The Arrangement Anthology 2(105)

When I open the door, I half expect to see ashen Amber sitting there with her ghostly pale lips parted in an eternal cry for help, but she's gone. The clothes and contents are exactly as I left them.

Marty follows me around the room like a puppy, yipping questions, "Where've you been? I thought you went to work with Black and didn't bother to say good-bye. Avery," he grabs my left hand and looks down at my bare fingers. "Oh my God, you broke it off with him?" He holds my hand and stares at the bare finger that once held a beautiful engagement ring.

I yank my palm back. "Yeah, and I don't feel like talking about it."

"So you're taking the job with Black?"

"I don't know! Stop asking me questions I can't answer! Stop acting like you're my goddamn brother, because you're not! I don't need you looking out for me. I don't need your sympathy or your ice cream. Just give me some space, okay? Is that too much to ask? The past few weeks have been Hell and I need some room to breathe." It's over the top, but I need him mad at me. Leave already. I can't drag him into this.

He laughs. "You think I'm smothering you? That's hysterical. If you think this is closeness, no wonder why you don't have a ring on your finger anymore."

My gaze narrows to a slit as I step toward him and push the massive man in the chest with my fingertips. This time the anger is real. "Don't you dare judge me! You're the one who said to do whatever it takes. You're the one who said sell pot to freshmen, that hooking was only for a little while, to take the next job with Black, or did you forget, you fucking asshole?" Marty's brow raises and he still has an amused smile on his face. I shove him again. "Stop laughing at me! Do you think this is funny? Do you think I'm enjoying this? Well, I'm not! I don't want to be here anymore and I don't want to see you, so leave me alone." I shove past him and head toward the door.

"Avery, come on. I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did. You enjoy judging people. Meanwhile, you lie as good as the rest of them, or did you forget gay boy?" His lips part like I punched him in the stomach. "Yeah, I thought so. There's nothing more to say here."

I'm down the hall and in the stairwell by the time I hear his voice again. "So who are you banging tonight? Maybe I should just put in another order with your boss!" I give him the finger and don't look back.

As I cross the quad toward Trystan, he nods, acknowledging that he sees me before I veer left. The car is waiting. I slip inside and start to cry. By the time Trystan jumps in—the man has to literally launch himself through the door to escape the grabby hands of his fans—I've wiped most of the sorrow away, but the stains still linger, glistening on my cheeks.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, Trystan sits next to me and holds out his arms. I let him hold me the way I wish that Sean would. I lean against his soft flannel and inhale his scent, comparing it to Sean's. They're nothing alike. Trystan keeps his arm around me until we arrive at Madison Square Garden.

When the car stops, he says, "I have to go and get ready for the show later. I want you to come with me, and stay by me."

"How am I supposed to do that?" If I stand in the darkness of the stage wings while he sings, he can't see me. There's no way I'm going to get closer to him than that.

Trystan grins. "Wait and see."





CHAPTER 13

I'm on stage during the rehearsal and sound check, sitting on a stool. When Trystan disappears backstage to change, he takes me with him. After he strips his shirt, he teases, "No looking."

It makes me smile. I turn around and wander through the dressing room. "So where am I supposed to stand while you rock out and make women orgasm as they watch you sing?"

"Wow, I never thought of that." He sounds intrigued.

"Trystan," I scold.

"I usually think they have a crush, but you made it sound dirty." He presses a button and tells someone they can come in. A crew of make-up and hair people surround him. It must suck to have so many people touching him like that all at once. It's like he's not human. They tug, touch, and brush as if he were a doll. Trystan just sits there silently until they leave. When he turns back to me, I can't help it.

I laugh. "Nice eyeliner. It's darker than mine."

"Bite me."

"It's okay, I know it's part of the show."

"I feel like my whole life is a show. I'm a fucking fraud." I don't know what he means, but the somber look snaps and he's back to his smiley self. "So, now we need your costume."

My brows furrow. "Rock star say what?"

He retrieves a piece of cloth that was laid out on a chair, along with stockings. "Put this on. There are heels in the closet and wigs. Choose one and someone will come and finish your make-up. You'll have more eyeliner than I do, by the way."