By Degrees (18 page)

I hear a crash on the other side of the door, coming from the studio.
 
My blood goes cold and my blood pressure spikes up.

“Tarin?” I ask.

Another crash comes, followed in close succession by more banging and crashing.

I try the handle, but the door is locked.
 
“Tarin!” I say louder, trying to be heard over the noises coming from inside.

Zach appears behind me.
 
“Need help?”

I turn to him, my pulse hammering with nervousness.
 
I hate this part of my job.
 
“I think he’s having a meltdown.”

Zach nods.
 
“Sounds like it.
 
You want to ride it out or get in?”

“What do you suggest?”

“We usually just let him ride it out.”

“Then let me in.”
 
Whatever indulgences they’ve given him before are what contributed to him being what he is now: a spoiled brat.
 
Time to change the program.

Zach raises an eyebrow at me, but reaches up above the door and brings a key down.
 
“Better step back and let me handle this part.”
 
He slides the key into the slot as I step to the side a little.

Banging on the door, he shouts, “Tarin, I’m coming in.”

“Fuck you, Zach!
 
Don’t you dare touch that fucking door!”
 
Something crashes into the door, making it shake in Zach’s grip.

Zach looks at me.
 
“You sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.
 
But be careful, I don’t want you to get hurt.”
 
I take a deep breath and hold it.

Zach pushes open the door and then shuts it really quick before going in.
 
Something smashes into it and drops the floor.
 
He opens it again without hesitation and rushes in, shoving whatever’s in the way to the side.

I’m right behind him, so I get a great view of what happens next.
 
Tarin has part of a drum set held high above his head, his face bright red and sweating.
 
Before he can launch it across the room, Zach gets him in a full-body lockdown, wrapping his arms around Tarin’s waist and squeezing hard.
 
The drum part falls out of his hands, bonks Zach in the head and then rolls to the ground.

“Get the fuck off me!” Tarin’s grunting, trying to get away.

“Calm down!” yells Zach, re-adjusting his hold to include Tarin’s arms.

“Fuck you!
 
You
calm down!”
 
Tarin struggles to get free, but Zach’s arms are like a straightjacket.
 
All the little brat can do is turn bright red with his efforts.

I walk into the room, stepping around the garbage that used to be musical instruments and sheet music.
 
I don’t know what the place looked like before, but it’s a disaster now.
 
I want to cry over the frustration I see reflected here.
 
So much lost.
 
I’m afraid I won’t be able to get it back.
 
When a musician spends this much time wrecking his most valued things and places, it’s never a good sign.

“Get the hell out of here!” he screams at me, spittle flying from his lips.
 
“This is my personal space!
 
You’re not welcome here!”

I don’t know what comes over me in that instant.
 
Maybe it’s the fact that he’s acting like a spoiled child or that he’s talking to me so cruelly, but I lose my cool.
 
I walk right up to him and slap him across the face.

Taking a step back, I stare at him, trying not to let my shock at my own behavior show in my expression.

He immediately shuts up and his body relaxes in Zach’s hold.

Zach looks at the ceiling, battling the smile that is coming over his features.

“Did you just fucking slap me?”
 
Tarin sounds like he doesn’t believe it himself.

“Yes, apparently I just did.”
 
I look down at my hand, surprised at the tingling there.
 
I guess I smacked him pretty hard.

He looks up at his bodyguard.
 
“Let me go, Zach.
 
Seriously.
 
It’s cool.
 
I’m not really down with the man love like you are.”

Zach ignores the veiled insult.
 
“You’re not going to smack her back are you?”

Tarin scowls.
 
“Come on, man, you know me better than that.”

Zach loosens his hold.
 
“I’ll be outside.”
 
He stops at the door.
 
“You want me to send someone in here for this?”
 
He gestures to the mess on the floor.

“No.
 
Leave it.”
 
I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone but Tarin clean up after this ridiculous tantrum.

Zach walks out the door and shuts it quietly behind him.

Tarin and I stare at each other.
 
The red handprint on his face makes me ashamed of myself, but I try to focus on the bigger picture and not let it overwhelm everything I’m trying to do here.

“You hit me,” he says.

“Yes, I did.
 
And I’m sorry.”

“Why’d you do it?”

His question confuses me.
 
“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Is it part of your little program?
 
Do you do that all the time?”

“No.
 
It’s not a part of my program.”
 
I feel the heat rising in my neck.

“Why’d you do it then?”

I shrug.
 
“What difference does it make?”

“Is it because I hurt your feelings or because I was having a fit?”

I bite my lip as I consider his words.
 
He’s watching me like a hawk, making me nervous.
 
His gaze shifts from my eyes to my mouth and then to my chest.
 
I know he can see my breaths coming too fast.
 
I could blame my reaction on me freaking out over the destruction, but I have a feeling he’ll know I’m not being entirely honest.

I try to blow him off.
 
“Hurt my feelings?
 
Please.”
 
I gesture to the room around us.
 
“It takes a lot more than you not welcoming me into your garbage pit to hurt my feelings.”

He takes a step closer, the trash on the floor making loud swishing sounds as his feet pushes it aside.
 
“Oh, so you’re such a hardass, no one can get through, is that it?”

Every part of me wants to run away from him.
 
He’s invading my personal space like a boyfriend, but I can’t back away.
 
This is a challenge I
will
win.
 
“No, that’s not it.
 
I’m not immune to harsh words.
 
I’m actually very easy to hurt if you want to know the truth.”
 
My chin comes up, even though I don’t mean for it to.

“You slapped me because I was having a fit, then.
 
Not because I hurt your feelings.”

I blink a couple times slowly.
 
“Yes.
 
That’s it.
 
You were out of control.
 
I just brought you back down to Earth.”

He studies my face for a few seconds and then shakes his head.
 
“Nope.
 
That’s not it.
 
I hurt your feelings.”

I press my lips together to keep them from trembling.
 
The reaction I’m having and this conversation reminds me way too strongly of another situation and another boy who hurt me terribly.
 
It’s all too much, how Tarin and Austin are so alike in that way, with the power they have to affect me so easily.
 
My chin quivers from the effects of trying to keep my emotions from showing.

Tarin reaches up slowly and touches my chin.
 
“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

I turn my head so his finger will fall away.
 
“I’ll get over it.”
 
I look around the room.
 
“You’ll be cleaning this up when we get back today.”

He laughs.
 
“Like hell I will.”

I turn my head back to stare at him.
 
“As soon as I leave this room, I will instruct everyone in this house not to touch it.
 
No one will cooperate with you until you cooperate with me.
 
From now on, you clean up your own messes.”

“What the fuck is that all about?”
 
He’s on the brink of another tantrum, so I go for the jugular.

“It’s about respect for the people who work for you.
 
Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?
 
Is your mind so warped that you actually think it’s okay to act like a four-year-old child, destroy thousands of dollars worth of equipment and the work of other people, and then call someone in to clean up after you?
 
Like they don’t have other more important things to do?
 
What … you want to pay Marta to wipe your asshole for you too?”

“That’s what I pay them for.”

“No.
 
It’s not what you pay them for, you jerk.
 
You pay them to cook, to clean up after normal usage, to drive you, and to protect you.
 
That’s it.
 
No one is here to babysit you.
 
And you definitely can’t buy friends … not real ones.
 
And you keep this shit up and you’re going to lose the only ones you have left.”

“Then what are you here for?”

I turn to walk away, but he grabs my sleeve.
 
“Answer my question.”

I look down at his hand that’s twisted in my shirt.
 
I speak softly, but there’s no hiding from the threat that lies underneath.
 
“Get your hands off me, Tarin.
 
Right now.”

He lets me go.
 
“Tell me why you’re here.”

Looking at his face, I can tell the answer means something to him.
 
And I can’t lie.
 
I have to tell him the truth.
 
“I’m here to save you from yourself.”

“What if I don’t want saving?” he asks, unshed, angry, frustrated tears making his eyes bright.

“Then I’m either going to drag you kicking and screaming back to where you used to be or die trying.”

“Why do you think where I used to be was so great?
 
Maybe it was worse than where I am now.”

I sense there’s more to what he’s saying than just the bare words, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to delve right now.
 
“I don’t believe that.”

He backs away, nearly tripping over the junk on the floor.
 
“You don’t know shit about me.”
 
He’s angry again.

“I know what I need to know.
 
You have five minutes to get your ass out to the front door.”

“Fuck that.
 
I’m not going anywhere.”

I sigh, pausing at the entrance to the room.
 
“You will either come willingly or you’ll be dragged.
 
And if you continue to put Zach and Leonard in a position to get hurt, I’m going to have to let them go and hire some other people who are more … tuned in to that kind of behavior.”

“You can’t fire Zach and Leonard!
 
They’ve been with me from the start!
 
They’re my friends!”

“I can and I will.
 
You decide if they stay by your behavior.
 
If you give me trouble about going where I need you to go, I’ll take that as your tacit agreement to having them fired.”

He spits on the floor.
 
“You’re a hardcore bitch, you know that?”

I give him a smile that carries no humor, ignoring the pain that his words cause. “I’ve been called worse.”

I close the door softly behind me.
 
A few more crashes follow but then silence.
 
I go out the front door and get into the car, confident that Tarin will be out within the timeframe given.

I can say a lot of things about him that aren’t very nice, but I cannot say he doesn’t try to be a good friend when he needs to be.
 
Something tells me leveraging his loyalty to the people around him will be the key to winning him over, so that’s exactly what I’m going to continue to do.

Chapter Seventeen

RICKY PULLS THE SEDAN UP to the warehouse I’ve given him the address for.
 
“Is this it?” he asks, looking at the bland exterior with suspicion.

“Yep.”
 
I open my door.
 
“Come on, Tarin.”

“You want me in there?” asks Scott.

“Sure.
 
Ricky, do you mind waiting out here?” I ask, dipping my head down into the car window to look at him.

“Not at all.”
 
He pulls a Kindle out from under the front seat.
 
“Got about a thousand books on here I’ve been meaning to read.”

Tarin snorts from the backseat.
 
“You don’t read books, who are you trying to kid?”

Ricky looks at him in the rearview mirror, his voice stern.
 
“Don’t pretend you know me that well.”
 
He drops his gaze to his Kindle and turns it on, decidedly ignoring the shocked and hurt expression on Tarin’s face.

Boom.
 
Shot to the heart
.
 
Everyone’s mad at Tarin for having that tantrum, and I feel like singing and dancing in the rain over it.
 
There’s nothing more powerful than peer pressure to get someone like Tarin back in line.
 
He may be an independent, crazy, loudmouth musician on the outside, but inside he’s like everyone else; he needs connections, he needs to be respected, and he needs love.
 
His friends have given this to him without question and without demanding anything in return before, but that’s over now.
 
Now, he’s going to have to work for their love, just like everyone else.
 
Recalibration engaged.