Dissent (27 page)

“No.
I mean. We lived in the same space. I slept right underneath her
bunk. We were always around each other.”

“You
love her,” she said very matter-of-factually. “You idiot.
You love her, so you run the fuck away?”

“I
was pushed the fuck away, actually.”

“Why?
What did you do?”

“What
the fuck is with you women? Why the fuck is it always the guy's
fault?”

“Whoa
whoa whoa,” Fee said, holding out a hand at me, palm out. “You
better get a fucking reign on that shit. Did Dad leave some Kool-Aid
around here or something?” she asked, looking around with
unmasked disgust. “You come back to the woods for a few weeks
and suddenly you're a misogynist?”

“Maybe
I always was one.”

“Maybe
you were too busy drowning in your own misery and guilt and regret to
actually learn who the fuck you actually are.”

“What
do you know about...”

“I
know you spend about fifteen grand a year on therapy. Have you gotten
anywhere with that? Or do you just clam up and give vague answers?
Have you ever actually... tried, Isaiah? Things don't just come
easily...”

“They
did for you.”

“Really?
Easy? You think anything I went through was easy for me? Isaiah, I
used to carve into my skin so bad that I passed out and woke up in a
pool of my own blood. I couldn't be home alone at nigh. I couldn't
let anyone else into my house or into my life. I was away
from
our father and his abuse, but I wasn't done suffering.

“You
have Hunter.”

“Yeah,
but only because he was the first guy who saw those scars and didn't
fucking run screaming. He didn't pull away when he tried to hold me
and I pricked him. He just... accepted me. And he was the first
person to ever do that. It was five years from when I got away from
Dad to when I got to meet Hunter. I lived constantly with grandma
threatening to tell our father where I was if I didn't do what she
wanted. I was completely fucking alone in the world and trust me, not
a fucking day of that time was easy, Isaiah.”

“Maybe
there's just something wrong with me,” I said, getting up and
walking toward the house.

“There's
something wrong with everyone,” she said, leaning on the
doorjamb, but not coming inside. “Is that Dad's bible?”
she asked, nodding toward the dining room table.

“Yeah,”
I said, going over to a bucket I had brought in earlier and scrubbing
my face and hands in it.

“I
thought you didn't believe in any of that anymore.”

“You
make it sound like a bad thing.”

“It's
not a bad thing,” she said, coming in, surprising me. I never
thought she would cross the threshold again. She walked over to the
table, opening the cover of the old worn bible. “I just... I'm
worried that you'll start interpreting it the way our father taught
you to instead of the way you should.”

“What
way is that?”

“In
a less fucking literal way. It was written thirty-five hundred years
ago, Isaiah. Things change.”

“Maybe
they shouldn't have,” I said, but I knew I didn't meant it. And
she did too. There was really no going back once you saw that the
world the way you were supposed to: without prejudice, without
judgment.

“I
know you don't mean that,” she said, closing the book and
looking around the living room. “What happened, Isaiah?”

Maybe
it was because she was there, because she was there for me after
swearing that she would never step foot on the property again. Or
maybe it was because of how much she had helped me in the past and I
felt I owed her an explanation. Or maybe it was just because she was
someone to talk to after being all alone for so long.

“She
was getting these threatening notes. Saying they wanted to rape her
and beat her and set her on fire. They were... foul.”

“That's
sick.”

“Yeah,
and then one day, she found two of the notes on my bunk and she...”

“She
thought you were the one doing it. Writing the notes while you
carried on a sexual relationship with her.”

“Yeah.”

“So
she kicked you off the tour,” she guessed and I nodded.
“Isaiah, I know you have trust issues with the
better
sex,” at my lowered eyes, she laughed, “fine... the
fairer
sex. But you have to see that situation from her side.
The proof looked damning. And she had been with you. She felt
violated and vulnerable.”

“I
get that.” I did. I understood her reaction. Which was probably
the worst part of it all.

“So
why are you running back here?”

“What
the hell else should I be doing?”

“Running
your business. Reading. Eating a balanced meal. Enjoying air
conditioning and heat. Waiting for her to get back so you could
explain.”

“Do
you really think she would give me a chance to? Hell, she probably
had someone move her out of her apartment already.”

“Maybe,”
she agreed. “But it would be a healthier reaction to deal with
the situation than run away from civilized society to avoid it.”

“I
just had enough, Fee. I felt like all I did was try to acclimate only
to feel constantly detached from everything.”

“Did
you feel detached from Darcy?”

The
sound of her name made me flinch. I took a deep breath and turned
away from her. “No.” It was true. I had never felt
detached from her. Even when I wasn't around her, I felt her. She was
everywhere. She was inside of me.

“You
know,” Fee said, her brows drawing together like she was trying
to remember something. “I think I read something about Darcy
online a while back.”

“She
has stuff written about her all the time.”

“No,
this was different. It was a news report...”

“Fee
I don't...”

“Oh,
that's right. Isaiah,” she said, sounding serious, “she
was attacked.”

My
guts felt like they fell to my feet as I spun toward her, every
muscle tense. “What the fuck do you mean she was attacked? What
happened? Is she alright?”

“Hold
on, I'm trying to think. I didn't exactly have any reason to pay
closer attention to the story. Maybe if
someone
was more forthcoming about their conquests...”

“Fiona,
please.” I needed to know she was okay. That was all that
mattered. If I knew she was alright, I could go back to my little
life.

“Yeah,”
she said, nodding. “Yeah she was okay. I know because they said
she refused to cancel her next concert despite having a... bruised
larynx.”

“Someone
choked her?” I asked, my heart pounding hard in my chest. I
should have fucking been there for her. If I was there... it wouldn't
have happened. I wouldn't have let anyone hurt her.

“Yeah.
Apparently, she and her band were like at some abandoned...”

“Asylum,”
I supplied, realizing that they had probably made a day of it to try
to lift her spirits. Because none of them liked that kinda thing.

“Yeah,
that's right. She was looking at something and the other guys went to
another floor and then the bass player...”

“Jay,”
I supplied.

“Yeah,
whatever. He heard her screaming. When he got to her, she said
someone had choked her and threatened her. They took her to the
hospital and filled out a police report. But no one knows who it
was.”

I
raked a hand down my face, trying to push the rush of emotions away.
Trying to not let the information bother me. But, fuck it, I was
bothered. “Christ.”

“Well,
it's not all bad.”

“What
the fuck about being attacked could possibly be a good thing?”

A
slow, sly smile spread across her face, making her at once look
happy... and evil. “She knows it wasn't you now, doesn't she?”

Twenty-three

We
had taken the bus to a dealership to get the locks changed at my
insistence. Three of us had keys: me, Jay, and Burt. The latter
because there was really no way around letting him have a key when he
was the one taking care of the rig and driving it.

But
everything stopped. There were no more notes. No more scrawling on
the mirrors. No more nothing.

Things
settled back down. Everyone stopped being so jumpy. I stopped looking
at everyone sideways. I stopped worrying myself sick over all our
past interactions. Because if changing the locks changed things, then
it wasn't one of them after all. It wouldn't have been hard for some
determined shithead to get their hands on one of the keys before. We
weren't always careful with them. Anyone could have pulled them off a
table, pressed them into a mold, then had a copy made. It was that
easy.

Arizona
was one of my favorite states to visit. There were the breathtaking
rock formations, visible even on the low roads, the red dirt, the
cactus, the amazing colors of the sunset. Our show was situated to
the side of a giant, humbling sand-colored wave formation, the stage
a matching color, leaving a huge area for potentially unlimited
standing room. And, from what I heard, we were going to have a crowd.

I
cursed the heat, strapping myself into a black corset, slipping all
the knobs up front into the grooves, making my breasts press down on
the bottom and push out almost indecently on top. I paired it with a
deep purple mini skirt because if I put on one of those floor-length
numbers, I would probably die of heatstroke under the lights.

“Fancy,”
Jay said, nodding at me as I zipped my boots on.

“What
are you talking about? I wear corsets all the time.”

“Not
in weeks. Dude, it's been all jeans and tank tops.”

I
looked up, realizing he was right. I had been slacking. More than
slacking, I just hadn't really given a fuck. I think I might have
actually forgotten to put on makeup for one show. It's amazing what a
little stress can do to you. Even a workaholic with an eye for
details.

“Well,
what's that phrase?” I asked, getting to my feet. “The
bitch is back.”

“Good,
I missed her. Sad and scared and paranoid Darcy was a real bummer.”

I
laughed, wrapping my arm around his waist and leading him toward the
steps. “I'm sorry my brief stint into mental illness was so
uncomfortable for you. It was a real breeze for me.”

He
turned his head, kissing my temple. “Well, it did have one
perk.”

“What's
that?” I asked, walking toward the back of the venue, watching
Joey and Mike run around setting things up. They had gotten used to
having the extra set of hands. They were struggling to get things
done on time. But they would adjust. Eventually.

“That
fucking song, Darce,” he said, sliding away from me.

“Which
one?”

“The
one with the stalker? That shit was so creepy I had trouble falling
asleep. What made you write it from the perspective of the stalker
not the stalk-ee?”

“I
don't know. I guess I was trying to understand it more or something.
Or maybe it just felt too... personal to write it from my
perspective.”

“Well,
it's fucking amazing. It should be our first release off the new
album.”

“Yeah,”
I said, nodding at his back as he went into one of the back rooms.
Things were working out. Falling into place. Sometimes it seemed so
easy to think it would never get better. That we would be trapped in
the tension and worry forever.

“You
ready?” Todd asked, walking up, spinning his drumsticks
anxiously. He was always a ball of energy before a show. Which was
probably a good thing because his job, more than the rest of ours,
was probably the most taxing.

“Yep,”
I smiled, bumping his shoulder with mine.

“You're
back,” he observed, nodding at me.

“I'm
back,” I agreed, feeling a rush of the power I used to feel
when I was about to go onstage.