I’ve been looking for what it buried ever since.
Did I bury myself and not notice?
That’s all I have tonight.Maybe tomorrow I’ll find the eulogy for everything I lost.
ChapterForty-Six
Kit
May 15th, 1997
“So, my brother signed with a new agent,” Cleo snaps the second I step into the shop.
That gives me pause because didn’t we—Roderick and I—talk about him not doing anything stupid for at least the next one hundred years?
We agreed.He won’t do anything until he can breathe without craving the next fix or fighting to stay inside his head.Not sure if he’s reached out to Barret or Julian ...I did give him the number for Chris Decker, who might be able to help him.
“He did?”I sigh, almost turning around and heading toward ...well, where do I find him?Bernice has his number, but I’m not sure if she has his address.Probably because even though she thinks my idea is borderline terrible, she still hopes I’ll change my mind and sign him as a client.
There’s a fat chance that I would do anything like that.First of all, he’s not ready, and second—I don’t want to see him ever again.Like never.
But ...I could just leave him a very strongly worded message on his answering machine with a very clear: ‘Fuck you, we had a deal.If you end up dead in an alley, don’t blame me.’
No, I don’t think that’s something I should tell a recovering addict.Honestly, I don’t know what would be appropriate.Should I be reading a book to help me navigate this whole situation?It’s probably a good idea, since my father also has an addiction problem.I should look into that too.What is the one thing all these people have in common?Alcohol and drug abuse.Isn’t that strange?
I’m not saying my father hooked them on these substances, but maybe my father is failing them in some way.I wouldn’t know, and this is me circling back to the whole: Should I be educating myself?The answer is ...I guess probably.
When I’m about to ask Cleo if she’s reading something to help her brother, she asks first, “How could you sign him when you know?—”
“Wait, me?”I cut in, eyes narrowing.“Why would you think I did that?”
She folds her arms defiantly.“He said he was working with D&D.”
I sigh with relief because maybe she misunderstood him—or he didn’t explain well.Either way, this isn’t as bad as I thought.
“Oh, we are working to get his sound back,” I confirm, but then regret it because I’m not sure if he’s done anything.Still, since it seems like I’m involved in this issue, I have to reassure her that he’s totally fine.You know, girl code and all that shit.“Do you know he lost it?”
“His sound?”Cleo’s eyebrows pinch together.“Kit, that’s not something you just lose.”
Except it is.
She may be the daughter of a rockstar, but she doesn’t play.Not like her brothers.Not like me.Clara Vanderpool wanted her only daughter to become an actress—or a model.It didn’t work, but that’s a problem for another therapist.
The point is that Cleo doesn’t understand the itch that crawls beneath your skin when the music stops, when every note feels like static, memory, and hurt.
“You can’t just lose that, Kit.And even if he could, do you really think you should be the one to fix him?After everything you two have been through?”
I stiffen.That one lands like a slap.
My jaw tightens as I glare at her.“It’s not like that.I’m not trying to fix him.”
“Then explain it.”
She paces behind the register in those tight, angry circles that seem like they could ignite fire against the wood floors.Her fists are clenched, and her mouth is pulled tight in a shape that doesn’t belong to her.Cleo Wilder is fury wrapped in heartbreak, and she’s not going to let this go because, according to her, I'm making a mistake that I can't take back.
I didn’t.This is the part where I could tell her that her brother and I had a very intense encounter that broke me a little.But see, that’s the problem with her being related to the man who hurt me.All we can say about my relationship is it was crappy and didn’t end well.
I drag a breath through my teeth—slow, bitter, and full of everything I can’t say.
