes met mine and I could tell she had been crying. Christ on fucking Cheerios.  This was not something I could handle in my current state of mind. Either I needed to blow her off or sit down and have a good ole cry with her.

“Um…my name is Emily. I’m trying to find Julia Delaney. I called her…” She started to explain before I cut her off.

“She moved. No forwarding address,” I quickly retorted and stepped up to pass her. I got to the front door and started my key in the lock when I realized she hadn’t said anything back to me. She wasn’t going to protest or find a way to wiggle her way to get information that I probably should give her. Yes, I did have Jules address and yes, she did rip my fucking heart out and then set it on fire.

I looked back to see her staring at her phone again. Was she waiting for a phone call from Jules?

“Hey, were you the one that spoke to Danielle today on the phone? You were asking for me, right?” I asked, trying to make sense of who this person was in relation to Julia. She only had a brother and his family lived out on the west coast. She didn’t talk about close friends or cousins. And she never spoke about an Emily.

“You’re Johnny Lennox?” She was obviously fan girl struck. Well, shit. I guess I underestimated my odds of getting lucky after I hit that god awful woman repellent of a bar.

“The one and only. Do you want an autograph? A drink upstairs maybe?” I smiled my most seductive smile. She frowned at the look and seemingly was perplexed. After a beat, she composed her face and stood.

“Johnny! I’ve been looking all over for you. You know Julia, right? So you know where she is?” The more she spoke, the more excited she got.
Well, shit. Not fan girling after all. She was as obsessed to find her way to Julia as I was.

“Let’s see. Julia Delaney went MIA two and a half years ago when she presumably moved to Martha’s Vineyard and got a beautiful house and a dog. About six months ago, her long lost lover came back into the picture and they were married last week in Vancouver, Washington with a month long honeymoon to Hawaii. Does that answer your question?” Okay, yeah, I was being a dick to this seemingly nice girl, but fuck it. Julia was on the short list of sticking my middle finger up at people right now. Everywhere I went, I could not escape her.

“Oh,” she said in a hushed tone. Clearly, she was disappointed. No, not that. She was hollowed out. Gutted, maybe? Who in the hell got to her?

“So, you going to be okay finding your way to a place tonight, Emily was it?” I asked.

She nodded her head slowly and looked across the street at a black sedan that had obviously just been in a horrific fender bender.

“Shit, is that your car? Are you alright?” I asked in a panic. I tried to see if she had any cuts or bruises on her face but I couldn’t see in the low light of the Manhattan streets at this hour.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m perfect. Well, thank you. Oh and good luck at your music shows,” she said as she popped two thumbs up.

Music shows? What was this, the 1950s? I chuckled a little under my breath and made my way through the door. I checked the mailbox for nothing, because I had already gotten the mail this morning, but I wanted to be sure she got back in her ruined car and made it back out on the streets okay.

However, she sat back down on the steps. She sat back down on my steps and put her head in her hands. What the fuck? I shook my head and grabbed the elevator to my apartment. I was never one to help a damsel in distress and I wasn’t starting tonight. I had shit to do, like clear off the Jules wall of shame.