Blur (Changing Colors Book 2) (49 page)

“It was completely innocent. We were ten and just playing around. And honestly, he was acting like every other ten-year-old boy would have acted in that situation. Well, Alistair spotted us in Jamie’s room, playing with dolls, and flipped out. He yanked Ken out of his son’s hands and spat,
‘Only faggots play with this shit.’”

Susan’s brow rises in shock. “His father said that? In front of you?”

“Yeah. At ten, I’m not sure I really understood what he meant by that, but as I got older, I looked back on that moment and realized he was saying those things for a reason. And that was the kind of shit he did. I would never consider Jamie a feminine kind of guy, but Alistair went out of his way to ban
anything
and everything
he didn’t think a heterosexual man would be interested in from Jamie.

“Posters of Brandon Boyd in Jamie’s bedroom?
Hell no.
He yanked those down and let them blaze in the fireplace. Jamie is really good at art, incredible at drawing and sketching. But Alistair refused to let him take extra classes. Instead, at sixteen, Jamie was attending business trips with his father. At seventeen, he was attending those business trips and getting into strip clubs because of his father. And Alistair would buy him lap dances from female entertainers all night. The list is a mile long, and there’s probably so much I’m not remembering, but that’s the biggest reason why I think Jamie has continued to hide.”

“What motivated the decision to fake an engagement?”

“Well…the engagement is fake on the premise that we’re not attracted to each other. But we had planned on going through with the marriage.”

Susan appears confused. “Can you explain your reasoning for that?”

“Jamie is still very much under his father’s thumb. Alistair is grooming him to eventually take over the label, but that won’t be until years from now. Hell, I think Alistair would still try to run his company from the grave if he could. It goes without saying Jamie comes from a family with a lot of money. Alistair has more money sitting in his back account than most people see in their lifetime. And Jamie will be given a trust fund from his father, but there are stipulations.”

“Stipulations?”

I nod. “Yes. The fine print states Jamie will get seventy-five percent of his trust fund when he gets married to
a woman.
The other twenty-five percent can be obtained when his
wife
has their first child.”

Her jaw drops. “It actually says that?”

“Yes. It really says that.”

“So the two of you were going to get married and have a child together in order for Jamie to get his trust fund?”

Now it’s my jaw’s turn to drop. “Yes to the marriage, but a big fat
hell no
to the pregnancy. The marriage I could do, but having his child? God, no. It just wouldn’t be right. Even if I were artificially inseminated, it would be too wrong. Jamie is like a brother to me.”

“What were your plans for after the wedding?”

“We would stay married for a bit. Get Jamie’s trust fund. Leave Wallace & Wright and start our own label.”

“I don’t want to come off as too forward, but do you really need the trust fund to start your own label? I’m sure neither of you are hurting for money. You’re both very successful. Surely, you’d be able to get a business loan without additional finances.”

“There’s also something about Jamie that I haven’t told you about.”

“Can you tell me now?”

I shake my head. “I’ve tried to get him to understand we’d be okay if we went off on our own, without the help of his trust fund. I have a decent amount of money saved. He’s got some too, but he’s had a lot of his money go to medical bills. Jamie is…
sick.
And at one point, he was really sick. He had a year where there were a few hospitalizations and exorbitant medical costs. Ones he paid out of pocket for. See, what Jamie was diagnosed with is not something he feels he can tell his father about. So he’s been paying for his treatments out of pocket because he fears if they were on the label’s insurance, Alistair would somehow found out.”

“The medical costs are that expensive that he thinks the higher-ups within the company would take notice?”

“Yeah, they are. Luckily, he’s doing better. But I think he’s afraid he could get really sick again. And Jamie is very stubborn in the mindset that he wants to make sure our company, our label, starts off with a stable foundation, just in case something were to happen to him. I’ve tried to get him to understand we’d be okay, but he won’t see it any other way.”

“And that’s why you agreed to this plan of getting married?”

I nod. “At the time, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I was too focused on college, then my career as a producer, and then Millie got sick, and I was focused on caring for her. I didn’t have time to date or find a
real
boyfriend. Which made this whole faking a relationship with Jamie quite easy. I never really thought twice about it. But then Millie passed away, and I went to Paris on her bucket list mission.”

“What happened in Paris?”

“I fell in love with Dylan Bissette.”

My therapy appointment was cathartic. I left Susan’s office feeling as if a thousand pounds had been lifted from my shoulders. Even if I didn’t come to a solution on how I should handle things from here on out, I found relief in opening up to someone, and for a short span of time, these secrets weren’t festering inside of me.

I haven’t spoken with Jamie since he stormed out of my house. He hasn’t contacted me, and I’m still too raw from the words we threw at each other to contact him. We’ve never spoken to one another like that. And I’m worried what it might mean for our friendship. He’s always been one of the most important people in my life and I’m having a hard time coming to the understanding we might never get back what we lost the other night in my bedroom.

I know he left the next day because a trip to New York was already in the works. He had to iron out some details with a band the label is trying to get on board. I know he’s supposed to be there for a week or so, and possibly head to London for Careless Cockups big album debut. But that’s all I know.

I pull into the driveway, shutting off the engine and sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at Millie’s favorite tree.

“And we’re back!” The radio announcer shouts into the speakers, startling me. “Now, we’ve got
Blue Daze
from one of our fav new bands, Careless Cockups. Our listeners have been requesting this one all day, and we definitely understand why. If you didn’t know, their debut album,
Songs About Her,
just released worldwide, and already, with three songs in the top ten, they’re looking to go platinum. From us here at Q104, we’d like to give our biggest congratulations, Cockups. You guys deserve it.”

The second Dylan’s voice filters through my speakers. I shut off the radio.

It hurts too much.

Not only have I lost Jamie, I’ve also lost Dylan.

My phone comes to life, ringing loud and startling me from my trance. I grab it from my purse and find Lindsay’s name flashing on the screen.

“Brooke!” Her voice is loud and booming from the receiver.

I cringe, holding the phone away from my ear. “Hey Linds.”

“I’ve been demon dialing you for what feels like a year now!”

I shut my eyes, resting the back of my head on the seat. “Sorry. Things have been a little crazy around here.”

Her tone drops to a concerned octave. “What’s going on, Brooke? Are you okay?”

Sighing, I shake my head, knowing full well she can’t see me.

“Brookie?”

“I’m still here.” My voice is small. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Things haven’t been that great to be honest.”

“Before you go any further, you should know I was in Paris. I saw Jesse and…Dylan. It was a last minute schedule change. I had a shoot in Milan that ended up finishing two days earlier than expected. I ended up going to their show.”

All of these questions race through my mind.
How is Dylan? Does he look as miserable as I feel? Was he with anyone else?
But all I can get out is,
“Did you have fun?”

“Seriously, Brooke? I just told you I was in Paris and saw Dylan, and the only question you want to ask is
‘Did I have fun?’”

Instead of facing the possibility Dylan is moving on, I try to change the subject. “What’s going on with you and Jesse? Is this becoming a more than fuck buddies kind of thing?”

“Me and Jesse? Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you want to focus on.” She laughs, amused with my avoidance. “Okay, in the spirit of being
open and honest with my best friend
, I’ll entertain your attempts at distraction. Jesse and I are still fuck buddies, but we’ve kind of become friends, too. He’s sweet in that cocky way of his. He’s easy to talk to, makes me laugh, and doesn’t mind I’m not ready to settle down with someone. He’s views on monogamy are the same as mine. Which makes our relationship—
whatever you want to call it
—work really well. Plus, he fucks so good. Like
so good
. I can’t even explain it.”

“Please, don’t feel like you have to explain it.”

“Are you sure? Because he does this thing with his—”

I jump in, giggling. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure. I’ll take your word for it.”

We laugh for a good two minutes. Loud, cathartic kind of laughs that bring me relief.

But then the line falls silent again, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to ask the questions on my mind. I think it’s the various answers that scare me the most.

“Are you going to get the balls to ask me about Dylan?”

I let out a long exhale. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Since this is something you need to hear. I’m going to tell you anyway. Dylan didn’t look good in Paris. He looked pretty damn miserable.”

“He did?”

“Yes. He did.”

“W-was he with anyone?”

“If you can consider a fifth of Jack someone, then yes, he was very much occupied all night. Jesse’s worried about him, Brooke. And you know what? I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine, Linds.”

“Is that why Jamie asked me to call you? Because you’re fine.”

My eyes go wide. “What? He asked you to call me?”

“He’s worried about you too. He didn’t give me all the details, but said you two had a fight.”

“What details did he give you?”

“Enough for me to know that shit isn’t going so well for you.”

A large part of me wants to know if he
really
talked to Lindsay, but another part is too afraid to pry. What if he didn’t open up to her? What if he’s still refusing to open his eyes and realize he’s good enough just the way he is?

“I really messed things up,” I whisper. “With Jamie and with Dylan. Especially with Dylan.”

“There’s a part of their Paris show you need to see. I’m texting you the link. Watch it,” she demands.

I don’t respond. Honestly, I’m not sure if I
can
watch it. It might destroy me.

“Seriously, Brooke. Promise me that you’ll watch it.”

“Okay. Okay. I promise.”

“Good. And Brooke?”

“Yeah?”

“You can thank me later.” There’s an announcement about connecting flights in the background. “Okay, Brookie, I gotta run. Olive juice.”

“Olive juice too, ya nosey hooker.”

Two seconds later, I get two texts from Lindsay. The first one is a link to a YouTube video and this message follows behind. ‘
You need to watch this. Seriously. There’s still hope, sweetheart.’

Despite my better judgment, with shaky fingers, I click on the link. The YouTube app appears on my screen, and then a video starts playing. It’s Dylan and Jesse sitting on stools, guitars in their laps, and two mics in stands near their faces. They’re obviously in the middle of a show.

Dylan’s perfect voice fills my ears. He’s talking about the song
I Know It’s Over
by The Smiths. And then he’s telling the crowd what that song might mean to him.

And then he’s singing it. His face is etched with pain. His voice is bleeding anguish.

He looks so very miserable in this moment. I find myself reaching out towards the screen and running my fingers across his face. I want to ease his pain.

Dylan takes the cover of this amazing song and makes it his own. And, of course, he kills it. The crowd is eating out of his hand by the end. Before the song started, they were a loud, lively group. But by the end of this cover, you could have heard a pin drop in the venue. It’s like he put them in this sort of trance-like awe.

I can relate. And it’s probably why I listen to it another fifteen times before I get out of my car.

God, I just want to call him or text him and let him know how brilliant he is. I want to wish him luck on the album release and tell him I miss him. I want to hear his laugh and watch his smile light up my screen.

I miss him so badly. Dylan wasn’t just this guy I had fallen in love with. He had become my best friend. My lover. My muse. My smile. My heart. My soul. My everything.

If only Millie were here. She would know exactly what to do, what to say. She would bestow that wisdom of hers and help me navigate through this mess.

Once I’m out of the car, and in the house, I find myself standing in my bedroom, eyes locked on a white envelope.
Lilah Belle.