For fuck’s sake!
“It’s not all good!” I shout at her, which I shouldn’t do. And that makes me feel briefly bad before I remind her, “We broke up!” And I really think I’m saying that more for August’s sake than for hers, because I can feel him slipping away from me. God, this was such a bad idea. But he needs to know, “Jon and I are through. I don’t have any feelings for him anymore. I’m totally single and I’m totally available, and I’m ready to move on. And if there was someone here who wanted to do that, I wouldn’t be going back there with Jon, because I don’t care about him anymore. I’m just here for the free drinks!”
Shashi’s perfectly drawn eyebrows lower. “That was highly specific.”
Was it?
Shit. Shit, fuck, shit!
But Amber’s not giving up, black fingernails wrapped around my wrists, dragging me as hard as she can. “This is an emergency. You can’t let him do this.”
“Why’d you tell him I’m here?”
“I couldn’t lie to him!”
“You didn’t have to say anything at all! Amber, I don’t want to see him. I’m done.”
Her hands land on my chest, smoothing over my shirt like it’s so many feathers she’s ruffled. “I know. I know! But look at this crowd. You can’t let him throw a London show just because you’re mad at him.”
“Lethim?” A disbelieving laugh gurgles up out of me. “I’m not ‘mad’ at him. I’m just finished with him. He’s not my responsibility anymore. I don’t want his moods. And I don’t want his midnight calls. And I don’t want to be the reason he goes on stage or not. This is bullshit. And you can have all his bullshit now, and all this guilt. Honestly, I don’t even care anymore. I just want him to give my keys back so I can be done with him.”
“August!” The sound’s loud and slurred and just about sends me into a complete spiral. Amber jumps back by Shashi’s side, then in a swish of tassels and scarves and hair, there’s Jon.
He doesn’t even put down the half-drunk bottle of whiskey, only throws himself on my chest, then slips down to his knees, pushing his forehead against my pelvis, and on a breath of pure alcohol that I can smell all the way up here, declares, “I love you, August. I love you, baby. Don’t leave me. I can’t go on without you.”
“Jon. Jesus fuck, get off me!”
“No.” He scrunches his head back and forth, and that disgusted raise of August’s top lip is making this ten thousand times more mortifying than it would ordinarily be, which is a lot. “No. I can’t do it,” Jon wails. “I need you, baby. I need you back.”
What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do? This is the kind of scene I would have found touching once. My messed-up need to be needed. But now all I see is this fucked-up man-child who wants me to be responsible for his life choices. Who needs constant reassurance from me when he gets it from everyone else around him at the same time anyway.
“Jon, you’re fine.” I say it softly but firmly. “Go do your show.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, man. Don’t. Remember Brooklyn? Remember all the good times we had?”
Why does he have to do all this in front of August? August, who I only brought here to try to get him tipsy enough to kiss me. Now that’s completely off the fucking table. “Stop it, Jon. Get up.”
“I won’t?—”
“Just stop! Jon?—”
“I will always love you, August.” He clambers up me, pressing his forehead against mine, a distillery of noxious air spilling out on every word. “I wrote a song about you, baby. Myownsong. Aboutyou.”
“He did,” Richie concurs from the doorway, having just arrived on the scene. “It’s a long song.”
Shashi raises one of those carefully pencilled eyebrows at me, while Amber sets her lips in a tight line.
“I’m going to play it for you, man. Tonight. For you. Don’t you leave me!”
“August!” Richie hisses. And I’m right back in the middle of it. How stupid could I be, thinking I could just go for a drink in Camden and not have this fall on me?
But I can hear the crowd, and I can feel the tension radiating off the whole group. I can feel the weight of Jon, his entire body, his entire soul, leaning on me, once again.
I close my eyes, then take a deep breath before looking into Jon’s eyes. “Okay, Jon, listen to me. I’m here. I’m here for you.”
His hand takes my cheek, but before he can try to kiss me, I turn my face away. “You see them there?” I nod down at his audience, singing Non Jovi songs. They’re getting louder, unruly with the wait. People are throwing drinks with less joy than usual, and there’s the occasional shout to hurry them along. “They need you now. Your people need you.”
He takes them in for a bleary-eyed moment, then turns back to me. “Not without you.”
