Exit Wound (13 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Press week dragged on and on. Every day, we spent around twelve hours going between interviews and airport terminals. We were being taken all over the place. The only sense of normalcy I really had was when Ben grilled me about my likes and dislikes for his little project. When I was trying to sleep, though I wasn’t quite dreaming, I could sometimes hear him on the phone with his contractor, giving them further details they needed to complete his project. Working on making this house our home was really bringing us closer together, and it also proved to be a great distraction. With the sleep I was losing due to constant jet-lag and the never-ending traveling, I was thankful when we were given a full day’s rest when we entered New York. It was great to be home, yet at the same time, I knew we had a lot of time dedicated to publicity and interviews. Just a few more days and then we would be done and headed toward Madison Square Garden for the final three shows of this tour.

Ben was happy to be back in New York, and I couldn’t help but feel a mixture of anxiety and joy myself. Joy due to being in the place I was lucky enough to call home, and anxiety due to the fact that once news of my return began to spread, Crosley was going to be waiting for me.

Ben decided we should both take a long nap then he and I would go shopping. He wanted to take me to get a few new things for school, as well as a few things for our new home. It was weird saying “our home.” Though at the same time, it was so right. I always knew my home was wherever my brother was, and I knew he felt the same about me.

The fact that he was leaving LA, the place he had called home for the past six years, to watch out for me while I went to school made me feel lucky to have the privilege of calling him my big brother. He was uprooting and changing as much of his life as I was. I guess we both needed a new start after this tour ended.

We slept for about three hours, and I would have slept longer if Ben hadn’t woken me up. We went through my suitcase and culled all of my old, outdated, and hole-y clothes, bagging them up in hotel trash bags. There were some things I didn’t want to part with, things that held special meaning to me. Like the first Eden Sank shirt I’d ever made and the few things I had that matched Mackynsie’s wardrobe. I did need to start fresh. I couldn’t have matching days with Mackynsie anymore, so I threw out all the mini-skirts, all the shorts, tank tops, blouses, and dresses that she had bought me to match hers. I threw out all the things I had of Everett’s which thankfully, Ben never noticed. I threw out the old excess of my past, liberating myself.

When we were done trashing my old clothes, Ben called us a cab and took me on the biggest shopping spree of my life. I got clothes from all the stores’ fall collections that were starting to come in. I got new boots and shoes, stuff for my dorm room, and I even got some new makeup and things for my hair.

After we were done with our shopping, we walked down the Manhattan streets with all the bags, scouting cool places to catch a late lunch.

When we finally located a secluded place, we set our bags down, relaxing without the fear of being bothered. The waitress took our drink order then we scanned the menu.
It was a nice little café, and I could smell fresh brewing coffee. I wanted to check my phone, except Ben had started a no-phone policy while we were together. I suppose it was a good idea—though, a part of me was itching to see if the news of our arrival had hit the inter-webs and to see if there were any new threatening text messages.

I had to make myself believe things weren’t as bad as they seemed. Maybe this was all some sort of hoax. Maybe it was…no, I knew better. There was no amount of self-assured lying that I could come up with in order to convince myself that what was happening wasn’t really happening.

“Frances, what are you going to order?”

“I don’t know.”

Silence fell over us again, and I kept feeling my phone buzzing on the inside of my jean pocket. Ben must have had the same sensation, since his hand instinctively went to pat his pocket only to remember the deal we made.

“I think the grilled chicken sounds good. You still like that, right?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, that does sound good. And yes, I still enjoy grilled chicken.”

Ben was always weirded out by the fact I preferred my food grilled over fried, especially with as much we loved junky takeout food. I had always been that way, and I doubted that it was going to change any time soon.

When the waitress came back to take our orders, Ben asked for their garden burger, and I asked for the grilled chicken. After she had left with our orders, I looked at Ben curiously.

“Since when do you eat garden burgers?” I asked with a teasing lilt in my voice.

“Since I decided to eat a little healthier.”

I giggled until I felt my phone buzzing again. Ben and I looked at each other—then, we silently agreed to give up the no-phone policy.

Opening every app that had an intimidating amount of notifications, I saw one thing right away—my face was everywhere. The picture that had been leaked was the picture from the night of Everett’s death.

“The murderer…took a picture of you…” Ben said quietly.

Soon enough, Ben was in a furious flurry of activity.

“I’m reporting the photo, and I’m calling my manager. This is going to cause a lot of damage.”

“Do you think it’s my fault?” I asked him.

“Do I think what is your fault?” he asked absently.

I couldn’t bear to look at him as our food was placed in front of us. I left his question unanswered. He didn’t know every single thing that was happening when I wasn’t by his side. He was oblivious.

A better question I should be asking myself is how could I possibly begin to ask for his help.

***

When we got back to the hotel, I tore off all the tags and threw away all the boxes of my new clothes and shoes. I packed them neatly in my suitcase and laid out an outfit for the next day. A pair of ripped, acid-washed jeans, lace-up combat boots, and a black shirt that had something written on it in jagged lettering. I could hear Ben in the other room, shouting on his phone to his manager about making that picture disappear from the Internet. He wanted nothing more than to save me. Although, I also thought that partially he wanted to save himself. How could the band’s reputation survive with that picture of Frances Morrison—Ben Morrison’s baby sister—covered in Everett’s blood with his dying body cradled in her lap?

I had a feeling that if Ben yelled enough in the right pair of ears, someone would figure it out for us.

I went to sleep early that night. I didn’t want to deal with this, not on the day that was meant to give us a rest from the pressures of life on the road.

Now that this picture had leaked, there would be more questions to answer, and I didn’t know if I could hide in the background for much longer. So I slept. Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite find the solace I was looking for. My darkest fears had leached into my dreams, causing me to wake every few hours. I would sit up and stare blankly at the wall in front of me.

***

The next morning came too quickly. We were in such a hurry that I didn’t know what was a dream and what was reality. Everything was a blur, and I swore I could hear Everett’s voice along with the others, and I chastised myself about how crazy I was becoming. No one with a sound mind heard voices of the deceased. He was gone, and all I had left of him now was his memory, and the last picture of us together that shouldn’t have been taken in the first place.

Dressed in the outfit I had laid out last night, I went along on the ride from the hotel to the conference center in a daze. I was empty, numb all over again. I could tell Ben was worried about me, and as much as I wanted to take away his worry and make myself better, there was nothing I could do. There was nothing left for me to do to make this okay. All I could do was leave and put all of this behind me.

The moment we stepped into the conference center for the press release, I felt faint. Splinter helped guide me as we walked to the stage, and I tried my best to stand on my own behind Ben while he gave his speech.

When it came time for questions, I knew the hot topic would be the leaked photo. Surprisingly, it never came up. No one asked, and no one stared at me like I was the cause for anything at all. No one asked for me to speak; no one asked for me to do a thing.

When the press conference was done, we went back to the hotel, ordered dinner, and while Ben and I made the last minute adjustments to the home we were making together, I asked him, “Have you called to check on Mom?” He was quiet for a long moment. “Have you checked on her at all?” I asked when he didn’t answer.

After another long pause, I let it go. I didn’t understand how he could have so much disregard for her when she needed us the most. We had sent her off to rehab in hopes the doctors and other patients would be enough. Kind of like I hoped she would be enough for me. She never had been, so a selfish part of me had hoped that the doctors and patients wouldn’t be enough to soothe her. I knew it was wrong, but it would be a nice slice of karma, so it didn’t feel as horrible as it should have.

After tonight, we would be playing the last three shows of this tour. We would then be going our separate ways. Ben and I were headed to New Hampshire, and Grayson would be heading back to Los Angeles with Rian. As for Splinter, I wasn’t sure what his post-summer plans were. Nor had I bothered to ask. Maybe I should have considering how much time we were spending together, and how close we had grown since we’d left high school and gone on this tour together.

I texted him, and we met out in the main hallway in our PJs.

“What’s wrong, Bea?” he asked.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to ask you some questions.” We slid down against the wall, sitting in the hallway.

“Where are you going to go after this all ends?” I asked. “School? Work? Are you traveling? Are you staying here?”

He looked taken aback by my influx of questions, and when I finally took a breath, he asked, “Why are you so panicked about my after-summer plans?”

Swallowing back my initial impulse to be snarky with him, I simply told him the truth in the best way I knew how.

“Splinter, you’re the only real friend I’ve got left. I know I didn’t give you the time of day back at Rosewood, it’s only now that I realize how stupid that was. I should have paid more attention. While I was busy being a royal and looking down at you, barely acknowledging your existence, you noticed me when I couldn’t even look you straight in the face. I want to know what you’re doing because I don’t want this to be the end of our friendship. I want to keep in touch. I want to be your friend for as long as you can put up with me, and—”

He placed his hand over mine, cupping it in a gentle grip. “We’re going to stay friends after this, Bea. You know too much, and I know too much. We either stay friends or die trying to ruin the other’s reputation.”

We laughed together, and he gave me the biggest promise anyone could ever give me—a pinky promise that meant we would keep in touch, no matter where we were or what we were doing.

I went back to bed. After tonight, everything was going to change for me. Whether it was good or bad, I wanted to feel every part of it: the joy, the pain, and even the sorrow. I didn’t want to repress a single thing anymore. I wanted it all, and I wanted it right then.

Right as I was ready to fall asleep for the night, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. Without a second thought, I checked it. Two text messages came onto the screen display: one from Splinter and one from the anonymous messenger.

Splinter:
These last three nights are going to be the best ever. Get some rest, because we’re not going to get much after tonight.

I smiled at his heartfelt message, and when I looked to the message from my anonymous stalker, I knew that this wasn’t going to be an easy getaway.

Anonymous: Welcome home, B. Pay your debt or live eternally in regret.

My time was running out, and so were my options. I could only hide from him for so long, and I didn’t where I would be safe. Should I ask for help? Should I figure this out on my own? Was I even safe to begin with? I know I didn’t feel safe with the threatening text messages I had received nor the stalking. There was no escape.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

We woke up incredibly early the next morning. We still had a lot to do even though our press days were over. It was the first night at Madison Square Garden, and the boys decided to go and practice there early. This meant waking up at five in the morning and going over to the venue while the production crew and all the people involved in making Eden Sank’s concerts a reality were still setting up the stage for the show.

They went into the back of the green room and tried to practice there, and I could tell Splinter was nervous. He was off, and Splinter was
never
off. The poor guy kept dropping his drumsticks like a baby who was learning to grasp objects for the first time. He was
Splinter Nightingale
for Christ’s sake. I couldn’t believe that he was letting all of this get to him.

“I think it’s time for a break, guys. What do you think?” I said. I needed a moment alone with Splinter, and this would be my only chance of getting him back to where he needed to be. The boys all filed back to the stage to see how the production team was doing, and when Splinter stood to join them, I grabbed his shoulder.

“What is it, Bea?”

“Stay here with me; we’re going to practice some more.” I handed him his drum pad, and he looked at me as if I was crazy.

“I thought you wanted us to take a break?”

“I did,” I said. “But you are overthinking everything and ruining yourself.”

“Bea, I think you’re overreacting.”

“Am I?” I asked with a hint of knowing in my voice.

He stared at me with a dumbfounded look.

“They’re intimidating you, and this venue is intimidating you. You’re off your game, Splinter. You aren’t in the zone.”

“What zone?”

“Your
zone.
Whenever you play, you go to this place that makes it hard for you to be distracted by the things around you. You’re not there right now. You need to find that place again.”

Splinter looked at me curiously. “You haven’t been ignoring my existence after all.” He smirked and I swatted the side of his arm.

“Shut up, and sit your ass down. We’re going to practice until you get into that zone of yours.”

We practiced and practiced, and I sometimes yelled at him as if I was a person in the crowd trying to throw him off. I threw things at him, and he blocked them with his drumstick, all the while maintaining his rhythm and beat. I was proud when we were done, and when the boys came back from their break, Splinter was on point.

I kept checking my phone. It was filled with notifications about tonight’s show. Thankfully, there was no more talk about the leaked photo. For that, I was grateful.

However, there was an underlying feeling I had. I didn’t know how to explain it except every time I had my phone in my hand I had a feeling of impending doom, like everything was going to fall apart. Maybe I was being paranoid. Whether it was a feeling, a vivid dream or a vision—some people just knew something was going to happen before it did. They had warning signs and signals that led them to believe they were in the wrong place, the wrong time. I wanted to believe I had that, at least with the feelings I had.

I knew in my heart before it happened…when Mackynsie died. I didn’t need the doctors to break it to me or for anyone to tell me a thing at all. I knew as we reached the hospital; I knew the moment the car collided with hers. I knew the moment I woke up and she didn’t. I knew, and I don’t know how I did. Intuition was a funny and cruel thing to have.

I was hoping that this feeling in my heart was wrong.

***

While we waited for the venue to open the doors, we formed our prayer circle. It was weird without Everett here, and despite how many times we had done the prayer circle without him, it was still an unsettling feeling. Even if it was going to be short-lived that Splinter was a part of the band, I tried to put my thoughts of Everett behind me. A part of me wanted to believe he was sick at home, wishing he were here with us as much as I wished he was. I wanted him back so badly. All these thoughts came to me while we were praying.

When we heard the venue filling up our, energy got higher, and our excitement grew with each passing moment. This was going to be an amazing show; I could tell by the way the boys were acting and how they reacted to seeing the sold-out crowd from behind the stage. I was happy for them—I really was.

From the moment they rushed on stage to the moment they came back for intermission while another band went on, I was in pure disbelief. They were living their dream, and so was Splinter. He wasn’t nervous anymore, and I could tell by the huge smile on his face. He was covered in a layer of sweat, and he was breathing heavily, but he was happy. The anxiety he’d experienced earlier was gone.

He came up to me, hugged me tightly, and whispered into my ear, “Thank you.”

When they went back on stage, I was a bit distracted. I kept thinking of the last time I had seen Ben before he became as famous as he was now.

It had been the night leading up to Christmas Eve. We had stayed up late talking—though when I had gone to sleep, I had been woken up by the sounds of loud shuffling in the hallway. Afraid that Ben and my mother had been fighting, I’d opened up my door a crack to see outside. Instead of a brawl, I had seen Ben with a backpack on his back, trying to lug a huge suitcase and two different duffle bags over his shoulders.

“Ben, what are you doing?” I had opened the door all the way and had gotten a good look at my not-so-sneaky brother.

“Bea, go back to bed. I don’t want to risk Mom—”

“Where are you going with all those bags?” I’d taken a closer look and seen he was holding what looked like a boarding pass. “Are you leaving me? It’s—”

“Bea, I’m sorry. I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this for us.” He’d pulled me into a tight hug, and I’d yanked a handful of his hair. It had been longer than usual, so there had been a lot to grab.

“Bea don’t! That hurts. You can’t keep me here.”

I’d watched him with teary eyes. “What about me? What about Mom? How am I—?”

“I’ve got it all taken care of. Here, take this.” He had handed me a large brown envelope. It had felt weighted as if there were multiple things inside, definitely more than paper.

“I need you to keep this away from Mom. It’s for you and everything you’ll need. I’ll send more in time.”

“Ben, please, don’t leave me.”

“Bea, you’ll thank me one day for this.”

I had shaken my head, tears brimming in my eyes. “I’ll never thank you for this. If you leave me now, you—”

“You say this because you’ll miss me. We will still talk, I promise.”

“If you’re going to promise me anything, promise me—”

He’d set down his bags and pulled me close again.

“From me to you, I’ll always be true,”
he sang.
“A promise I’ll make, one I’ll never break. Together or apart, you’ll always have my heart. One promise I ask of you, is that you always stay true, and to keep the faith. With this, you’ll be okay.”

By then, we had both been crying. Ben had hugged me one more time until we had seen colored lights flashing into the living room from outside the window.

“That’s my signal; I’ve got to go.”

I’d held onto him for as long as I could. I hadn’t known where he was going or when he would be back. I had felt like this was our final moment to say anything and everything to each other.

“I love you, Sissa.”

With tears streaming down my face and leaving stains on his shirt, I had said, “I love you too, jerk face.”

***

Now, I was happy to be with my brother in a place like this. He was right—I was thankful that he’d left and done all of this for me. If it weren’t for all the money he had made doing this, I would have never survived. There was no other way around it. Yeah, living alone with my mother was Hell, which was why I’d usually stayed with Mackynsie’s family, the Campbells. They hadn’t minded—they’d seen me as another daughter. They’d treated me that way too.

I never did really get to see or talk to Ben after he’d left, so technically our promise had been broken. I eventually figured out where he had been living, thanks to the return address and the postmark on the envelopes filled with money he had always sent me. Eventually, he started to wire me the money through Western Union, so I couldn’t see his address anymore. The most I saw of him was the appearances on TV or on YouTube.

I was angry for a while since he did break his promise to me, as well as the fact that whenever he had a show in town he never came to see me. I never did ask him why that was even though I probably should have by now. However, the more time I spent with him this summer, the less it mattered to me.

As Ben and the boys went back on stage for the rest of their show, I smiled to myself and checked my phone again. There was nothing from my unknown stalker. Even if it was still an unknown person, I kept feeling like it was Crosley. I had no real proof other than Kingston being in the magazine office the same day I was and the way he reacted to me noticing him. It was all too coincidental to not make sense. Though everything was leading me back to Crosley as the culprit, I had to have more proof. Though I had a feeling that the proof I needed was the very thing that was going to get me what I had been threatened with: a six-foot hole in the ground.