Chapter 9

Present Day

 

Sage’s eyes fill with something I don’t recognize, but they turn dark as a barrel of rye whiskey as he glares at me, seething with hatred.

I deserve to be hated by him.

I deserted him when he needed me the most.

I called him vile names. I turned my back on the best friend I’d ever had in my life.  

London returns to my side and grabs my hand, pulling me into her so she’s tucked into my side as we stand in front of a crowd of people we’ve never seen before and probably will never see again. Part of me wants to bail and say, “fuck it, this isn’t worth it.”

But then again, that’s what the coward in me would do. I need to face him like a man and let him take a swing at me if that will make Sage feel better.

I know it would make me feel a hell of a lot better.

“Sage, can we all go somewhere to talk?”London begs. I know she doesn’t want witnesses around when she says what she has to say to him.

Sage’s eyes leave mine briefly and land on London, his expression softening just slightly, but only for a moment. A sneer begins to form across his mouth and a jeering scoff leaves his throat.

“Fuck, no. Not with him,” he nudges his chin toward me, his nose scrunched as if he smells sour milk. “He’s not welcome here. Only you, London. And right now, I’m not even sure I want you around. You’re both ruining my chill vibes.”

I can’t help the vitriol remark that comes out of my mouth.

“Oh, you mean your coke high?”

His eyes narrow into a death glare and then he smiles, shaking his head.

“Forever the Golden Boy. Perfect in every way. Somethings never change.”

He bends down to pick up the discarded guitar, motioning with a flick of his wrist to the girls to follow him and then they walk down the hall and up the stairs.

The chicks laugh and giggle, moving in front of Sage as they begin to ascend the stairs, their hips swaying for attention. Sage stops halfway up, returning his attention to me and London, as we stare after them. London’s eyes are misty with unshed tears and the hurt bleeds from her body so visibly that I can practically feel it.

My gut churns with guilt and anger. I didn’t expect a warm or receptive welcome, but I didn’t think he’d turn his back on London. For someone who had once expressed his undying love for this woman, he certainly has changed his tune.

His voice is icy-cold. As cold as the marble floors our feet stand on.

“I expect you to be gone by the time I’m up tomorrow. You’re good at leaving, anyhow, aren’t you?”

The comment is aimed at both of us when the blame should be focused on me. Not London. She’s never left his side to my knowledge and has been there every step of the way.

I won’t allow him to direct his anger toward London when she’s remained by his side through thick and thin. Been the only constant in his life. The only loving presence.

“Sage, wait. Please.” I swallow my pride, taking a step toward him, as he watches me like I’m a predator to be feared. Or killed.

I can tell he wages an internal war as to whether or not to give me the courtesy and hear me out. His knuckles turn white around the banister he grips tightly. Maybe to keep him upright or maybe to keep him from lashing out more. I’m not sure. Either way, he at least gives a minute to express my regret and to apologize.

I glance around the room, where people still linger and are clearly eavesdropping to hear what’s going on between us. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was taking video of this confrontation, in hopes it turns into a physical fight and they can sell it to TMZ for some cash.

But it doesn’t stop me from saying what I need to say. What I should’ve said years ago but was too dumb and stupid to cop to.

“I’m so sorry, man. You have every right to be angry at me. We were so young and dealing with such enormous circumstances. I didn’t know how to deal with the feelings…” I taste bile in my throat. Bitter regret. I swallow it down and drop my eyes to the floor.

“I was confused about how you felt about me. What I felt for you. I panicked and lashed out at you out of fear. Shame. But I always loved you. I know that now. I know that I made a grave error and hurt you. Hurt you both,” I nod my chin over my shoulder toward London. When I return my gaze to Sage, his expression has softened, but not enough to turn this thing around. Yet.

But if it’s one thing I remember and know about Sage, it’s that his heart has the capacity to love bigger and bolder than anyone else I’ve ever known. He accepts others who are different than him for who they are and never makes them feel less-than. Unlike me, Sage has never shied away from who he is or what he is. He’s owned up to everything he’s done in life.

Maybe that’s why his star shines so brightly.

I just need to get him to accept me for my past grievances. To recognize that who I was then isn’t the same man standing in front of him now.

Sage inhales a breath and closes his eyes. It’s a concession. A start.

I continue, taking a step closer to the bottom of the staircase, dismissing the audience in our midst who linger and loiter to get a whiff of what’s happening. If Sage doesn’t mind the lack of privacy in his own home, then I can deal with that, too.

“I want to make amends. However long it takes for you to forgive me, I’ll keep working to earn your trust back. To earn your forgiveness. I just don’t want you to shut her out because of me and my failures to be a friend to you. Whether you believe it or not, I do love you. I always have.”

London slowly moves toward Sage, taking cautious steps and reaches for him with an outstretched hand.

“Please Sage. Let us talk to you. We love you.”

Sage turns his head away, considering his options. This is his home and he has every right to kick me out for just showing up unannounced and “ruining his good vibe” like he said. Maybe we should’ve given him a heads up, but what’s done is done. I’m here now and I’m here for them.

As if he’s just elected to have a root canal, Sage grimaces and shrugs.

“Whatever. Stay the night,” he concedes, looking at us both. “We can talk tomorrow. Tonight, I’ve got other plans.” He tips his chin up the stairway in the direction the two chicks went off in, which I presume is his master suite.

A part of me feels like that’s a slap in London’s face to flaunt his sexual proclivities in front of her like that. A woman he’s been on and off with for years. But it doesn’t seem to phase her at the moment. It seems par for the course. Her only established agenda for coming here tonight was getting him to listen to reason and getting him to commit to getting help.

A smile bigger than the Grand Canyon alights London’s face and she kisses Sage’s palm that she still holds in her hand. As if he’s the king. Or her sweet prince.

“Thank you, Sage. Thank you for giving us a chance.”

As he continues up the stairs that curve over the foyer, he corrects her assumptions.

“I’m doing this for you, London. Not him.”

Well, at least it’s a start.

Just like the fairytales we all read as children, the door has been opened for us to find a way to change the story’s ending. So that the Princess and Prince can have a life free from tragedy and live happily ever after.