Be The One (Crave 2)

Presley

Sweat sticks to my skin, which in turn, sticks to my dress. God, I hate the heat of Queensland some days. We sat in the stifling heat of the church this morning for Claudia’s funeral and then we stood in the heat again at the cemetery, and now we’ve got about fifty people crammed into Jett’s parents’ house. And the house isn’t air-conditioned.

I find a corner of the living room that doesn’t have too many people in it and take a moment to collect myself. As I smooth my hair back, a hand lands on my shoulder and a familiar voice says into my ear – “How’s Jett doing?”

Turning, I look up into Van’s dark eyes. I’m fascinated with his eyes. They’re already dark brown but there’s something that lingers there that reveals his darker side. I’ve never asked Jett about it but looking at him now, I wonder what he’s gone through in life that’s touched his soul in that way.

“He’s not doing well,” I admit.

He nods in quiet agreement before looking around the room. I follow his gaze and see Jett enter the room with a drink in hand. Shit, not again.

Van turns back to me. “How much is he drinking?”

“Well, he turned up drunk the night you guys were out and then he wrote himself off last night over dinner, and now it looks like he’s well on his way to doing it again.” I pause for a moment. “Is this standard behaviour for him when he’s down?”

“Not really, no. But he did drink heavily for a while once when he had a crazy fan stalk him. She caused the band and him so much grief that he ended up locking himself away from the public for months and drinki

ng to forget it.”

“So you’re concerned he’s going to do that again?” I’m concerned right along with him.

“Yeah, we need to keep an eye on it. I don’t want to see him go down that path again.”

I contemplate him. He’s a mystery to me; assholey one minute, caring the next. And I’m not quite sure what to make of him. I take a stab at it, though. “You care a lot about Jett, don’t you? Even though you argue with him all the time.”

His intense gaze doesn’t let up. If anything, it deepens. “Jett’s the one person I care the most about in this world. My family has fucked me over, my friends use me for what they can get out of me, and my fiancé tried to rob me blind after she fucked me over… through all of that, the one person who always had my back was Jett. I forgot that for a while recently, but I remember now, and I won’t ever forget again. And yeah, I argue with the asshole a lot, but that’s because I’m a bigger asshole than he’ll ever be.”

I’m surprised by his words and at the same time, my respect for him grows. It takes a lot for a man to admit that kind of stuff. Smiling at him, I say, “You’re okay, Van. I wasn’t sure about you, but I am now. And you’re right about being a bigger asshole than Jett, but I suspect deep down there’s not an ounce of asshole in you. I think it’s all for show; to hide whatever it is you’re trying to hide. And I’m looking forward to the day you let us see the real you.”

His eyes widen slightly but only for a second. “Don’t hold your breath too long, babe, or you might be disappointed. What you see is what you get with me.”

I’m about to reply to that when arms come around me from behind and warm breath tickles my neck. “What are you two doing over here hiding in the corner? Should I be worried?” Jett’s words are already slurring together and it’s only four in the afternoon.

I hold my breath and wait for Van to lose his shit over that because the way his face is clouding over, it looks like he’s about to do it. However, he surprises me again. “Yeah, you should be worried, man. We’re comparing notes on your drinking, and I just want to remind you of what happened the other time you turned to alcohol to deal with shit. It didn’t end pretty, remember?”

Jett’s behind me so I can’t see his face, but I can hear the scowl in his voice. “Fuck off, Van. So I had some drinks… my sister died, and I’m gonna deal with this however the fuck I want. And I don’t need you, of all people, in my face trying to tell me how to do it.”

Van’s face grows darker and he leans forward. “Don’t do this, Jett. Don’t become the asshole you hate.”

Jett stays quiet and simply tightens his hold on me. Finally, he says, “Can Presley and I have a minute?”

“Sure,” Van says, and takes a step away. “Just think about what I said, okay?”

I turn in Jett’s embrace to see him watching Van intently. It’s as if some form of silent communication is occurring between the two of them, and I don’t doubt there is. These two have an almost brother-like relationship; they’ve got years of experiences together shaping this conversation, and I can’t even imagine the half of it.

Van leaves, and after watching him for a few moments, Jett gives his attention to me. “Sorry about that,” he apologises.

“You don’t need to apologise, but I do think you two have a lot you need to talk about.”

“Always looking out for Van,” he scoffs, but I can tell he’s joking with me.

I want to ask him how he’s doing but I know that question won’t yield a good response, so I ask him something else to try and lead into what I really want to know. “How are your Mum and Dad doing?”

“Not so good. Dad just gave Mum a sleeping pill. She’s not coping at all, really.” He stops talking and contemplates that for a moment. “It’s hard enough losing a sister; I can’t even imagine the loss of a child.” The way his voice grows shaky causes a new round of sorrow for me. His family has been through so much. And while I feel deeply for his Mum, I am so concerned for the men in her family. While Monica wants to talk about Claudia, Steve and Jett have clammed up, and don’t want to engage in any real conversation about her, whether that is about her death or remembering her life.

“I don’t think your Dad is, either, Jett,” I suggest softly.

“No, he’s okay. He hasn’t broken down or anything, so I think he’s doing okay.”