Chapter 11
Shayla
Okay. I can’t believe it, but I’m doing it. I’m going to drive down after work tomorrow and get in late. When I told Jett I decided to come, his reply still didn’t give me any idea of what he’s up to.
I’m on a break when I check my messages. I took my car in to make sure it’s all good, and I expected it to be ready tonight.
But the mechanic called while I was working. Shit. There’s some major repairs to be made and from the sound of it, they have to be done before I go.
Thankfully I can afford the amount he quoted, although just barely. But the guy said they don’t have one of the parts they’re going to need.
I hit redial. This can’t be happening. After all it took for me to decide to go, now I can’t get there?
“Yes. Right. Ms. Cornett. Yeah, we can get the part for you. No problem.”
A flood of relief washes over me. “That’s great. So when will my car be ready?”
“It should be here in a couple days. Won’t take long after that.”
“A couple days?” I feel sick. I need to leave tomorrow night. In a couple days, Jett will be back on the road again, and even further away.
“Do you want me to go ahead and order it?”
“Yes. Thanks.” I end the call, my thoughts racing. I didn’t know how much I wanted to go. Not until now that I can’t.
Damn it.
I have a few minutes left on my break. Between paying for this repair and everything, I don’t know what I can do. Miserably I start to check out some of my favorite flight sites. Not that I ever use them, but I like to look at vacations I can maybe take someday in the future.
It doesn’t take long to find out that a last minute flight to Washington won’t be cheap. Hell. I head back to my desk in a daze. What with the long weekend coming up, car rental places are a no-go already.
This is New York. Everyone likes to tell me that I’m crazy to keep my car. I’m starting to agree with them. The money I could have saved by getting rid of it is something I don’t want to think about now. But it’s my first car. And Jett was there with me when I found it. I shouldn’t be so sentimental. I know it.
Too late now.
I need to figure out how I can get to see Jett without my car. It’s on my mind for the rest of the day, but I can’t come up with anything.
By the time I’m home, I’ve about given up. I should let him know I can’t make it. But I can’t bring myself to do that. Not yet anyway.
I stop to collect my mail before I head up to my place. It’s been piling up for some time now. I should check the box more often, but it’s so easy to forget. Up in my place, I toss the flyers and envelopes towards the tiny table in my hallway. They don’t hit it, falling to the floor instead.
Picking it all up, I start to sort through the small pile. Pretty much all of it’s going to go straight into the recycling bin, except for one envelope. I almost toss it in too, but at the last minute, I see it’s addressed to me.
It’s real mail. It’s the credit card I applied for awhile ago. So long ago, I’d forgotten about it. And here it is. All approved, brand new plastic reflecting in the light. Since my credit is pretty decent, it has a good limit.
Good enough for a flight to Washington?
Quickly I get to my computer. A search gives me the same prices I saw earlier on.
Only now, they look doable.
I’ve always been careful with money and I try not to get into too much debt. But New York is a lot more expensive than I thought it would be, so I’m living paycheck to paycheck. I shouldn’t charge a flight now. That could easily throw everything off balance.
And yet. It’s a chance to see Jett again.
Scrolling down to the cheapest flight on the list, I hit Select and enter in my brand new credit card number. Holding my breath, I watch the tiny digital wheel spin.
It goes through.
Yes.
The timing’s going to be tight. I’ll have to leave right from work to get to the airport in time. But I can pull it off.
Less than twenty four hours later, I’ve landed in Washington. And I’m already in a cab on the way to the arena where Tailspin’s playing tonight. It would’ve been nice to get here early enough to catch their show, but I’m just excited that I’m going to be seeing Jett again.
I shouldn’t be. We’re not together.
But maybe we could be again?
Stop it. He probably just wants to be ‘friends’ now. Whatever that means, since we weren’t friends ever. Not before we broke up, or after. We we’re always a couple. But never just friends.
Lots of people are still hanging around outside the arena. Entangle must have just finished playing. The big, hulking security guy at the entrance eyes the pass Jett sent me like he thinks it’s a fake. After a few tense minutes, he stands aside.
I’m really going to see Jett again. I didn’t tell him I was going to fly instead of drive, and so I’d be arriving a lot earlier than expected. I want to surprise him. Show him that I can’t wait to see him.
I stride quickly down the corridor, trying to find the dressing rooms. I’m pretty much totally lost when I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“Shayla?”
“Hi, Zac.”
“Jett mentioned you were coming tonight. He’s just down there. Second door in.” He points at a side hallway that I walked right by without noticing.
“Thanks.”
The loud thump of Jett’s favorite metal band comes through the door. He’s always playing music right after a show of his own. I knock loudly, but there’s no way he’ll be able to hear me. So I ease the door open and stick my head in.
The room’s shrouded in darkness, but I can make out a figure on the bed at the far end. I head inside, drawn to him.
Until my eyes adjust. I stumble when I realize he’s not alone.
I can’t breathe. Jett’s in bed with someone else.
Their heads whip towards me at the same time. Both men stare, shocked at the sight of me.
Men.
Two men.
Jett’s in bed with another guy?
His eyes catch mine and for a second, neither one of us moves. Or is it an hour? It sure feels like it. I’m frozen. I still can’t breathe. I have to be imagining this. It must be the darkness casting weird shadows or something.
It’s not. I’m not.
“Shayla.” Jett starts to get out of bed, pulling the sheet in front of him. I spin on my heel and flee, the door falling closed behind me.
I don’t know which way is out. These fucking beige walls all look so much the same, I don’t know which way I came from. I just go. I’ll make it to an exit somehow, eventually.
But I’ve left my god damn purse behind. I don’t have it. I feel sick to my stomach when I realize where it must be. Back in Jett’s dressing room.
I want to run away and leave it behind. But I have nothing on me. No cash, no cards. No phone. I need it.
I have to go back. I head down the empty hallway. I haven’t gotten far. I’m too shaky to run without falling flat on my face.
Just as I reach out to grab the handle, the door swings open. Jett’s right there, half-dressed and as shocked to see me all of a sudden as I am to see him.
“I need my purse.” I push past him. Jesus fuck. The other guy’s still here. At least he’s pulled some clothes on now too. I can pretend this never happened for a few seconds until I can get away again.
“Shayla. Don’t go.” Jett catches my arm as I make a move to push past him again. I wrench myself free.
I glare up into his eyes. “What?”
“I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Totally my fault. I’ll come back later, so you two can get back to fucking.” I shoot him the worst glare I can muster. “Bye.”
“That’s not what I meant. We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Please.”
Against my better judgement, that stops me short. “What do you have to say, Jett?”
“Come inside, Shayla. Just for a minute. No-one else needs to hear this.”
He has a point. I let the door go and it closes with a small slam.
Jett pulls a chair out. “Come and sit down.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I shake my head. I’m still halfway ready to run. Sitting down makes it look like I’m somehow accepting what’s going on here.
Which I’m definitely not.
“This isn’t how I wanted this to go.” Jett runs his hand through his hair. He’s clearly thrown. Of course he is, but I hate that a part of me feels bad for him and wants to comfort him. I should hate him. One hundred percent. I made the effort to come down to see him. And this is what I find.
“Why did you want me to come here, if you’re–” I don’t know how to finish my sentence. I go cold as a new thought hits me like a slap to the face. What if they’re not just fucking? Are they boyfriends?
I don’t even want to know.
Is this why he left me? Why it was so easy for him to break up with me?
Jett’s entire manner is way, way off. He’s not himself. The cocky, rock star Jett is nowhere to be seen. Gone even is the nice guy Jett I used to know. Somehow he’s looking at me as if I’ve betrayed him. Yeah. Like he’s the one in this little scenario who just got the shock of his life.
Right.
“Well?” I set my hands on my hips. “Come on, Jett. Say whatever it is that you want to say. I need to get going and find a place to stay tonight.”
I want to cry at the thought of spending the night in a hotel. Alone. I won’t let myself. Not now. I won’t let him see that he’s hurt me.
My skin prickles. I haven’t stopped staring at Jett, but I can feel the other guy looking at me. I turn to glare back at him, and my jaw goes slack.
It can’t be.
“Shayla?” He sounds as stunned as I am. Again the wind gets knocked out of me. I don’t even know where I am anymore. Because at some point I must’ve stepped through the looking glass and into a parallel universe.
“Dylan.” My voice is faint. Holy fuck. It’s Dylan.
Jett frowns, glancing between him and I. “You two know each other?”
I can’t speak. Dylan doesn’t have the same problem.
“Shayla and I went to school together.”
Well, that’s true enough. Except it hardly covers anything about what we were to each other.
This can’t be real. Dylan, my first love. Right here with Jett, who I used to believe was my last.
Part of me wants to check for hidden cameras. Is someone going to jump out of the wardrobe and be all like “Shayla, here are your ex-loves. You can never escape your past. Talk to the millions of viewers about how you feel.”
I’m trying to breathe. But Dylan doesn’t even look that disturbed. Shouldn’t he at least be embarrassed about me catching him with Jett?
Or should he? I don’t have any claim on Jett.
But maybe Dylan does.
Still. I spent my time and my dime to get here because Jett asked me to come. A wash of anger chases away the awkwardness I’m feeling.
“Dylan’s working the sound for our tour,” Jett says. “And we’re involved.”
“Well, that’s nice. Congratulations.” I want my words to be cutting and sarcastic. I don’t have it in me to pull off sarcasm right now. Why’s he telling me that anyway? I caught the live show of them being together, I don’t need him to rub it in. I loop my purse over my shoulder.
“So why did you want me to come down here? You could have told me this over the phone. Or text. Or, you know. Not told me at all. We’re not in each other’s lives anymore, Jett. And there’s a good reason for that.”
“No, there isn’t.” I’m already turning back to the door. His words stop me short.
“What?” I frown at him. Was he always this annoying, or am I just seeing this side of him now?
“Shayla, I wanted you to come down here because there’s something I want to tell you. And it needs to be said in person. I want you back.”
I blink. There’s no way I heard him right. “You want us to get back together? Are you drunk? I walked in on you and Dylan in bed together. And you just told me you’re with him.”
My eyes go to Dylan. I can’t believe he hasn’t snuck out yet. Although I guess if he’s with Jett, he wants to hear what Jett has to say to me. He’s just lounging around in a big stuffed chair. He doesn’t look bothered at all. I can’t believe it.
This whole situation is just too weird. I stare pointedly at Dylan. “Why’re you so calm? I just caught you with a guy, too.”
Another thought strikes me.
“Is this why we broke up in high school? Are you gay?” I fire my words out like bullets.
I want to aim them at his heart.
Dylan’s eyebrows fly up. “No. I’m not gay. I never have been. Not back then. And not now. I’m bisexual.”
Jett glances between Dylan and I. “You two dated?” At least now he’s sounding disturbed. At least he’s still capable of having some feelings. In fact, he looks like I’ve pulled a rug out from underneath him.
Good.
Taking a deep breath, I try to get focused. Centred. Something. Time is still moving in a strange way, expanding and swelling as the silence between us hangs heavily.
“Yes. For a long time, too.” The defiance in my tone makes me cringe a little. Why can’t I stop caring about what he thinks?
Jett gives me a look as if I’ve told him I discovered a cure for cancer. Why does he care if Dylan and I used to go out? Outside of being irrationally jealous of something that happened before he and I met, Jett has no reason to care.
“That’s something. That’s good. You two already know each other.” Jett gives Dylan a meaningful glance. “Shayla. I wanted you to come here so I could tell you about Dylan and I. And to tell you I want you back too.”