Chapter Nineteen
Sunlight had already filled the room when JC opened his eyes and rubbed them, trying to figure out what was different, and why he felt so tired, even though he had more than twelve hours of sleep. Beside him, Brooklyn shifted and he sat up a little to look at her. It all came rushing back at that moment. The first thing that he saw were the dark bruises that marred her neck. He picked up one finger and trailed it along her neck, making an outline around the darkest bruise.
As careful as he was, pressed up against the wall that night, he couldn't get out of bed without waking her up, and she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I'll be in the shower. Why don't you try and get some more sleep," he told her before disappearing into the bathroom.
She tried as much as she could, but sleep wasn't coming back to her. Instead she laid there, listening to the sound of the shower in the bathroom, staring blankly at the ceiling. What else could she do? She felt so sore and achy that she didn't want to move. Every part of her body screamed with pain every time that she tried. The worst of all seemed to be her neck. The throb in her head was nothing compared to the pain she felt every time she swallowed or breathed too heavily. Her voice had been hoarse the night before, but it seemed even worse this time. She had been warned about this by the doctor, and closed her eyes when she thought of his words.
"Miss Turner, your neck and vocal cords took quite a beating," the young doctor began. She had been promised that this was the best doctor in town, and Mia had already called ahead, saying that she was going to have the best, or else she was going to kick a little ass. "The effects of strangulation are just beginning. Your voice will be rough for a little while, but that should clear up. It's too early to tell if there was actual damage done to the vocal cords. It may turn out that while you have a speaking voice, you may not be able to sing for a little while.
Brooklyn shook her head. She didn't care about any of this. She didn't care if she wasn't going to sing again in her life. She just wanted to know if she was going to be all right. "There will be some discomfort in breathing and swallowing for a little while. Whatever you do, don't stop breathing. I don't like my patients to drop dead on me." She managed to a small smile at this. "If you feel that your voice isn't that great and it hurts a lot to speak, don't. I don't think that it will change your voice pitch, but you never know."
A solitary tear traveled down her face as she thought back to this. She didn't like the fact that her voice might change or stay like it was now. Her career really meant nothing at this point, but if her voice was to stay like this the entire time...It was a purely selfish and conceited thing to worry about, but she happened to love her voice. She liked everything in her life the way that she wanted it, and this wasn't the way that she wanted it. "I don't care if I never sing another note in my life," she whispered to herself, wincing when she heard the rough tone.
"What was that?" JC asked, coming from the bathroom. He had changed into a pair of dark jeans and a plain tee shirt. A towel was thrown around his neck as he continued to dry his hair, walking further into the room.
"Nothing. I was just talking to myself." She struggled to sit up and practically cried when she felt the pain in her mid section, from three bruised ribs. He hurried to her side, trying to help her, when she pushed him away, groaning from the pain. "I can do it myself. I don't need any help," she ground out, straightening herself. Her eyes closed and she took a few deep breaths, trying to forget about how her throat was radiating with pain. Finally, they opened again, and she looked at him. Her expression was dull. "When are we supposed to leave?" she asked, blinking once.
He was busy looking at her face, and the small white bandage beside her eye. He remembered that little area to have the biggest cut on her face, and if it had been any closer, she would have been blind in that one eye. "In two hours, I think. Do you want some breakfast before we leave?" Her head nodded.
"I wish I could take a shower," she sighed, swinging her legs from the bed. "I don't know how I'm supposed to survive not washing my hair until these things are out." It took her a little while to stand up, feeling uneasy before she took a few steps to the bathroom. The door closed behind her and she leaned against the door, wincing when she felt the pain in her back. She could hear JC on the phone, talking to room service when she walked towards the sink and took a wash cloth off of the counter. She ran the water for a little while, making sure that it was warm before she soaked the cloth and ran it quickly over the parts of her face that she could wash, and her arms quickly.
Her head turned and saw that the jeans she had worn the day before. It was painful, but she managed to pull them on and button them, tucking the pocket lining back into the pockets. Looking in the mirror, she groaned. Where she wasn't black and blue, there was sure to be a cut on her face from where her face was pushed into the ceramic shards. Her hand came up and touched the white bandage beside her eyes softly, breathing in sharply when it protested.
She turned her head from side to side, as much as she could, trying to see where the bruises on her neck ended. As far as she could remember, Tim's hands had pretty well gone all around her neck. She closed her eyes for a few moments, trying to stop the memories from the day before coming back to her. When she opened them, she looked at her tangled hair and the flaking blood that was falling from her head. Her hands ran through her hair quickly, since she was informed that she couldn't put any styling products in it, and a brush was out of the question, since she could rip out the stitches too easily.
Opening the door, she walked out and looked at JC. He smiled, looking at her. "You're looking a little better now."
"Not really," she said, making a face. "Do you have a shirt that I could borrow for the day? The one I wore yesterday has...uh...blood on it." It hurt to say it, but she managed to. Even he flinched at the word. That was one that he didn't want to hear again, at least for a little while.
"Sure. It looks a little cool out there. Do you want a sweatshirt?" She nodded, sitting down on the bed and taking a deep breath. She didn't know why, but she seemed a little dizzy from walking around that much. She didn't remember the doctor saying anything about that. Her head dipped down a little, and she swore under her breath when that happened. It started to pound harder than before, and she forced herself to raise it again, closing her eyes. "New York, are you okay?"
Still, she was trying to breathe normally. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm just a little dizzy."
He laid the fresh shirt beside her before sitting on her other side. "Well, you missed dinner, so maybe it's just from lack of food," he said, trying not to stare at her bruises. It was hard not to. "Breakfast should be up in about five minutes. Do you think that you can hold out that long?" His voice was softer, when he saw how she winced before.
"I'll make it. It's not like I'm going to die right in front of you. Can you turn around?"
His eyebrows raised and he looked at her for a moment while trying to figure out what she meant. "Could you explain that one, please?"
Sighing, she turned to look at him. "I'm not chancing it, walking to the bathroom again. I'm too dizzy for that. So, if you turn around, I'll be able to get this shirt on. It's not like this is some sort of peep show, JC." A small smile managed to make its way to her face, and he practically beamed when he saw it. He didn't expect her to be acting like the normal Brooklyn right away, but it was nice to see that the real her was managing to shine through every now and then.
"Fine, but it pains me to do so."
"Yeah, right," she said dryly. She didn't start until she knew he was turned around and couldn't see a thing. As careful as she could, she took off the tee shirt she had worn to bed and reached for the sweatshirt, holding the neck open as she pulled it over her head. Once it was on, she tapped on his shoulder. "I'm done."
He was about to say something when a knock came at the door. When he saw how she flinched slightly, he put his hand on her arm, turning her to look at him. "New York, it's just room service. Ti...HE is in jail." Her head nodded as he got up, walking to the door. He opened it and allowed the man entry. The paper was signed, saying that he was charging the food to his account before he handed the man a tip and waited until he left. "Come on, you need to get a little food in you."
She walked slowly over to the table, sinking into the seat. "You got me oatmeal? You are so sweet," she said, ripping open a packet of brown sugar before she sprinkled it on top.
"I figured that you weren't going to want to chew on anything today, because it looks like your jaw hurts quite a bit. I know, I'm the best."
"Sometimes, I wonder," she muttered with a small smile, sinking her spoon into the bowl. It was hard to eat, but she managed to. She was a lot slower than usual, and her breakfast was cold by the time she finished, but she felt better having some food in her stomach. It was almost as if it had woken her up more, and she was smiling more than before. She still looked like a wounded animal, but at least she wasn't bitching like before.
When she was finished, she moved back to the bed, and laid down, turning on the television. JC sat beside her, but neither of them had much interest in the show that was playing. Instead, Brooklyn's eyes moved with the movement on the screen, but never actually responded to the jokes and what everyone was saying. Dimly, she realized that she was watching Friends, a show that she couldn't stand at all.
About an hour later, another knock came at the door, and Brooklyn rose, knowing that it was for her. Her hands were shaking when she unlocked the door and opened it, staring at the police officer in front of her. "Come in," she said quietly, moving so that the two cops could enter. She made her way back to the bed when she had closed and locked the door, sitting beside JC. Blankly, her hand reached out until she found his, and practically held onto it like it was her lifeline. "I don't really understand what I'm supposed to be doing today," she said quietly, keeping her eyes down.
"All you have to do, Miss Turner, is show us around your house, telling us what happened where. It's for the police report and you're the only person that was there. Besides, we don't think that we would get a very truthful report from Mr. Croft." She tried not to show any emotion when she heard his name, and it almost worked. JC was the only one that could pick up on it. "Is there anything else that you want to know before we leave?"
She looked over at JC, before her head shook. "There's something that I want to know," he said, turning his gaze to the police. "I know that...he has to see if he can get bail today. What happens if he does?"
The second police officer cleared his throat before looking over at Brooklyn. She nodded slowly, letting him know that she wanted to know, she just couldn't say the words. "It's very unlikely at Mr. Croft will get bail, and if he does, it'll be an amount that he wouldn't be able to pay."
Her head shook with a cold, cruel laugh. "I don't know, out of everything that he told me, what to believe, but as far as I know, he has quite a lot of money himself. Trust fund or something like that. Of course, it could just be another lie."
"New York," JC said quietly, squeezing her hand slightly. She shook her head to tell him that she was all right.
"Even if he does make bail, both of you will be placed under police protection, and we'll arrange for restraining orders."
Now, JC shook his head. "That won't work for me. I'll be leaving Nashville...actually, Tennessee pretty soon. I have to go back on tour." When the police officers looked at him like he was crazy, he managed a small smile. It wasn't much, but it was enough. "Like Brooklyn, I'm a singer, too. I'm only supposed to be here until my tour starts up again, in a day and a half."
The first police officer made a note of that in his notebook. Brooklyn was beginning to find this whole thing a little humorous. It was almost as if she was doing an interview for a magazine. "I suppose that you have bodyguards on your tour?"
"Twenty four, seven. I always have at least one guard with me at all times. I thought that he wouldn't be allowed to leave the state, anyway, or maybe I watch too many cop shows on television."
The second police officer was the one that answered him. "No, he can't. In Miss Turner's case, we would set up police protection along with your bodyguards, and we would set up a restraining order against the man at her discretion." She nodded at him, telling him that if Tim was to get out on bail, she would want the restraining order.
She felt almost like a battered wife as she stood up and walked towards the door with JC. It was close enough, she decided. She had been a battered fiancée, except for the fact that she had kicked a little ass herself. She was happy that she had at least gotten one defensive move in against him, even if it did cause her to be beaten up more. She wasn't a weak person, mentally or physically, and she wasn't going to give in to him. Even if he was in jail or she would have to see him during a court case, she wasn't going to give into him.
The duo were escorted out to the truck, where JC took the keys from her and helped her into the passenger seat. The police car was going to follow them. She leaned against the window slightly and closed her eyes, not wanting to see the scenery rush by her. It would make it seem like she was going back to Tim. It was almost as if he was waiting for her in the house.
The ride back to her house didn't take long, and when she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Tim's car, still waiting in her driveway. "I want to have that towed out of here," she said to the police officers when she walked out of the truck and stood beside them. "That's his car, and I would feel a lot better if it wasn't here."
They nodded, making a note to have that done. The hardest part was coming next. Now she had to walk up her driveway to the porch and unlock the door. She had to walk into the living room and look at the destruction that they had caused. It wasn't so much the destruction that bothered her, it was remembering how it had happened, how it was caused.
Her hand came out, slightly shaking, and took the keys from JC. Her feet, clad in sneakers, made a dull sound of her driveway until she reached the stairs, where they turned almost hollow. Her heartbeat met her footsteps as she stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath. Her fingers trembled as she dug through the mass of keys, finding the one for her front door. She stopped breathing for a moment when she put the key into the lock and turned it, listening to the crisp snap.
Pulling the key out, she turned the knob slowly and pushed open the door. It was almost over, she reminded herself. She stepped inside and let her eyes adjust to the change in light. It usually wasn't so dark in her house. The lamp in the living room would be glowing, if it wasn't broken and laying on the floor in pieces. "Is it all right if I go up to my room to get a few things before we go into the living room?" she asked.
"Of course." She nodded and walked into the kitchen, taking the long way to the stairs so that she didn't have to pass the living room. JC stayed at her side as she walked up the stairs towards her room.
"Is there a reason why my door is shut? I had it open before I left. I don't remember closing it."
The second police officer faltered for a moment before he looked over at her. "It was open last night, but Mr. Croft had come in here the night before. There are a few things broken, but we're finished with this room, so you're allowed to enter. There still is a mess around there."
Her head nodded sharply. "It's my house. I should be allowed in here anyway," she muttered before opening the door and looking inside. 'A mess' wasn't the proper term. He seemed to have gone ballistic in there. Even her mattress had been targeted, and was ripped open by something. Her computer had been pushed off of her desk, but it didn't look as if there was anything wrong with it. Jewelry was strewn over the floor, and books on her bookcase were pushed onto the floor. Her clothes had been pulled out of the drawers, thrown everywhere. "Wow," she said softly. She blinked her eyes a few times so that she wouldn't let the tears gathering in her eyes fall before walking in a little further and going to her closet, taking out a backpack from the bottom of it.
"Do you need any help, New York?" JC asked from where he was leaning against the door frame. Her head shook as she gathered up some clothes and pushed them into the bag, zipping it closed. "I'll run this down to the truck for you, if you want to clean up a bit in here."
She turned to look at him gratefully. "I just want to clean up the jewelry. I want to make sure that my grandmother's ring is still around here somewhere." He took the bag from her with a smile before heading down the stairs. He couldn't help himself as he stopped at the living room and looked in. It was almost as if a war had taken place in there. One had, he reminded himself. It looked as if Tim had done some extra damage before the police had shown up, because he didn't think that the television would have been broken during the fight.
Walking outside, he unlocked the front door of the truck and threw the backpack inside. His attention was caught by a woman standing in the next yard, waving at him. A slight frown on his face, he walked over to her hesitantly. "Can I help you?" he asked.
The woman smiled, extending her hand. "Hi, I'm Gina, Brooklyn's neighbor. Is...something wrong with Brooklyn? I mean, it isn't every day that a Nashville police car is in her driveway. She's all right, isn't she?"
What the hell was he supposed to say? He had heard Brooklyn talk about Gina before, but was he supposed to keep what happened quiet, or would she mind if he told her. Sometimes it was hell being Brooklyn's friend. "I'm sorry. I didn't introduce myself," he said, laying on the charm the only way that he knew how. "I'm JC Chasez."
Gina nodded quickly. "Of course. You're the one that sang with her on the new album."
He smiled quickly, the same smile that he used for photographers. She was turning out to be an easy one to charm. "Well, after hearing her sing, do you think I could say no? She's terrific. And she speaks very highly about you."
The older woman stared at him for a moment with a small smirk on her face. "Honey, let me tell you something. I've been charmed by some of the best. I know when I'm being charmed, and you are doing a good job, but not good enough. Why are the cops here, and why did you have a police escort?"
The smile dropped from his face and he regarded her silently. "Gina, I'm sorry. The problem is, I'm not supposed to talk about what happened. Very explicit instructions from Mia, her publicist. I wish I could, and I almost did tell you why they're here, but I can't. If you want to know what happened, you'll have to ask Brooklyn. That's the only way that this can be done. I'm sorry." When he saw the look on her face, pure horror, he hurried to finish. "No, don't worry. She's fine. You don't have to worry about that. I'm sorry that I scared you."
"You don't worry about that. You just go back to Brooklyn. I have a feeling that she's going to need you right now." He smiled again, very quickly, before running into the house, and met Brooklyn halfway down the stairs. "Is all of your stuff there?"
"Everything's there and fine. I'll have to replace a few things, but nothing important. I suppose the living room is next," she said quietly.
Almost instantly, she took JC's hand and walked down the remainder of the stairs. Pausing before she looked in, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Once she was standing in front of the door opening, she opened them and gasped. "I don't remember it looking this bad last night," she said quietly. Her eyes instantly moved to the wall across from them, and saw where her blood had smeared against the wall when she had been leaning against it. Next, she looked towards the broken lamp and had to swallow the lump in her throat. "Oh, God."
"Are you okay?" he asked her, bending down slightly to look in her eyes. She nodded, swallowing a few times before turning back to the room. "Can we hurry this up? I don't think she's going to last very long here, and I would feel better if she was back in Nashville."
Brooklyn let go of his hand and walked a little further into the room, stepping away from the ceramic shards before she looked curiously at the living room table. A corner of it was slightly broken from where he had hit himself in the head. That coffee table is what saved her life, she realized, and her eyes flooded with tears. Three of them coursed down her cheeks silently as she turned around a few times. "The television wasn’t broken when I left," she said, looking at it. "What do you want to know?"
"Just what happened, Miss Turner." She nodded again and stepped back to the entrance, wiping away the tears.
It took a little while for her to find her voice, as horrible as it sounded, and began to speak. "I remember that we got into a fight about something. I was standing over there," she said pointing. It wasn't far from where she was. "He...uh, pushed me to that wall over there. He slapped me before that, but he pushed me over there afterwards."
The second police officer nodded quickly. "That would explain the blood."
Brooklyn was beginning to understand why Mia always seemed so harried and angry. "No, you're jumping ahead of yourself. I was sitting there, and I pulled off the engagement ring, and I threw it at him. I know that the side of the diamond or whatever stone it was cut him on his cheek. He...he told me to put the ring back on, or he would put it on for me." She swallowed again, not noticing that her eyes were running with tears again. No one made any comment, but JC reached over and put his hand on the small of her back, making her feel a little more safe. "We talked for a little while before I told him to get out of my house. He put the ring on that small table right there," she said, pointing to where the end table was knocked onto the ground, "and he picked up a candle stick that was on there. THAT was where the blood came from. He threw it at me and it hit me in the head. THAT is why I have stitches in my head, not because he pushed me over there."
Her words were becoming more and more heated. At the same time, the tears started to come faster, making little rivers on her face as they dripped down to the floor. "He was talking to me, and he was telling me about a friend of mine. Uh...Alyssa Cholt, out in California. He was telling me that she had been married and that had been her married name. Her real name was Alyssa Croft."
"That was his sister?" JC asked, his eyes wide.
Her head nodded slowly. "He told me more than that, though. Alyssa was married and he said something about...getting rid of him." Her memory was a little fuzzy about their conversations, but all of a sudden, it came rushing back to her. "Oh my God, Alyssa! Someone...someone needs to check and see if she's still there. I think...I think he said something about...killing her. “I’m not sure. Oh, God. I completely forgot about that. I thought that he was going to...I mean..." Her words trailed off and slowly, her hands came up to cover her face. Her shoulders moved with her quiet sobs before she turned blindly and fell against JC's chest.
They stood there for a little while, and the police had enough decency to turn away from them, looking around the room instead. Brooklyn's throat was already raw, but by the time that she finished, she had no voice left. Anything she said came out in a croak and no one could understand her. JC motioned to the police officers. "She had some herbal tea in the kitchen. It helps keep her voice normal. Why don't you come with us and I'll make some coffee. I know that I could use a cup," he said tiredly, bringing Brooklyn into the kitchen. It seemed to be one of the only rooms that wasn't touched.
Once the coffee and tea was made, Brooklyn wandered over to the large window in the connected dining room. The mug was wrapped in her hands as she looked out to the fresh green grass covering the front yard and the houses across the street. She lifted the mug to her lips and sipped it slowly, not wanting to say a word. Instead, she stayed there for a few minutes before walking back into the kitchen and taking the stool beside JC. He looked over at her and smiled briefly as she drummed one of her fingers on counter top. "Did you call Austin yet?" he asked. When he saw that the police officers were interested, he answered the question that they wanted to know. "Austin is her older brother. He's in France, at culinary school."
"Thank you for getting the right term for it. I always call it a cooking school." She shrugged her shoulders.
"Shut up and save your voice. I'm guessing that you haven't, otherwise he would have been flying out here already."
"You were with me the whole time yesterday and again today."
"Shut up, Brooklyn."
"Shut up, JC," she said in a mocking tone.
"Her voice is back, I guess. Brooklyn Arizona Turner, shut up."
"Fine."
The police officers looked amused at the exchange between them. It was the first sign of life that she had shown since they had met up with the duo, and it was interesting. The one thing that they noticed was that Brooklyn was using humor to try and forget about what happened, and JC would go along with whatever she wanted. She had him, hook, line, and sinker.
She drained the rest of her mug and looked around. Her throat did feel a little better now, and her voice was back to its scratchy state. Waiting until everyone was done, she looked around the kitchen. "I guess we should finish up now," she mentioned, her tone lower than before. They nodded and everyone stood up, heading back to the living room.
"Come on in," Brooklyn said softly, allowing Joe and Mia entrance to the hotel room. JC was sitting on the bed when they came in, trying to watch some television, but not succeeding. It seemed as if neither of them could keep their minds on anything for a long period of time. "You don't have to leave. We're not talking about the planning of a new album, you know. Far from it, actually. Sit down."
Joe was the first to speak when they were seated around the table. "How's the voice, Brooke?" he asked, sympathy lacing his voice. She understood how he felt. He was her father figure in a way, and it was more than painful to look at the damage down to her.
"Don't know yet," she started shortly. "The doctor told me that it could go back to normal, it could stay this way. More than likely, it'll be fine. That's not your only concern, is it?" she asked softly, lacing her hands on the table. JC came and sat beside her, not wanting everyone to think that he was eavesdropping, when he was more than invited to listen and talk with them. "I can see the question in your eyes, Joe. I know when you want to ask me something. You want to ask me if the tour is going to continue next week, right?"
His head nodded hesitantly, before it shook. "That wasn't what I wanted to know. Granted, I wanted to know if the tour is going to continue, but I think that you should take a little more time off. We can start up the tour again in a few months. I want to make sure that everything is all right with you."
"I'm not having a mental breakdown, I don't need to go see a psychiatrist. I just want to get this over with. I may not be sound of body, but I am sound of mind." She stared coolly at him for a little while before her head shook slightly, her tangled honey brown hair moving. At the same time, blood continued to flake from her hair. "It won't start up in a few weeks, or a few months. Hell, even a few years. I'm not continuing this tour."
All three people are the table sat there, stunned for a moment, before Mia started to talk. "All right," she started slowly. "I suppose that we can get you into the studio to start a new album while you recover, and then we'll combine the two tours. No harm done," she said, making a note in the book she pulled out of her purse.
Brooklyn's hand went out to stop her. "I don't think you understand me. I...this has to be the hardest thing I've ever had to say," she whispered, looking down at her hands. Finally, her watery eyes raised and she looked from person to person before speaking again. "I don't know when the tour is going to start, because there is no way that I can get up on a stage and pretend that nothing happened. I can't sit in the studio in front of a microphone. Hell, when JC was driving me back here from my house, I couldn't even listen to the radio. I just...can't take music right now. Any aspect of music. I can't. It's too soon."
She sighed and looked away, willing herself to stop crying. She hated acting like the defeated woman. She hated crying. It was such a weak thing to do for her, and she had done enough already. Brooklyn didn't want to act like this for the rest of her life and willed the tears to stop. Surprisingly, it worked. "Seems funny, doesn't it? I mean, music has always been my life, but right now? I can't bear to have anything to do with it. It's not what I think. It's the fact that I know I would freeze up the minute I saw a microphone. You have to understand what I heard and what I didn't hear from Tim last night. There's a lot that he didn't say but that I could pick up on. I don't know why I was so stupid. He wasn't into the marriage or the relationship like I was. He was in it for money, fame, and the thrill of the chase. I was just the impressionable woman that he pounced upon.
"Maybe...one day I could return, but I don't see it happening anytime soon. Nothing you could do would help me. Send me to a parade of psychologists. They won't be able to help. Tie me onto a stool and put me in the studio. I won't sing a note. It's not in my head. It's..." She was unsure of how to finish. This was a painful speech as it was.
"It's in your heart," JC said quietly.
She turned to look at him before nodding. Mia and Joe were dumbstruck, looking at her. There was no doubt that she was serious about what she was saying. "Brooke, are you sure?" Mia asked quietly. Not many things could make her stop talking for a period of time, but Brooklyn seemed to have stumbled across the solution.
Nodding, she blinked once. "Everything I said is the truth. I just can't. That's not the only reason I brought you here," she said, clearing her throat painfully before she looked back at them. "I want to know how this is going to be approached. I mean, it's bound to leak out eventually, and I'd feel better if it came from us, instead of some rumor on the front page of the entertainment sections in the newspapers. Mia, do you want to cover it like always?"
Brooklyn’s publicist didn't know how she was supposed to. She was too close to this, she was too emotional about it. Mia knew that she would probably break down when she was talking about it, but she always covered Brooklyn's press conferences, and she was beginning to know the reporters that were always sent to cover it. None of that mattered at the moment. "Uh...yeah. I'll cover the press conference for you, I guess. I don't know...what you want me to say. I guess you have a plan."
"Tell the truth, all of it. I don't want to hear about some unspoken secret in a few months. I want it all to come out, as painful as it might be. Mia, you have to understand, this is what I want. If this is too much for you, I can always get someone from Curb to cover for you. I'm in no shape to go in front of a bunch of people and tell my story." Mia nodded quickly, making another note. "Joe?"
Her manager took a deep breath and looked towards her. "Brooke, you know that I always have your best intentions at heart. If you don't want to continue with the tour, or do a new album right now...I can understand, and I'll go along. I just want to make sure that this is what you want. Are you sure that you want to just toss all of it out the window and walk away like nothing ever happened?" he asked her.
Brooklyn leaned on the table on her elbows, rolling her eyes. "Joe, I'm not just walking away from everything like it never happened. It's just...right now, I have to focus on Brooklyn, the person, not Brooklyn, the country singer. I need a little time to myself and decide where I want to go in life. Who knows? I might sign up for some college courses and see if I can get a degree in something. I might get a minimum wage job to fill up my time. I just can't sing. I need to get away from that part of my life."
Chuckling softly, her head shook. "You know, it almost sounds like, after everything that you did for me, I'm just saying 'screw you. I don't need this career to live.' I don't. That's the thing. I appreciate everything that you did for me. I appreciate you setting up that first interview at Curb of Nashville. I appreciate the fact that you've been with me, every single step of the way. Joe, you've been a father to me in so many ways that I hope that you can understand what I'm trying to say. Please tell me that you understand."
While Joe nodded, JC shook his head emphatically. "Excuse me for interrupting, but I don't understand what you're trying to say. This has been your life for how long, New York?" The look that he was sending her was practically radiating heat. It made her feel uncomfortable to be looked at like that, but she managed to keep her gaze steady and keeping the eye contact that they had. She wasn't about to back down from her. "Didn't you used to tell me that you lived to get up on a stage and sing? That you feel the music in every single fiber of your being? This isn't Brooklyn talking. At least, not the Brooklyn Turner that I know."
"You know what, you're right," she fired back at him. "This isn't the Brooklyn Turner that you know. You really ONLY know the Brooklyn Turner, singer. Maybe...maybe it's the same as Brooklyn Turner, the normal person, but JC, you have no right to tell me what I should do with my career. I don't see your name written on that Curb contract that expires in...two weeks," she said, looking over at a small calendar. "You aren't my manager, you're not my publicist. You have nothing to do with my career and my job."
JC was right. Who he was sitting beside wasn't the Brooklyn he had come to know and love. He wondered if she could have been right, that he only knew the Brooklyn Turner, country singer, super star. He had thought that he had known her, and perhaps he did. He knew that she was a kind, compassionate, even passionate person.
And again, he went to personal feelings for her. For some reason, he couldn't get off of them, and as soon as the word 'passionate' ran through his head, he couldn't help wondering. Wondering if she could ever be...but that was beside the point. He didn't want to think about that when she was talking about quitting the music industry. "No, I'm none of those things, New York, and if I was, I would have walked out of this room by now. I know, I know. It's your choice, right? Well, you've never had a problem saying what you're thinking or feeling. I guess it's about time that I did that, huh?" She wouldn't move, wouldn't turn away. "The fact of the matter is, I'm your friend. I would think that that would count for something, but I could be wrong. New York, all I'm trying to say is that you're stupid throwing away something that you love, and you should at least give this some more thought."
Mia looked up meekly from her book, where she was making notes for the press conference. "I agree with him on this one. Brooke, don't rush into something. I know, I'm the last person that should be giving advice like that. I'm always rushing into things. Three broken engagements are enough proof, but really, pull an anti-Mia and sit down and think about it. Just...don't say that you're going to quit."
"I wish you guys would listen to me. I didn't say that I was quitting. I said that I was taking a break. Mia, just handle the press conference. Joe, could you please inform the head honchos of Curb that this is my decision for the moment, but if I do come back, there is no doubt that I'll sign again with them. Thank you, guys. That's all I wanted."
The two stood up and looked down at Brooklyn. "The press conference is going to be held in two days. I talked to the police before I came over and they told me that Tim wasn't granted bail, and a court case is scheduled to start in a week. I already found a lawyer to represent you, because we can't use the company's lawyer. This isn't a music case. Is that all right?"
She smiled tiredly and looked up at Mia. "What would I do without you?"
"I'd be scared to find out. Now, do me a favor and call your brother before he finds out about this on the Internet. Oh, and be sure to tell him that I'll be ready for our date when he comes back."
JC and Brooklyn looked at each other quickly, both dumbfounded. "Uh...just when did you and my brother decide that you were going to date when he came back from France? He's never told me about this. Has he told you?" JC just shook his head.
Mia smiled before she stepped out the door. "He doesn't know about it yet, but we're definitely going out. How can I ignore such a hot, sexy..." her words trailed off as the door shut behind her. Brooklyn was left at the table, shaking her head.
"Since when do I chauffeur a bunch of spoiled singers around. That wasn't in my job description, Brooke. Hell, I don't even work for you. This is the first, last, and only time that I do this," Mia complained as she pulled into the airport parking lot. "You're paying for my parking fee, Brooke. You know that one, right?"
Brooklyn nodded her head before she reached for the black baseball cap beside her. She put it on her head and tucked her pony tail underneath it before adjusting it so that it didn't press down on the stitches in her head. Next came a pair of plain black sunglasses that Mia had picked up before she picked the two up. "I won't be long," she said with a small smile, slipping out the open door that JC was holding.
They walked together to the entrance, where she waited for him to check in his luggage before they walked slowly to the metal detector, where Brooklyn couldn't go any farther. This was almost as awkward as the first time that Brooklyn saw him off. She raised her hands and adjusted the turtleneck she was wearing, so that the bruises on her neck wouldn't show. The only thing anyone could see were a few bruises and scrapes on her face, making it look like she had nothing but a bicycle accident. No one could tell who she was either, or so she hoped. "I...uh...guess you better go," she said softly, looking at him from over the glasses. He managed to catch a look at her shining green eyes.
"I guess," he said, looking down at her. "Mia's going to be staying with you, right?" Brooklyn nodded. "All right. Take care of yourself. I don't want...um...never mind. Just make sure that you call me every now and then so that I know you're all right, okay?"
Her head nodded bravely and she forced a smile on her face. "Of course. I wouldn't dare not to. Getting beat up like this for once is enough for me." She laughed nervously, but it was a stupid joke to begin with. "I think...uh...Mia's going to blow her top when she sees how long I'm taking," she said with another short laugh after looking at the watch that was sitting on her wrist.
Since when did the two of them act like this, JC wondered. Even Brooklyn was more nervous than ever, but that was understandable. He had spent the night before with her peeking in every dark corner and tensing up whenever she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. It didn't matter that she knew that Tim was in jail until the court case, and he would be back there every night after that. He had already declined to testify at the trial, since he was going to be on tour, but left a notarized statement for Mia to give to Brooklyn's lawyer when she saw him. He wished that he could be there for Brooklyn, but then again, he didn't want to be there to look at Tim.
Even his name disgusted him.
Brooklyn looked at him for a few more seconds before she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled her towards him and held her like he never wanted to let go. He bent his head down and inhaled quickly, letting her perfume drift into his senses. It would be at least two months until he would be able to see her again, and he didn't like that number. Maybe two days would have been okay, but even two weeks would have been unbearable.
What he really wanted to do was take her and hide her some place safe, some place that only he knew about, until this whole damned thing blew over. "New York?" he asked softly when he heard her sniffle once.
"I'm...I'll be fine. It's just that I don't want you to go. I wish that you could stay here."
He pulled away and looked at her. For the first time since everything had happened, the bruises and the scratches on her face weren't noticeable by him. It was almost as if they had melted away and in their place, he saw his old Brooklyn, one that was smiling back at him. She WAS smiling back at him, but it was more embarrassed than anything. "I know. I wish I could stay, too," he said softly.
She didn't flinch as his hands came up and cupped her face. Instead, she merely stared at him. Slowly, he bent down and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose, since it was the only place that he could touch without moving her hat or glasses. He moved away, but didn't remove his hands.
Maybe it was the fact that she missed hearing 'I love you.' Maybe it was the fact that she missed being wrapped in a pair of muscular arms. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't thinking. No matter what it was, it was Brooklyn that initiated the kiss that neither one of them would ever forget.
She had been standing in front of him just moments before her lips were pressed against his. JC didn't give another thought to putting his arms around her and resting one hand in the small of her back. The whole airport seemed to disappear. There were no voices, no sounds other than that of each other's breathing. Brooklyn knew full well what she was doing, and to tell the truth, she really didn't care. For some reason, her mind was screaming why she had never done this before.
Mia had just walked into the airport to see what was taking Brooklyn so long, to see if she was standing by the large bay window, watching his plane take off. Instead, she stopped in her tracks and dropped her purse as well as her mouth. It took her a little while to focus her eyes, but it was what she thought it was. Brooklyn and JC locked in a very passionate embrace. "Damn, why didn't that girl think of that sooner," she said, bending down to pick up her purse and walking over to a bench to sit and wait.
She was up for a long wait. Neither one of them were going to let go anytime soon. JC couldn't help thinking how right it felt to have her in his arms, to be kissing her like there was no tomorrow. The smell of her perfume, the taste of the lip gloss she was wearing, the way she fit against him so perfectly, the feeling of her lips against his...it was just right. There was no other way to describe it. The only problem was that he couldn't get enough of her.
How many times had he thought of this, even dreamed of something like this. But still, something was wrong, and it was for that reason that he pulled away. No matter how much he had wanted this, it was wrong. It was almost like taking advantage of her. It was nothing but a sense of loneliness that she was feeling, and he didn't want to be known as Brooklyn's rebound.
Besides, wasn't it time that he gave up on childish fantasies and what could never be? They had to different lives to live, and as far as he knew, Brooklyn felt absolutely nothing towards him, other than friendship. If friendship was all he was going to get, he was going to make sure that it counted. "I...really have to go. See you, Brooklyn."
It hurt to call her by her first name, but for some reason, New York just didn't seem proper at the moment. "Good bye," she whispered. His heart fell when he heard those two words. Brooklyn never said good bye, and he didn't know what that meant.
Brooklyn turned and hit herself in the forehead. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. What the hell were you thinking?" she muttered to herself as she started for the exit.
"Maybe that you were actually doing the right thing for the first time in your life and you wanted to jump the poor sucker in front of everyone here?" Mia's friendly, if not slightly amused voice rang out.
Her cheeks colored and she leaned against Mia when her arm went around her waist. "Mia, can we go get some ice cream and crash in front of the television. I have a feeling that I'm never going to live this down, and I need all the support I can get."
Chapter Twenty
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