CHAPTER 35
Cory
I sign a written statement promising not to go far over the next week or so in case I am needed. I know the real meaning behind the paperwork—in case charges are filed, but I don’t ask questions. I don’t need to. My main worry is being addressed now by the man sitting across from me.
“I’m not sure where this will lead. It primarily depends on the family’s state of mind. At most, you could be looking at a charge of failing to render aid. But in talking with them—especially after everything they’ve learned in the last couple of days—I have a feeling you shouldn’t have a lot to worry about.” The officer raises an eyebrow. “I can’t promise you this won’t come out in the press, though. We’ve already had a few calls this morning.”
I shrug like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. Despite anything I might claim, I’m still an entertainer worried about the negatives effects this might have on my career. I like my job. I would hate to see it come to an end whether I deserve it or not.
“I noticed a couple of men snapping pictures on my way in here, and my phone has been ringing nonstop since yesterday. They’ll write a story. Doubt it will be a true one, but that doesn’t seem to matter in my profession.” No one can understand the weight of true fame until they find themselves stuck carrying it around. I’ll never complain out loud, but like a devastating illness or declaring bankruptcy, fame is something you can’t fathom until it happens to you. Still, it comes with the career, and like I said…
I shake my head, unwilling to consider it. What’s that saying about borrowing trouble?
“Hang in there.” The officer extends his hand, tearing me away from my thoughts. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I’m a huge fan.” His serious expression falls away into a smile.
“Thank you.” I shake the man’s hand, unsure of what to say next. This is the odd of part fame. One minute, trouble can land with painful precision onto a person’s lap. But just as quickly, the people in charge of correcting you can turn into fans, awestruck and ready to request an autograph. I breathe easy when the man leaves the room without producing a pen.
After speaking for a moment with my lawyer, I push in my chair. My brother is waiting in the other room. As for Angela’s family, I’ve never met them and have no idea what they look like. The thought of seeing them now…how will they react? How does a person react when they learn you had a hand in the last moments of a loved one’s life? With hate? With hostility? With sadness?
The memory of my first encounter with Sam strikes like a bat making contact with a ball.
All three. They’ll probably react with all three.
I reach the observation room door and open it, air suspended in my throat from the fear of what I might find on the other side. Kyle. Hopefully I’ll find Kyle and a getaway car. This place is stifling, stale, bad for my mind. Even though my brother will have questions—a hundred questions coupled with a few dozen I told you so’s—I want out, and fast. The questions I can deal with. The memories, not so much.
The dark room was empty. No one stands watch by the window, no one is ready and waiting for me. I frown and take another look, then back out, watching the door close in front of me. Of all the scenarios I imagined, silence wasn’t one of them. The front door seems a hundred confusing miles away, but I walk toward it, ready to get away from the oppression of this place. I pull out my phone to call Kyle and give him a piece of my mind. Why isn’t he here? Who is picking me up? A woman sits behind the front desk talking into a headset. Aside from her voice bouncing across the tiled room, the station looks nearly empty.
“Where are you going?”
I stop walking and look at the woman behind the counter, but she’s still talking into her phone.
“I said where are you going?” That voice. It’s coming from behind me. Timid and soft, but I know it. I spin to find her, and every element in my body begins to shake. She’s standing next to Kyle and both look comfortable with each other, like they’ve been here a while.
“I’m leaving,” I say. My eyes are wide. I can’t seem to blink them.
“Leaving to go where?”
Nowhere. Everywhere. To a desolate pond on a long-ago night. To a quiet highway after a concert last summer. My mind goes to both places in the span of one second. I don’t know how to answer, have no idea what to say. For the first time in years, all the words running through my mind aren’t good enough. Where am I going? That depends on so many things, every one of them out of my control. I whisper the only thing I can think of, the only thing that makes sense.
“The girl asked where you’re going,” Kyle says, breaking me from my thoughts. I stare at him, unable to make sense of having them both here. I look between them, then settle my gaze on Sam.
“I guess that depends on you.”
Sam takes a couple of steps toward me. How she got here…how she knew…I don’t understand it. I glance at Kyle and know the answer; he’s not exactly grinning, but he isn’t glaring at me either. Maybe I should kill him for telling her, maybe I should thank him. All I know is never in my life have I felt so dependent on another person as I am on Sam. I hate it. I love it. I reject it. I embrace it. This woman makes me feel everything all at once, but I have no idea what else to say. So I wait for her to speak. The way her chin comes up, that doesn’t seem to settle well with her.
“Why do I have to make all the decisions?”
I finally blink, surprised by her reply. It’s laced with an emotion I can’t peg. Anger. Sarcasm. Frustration. Humor. Surely not humor. I search her features, looking for a sign of the revulsion I know must be hidden somewhere. I don’t find what I’m looking for.
“I guess because everything is up to you. You have all the power here, so it’s your decision to tell me where to go.”
Next to me, Kyle breathes a laugh that I ignore.
“Don’t tempt me,” she says. I’m almost certain she smiles, but just as quickly it’s gone. She takes a step closer and looks up at me, hurt clouding her deep blue eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about Angela? That day in the park, why didn’t you tell me?”
I want to respond—to offer a million partially true reasons why I kept my past hidden from her. Old habits are hard to break and lies come easy. Today, I’m done with excuses.
“I’ll tell you, but not here. Is your car out front?”
She nods.
I turn to Kyle. “Are we good?”
For a long moment he just stares at me. I’m a kid again, ready to get my butt kicked and bruised and handed to me with a second place ribbon. Kyle wins, I lose. Again. Sweat trickles in a single drop down my neck.
“I don’t know what we are right now, but I don’t want to fight about it today.” He extends a hand, and I shake it. Mercy. I think I was just offered a bit of it. It isn’t everything I want, but at least it’s a start. If Sam has taught me anything, it’s that relationships between siblings have no guarantees, so we need to make the most of them while we can. I’ll get to work on that soon. First things first.
“I don’t want to fight either,” I say. “Talk next week at Mom and Dad’s?”
Kyle shrugs. “Let me think about it. I’ll call you.”
I nod. For now, it’s good enough for me.
I return my focus to Sam. “Follow me?” She falls in step beside me as we make our way outside, Kyle trailing behind us as he heads for his own car. Before the front door closes, a camera clicks. First one, then another. And another. For the first time since my career took off, I ignore them. Let them print their stories, let them distort reality to make a quick dollar. I have more important things to worry about. Better things. Beautiful things. Like unbreaking a heart that has cracked far too many times at my hands.
I help Sam into the passenger side of my car and close the door, then climb behind the wheel to start the engine. Heat fills the chilly space around us. Blowing into my hands, I turn to Sam. My breath catches at the sight of her—at the curls trailing down her shoulders, at the softness of the skin around her collarbone, at the way she stares at me.
For the next hour, I tell her why. I tell her everything.
I leave nothing out.