Chapter Eleven

Facing the Music

I keep staring at the photo, hoping that I’m hallucinating. The man that I just had the most amazing night with, and morning, isn’t who I thought he was. Hell, I didn’t even know his real name.

“Auggie, how did you find this?” I feel like such a fool. My stomach is in my throat and I feel like I may vomit.

“Last night after dinner, I was curious about Evan’s job with the Sentinels, so I Googled ‘Evan Thomas’ and ‘NJ Sentinels’. Every single page that came up referred to ‘Evan Thomas McGuire’. I clicked on Google images, and the page was filled with pictures of Evan – your Evan.” He shows me another page on his iPad. His Google image search returned hundreds of pictures of the man I believed to be Evan Thomas.

“That’s where I found the TMZ picture. See, it’s right here.” He scrolls down, and there I am hoisted up on Evan’s shoulder romping on the beach. Holy hell. I’m speechless. I can’t find the words.

“Jette, there’s more. A lot more. How much do you want to know?” Auggie and his damned iPad.

“Show me everything.” Evan had every opportunity to come clean last night. It wouldn’t have changed a thing. Not one damn thing. At the very least, he could have told me his real name.

“Okay, let’s start with his Wikipedia page.” Auggie brings up his wiki and everything Evan has told me matches up pretty well. He played for the University of Maryland where he was a quarterback. It says he was drafted by the Houston Texans in 2009. If I understood football more, I might be able to comprehend all the stats listed, but it just looks like Chinese to me. It says he was officially traded to the Sentinels just two weeks ago. According to his wiki, he does have family here. Apparently, he’s also done a few commercials and television appearances.

“Okay, not too bad. What’s next?”

“Well, he’s listed in Sports Illustrated as one of the NFL’s hottest players.” Auggie shows me the article and it talks about someone I don’t even know. The article is short but to the point. Evan has acquired quite a reputation as a ladies man who never stays with one woman very long. I knew it. I should have listened to my gut instinct.

“Auggie, they compare him to a rock star. Do you know why? This site didn’t really say anything specific.” As much as it pains me, I need the facts – all of them.

“Yeah, here. Read these.” Auggie pulls up a few pages for me to skim through. People Magazine has him hitting clubs and bars for a week in Vegas with a famous heiress. Another site has him romantically tied to a television actress. This can’t be real! I feel like I’m reading about a stranger. My head is spinning. I can’t believe how little I really know about this man that I slept with.

US Magazine has pictures of Evan arriving at the VMAs with a pop star on his arm. Holy shit, I think she won an award that night. I have a bunch of her songs on my iPod. Below it is a picture of the two of them on a beach in Mexico. There’s even one of her sitting in the stands at a football game. Holy hell.

USA Today reported last fall that Evan was sexting with the engaged and soon-to-be married star of a reality show. Is someone making this shit up? The more I read, the more adrenaline I can feel coursing through my veins. My head is starting to ache with a throbbing pain. I want to stop, but I know there’s more.

Auggie saved the best for last. Finally, he pulls up a gossip site called ‘The Dirty’. There are pictures of him at a college party with scantily clad girls. The pictures are shocking – the truth is right there, staring me in the face. Evan is in a hot tub with a bunch of girls, all of which have their hands all over him. He’s smiling for the camera, showing those dimples that I know so well. As I swipe down, more pictures appear. There are pictures of him lying shirtless on a table so the party-goers can drink shots off his stomach. Others show him holding a beer funnel helping to get the girls drunk. According to the article, all of the girls in the picture are over 18, but not all of them are 21, legal drinking age.

It’s no wonder Evan didn’t want me to ask too many questions. Had I known what I know now, it would have changed things. Dramatically. I feel so stupid. Gullible. Rage is starting to fill me and my heart rate has quadrupled.

I pass the iPad back to Auggie. “Please take this away. I’m done. I’m so done.” I feel like my world is collapsing around me. My hands are shaking and I have a sudden need to move. Somewhere. Anywhere. I cannot sit still. I need to go for a run. I need to clear my mind.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?” Auggie is rubbing my arm sympathetically. Even Maddy senses something is off and she’s sitting at my feet.

“Nothing. It’s over. I’m going for a run.” I turn and head for my room to get changed. One look at myself in the mirror, and I’m greeted by Evan. I’m still wearing his UMD sweatshirt. I pull it over my head, and as I do, I inhale his scent. I hold it up to my nose and strong, painful emotions wash over me. I can still taste him on my tongue. I can still feel his touch on my skin. His shampoo is in my hair. He’s all over me. This will not break me. I won’t let it.

I have to get out of here. I have to move. Staying still will do no good. I know what has to be done. There really is no choice here. He’s not who I thought he was. He lied and misled me. I deserve better.

I drive out to the reservoir about a mile and a half away to go for a run. It’s a popular location for walking and running at all times of the day. There are shady spots and benches where people can sit and relax.

There is certainly a lot to think about. It’s probably best to have some alone time to think, process, and rationalize, so I lock my phone in the car and head out for a nice long jog.

I feel like I was lied to, but was I? Really? He told me his name is Evan Thomas. True. He just never told me his last name. Is an omission the same as a lie? I’ll come back to that one.

His job. He told me he works with the Sentinels – true. He said he would start training with the team in a few months – true again. Did he ever come out and tell me what his job was? Not exactly. If I remember correctly, he said he works with the offensive team. I don’t have to know much about football to know that the quarterback does indeed work on the offensive team. He let me jump to my own conclusions there.

Were there other clues that I missed? I have to admit to myself, there were. The girls at the ice cream store recognized him. Maybe they saw one of his commercials or television appearances. If he was on the People Magazine website, he was probably in their printed magazine, too. Then there’s the money. For someone so young, he spends a lot of money. That big beautiful home on the ocean, his Porsche, renting us a yacht. How could I be so naïve? Oh – he said he ‘doesn’t go to public gyms’. Of course not, how could he?

My next thought is about that strange conversation with Adam. So much has happened since that awkward meeting, and I struggle to recall exactly what was said. I believe he said that Evan’s had a rough year and he was trying to protect his friend. From everything I’ve read, it sounds like Evan had the type of year that young men dream of! Yeah, right. Poor Evan. All those beautiful women and Hollywood starlets hanging on his every word. What a tragedy. Unfucking believable.

Thoughts come and go at random. I find myself trying to understand why Evan would keep so many secrets from me. On one hand, he didn’t tell me about his past sexual experiences, but then again, I didn’t tell him about mine, either. If I knew he was a pseudo-celebrity and I had his full name, what would I have done? I would have told Auggie and he would have Googled it faster than the blink of an eye. I guess Evan knows that. But how long would he have kept up this charade? I’m sure that if given the chance, Derek and Marcus would recognize him immediately. Shit. Is that why he didn’t want to go to Atlantic City with Emmy and Grant? Must be.

After all that, what would he ever want with me? He can literally have anyone in the entire world. Hell, he nearly has!

So where does that leave me? I knew he had a shady past, he told me so himself. He also told me he wasn’t ready to divulge the details yet. He knew the truth would end us. He was right.

When I get home, I go straight to the bathroom and start running a bath. While I wait for the tub to fill, I look through the Google images of Evan again. I find one of the more disturbing photos, the one of him in the hot tub full of young girls in bikinis with their hands all over him. I send Evan a text and I attach the photo.

Whatever game you were playing is over. We’re over. I hope you got what you wanted.

I hit ‘send’ and my hand is trembling. I immediately turn it on silent. I don’t want to hear from him. I’m holding it together, but I know if I hear his voice, I’m going to lose it.

The bath is nearly ready, so I put my iPod on. I crank up all my P!nk and Kelly Clarkson songs. Time for girl-power songs. I sing along and with each song that passes, my resolve strengthens.

There’s a brief moment of silence on the iPod as the songs change, and I swear I hear shouting in the house. My eyes dart to the bathroom door and it’s locked. Thank God. I know exactly what the shouting is about. I wonder how long before –

“Juliette, open the door. Talk to me. Let me explain. Please.” It’s Evan. I guess he got my text.

Kelly Clarkson is singing about “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” and I sing right along with her, giving it all I’ve got. I’m certain he can hear me and I hope he gets my not-so-subtle message.

“Sweetheart, please open the door. Let me in.” He sounds desperate. Good.

The water is starting to get cold. It’s time to get out of the tub. Let’s see who the better actor is. Showtime. I grab an elastic and put my wet hair in a messy bun. I wrap myself in a towel, turn off the music, grab my clothes, and prepare to face Evan.

There’s a knock on the door. “Juliette, sweetie, please. Don’t do this.”

I unceremoniously open the door, step out, and walk over to Auggie, completely ignoring Evan. “Auggie, please show our guest out. I have absolutely nothing to say to this liar and egocentric narcissist.” Marching around in just a towel, I try my best to maintain my pride. I’ve given him too much already; he can’t have that, too.

I walk purposefully and directly to my room, but it’s too late. Evan darts in with me and shuts the door. “Now you have to talk to me,” he announces as he stands as a watchman in front of the door.

He is not going to get what he wants. I won’t let him. I walk over to my dresser and find clean panties and a bra. I unabashedly drop the towel and begin to get dressed. I will not acknowledge him. I locate a pair of shorts and my Wilkinson’s t-shirt.

Evan walks over to me and tries to put his arms around me. “Get the fuck off me,” I snarl. “I know this may be something new for you, so I’ll try to speak slowly. I don’t want you. I want you to leave. Now.”

He takes a step back and looks at me, shell-shocked. “You’re mad and upset. I get it. But this isn’t over. I’ll give you some time and some space, but I’m not going to let you do this to us.” He turns and walks to the door, opens it, and steps out. Before closing the door, he turns to say one final thing. “I thought you were a fighter. I thought you would fight for us. I’ll keep fighting until you’re ready.” He shuts the door and walks away. A few minutes later, I hear his car leave.

That’s when the tears start, and once they do, they don’t stop. Eventually, when I have no tears left to shed, Auggie cautiously raps on the door. “Can I come in Jepetto?”

When I don’t answer, he takes that for a yes, and he sits on the floor beside me. He wraps his arms around me and rocks me until I calm. With a kiss on the forehead, he takes me by the hand, helps me to my feet, and simply states, “Let’s get you ready for work.”

I arrive at work a few minutes early. Grabbing some clean bar towels, I head back to the patio where Derek and Emmy are already setting up for the night. Emmy takes one look at me and races over, “Holy shit, Jette. What the hell happened? You look like crap.”

“Evan and I broke up today. It’s over. Oh, and I slept with him last night. And this morning.” I try not to look at her while I’m talking; it’s easier if I talk to the liquor bottles. I feel a sudden need to make certain that all the labels are facing the same direction.

“Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?” Emmy is rubbing my back.

“Not now. Soon, but not yet.” Derek is just standing back, watching without interfering. The bar is small enough that I know he heard every word. “Derek, can I ask you another favor?”

“Sure, Jette. Name it.” He’s cleaning the glasses and watching me cautiously.

“Remember when I told you we should cool it behind the bar?”

A smile slowly spreads across his face. “I do. Why?”

“Change in plans. You’re going to help me shake this funky mood I’m in. You up for the challenge?”

“I’ll do my best.” For the first time in hours, I smile.

Slowly, the bar begins to fill and I’m grateful for it. One of the nice things about working in a nightclub is the music. There aren’t many love songs or ballads that play. Tonight’s music selection is almost entirely high-energy dance mixes, techno, and hip-hop.

It’s Easter weekend, and all the college kids have come home for the holiday. Even though it’s a Thursday, the bar is completely packed by ten. The dance we perform behind the bar tonight is one of a hurried Salsa, each of us moving gracefully around the other. Occasionally, Derek will grab me by the hips for a little flirtatious bumping and grinding. Even Emmy joins the fun tonight.

A group of young men saunter over to the bar and I give them the universal sign to acknowledge their presence, the chin nod. One of the guys begins to get impatient and whistles at me to get my attention. Cardinal rule number one is never whistle at the bartender. The only thing worse may be the snapping of the fingers. I finish serving a few young girls that just got off the dance floor and I hurriedly make my way to the pack of young men to get them their drinks and hopefully away from my bar. “What can I get for you gentlemen tonight?” I start lining up a few bar napkins while I wait for the order.

“Gimme four bottles of Yuengling.” One of them slaps a ten on the bar.

I return with the beers. “That’ll be $14, please.”

“How about you give me one for free, seeing as how you made me wait so long. The service here really sucks tonight.” He’s leering at me and I’m feeling very uncomfortable.

“Sorry, we’re not allowed to give away the bar. House rules. I can put one back in the cooler if you only want three. Your call.” I can feel eyes watching me from all points around the bar.

He slams another five on the bar and emphatically adds, “Bitch,” before grabbing his beers.

I ignore the snide comment and swipe the cash off the bar when I feel a chill down my spine. “You owe the lady here an apology.” I know that voice. Shit.

The asshat turns and walks right into the brick wall that is Evan. One look at the intimidating frame of this man, and asshat loses his tough guy attitude immediately. He turns to me and mumbles, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Apparently pleased with his small victory, Evan steps to the side to allow the jerk to walk away. He stops dead in his tracks as recognition ignites in his masculine brain. “Hey, Evan McGuire. Big Mac! Welcome to Jersey, man.”

Momentarily, I am frozen in place. Evan is standing before me in his dark wash jeans that hang low on his hips and a V-neck t-shirt that hugs his biceps, biceps that beg to be caressed. It appears he hasn’t shaved in over a day, and all I can think about is feeling that scruff all over my bare skin. And oh, God, does he smell good. My mind has to tell my body that he’s not mine to desire any more. Fantasy time is over and reality has arrived kicking and screaming.

Work is supposed to be my safe place. Evan’s never been here before, so there are no reminders of him to torture me. It becomes urgently important for me to get him to leave, immediately.

“I’d appreciate it if you would leave. I work here, Evan. Do you want to get me fired?” There are butterflies in my stomach as I try my best to maintain an air of aloofness.

Derek senses my discomfort and comes right over to rescue me if necessary. “Jette, is everything okay here?”

Evan offers his hand to Derek and introduces himself. “Evan McGuire, Juliette’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you, Darren is it?”

“Derek, actually.” Derek extends his hand. “Wait, did you say Evan McGuire? The Evan McGuire?” He looks at me in confusion.

“Ex-boyfriend, actually,” I correct Evan, “and he was just leaving.”

Ignoring my remark entirely, Evan continues talking to Derek. “Right, Derek, sorry. Hey, I owe you a drink to thank you for taking such good care of my Juliette a couple of nights ago. It’s good to know she’s got friends watching out for her when I’m not around.”

Once again, I find myself without the power of speech, so I resort to shooting Evan a fierce look of warning.

“Yeah. Name the day. Hey, think you could get me a couple of tickets to a home game?” Great, now Derek is under his spell, too. The two men continue talking about sports and I just walk away. There are customers waiting to be served.

The crowd at the bar thins out a little, and Emmy finally notices the bromance brewing on the other side of the bar. “Jette, who’s that guy Derek is talking to? He’s hot. And he looks so familiar.”

“Nobody, just my ex-boyfriend who won’t accept the fact that I broke up with him.” I can feel Evan’s burning gaze directed at me as I try to shake the queasy feeling ratcheting through my system.

“Jette, I know who that is. It’s Evan freakin’ McGuire, isn’t it? Do you mean to tell me that you just had hot, sweaty, toe curling sex with Evan McGuire, then promptly broke up with him?”

“Emmy, I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” She sets her hands on her hips and plants her feet in front of me. I’m going to have to give her something. “Do you have any idea how many girls he’s slept with? They have pictures of him all over the internet with rich and famous women.”

“Yeah, so what? It doesn’t look like he wants any of them at the moment. By the way he keeps looking over here at you, I’d say he’s crazy about you. You lucky bitch!” She swats me on the butt with her bar rag and busies herself serving some customers.

Derek returns to help out at the bar. “Did he leave?” I ask.

“No, he’s hanging out with his manager for a while. He’s very protective of you, Jette. He wants to make sure you get home safely.” Wait, he’s here with his manager? I quickly scan the room and I locate them in the back of the patio. He’s here with Adam. Well, that’s another puzzle piece that I should have put together sooner.

Swarming around like moths to a flame is a horde of flirty girls, all trying to get Evan to notice them. I see camera phones flashing and it makes my blood boil.

The bar starts to get crowded again, and I return to focus on making drinks. I pour a dozen or so beers on tap, pop the cap off a dozen more bottles of beer, and make a round of Sex on the Beach shooters. I try to focus on my job, but it’s nearly impossible.

I look over to Evan and I see one overly ambitious girl trying to engage him in conversation. She places her hand on his shoulder and leans in closely to his ear. My reaction is immediate. I can feel the blood rushing to my ears and the muscles in my stomach tighten. The feeling is mildly assuaged when Evan removes her hand from his shoulder and abruptly moves away from her. I notice Adam intervene while Evan looks over to me. I am overcome with a bevy of emotions.

Quite a few of the girls hovering around him are extremely pretty. From everything I’ve read and seen, they are the exact type of girl he would typically hook up with. But tonight, he doesn’t even seem to see them.

As I continue to fill drink orders, my mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Evan. Why does this have to be so damned difficult?

My next customer is a young man around my age, and he looks vaguely familiar. “Hi, what can I get you tonight?”

“Jette, is that you? Juliette Fletcher?” He knows me, but I can’t place him.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, but I don’t,” recognition kicks in and I identify the man standing before me. “Oh, my God, Ty? Is that you? I hardly recognize you.” Ty lived next door to me until we were about twelve or thirteen. He moved away to Florida and I never heard from him again.

“Wow, it’s great to see you. Last I heard, you moved to Colorado. Did you move back home again?” he asks.

“I did. I’ve been here for almost a month now. How about you?” God, it’s great to see him. We were very close growing up. He was like a brother to me. I always suspected he felt differently, but at such a young age, it was never an issue.

“No, I’m just here for Easter. I’ll be heading back to Pensacola on Monday. You should stop over and see Mom. I know she’d love to see you.” I didn’t realize his mother was back in town. I really would like to see them both.

Ty has aged well over the past ten years. His jet black hair is short cropped, and he’s got the same five o’clock shadow as Evan. Tattoos fill one arm and peek through the neck of his shirt. He looks very badass. I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw him riding a motorcycle home later tonight.

We exchange phone numbers and I lean across the bar to give him a kiss on the cheek before I grab him a Heineken. I return with Ty’s beer, and for a moment, I’m happy again. The moment is short lived when I glance over and see Evan glaring at the both of us. Ty sees my obvious angst and turns to see what’s gotten my attention.

“Who’s that? He’s staring at you like he owns you. Wait, is that Evan McGuire?” Jesus H. Christ, am I the only person on Earth who doesn’t know who Evan Thomas McGuire is?

“Yes, sorry about that. He’s a little possessive. Just ignore him, please.” I really would like Ty to hang around so we can do a little more catching up.

“Listen, I’m going to go find my girlfriend. She probably thinks I got lost. Besides, I’d like to keep my teeth right where they are. McGuire could seriously kick my ass. Good luck with that! Call me.”

The rest of the night is uneventful. Derek holds back from flirting with me. He is definitely intimidated by Evan. The DJ announces last call and the bar begins to empty out. Among the last to leave are Evan and Adam.

Evan and Adam are walking directly towards me. I try to ignore them, but Emmy has other plans. She walks over and takes the bar towel from my hand. “Go say good night. Act like an adult, will you, please?” The last thing I want to be is childish, so I concede.

I walk over to Adam and offer him a friendly hug good night. Evan watches and I can see a hopeful gleam in his eye. He knows he’s wearing me down.

He leans over and breathes in my ear. I can feel my skin prickle from the sensation. “Where are you parked, Juliette?”

“I didn’t drive. Auggie dropped me off. I was too upset to drive. Emmy is taking me home.” Shit, I was so preoccupied all night, I never asked her to drive me home. I’m sure she will.

“I’ll never be able to adequately tell you how sorry I am about that. It’s not how I wanted you to find out.” Evan walks away and before I can process what’s happening, he’s talking to Emmy. She nods and smiles at him. The next thing I see is both of them taking out their cell phones. Seriously? I walk over to put an immediate end to this. Evan and I broke up.

“Emmy, it was nice meeting you. Please call me when she gets home safely.” They shake hands and Evan walks out the door.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 620