Page 32 of The Fire Walker
Dee
Staring blankly seemedto be the thing to do in these kinds ofsituations.
I’d known disappointment. Hell, I’d been dumped before. None of that had anything on the number Jessie had done on me. It was like she’d plunged her hand into my chest and ripped out my heart. It was brutal. How could anyone see that coming? I mean, things had been going well, hadn’tthey?
Looking back, there probably were little indicators. The way she walked away from me that first night at the club, the way she brushed me off before the gig… Shit, even the way she’d gone all quiet after I told her in my own deranged way that I had feelings for her. That should’ve been a giant red warning flag right there, but I had to go and kiss her, and… I couldn’t even think about therest.
So this was what a broken heart felt like. Now I knew what all the fuss wasabout.
Glancing at my beat-up acoustic guitar, I couldn’t even bring myself to pick it up. Music. Life. It all seemed hopelesstoday.
The band was officially on holiday for the first time since we’d started over two years ago, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Truthfully, I didn’t know what a holiday was. I’d never been on one in my entire adult life. Zoe and Will were leaving the day after tomorrow, and then I was on my own. I was such a mess I didn’t know if that was a good idea. Maybe I should just go home with my tail between mylegs.
I couldn’t stay alone in my room all day, so I wandered the streets and did some touristy stuff. I looked at some guitars, bought some boots, bought some new jeans because I didn’t have any clean ones left, sat in a seedy bar for a few hours…anything to keep my mind off my aching heart. Maybe some scotch would dull the memory ofher.
I hadn’t seen Zoe since before ‘the incident,’ so when she finally found me in the hotel bar, it wasn’t good. I sat on a leather couch in a dark corner, earphones stuck in my ears, trying to block out the world. The iPod randomly blared anything that wouldn’t make me think abouther.A couple of drinks in front of me rounded out the patheticpicture.
Zoe sat next to me on the couch, eyeing the glass of scotch I’d just started and its empty friends. I knew exactly what she wanted to say, and I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to be babied. She eyed me for a second more, then yanked the earphones out of myears.
“Hey!” Iexclaimed.
“Nice boots, Dee Dee,” shesaid.
“Thanks. They’re new.” I rolled my eyes, bunching up the headphones and shoving them into my jacketpocket.
“I know you buy boots when you’re pissed off aboutsomething.”
“The dude at the store said they’re called engineer boots,” I said. “Like I’m a fuckin’ train driver or someshit.”
“Stop changing thesubject.”
“I didn’t. We’re talking about boots, aren’twe?”
“Whathappened?”
“What happenedwhen?”
“Dee.”
“Zoe.”
“Are you drunk?” she exclaimed, slapping me on theshoulder.
“Alittle.”
“Dee.”
I shrugged. “Wouldn’thurt.”
“Stopit.”
“Where’s Will?” I asked, trying to change thesubject.
“He’s at thebar.”
I looked over and saw him sitting on a stool, one eye on us and the other pretendingindifference.
“What did she do?” Zoe askedfirmly.
