Exit Stage Six: A Contemporary New Adult Romance Novella (6 page)

God I fucking love you!
Evan’s words from the night
before echoed inside my head with the feeling of sable soft fur. I closed my
eyes and sipped my coffee, staring at my computer monitor.

I had completed the image of him standing on the stairwell
landing. Painstakingly matching the color and hue of his tattoo and injecting
the colors into the image in photo shop in my spare time between project
images. What had taken me forever wasn’t the tattoo itself, it had been his
eyes. Getting his eye color correct had been a monumental task. Now his tattoo
and his far away eyes were the only spots of color in an otherwise grayscale image
and the result, well it was breathtaking. Probably my finest piece of
photographic art I had ever done.

I printed it out when a knock sounded at my door. I glanced
down at my printer under the desk and smiled. I was going to give it to Evan as
a gift. I got up and padded down the hall to my front door and peeked through
the peephole. I smiled and opened the door.

“Hey beautiful.” The man of the hour pulled me against him
and kissed me. I smiled against his mouth.

“What’d you bring?” I asked. He held up a bag of Styrofoam
take out containers and raised his eyebrows.

“Dinner is served.” He said and I smiled.

“I’ll get some plates.” I retreated into the kitchen and he
set down the bag on the counter.

“That your dad?” he asked nodding in the direction of my
desktop screen.

“Yeah.” I said softly. The picture was the last good one
taken of him. He was in his wheelchair and smiling at the camera. I was perched
over his shoulder and smiling too. His arm had twisted and rode up against his
chest by then.

“Hey, L.B. c’mere.” Evan pulled me against him when my eyes
misted.

“I’m fine.” I said and smiled, pulling myself out of it.

“I miss him.” He said opening the top container. The smell
of Chinese food invaded my kitchen.

“D?” I asked.

“Yeah. I think it’s finally real you know it?” he asked.

“What’s real?” I asked.

“He’s gone, and he’s not coming back.” He answered and I
spared a look at my desk top before the screensaver took over in colored
swirls.

“Yeah. I know.” I set down the plates and silverware and
went to him. We held each other for a long time. Drawing strength from one
another while our food started cooling on the counter.

“Food’s getting cold.” I murmured.

“That’s what they make microwaves for.” He breathed, walking
me back out of the kitchen towards the bed.

Indeed.

~*~

“Shit!” I jumped out of bed and stared at the clock. I was
fifteen minutes late getting up. I was going to miss my bus!

Evan sat up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Finals! I have to get to class!” I rushed around the
apartment and got dressed. I threw my hair up into a messy knot and scooped the
pictures off my printer shoving them carefully but haphazardly into a portfolio
and zipping it closed.

“Go!” he kissed me quickly and said “I’ll lock up and take
the fire escape.”

“Thanks!” I said and raced out the door, hopping on one foot
while I pulled on my other ballet flat. I pounded down the stairs and raced up
the block, barely making my bus, diving into the doors as they shut behind me
with a pneumatic hiss.

I dropped into the first available seat and willed my heart
rate down and my breathing to return to normal. Spring rain pattered against
the window and I was shedding droplets of water from my coat. I opted not to
open my portfolio until I was safely in the classroom.

~*~

“London, let’s see what you’ve got.” Professor England, no
that isn’t a joke but it was a hilarious coincidence, held out her hand for my
portfolio. Her class was pretty informal and there were only eight of us left,
so we sat around one of the islands more like a meet and greet than a class of
students handing in their final projects.

“There are thirteen images here not twelve, which one would
you like to omit?” she asked. My brow furrowed.

“I only printed off twelve, are you sure?” I asked.

“Quite.” She laid them out on the island.

“Is that Dorian Metzger!?” A girl whose name escaped me
asked.

“Who?” I asked, and she held up a photo to her face.

“It is! Oh my God how did you meet him!?” she turned the
photo so I could see and it was Evan.

“Oh no! You must have him confused with someone else, that’s
my upstairs neighbor, Evan.” I reached for the photo.

“Girl that’s Dorian Metzger, I’d stake my life on it.” she
said.

Professor England took the photo from her and looked it
over.

“I would omit this one.” She said pointedly and handed me
the one of the mask in the cherry tree. I slid it back into my portfolio.

“That’s my upstairs neighbor, Evan Lake.” I said with
conviction.

“Mmm no, I’m a diehard Elysium fan. That’s their lead
guitarist, Dorian Metzger.” She pulled out her phone and I frowned at her. I
shook my head exasperated.

“I think I would know,” I said, “Evan wouldn’t keep…” the
words died on my lips when she turned her phone around and Evan’s piercing
green eyes stood out behind the shoulder of another handsome young man. Behind
the young man’s other shoulder a familiar blue eyed bald man. Hal.

The blood roared in my ears, I stood up and the world went
topsy-turvy for a second there. I couldn’t get enough air.

“London? London are you all right!?” Professor England was
looking at me with concern.

“What?” I asked and my voice sounded far away.

“Sit down.” She ordered.

“Miram get her some water.” The Professor ordered. The girl
got up and scurried away.

“London what’s wrong?” the professor repeated.

“He lied to me.” Tears welled and spilled over.

“Who lied?” she asked.

“Evan, Dorian, whatever his name is! Oh my God…” I covered
my mouth with my hand.

Evan Lake wasn’t real? He lied to me? He
slept
with
me knowingly lying to me!? He told me loved me… I closed my eyes as the room
whirled, then stopped, righting itself.

Who the hell had I been dating? Could we call what we’d been
doing dating? I was so confused…

I stared at the forgotten image in the center of the island
and the image on the phne screen beside it.

Evan Lake wasn’t real…

It was all a lie.

I stared out the window at the rain pattering against the
pane and watched Evan’s last chance trickle down the glass, washing away the
ashes of my heart with it.

Truth was, I had somehow come to love him too…

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I taped the manila envelope with the eight by ten photograph
of Evan… Dorian… in it to his front door along with a note.

It read:

Liar. I don’t ever want to speak to you again. Leave me
alone.

-London

On the outside of the envelope in bold sharpie I had written
‘Dorian’. I then went downstairs to my apartment, locked my doors and windows
and in addition to drawing the blinds on the window with the fire escape I
tacked a towel over it.

It was dark in my little home, and darker still in the
recesses of my heart and mind. An hour later pounding came at my door.

“L.B.!” Evan cried. I sat on my bed and hugged a pillow to
my chest. I felt hollowed out, and clutching the pillow to my chest felt like a
pathetic last ditch effort to keep myself together. I felt like I was flying
apart. I didn’t want to, I hadn’t realized the depths of my feelings for Evan…
God! Dorian!

My heart bled afresh with the wound his lies and betrayal
had left in it.

“L.B. please! Talk to me!”

“Fuck off Dorian!” I screamed and immediately began sobbing.
Big noisy wracking chest heaving sobs.

“London!” he called and then cursed. I heard his booted feet
on the stair and moments later he was tapping on my window with something.

“Go away!” I screamed.

I had to stick to my guns.

“Please babe. I need you.” He said.

“Then you should have told me the truth! Now go away! I
can’t take any more of your bullshit! I tried! Now please just go away!” I
sobbed and laid sideways on my bed.

I cried myself to sleep that night, unfortunately, Evan
would not be so immediately swayed.

~*~

“L.B.! Come on L.B.! Talk to me!” He didn’t grab me or run
after me, for which I was grateful, but Evan… Dorian! Had taken to camping on
the landing outside my door.

It had been three days since the revelation that Evan Lake
was indeed Dorian Metzger, lead guitarist for the rock band Elysium. The D. he
referred to was none other than Drake Tremaine, the band’s lead singer. At
least his grief had been real if nothing else…

I clattered down the stairs and didn’t bother to look back.
I wondered how I missed it. I mean I liked the band, but after carefully
thinking about it I realized that when it came to most of the bands I liked, when
I saw a picture of the band or a music video the focus was completely on the
lead singer.

When I thought about it I realized I had never paid
attention to Elysium’s guitarist or drummer… which was a shame. Not only
because it would have saved me a lot of humiliation and grief but also because
Dorian was still, in my opinion, too beautiful to miss.

Looking back on the last six or seven weeks I realized that
there had been so many warning signs that I had just plain been oblivious to.
His despising having his picture taken, the blonde laughing her drunken head
off when I’d called him Evan, even Hal’s stumbling over the use of his name.

At least Hal had told me the truth. Elysium’s drummer was
indeed Hal Walker.

I strode up the street and tried valiantly to hate Dorian
but all I could muster was disappointment, sadness and a keen sense of loss and
betrayal.

Damn him… just damn him.

Stage 6

Making Things Right

I was at my mother’s again. The news was over and the
entertainment gossip show was starting. I had told her everything, in my family
there were no secrets… Dorian and Hal’s face flashed across the screen and I
flinched. My mom’s hand immediately picked up my own and she squeezed it.

“Want me to change the channel?” she asked.

“No.” I murmured.

It had been three weeks since what I was calling ‘the
revelation’ had occurred.

“Next on Entertainment Insider, the remaining band
members of Elysium give their first exclusive interview since the suicide of
lead singer Drake Tremaine… We’ll be broadcasting live! Coming up, right after
this!”
The announcer’s voice was bold and overloud and I winced,
breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

I would not cry.

“Oh honey.” My mom rubbed my back and Dorian and Hal came on
the screen across from some woman set to interview them.

“I’m Lacy Peters here live with Dorian Metzger and Hal
Walker, the remaining band members of Elysium. Hi guys, how are you doing?” she
asked gently.

“Uh fine.”

“Fine.” They chorused.

“Dorian, you disappeared for over a month following Drake’s
untimely death, what was that like for you?” she asked. Dorian froze and the
expression that crossed his face was a mixture of surprise and anger which
quickly smoothed over into a careful noncommittal mask of indifference.

“Drake was my best friend, we grew up together in a small
town, Evan’s Lake…” he cleared his throat and I reeled, leaning forward.

“I didn’t know what to do or how to cope so, I uh… I just
didn’t want to be under the spotlight, you know? I wanted to take some time for
myself, figure out what I wanted, heal…” he bowed his head and looked back up,
vivid green eyes shining beneath the lights.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“I never left the city, actually.” He gave a nervous laugh.
“I rented a small studio apartment, moved in with the bare minimum, even Hal
here didn’t know where I was.” He looked over to Hal, his hands rubbing up and
down the tops of his thighs hip to knee and back hip to knee and back… the
movement of his long fingered hands was mesmerizing.

“Is that true?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah it is…” Hal spoke for a while but my eyes were
on Dorian. He had a tightness around his eyes and he sat up straighter than he
usually did. I frowned.

“What did you do in your self-imposed solitude?” the interviewer
asked him and I swallowed, my mouth gone dry.

“I wallowed, at first but then there was this girl…” he
palmed the back of his neck and he looked sheepish.

“A girl?” She asked.

“Yeah, my downstairs neighbor.” He chewed his bottom lip and
I cringed.

Please no, please no, please no…
I chanted in my
mind.

He looked right into the camera.

“She was my bridge back into the world. I was drowning and
she pulled me up for air.” He said.

“Wow. She sounds like quite a girl.” The interviewer
remarked.

“She is.” He said.

“Are you two… together?” she asked and he palmed the back of
his neck again.

“No, no I screwed that up.” He swallowed.

“L.B. if you’re watching, I want to fix it more than
anything, take it back. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all of
it.” His expression was drenched in remorse.

“L.B.?” my mother asked and was echoed by the woman on the
screen.

“London Bridge.” I murmured, but the woman persisted hen
Dorian didn’t say anything.

“Is that her initials?” she asked.

“Sort of, it’s my initials for her.” He gave her a crooked
grin and the reporter raised an eyebrow.

“The paparazzi recently caught up with you outside Primeval
Ink in down town Metro City, what did you have done? Can you tell us?” she
asked and gave him a salacious little smile.

Dorian laughed.

“I think it’s better if I just show you.” He slid off his
stool and lifted his tee shirt over his head and I gasped.

There on the left side of his chest and ribs was a tower
done in black and white. It started below his pants and rose to just below his
nipple. He turned slowly for the camera, the bridge span running along his ribs
to the second tower on his back which mirrored the one on his chest.

“Wow, that’s quite a piece!” the reporter remarked.

I gaped open mouthed at the television… Dorian Metzger had tattooed
London Bridge larger than life on his torso.

“That boy loves you.” My mother said dubiously.

“Can you tell the viewers at home what that structure is?”
she asked.

“Uh sure, it’s the famed London bridge.” He said taking his
seat, albeit shirtless this time, he clipped the microphone to his necklace.

“L.B. London Bridge.” She said.

“That’s right Lacy.” He said.

“So the tattoo is for the girl?” she asked.

He looked at the camera and stated, unequivocally, “Yes. She
was my bridge back to the world. She gave me strength, hope and put up with a
mountain of my…” they bleeped out the word, “…and she didn’t have to. She hung
on and kept me from following Drake. I love her and I would do just about
anything to have her back in my life.” He leaned back, Hal was looking at him
surprised. Lacy was speechless.

“Wow. That’s quite an admission…” she said, “We have to take
a break,” she murmured then, voice stronger, “We’ll be right back.”

“Turn it off.” Tears glittered in my eyes and my mom did as
I asked. The TV went blank and I swallowed hard.

“Oh baby.” Her face was sympathetic and she pulled me into a
hug.

I was beginning to wonder just how much more I could take. I
missed Dorian, had a Dorian sized hole in my heart where he should be. He’d
moved out of the apartment above mine two weeks earlier and my world felt
emptier for it.

I was beginning to think I had made a horrible mistake but
then I took another look back. I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. No.
I wasn’t quite ready to forgive Dorian Metzger for fooling me into loving Evan
Lake, a man who didn’t exist.

No I wasn’t ready at all.