Never Ending Page 9

  “I'm a poison to everyone around me...” Danny sighed.

  “I won't let you think like that!”

  “Would that you could stop me!” he cried. “I love you, Neve. I have always loved you. I want to be with you. When I am with you, I can fool myself into thinking I'm worth loving...”

  “I love you,” I said. “You're more than worth loving.”

  “I'm not worthy of you.”

  “I wish you'd stop talking like that, Danny,” I said. “You know how it worries me.”

  He took me in his arms, kissing me passionately. “I know,” he said. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so self-pitying. It's just...this has really...this...isn't easy for me, Neve.”

  “I know,” I murmured into his forehead. “I know.”

  But did I know – really? Could I ever really understand the depths of Danny Blue? Every time I thought I had a handle on him, on us, he showed me something deeper, another side of himself, another layer I did not know existed.

  “If I could,” Danny said. “I'd spend the rest of my life in this cottage with you, making love to you every morning and evening.”

  “You can.”

  “I want to be worthy of you, Neve. And I'll do whatever it takes to get there. But right now, I need to fly to London – as soon as possible. I need to go straight to LAX and get on the first plane out of there. Can you hold down the fort for me, my darling?”

  “Of course I can. But...” I let myself waver.

  “But what, darling?”

  “You'll call me, right?”

  “Every day. Every morning and evening. Every hour of every day – if I could.”

  “And you'll let me know...what's happening?”

  “I'll let you know,” Danny promised. “It...” he gulped. “It won't be long. Whatever happens. Either he'll be out of the danger zone, or...”

  “Or...”

  But neither of us wanted to say it.

  “Goodbye, my love.” He kissed me one last time, fully and deeply. Then he dressed and went to the door.

  “Promise you'll wait for me,” he said.

  “I promise,” I whispered.

  And with that, he went.

  And with that, I finally let myself burst into tears.

  Chapter 14

  The first day without Danny Blue was the hardest. I felt empty – utterly devoid of strength. I lay in bed until noon, imagining him, imagining where he was at that particular moment, at that particular time, trying to picture him. I saw him in my mind's eye, sitting on the plane, choking back tears, trying to forget his pain. I saw him getting off the plane at Heathrow, getting into a car, driving to his father's side. I ached to be there with him. How I wanted to be there to comfort him, to keep him safe! I was his girlfriend, I thought; it was my job to take away all his pain, all his worries, to make everything better for him. But this was something I could not fix, could not change. This was a struggle I did not know how to help him bear.

  Every time I thought I'd gotten through to Danny Blue, I found another layer of complications. His family life, his suffering, the problems of his childhood, the tragedies of his adolescence, was more than I knew how to handle. And now here he was, facing the possible death of his father, facing the worst thing that could happen to him, and I didn't know how to help him through it. I bit my lip, angry at myself, pulling the covers over my head.

  He's lived so much...you'll never understand. I remembered what Danny said about Roni, how – despite everything, he felt sorry for her, because she'd had to put up with his father. Did he still feel that way now? Would she, too, be there at the hospital, at his father's side? Would he feel sorry for her, then?

  I tried not to think about it. Come on, Neve, I told myself. We have work to do. Jim would have to temporarily take over some of Danny's singing duties; I would have to do twice as many solo songs. The romantic duets would have to be put on hold for now – Jim and I couldn't convincingly sing them to one another, given the age difference. So we'd have to work on other kinds of music. Songs about partying all night long. Songs about late nights with friends. Songs about our love of songs. High-octane, adrenaline-pumping music that made the crowds go wild. But I could hardly feel the energy when I performed. Inside, my heart was singing sad, slow ballads.

  For the first time, I felt like I was faking it. I was trying to sing about music, about joy, about guitars and rock-and-roll. But inside, I was grieving.

  Two days later, I got my first phone call from Danny.

  “Darling,” he began, his voice so smooth and soft it made me shiver. “I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to ring you. I wanted to ring you when I got in, but the time difference...and the hospital doesn't allow phones inside...”

  “It's okay.” Just hearing his voice was enough. “How's your dad?”

  Danny sighed heavily. “No change,” he said. “I'm afraid there's no news at all. The doctors say there's a chance he’ll survive this, but...there's no way of telling. Not yet. Fifty-fifty, they say.” He laughed bitterly. “You'd think I'd think the glass is half full, but...not knowing is almost worse. My stomach's in knots. It's awful...”

  “I'm so sorry, Danny,” I hardly knew what to say.

  “I'll let you know the second there's news, Neve; I promise...” He swallowed and I could tell, even over the phone, that he was trying to hold back his tears. “I miss you so much, Neve. I think about you all the time. I've been thinking about you since the second I got on that plane. Imagining being with you, holding you, being near you. Making love to you. It's only been two days and already I miss that most of all.”

  “I miss it too, Danny,” I whispered, wanting so badly to take him into my arms that my whole body ached with the palpable force of his absence.

  “How's the band? Shows going okay?”

  I forced myself to sound brighter than I felt. “Yes, more than okay. We're doing great. Jim's got a killer voice. And I'm drinking lots of honey, you know, to keep my voice strong. So we're taking over from you. Doing a lot more of my numbers. Saving yours for when you come back.”

  “Not long now,” Danny said. “I promise – it won't be long.” He sighed. “Listen, the orderly is coming – they want me back in the doctor's office. I've got to turn this off...” He began to speak more quickly. “But listen, Neve, I just want you to know how much I love you, okay? And how proud I am of you. You're the most amazing woman I've ever known. And you've come such a long way. I couldn't be prouder of you if I tried. Now...I need to...”

  “Danny!” I cried. There was so much I wanted to say to him, so many words I wanted to whisper to him, so much I wanted to share...

  But the line went dead. A single click, and then he was gone.

  I told myself I'd hear from him the next day. But the next day came and went, and the day after that, and to my surprise I had no sign of Danny Blue. No phone calls, no emails, no nothing. I told myself it didn't mean anything, that Danny was busy, that there was no news about his father. I told myself that I should continue as before, trying to forget about the fact that the man I loved was a few thousand miles away, going through one of the worst tragedies in his life. I focused on the band, on the music, on our performances. But deep down in the pit of my stomach I began to feel worry. If I couldn't help Danny through this tragedy, if I couldn't work with him through this difficult time, if he didn't want me there – what good was I as a girlfriend? If I was good for the good times, for sex and dates and drinks and music, what good was it if I wasn't also able to be there for the bad?

  I don't deserve you, Danny had said. But right now, here in LA, I felt like I didn't deserve him.

  At last, my emotions got the better of me. I couldn't deal, I told myself, with another day away from him. And if he wasn't going to telephone me to tell me what was happening, I'd have to do him one better. The band had a weekend off from performances, and I impulse-booked a trip to London. It would only be a twenty-four hour stint in the city, bookended by twelve hours of
travel on either side, but it was worth it. I needed to see Danny, to comfort him, to hold him once again.

  I didn't tell Danny I'd booked. It would be a surprise, I told myself, imagining the look on his face when he saw me, the wonderful smile I knew and loved so well. How happy he would be to see such proof of my devotion, of my love for him! I could help him, then, I knew I could! He'd let me in, at last, and at last I could figure out a way to comfort him in the midst of his sadness.

  I packed my bag. I cleaned my apartment – I'd still kept it, despite having moved in with Danny, since the lease was going to be up in another month anyway. I checked my email to get my booking reservation number.

  Ping! Another email appeared in my inbox. My heart leapt as I saw the name. Blues Records. Why was Danny using his work account?

  “Neve – you need to see this. The password is LION” That was all it said, along with a very complicated URL. I clicked on it, confused, entering the password when it prompted me to do so. Was this a new demo track? Had Danny been writing new songs?

  And then my mouth fell open. On screen before me was a video, a video of two people – two of the most beautiful people I'd ever seen – in the middle of passionate, no-holds-barred sex.

  For a second I thought this was some kind of tease – was Danny trying to suggest we try something new? Or turn me on?

  Then I saw it. Her face. Veronica Taylor, beautiful and naked, writhing with passion and pleasure, her beautiful body contorting in all sorts of positions.

  And the man she was having sex with was familiar, too. Too familiar, I realized with a lurch, as bile rose in my throat. The same chiseled features. The same burning eyes. The same lion tattoo that I had kissed so often.

  Veronica Taylor was having sex with Danny Blue.

  At first, all I could feel was shock. Numbness. A conviction that this must be a mistake, somehow – or a fake, somehow – that she'd doctored Danny's face onto someone else's body. But as I watched, feeling myself grow ever more nauseous, I realized with a sickening thud that this was no trick. It was Danny and Veronica, together. In the flesh. As one flesh.

  My hands shook as I picked up the phone. There has to be some explanation. Surely there has to be some explanation. He's not having an affair with her. He can't be. He promised me.

  The phone rang. No answer.

  No answer.

  No answer.

  He wasn't picking up – he'd been avoiding me-- horrible thoughts flowed into my brain unbidden. I feel sorry for her, Neve. You don't deserve me. You don't know how horrible I am. Had he been with her the whole time? Is that why she hated me so much – I was the other woman....not a rival to a man who never loved her but the mistress of a man already committed...is that why he felt so sorry for her? Because he'd loved her this whole time?

  You're a fool, Neve. A stupid fool.

  I slammed down my computer screen. I put my fingers in my ears. I closed my eyes. And still I saw them, Danny and Roni together, the images burned into my brain, their passion, their furious thrusting...

  He told you he loved you. But men lie, Neve. You know what he really wanted...

  And I had given it to him, along with my heart.

  Chapter 15

  I had never known true devastation before. I knew it now; I couldn't stop crying. I cried for what seemed like days, lying on the floor, unable even to get up and get into bed. The first few hours were the worst – grief giving way to shock and numbness, a numbness in which I almost felt functional, before I was surprised by the agony once again. I tried Danny a few more times, but he didn't pick up. Not that it should have surprised me, I thought. He was probably with Roni now – this very second – making love to her in some sordid London hotel room. What a fool I had been to dream of thinking otherwise?

  I was a wreck. I couldn't make it to rehearsal. I couldn't even make it out of bed. I couldn't bring myself to answer the calls that were coming in fast from Luc, hour upon hour, trying to figure out where the hell I was. How could I bring myself to tell them? How could I bring myself to not tell them? What was going to happen to the band now? I couldn't let my personal life get in the way of the band, break us up even further – that's what I'd always said. But how could I look Danny in the eye again, knowing what I knew? And I couldn't tell the guys, either. They'd try to defend me, and end up hurting Danny in the process, and as much as I wouldn't have minded if Luc and Kyle beat the life out of Danny, I knew the band would never recover from it. This heartbreak I had to keep to myself.

  I wore the same pajamas for four days. I ate pint after pint of ice cream. I ordered pizzas and left the boxes stacked high atop the bed. I couldn't even bring myself to shower.

  I knew I was missing rehearsal, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

  I heard a knock at the door on what must have been the fifth day of my mourning, but I couldn't be sure. Time had ceased to matter to me.

  “Finally, pizza...” I muttered, fishing into my desk drawer for a few singles with which to tip. I opened the door.

  “Neve?” Luc stood in my doorway.

  I'd never been more relieved to see somebody. His eyes were puppy-dog brown and wide, so wide, with worry. He held a casserole dish in his hands.

  “My mom made this,” he said. “We were worried you were really sick or something...nobody's heard from you...have you been getting our calls?” He sniffed the air. “What died in here?”

  “Pizza...” I croaked.

  “Pizza? What are you...”

  He poked his head into the apartment. “What happened, Neve?”

  I swallowed, trying to will myself not to cry. “Danny and I, we...we...”

  “You what, Neve?”

  “We're done.” The tears began to flow freely.

  A strange look spread across his face. A look of pity, of sadness, and yet mixed in it was a strange joy. What a fool I was, I thought bitterly – to have loved someone as mad, as bad, as dangerous to know as Danny, to have given myself so utterly to someone who could never deserve or truly return my love...

  “Neve...I'm so sorry...” He took me in his arms, holding me close, rubbing my back, pressing against me. He kissed my forehead, stroked my hair. “Neve – I'm worried...”

  I couldn't stop crying. The sobs came out of me, unbidden, racking my whole body. I couldn't breathe; I choked on my own tears. I shuddered; I sobbed; I couldn't speak.

  “Neve, this place – it smells like death. There's rotting food everywhere. You haven't showed in days. You need to take care of yourself, Neve!”

  I didn't want to take care of myself. I didn't want to think. All I wanted was oblivion.

  He went into my bathroom and turned on the tap. “You take a bath, okay? I'll be out here. When you need me.”

  I was numb. I wasn't thinking straight. All I wanted to do was let the water take me over, let myself drown in it, let myself submerge myself completely, get rid of the pain by any means necessary. I had been a fool – such a fool – and now I could not bear my own anger, my own rage, the pain that was tearing me inside out.

  “What did he do to you, Neve?” Luc had tears in his eyes. “You need to tell me, Neve. You need to let me in.”

  I shook my head. How could I explain what had happened – how could I explain what a fool I had been? This was a secret I'd have to carry alone. This was a pain I would have to bear alone.

  I got up and walked to the bathroom. I stripped off my clothes – methodically, at first – hardly caring that I'd left the door open, that Luc was standing in the living room. I wanted to claw off my clothes, claw off my very skin, claw off everything that made me human and mortal and susceptible to this kind of pain. I began to tear at my clothing, ripping my sweatshirt apart, ripping my skin, drawing blood, until I was completely naked, exposed, and yet I did not care...

  “Neve! Neve, what are you doing? Stop!” Luc rushed towards me, a look of pure agony in his eyes. “Neve...you're hurting yourself.”

  And then I was naked,
naked and in his arms, and he was holding me back, back from myself; he was cleaning up the blood with a towel; he was picking me up and putting me in the bath. The hot water scalded my skin and I cried out, and he kept on scrubbing, trying to to clean away the wounds that no water could wash away...

  “Neve, please, stop. Let me in – let me help you – I don't know how to help you.” His tears mingled with my own. He was shaking, too, shaking so hard I couldn't believe it, as if he too were suffering with me.

  And then he kissed me. It was a desperate kiss, the kiss of a drowning man, trying to breathe – or else to give breath.

  And then he sprang back, a look of horror on his face.

  “I'm so sorry, Neve,” he whispered. “I'm so sorry...”

  But by now I was past caring. All I wanted to do was to feel, to forget, to make myself forget, to distract myself from the pain, to hurt Danny, to hurt myself, to be loved, a thousand desires mixing and mingling in a single desperate act.

  I pulled him into the bathtub with me, fully-clothed, and I began kissing him.

  He kissed me back – his hands underneath the water, touching me, touching every part of me, my neck, my skin, my breasts until he was moaning and I was moaning too as I kissed him back, trying to force myself to feel, pressing my breasts against his hands, arching my back and pulling his head towards me as he took me into his mouth.

  It was the only thing that could make me forget. I wanted to blot out Danny, to scrub him off my skin, to make it as if he’d never existed.

  I tore off his wet T-shirt and began to unbutton his jeans, peeling them from his legs, tearing everything off him until he was naked, until his desire was clear.

  I led him to the bed like one possessed, my hair dripping all over the floor, caring only about the moment of consummation, caring only about my desires.

  We kept on kissing, and I let him explore my body with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, letting him overwhelm me with the force of his desires. I felt my muscles shudder and contract with pleasure, a pleasure that meant only darkness that asked only for forgetting.