A/N Thanks to all those who reviewed - 19 for one chapter is my best yet! Help me beat it? I'm really grateful.
Disclaimer - I don't own The Mediator or This Lullaby. Sadly.
Daddy's Little Girl
Chapter Eleven
Something wasn't right.
"It's so nice to have you back, Suze," Paul whispered in my ear, as we sat on the sofa, bodies entwined in a couple-like cuddle. He was warm, and his body heat thawed my chilled skin, but I couldn't seem to get rid off the uncomfortable sensation at the back of my neck. I wrapped two fingers around one of Paul's thick, brown ones and placed his hand where I felt uneasy, expecting the warmth to relax my muscle. But it didn't. Paul kept his fingers there anyway, massaging my neck rhythmically. I closed my eyes and sank back against his strong body.
Everyone had been surprised when I'd announced I was back with Paul. Meghan looked ecstatic at the return of "Perfect Paul", whereas Cee-Cee looked worried, and Alyssa and Fliss each wore an expression of confusion.
"He cheated on you," stated Alyssa.
"He's rich," argued Fliss.
"He's gorgeous," sighed Meghan.
"I liked Jesse," announced Cee-Cee, and everyone bar me shot her an annoyed look. I simply slurped my cola – untainted, for once.
"What do you want to watch now?" asked Paul, and he placed his hands on my hips and slid me off his lap onto the floor. He got off the sofa and knelt down to attend to the DVD player. "I got horror movies, war movies, lurrrrrrrve movies…"
"Any comedies?" I questioned, and I opened his cabinet to inspect his DVD collection. It had been a while since I'd been in there, and it was chaos – completely out of the alphabetical order I had placed it in only two months ago, in June. I pulled out "Without a Paddle" and slotted it in at the end, and then put "Meet the Fockers" in the middle. I had just picked up "Die Hard 2" when Paul's fingers clasped around my own and his iron hold pulled me down onto my bottom, where I sat between Paul's legs on the floor. He held my hand up to the light, and inspected my nails.
"You're so… perfect," he mused, running his thumb over my smooth index fingernail. "There's nothing out of place where you're concerned. I bet you even have your underwear draw alphabetized." He dropped my hand and began ticking off things on his own fingers. "Thongs at the bottom, followed by French panties, followed by crotchless-"
"I do not wear crotchless panties," I insisted, and Paul raised an eyebrow.
"It doesn't mean you don't own a pair," he argued, and I pouted. He bent his head and began kissing my jaw-line, making his way up my face until he reached my temples. I closed my eyes, and put a hand on either one of Paul's firm thighs, lying back on his ridged stomach.
"I don't." My delayed announcement made Paul laugh, and his chuckle reverberated through his whole body, shaking me too. He placed his hands on my stomach and continued laying gentle kisses along my neck. I put a hand in his face and pushed his head back, before turning around and facing him, kneeling.
"I wish you'd stop doing that," I said, removing my palm from Paul's forehead and rubbing my shoulders instead.
"Why?" Paul grinned. "Does it make you crazy?"
"It drives me insane," I told him, and Paul stuck out his tongue. "And not in the good way, either," I added.
"Well why don't we try this?" he asked, and he put his arms around my waist and pulled himself up so his head was level with mine. I watched him carefully as he tilted his head slightly and closed his eyes, ready for a full-frontal kiss. I made a reluctant noise and pulled away before his lips met mine. Paul shrank back, throwing his hands up in the air.
I couldn't let him kiss me on the lips.
It was too soon.
"Fine," he said, sighing. "Fine."
I smiled sadly, and hugged my knees. Paul just didn't understand how I felt – I didn't understand how I felt. I was with Paul now, but my heart just wasn't in it. It was nothing Paul had done – he had been nothing but apologetic and gentlemanly towards for the two weeks we had been dating – but I just couldn't relax, and I was constantly aware of how my pulse drummed quickly at the back of my neck, never slowly, never calming.
No, something wasn't right at all.
"You still haven't kissed?" Meghan asked me. "God, Suze. Last time you and Paul dated you had done way more in two weeks than just kiss. What's wrong now?"
"She's still in love with Jesse," Cee-Cee stated, and I nearly swallowed the straw to my smoothie.
"I was never in love with Jesse," I replied, hurriedly. Cee-Cee shook her head.
"You're so quick to argue against it, Suze," she said. "But I saw a change in you when you were with Jesse, we all did. I think you were disobeying your own rules, and that scared you."
"What rules?" I asked her, and the gang began reciting them.
"Never date a musician," chanted Alyssa. "He'll pick his music over you every time."
"Never surrender to a chase, because once he's got you, he'll lose interest," said Fliss, knowingly.
"And never date a guy who is close to his ex-girlfriend," finished Meghan. "Because if she hasn't dropped the girlfriend behaviour, then she's probably not been told to."
"You guys," I said, putting down my smoothie. "That last one has nothing to do with Jesse." Meghan pouted, dejectedly.
"You still broke the other two," Cee-Cee pointed out, and Fliss nodded. "And for a guy. Suze Simon, you've gone soft."
"I am not soft," I disputed.
"You let Jesse eat in your car," she added. Meghan's mouth dropped open, showing a smoothie-coloured tongue and the remnants of her gum.
"No shit!" she cried, and several tourists to Monterey Bay turned around and stared. "When can I date you? You won't even let me eat gum in your car!"
"Gum is sticky," I informed her.
"Fries are greasy," shot back Cee-Cee. I replied with a "so-sue-me" expression.
"Cee," I said, patiently. "I am not in love with Jesse. I never have been, I never will be. Jeesh, I only dated him like, a month."
"Like nothing could happen within 28 days…" Meghan said, softly, and then she perked up. "Hey, that's good. I should write it down, and give it to your mom. Is she having problems with her novel?" She found a napkin in her bag and began scribbling ferociously.
"She's putting in on hold until after the wedding," I replied, but Meghan handed me the napkin nevertheless. "Though I don't know why, seeing as I'm doing all the work for her."
"Speaking of," interrupted Alyssa. "How's that going?"
"I only have the bridesmaid fitting left to organize now," I said. "She's making us wear pink. I hate pink. And the required hairstyle is an updo. And you guys know how hairspray makes me choke."
"You're the wedding planner. Tweak it a little." Fliss snorted at Meghan's mischievous suggestion. "You know, accidentally ask for the blue design instead of the pink."
"It will clash with the roses going in the bouquet," I announced. "It's too late. I will have to deal with the pink explosion now."
The gang was silent as they slurped the rest of their smoothies. "Kenny is dating someone else," Meghan suddenly declared, causing Alyssa to cough loudly, spluttering on the drips of fruit juice she had left.
"Please don't tell me you've been driving past his house, Meg," she said, sternly. Meghan looked sheepish.
"There were roadworks." She tried to excuse herself. "His road was the only way back to my place. There was a red Porsche Boxter on the drive – next to his parent's people carrier. And I know it's not Kenny's, because he's saving all his money for college tuition." She sniffed miserably.
"Wow, Kelly moves fast," I muttered. Cee-Cee turned her head towards me. "What?" she asked. I shook my head, not completely realised I'd mused out loud.
"Nothing," I said.
"Meghan, if you kept to the three simple rules I set you for post-break up, this would not be happening," scolded Alyssa. "Number one, don't drive past his house. Number two, don't call him-"
"I got the engaged tone," Meghan mumbled.
"And Number Three, Meghan Thomas, do not look over old photographs of the two of you together."
"But we just looked so happy!" she bawled. This was the cue for all of us to separate, and go our own ways. Alyssa looked up and scowled at us.
"Yeah, thanks guys," she said.
"I have to pick up my mom from the radio station," I told her. "She's promoting her new release. You guys know that."
Meghan's sudden outburst reminded me to how I had coped with my own break-up. There hadn't been any tears – any would count as properly crying, anyway – and there was certainly any incidents involving me driving past the yellow house on Randall Way. The night after Jesse's birthday, I had sat on my bed and opened my Walkman, prising the Dirty Bunch CD from it, and snapping it in two, before throwing the pieces into the fire and watching them fizzle and melt. I hadn't taken many pictures of the two of us during the time we had been going out, but I collected the small amount anyway and threw them in the bin, not even giving them a second glance. My notice-board was now decorated with leaflets from NoCal, a calendar with a lipstick circle reminding me of the fateful day where I began classes there, and several snapshots of the gang. There was also a photo of me and Paul at the top corner. No Jesse in sight – the way I needed it to be.
That night I had fallen asleep to angry rapping – a CD Paul had mixed for me before we had broken up in June. It wasn't quite as soothing as "Take me Back", but it did the trick. I like to pretend I didn't have warped dreams of gangland and fighting.
I still saw the off-white van on my travels, and Jake had even flashed his indicator lights at me once, but it was never Jesse sitting in the front seat. It was always Willem, or occasionally Adam or Dean. I wonder if the seating arrangements had been specifically modified.
I was now avoiding Sundays at Lace like the plague – Dirty Bunch's official night. I tore down any advert of the band's I saw on the street – whether it was attached to a lamp-post or pasted to a wall. I figured the quicker I erased Jesse from my everyday life, the easier it would be to forget him.
I drove home listening intently to the radio, listening for my mom, but I'd missed her. There was nothing much to listen to, a few hip-hop numbers, a little chit-chat… until something that made my ears perk up. I turned up the volume, twisting the dial
"… local band Dirty Bunch with us, ladies and gentlemen. Now, you boys are very young. How are you coping with performing every week?"
I heard Jake's voice first. "Well, Luke, we've been a dedicated band for a long time, so we're used to the pressures. And now Jesse's-" My heart lurched. "-graduated high school, we have more freedom."
"Great." Lucas Green, the local radio station presenter was entirely too enthusiastic. When I had turned this station on first thing in the mornings on my way to school, I had had to shut him straight up. My sleepy brain just couldn't handle his pep. "Any of you boys got girlfriends? Or are you saving yourself for the groupies you're gonna meet on tour when you get successful?"
Jake laughed. It was obvious he was main spokesperson for the band. I could just imagine the rest of the band frowning at him, trying to get a word in edgeways. "Well, a few of the guys have girlfriends, but I'm single right now." I wondered if "a few of the guys" included Jesse. And then I made a point of not wondering. I didn't care. I was involved with someone else. It was likely Jesse was too.
"…well, I'll just let you guys set up. Ladies and gentlemen, listeners of Carbonated FM, I give you Dirty Bunch, singing an original composition." Please don't let it be 'Polka Dot Banana' I hoped desperately. Or even worse, 'Raw' "Princess of the Moon."
I heard Jesse clear his throat. "We'd like to dedicate this song to a very special girl. We wrote it for her." A lump stuck in my throat.
"Yeah," Jake chimed in. "Thanks, Ebony." The lump dropped away, along with all the assumptions I'd made with it. I made a right, towards the radio station, as the drum beat began to pick up and guitar chords started.
"With her dark eyes and her dark hair, she's the princess of the moon."
Jesse sang the line after Jake, and I could almost imagine him standing there, with his guitar slung across his waist, his eyes closed, and his mouth pressed up against the microphone.
"She's got me under her spell, and I can't help but swoon-"
I turned it off, angry at myself more than anyone else. I'd so firmly believed the song had been for me, even though I was no longer in any way connected to the band. I was mad at the way Ebony's song made me feel. It churned my stomach and made me feel like hitting something, and it was that emotion that made me maddest of all.
It took me a few more minutes until the amazingly tall aerial of the radio station came into view, and I pulled into the parking lot. I turned off the engine and leant back in my seat, waiting for my mother to tap on my window and ask me to open the passenger door for her.
Bang. The back door of the radio station suddenly swung open.
"And I can't fight with my heart tonight; everything I am is she…" Drunken-like singing filled my ears, and I lifted my lids to see Jesse and Ebony – in matching Bon Jovi T-shirts – swagger down the concrete steps singing the song I had heard on the radio only minutes ago. I noticed Jesse had an arm loosely draped around Ebony's shoulder, and they were both grinning and laughing. The sight was reminiscent of what Jesse and I had been like just a few weeks ago. Except for the T-shirt. I was never a fan of Bon Jovi.
I don't know exactly how or why I got there, but somehow I was out of my car and on my way towards the happy couple, an army-like determination spinning around my mind.
"Susannah," Jesse said, surprised, and as soon as he caught sight of me he dropped the arm he had around Ebony.
"Jesse," I replied, with a curt nod. "Ebony." Ebony's pale face broke into a polite smile, and she stuck out a hand, just as she had that night at Lace.
"You must be Susannah Simon," she said, as I glanced at her painted nails.
"Save it," I told her tersely, and I turned to Jesse. "Well, I hope you're happy together." Ebony opened her mouth to argue, but Jesse got there first.
"I have every right to be!" he cried, and I was taken aback by his tone. I was expecting a cold reply, but his was heated and angry. "You broke up with me, if I remember correctly."
"I was under the impression it was more of a joint decision," I snarled, coolly. "But don't worry, I'm fine. I've moved on, too." I tried to pretend I didn't see a glint of hurt in Jesse's eyes.
"I guess I was just nothing special, then," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "No different than the guy after me, or the guy after that."
"No," I answered, imitating Jesse's shrug. "I guess not."
"Oooh, Susie!" My mother's cheerful voice disrupted the argument. "I just met the most wonderful fan-" She suddenly spotted Jesse and Ebony. "Oh. I am sorry. I'll wait for you by the car, shall I Suze?"
"No," I replied, turning to my mother and casting Jesse and Ebony a withering look. "I think we're done here."
I walked with her back to my Golf in silence, and I heard Ebony's gentle voice whispering, as if offering sympathy and condolences to Jesse. But I didn't look back. I kept my head down as I unlocked my car, and got in.
"Would you care to explain what that was all about?" my mother asked me, once I had restarted the engine, and was on the main road again.
"Not really," I replied, awkwardly. "The break-up between Jesse and I wasn't exactly a… clean break."
"Ah." My mother pulled down the visor and applied some fuchsia lipstick. "I'm guessing you didn't use the 'I just want to be friends' line?"
"I have never used that line," I argued. "Because it never works out."
"Oh Susie, you and your rules," said my mother, and she placed a hand over mine on the gear-stick. "You are such a cynic when it comes to affairs of the heart."
"I'm not a cynic," I replied, carefully. "I'm just… wary of it, that's all."
"Do you believe in love, Susannah?" she asked me. I was sort of surprised by the abrupt question. I thought about it.
"I don't suppose I do."
My mother sighed. "Why?"
"Because it never works out," I said, flicking the indicator light on as I made a left. "I mean, look at you and Dad. And Kenny and Meghan."
"And then look at Andy and I," she added, smiling a little. "We're happy." I had to resist sticking a 'for now' at the end of her sentence. It was my turn to sigh.
"I've always believed in love, Suze," my mother continued. "Even in the darker times – when I couldn't get a date because I smelt of chip fat and has an inch of grease beneath my nails after working at In-Out Burger. Even before I met Andy, I knew love was out there waiting for me."
I admired my mother for this, and yet I pitied her. It was amazing, her faith in something so strong. But I didn't believe in love, I'd left my belief behind a long time ago. And nothing was going to change that.
Nothing.