Page 108 of Until You Say Stay
That’s weird. Lark always responds quickly, usually within minutes. Even when she’s busy she at least sends back an emoji or a quick “call you later.”
The flight attendant tells me firmly to put my phone on airplane mode, so I do, and try to connect to the Wi-Fi. It won’t load, and as the plane begins to roll away from the gate, the pilot comes across the PA system:Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be taking off momentarily, but we wanted to let you know that we’re working to correct a glitch in our in-flight Wi-Fi. We hope to have it working soon after take off. But, well, that may not be possible.
“Fuck,” I whisper. No Wi-Fi. The flight from São Paulo to Seattle is over twelve hours. With no fucking Wi-Fi.
I left Sunday evening after the race, exhausted from the weekend but wired from the crazy week and the ongoing PR issues that refuse to die. I doze off a few times but mostly just sit there thinking about the contract situation. How close I am to getting my seat back. How I can’t fuck this up now.
And the Wi-Fi is still dead.
Thoughts of Lark keep breaking through. Looking forward to seeing her, to just being back with her after a week apart. But then Thomas’s words creep back in. I push them down.
When I finally land in Seattle Monday morning, I check my phone immediately. Still nothing from Lark. No response to my text from yesterday.
I text her again while I’m waiting for my luggage.
Me:Landed. Heading to your place.
Still nothing by the time I grab my bag and head to the rental car. Lark’s usually pretty good about responding, though she can be slow to text back when she’s deep in music stuff. Probably working on those demos, lost track of time.
The drive from Seattle to Dark River takes a couple hours. I check my phone at red lights. Still nothing. Not even a read receipt.
By the time I’m getting close to her apartment, there’s this gnawing feeling in my gut I can’t shake. If something serious had happened, Maren would’ve texted. Or one of my brothers. So she’s probably fine. Just busy. Stressed about the label stuff maybe. But still.
I pull up outside her building and spot her car in the lot. Okay, she’s home. That’s good. I take the stairs up to her floor and knock instead of using the code she gave me. I don’t want to startle her by just walking in when she’s clearly not expecting me.
She opens the door and I know immediately something’s wrong. Her face is completely shut down, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying.
Fuck.
“Hey,” I say. “You didn’t respond to my texts so I figured I’d just come by. Everything okay?”
She steps back without a word, letting me in but not meeting my eyes. The silence feels wrong. Heavy.
I walk in and turn to face her. “Are you okay? Did something happen with the demos?”
“Did you see the video?” Her voice is flat. Emotionless.
“Yeah, I saw it.” Relief runs through me that it’s not something serious. I run a hand through my hair. “It sucks that it’s out there, but Thomas doesn’t think it’s going to affect things too much. Ferrari’s not happy but they’re not panicking. Since I’ve been on good behavior for months now, they’re willing to?—”
“I don’t give a fuck what Thomas thinks,” she cuts me off sharply, and the fury in her voice catches me completely off guard. “Is that really what you think I’m worried about here? Your fucking contract? Youliedto me, Jack.”
My brain scrambles to catch up. I stare at her, trying to process what she just said. “What?I didn’t lie?—”
“Youtold me you were at that party to grab Sofia,” she says, and she looks fucking pissed. “You made it sound like you barely had time to find her before someone started filming. Like you were in and out in five minutes, heroic rescue mission accomplished. The video doesn’t show any of that. Maybe Sofia wasn’t evenatthat party. You were drinking. Socializing. Standing right next to a table full of cocaine. Making out with someone.”
“Are you serious? I had to bediscreet.” Frustration is already building. “There must have been three hundred people at that party, Lark. I couldn’t just burst in and grab her without causing a massive scene. Do you know how fucking crazy that would look? Some older guy dragging a teenage girl out of a party? I had to blend in, make it look casual, like I belonged there. And it was a mansion. I didn’t even know where she was when I got there.”
“So you decided to drink and hang out?” Her voice is sharp, cutting.
I’m tired from the flight, from the weekend, from contract and PR bullshit, and now I’m being accused of lying about something I didn’t fucking lie about.
“Half a beer, yeah. To blend in.” I’m getting really defensive now, I can hear it in my own voice but I can’t seem to stop it. “What was I supposed to do, announce to everyone that I was there on a rescue mission? Do you know what that crowd is like? If I’d said I was there for Sofia, people would have told me to fuck off, and would have tried to keep her there. And at the timeshe wasn’t exactly jumping to leave the party, so I had to be careful about how I approached it.”
“And the kiss?” Her voice could cut glass. “How did that help you blend in exactly?”
“That was Elise,” I say, running both hands through my hair now because I don’t know what else to do with them. “An ex-hookup from a couple years ago. She threw herself at me and I pulled back. Yeah, maybe I could have done it quicker, but fuck, it was a party and I was single at the time. It took a second to register what was happening. It’s not my fault the video?—”
“I don’t even care about the kiss!” She rubs her hands over her face. “Ugh, I swore I wasn’t going to bring that up because it doesn’t even fucking matter, but I just—” She drops her hands, and there are tears in her eyes now. “I can’t believe you told me some heroic rescue story and you’re still trying to stick to it. And Ibelievedyour version. That’s what kills me!”
