The air crackled with unspoken words. Lizzie's tear-streaked face mirrored the turmoil swirling inside me. My phone buzzed, a cruel reminder of the tangled web I was caught in. It was Cara. My gaze flickered between the screen and Lizzie, the weight of the decision suffocating.
"Look," I began, my voice rough, "This isn't about who's right or wrong. It's about..." I trailed off, unable to voice the fractured mess that was my heart.
Lizzie reached for my hand, desperation a palpable force between us. "Ingrid, please," she pleaded. "We can work through this. Don't throw everything away."
My hand remained frozen in mid-air. Her words, once a melody that soothed my soul, now resonated with hollowness. Before I could respond, a jarring melody pierced the tense silence – Lizzie's phone. It was Robbie.
A flicker of defiance ignited in her eyes as she answered. "Robbie, it's over. For good this time." She hung up with a finality that surprised even me. My heart, battered but clinging to hope, began to mend a tiny fraction.
Suddenly, the door to the pub burst open, shattering the fragile peace. Cara stood there, her face a mask of pale determination. "Ingrid," she said, her voice strained, "There's something you need to see."
She pulled out her phone, and dread coiled in my gut. It was a video. The scene: backstage at the club, the night our world imploded. Lizzie stood there, talking intimately with Robbie. But this was no friendly conversation. Their lips met in a passionate kiss.
The video ended abruptly. The world spun, the familiar warmth of the pub replaced by a chilling emptiness. Lizzie's face crumpled, disbelief etched on her features. Cara remained grim, but a flicker of something else danced in her eyes – triumph?
Fury, cold and potent, bubbled up inside me. How could Lizzie? The girl I'd entrusted my heart to, the one I envisioned a future with, had betrayed me so deeply. Hot tears pricked my eyes, blurring the image of Cara's smug face.
"What is this?" I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper.
Lizzie shook her head, her denial shaky at best. "It's not what it looks like, Ingrid. Please, believe me."
The memory of countless let-downs, unanswered calls, and stolen glances at Robbie resurfaced, each one a shard of doubt piercing my chest. Denial wasn't an option anymore.
"How long?" My voice was a broken whisper, the words laced with a bitterness I didn't recognize.
Lizzie's eyes welled up again. "It was a mistake, Ingrid. Just a moment of weakness."
But the damage was done. The foundation of trust, painstakingly built over months, had crumbled in a heartbeat. Could I ever forgive her? Could I rebuild what had been shattered so carelessly?
Cara, watching our exchange with a chilling intensity, finally spoke. "It wasn't just a mistake, Ingrid. This has been going on for a while."
My head snapped towards her, fury replacing the despair. "What are you talking about?"
She held my gaze, the smugness replaced by something akin to pity. "I saw them together before Christmas, Ingrid. That's why Robbie called her that night. They've been seeing each other on and off since she got back."
My mind reeled. The photo, Robbie's call, Lizzie's erratic behavior – it all fit into a sickeningly clear picture.
Lizzie sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "Ingrid, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Please, forgive me."
But forgiveness felt like a distant mirage. The girl I loved, the girl I'd built a future with, was a stranger shrouded in deceit.
A million questions swirled in my head. Why Robbie? Was our entire relationship a lie? Had she ever truly loved me?
The pain was suffocating, a crushing weight on my chest. I yearned to lash out, to scream until my voice was raw, but the words wouldn't come. All I could do was stare at the woman who had broken my trust so completely.
Time seemed to lose its meaning. The bustling pub faded into a blurry canvas as I grappled with the wreckage of my emotions. Finally, the silence became unbearable.
"Get out," I rasped, my voice barely above a whisper. The words, devoid of anger, held a chilling finality.
Lizzie looked up, a flicker of hope momentarily lighting her eyes. "Ingrid, please..."
But I couldn't bear to see the hope morph into pleading again. I stood up, the movement unsteady, my legs shaky. My gaze flickered between Lizzie, crumpled on the floor, and Cara, who stood awkwardly to the side. Neither deserved a reaction, not right now. I needed air, space to process the emotional earthquake that had just leveled my world.
Without a word, I pushed past Cara, the brush of her shoulder sending a jolt through me. The crisp night air hit me like a slap, momentarily clearing the fog in my head. I stumbled down the street, my feet pounding the pavement in a desperate attempt to outrun the storm within.
The city lights blurred as tears finally burst forth, hot and stinging against my cheeks. Each sob felt like a physical blow, leaving me breathless and raw. Betrayal wasn't a new concept; I'd seen it from afar, witnessed its destructive path in the lives of others. But experiencing it firsthand, the searing pain of it, took my breath away.
As I walked, my mind replayed the past months like a broken record. Every missed call, every stolen glance, every unexplained absence – they all made sense now. The guilt I'd carried for suspecting Lizzie, for questioning her loyalty, evaporated, replaced by a bitter understanding.
But amidst the anger and hurt, a new emotion surfaced: confusion. Cara. Her sudden appearance, the video, the way she watched our confrontation unfold. Was she just a bystander, playing the concerned friend? Or was there more to her story?
Doubt gnawed at me. Lizzie, the girl I knew and loved, wouldn't have confided in Cara about Robbie. Their dynamic had always been strained, laced with a quiet tension I never quite understood. Yet, here she was, the supposed hero delivering the truth bomb.
The walk turned into a run, my body seeking solace in physical exertion. Exhaustion eventually caught up with me, forcing me to stumble into a park. Collapsing onto a deserted bench, I wrapped my arms around myself, the cold night air seeping through my thin jacket.
The sky above, a tapestry of stars, seemed to mock my despair. What did it all mean? Was love just a cruel illusion, a game of manipulation? As I stared at the twinkling constellations, a flicker of defiance sparked within me.
No. I wouldn't let them win. This wasn't who I was. Lizzie's betrayal, however devastating, wouldn't define me. I would pick up the pieces, mend the shattered fragments of my heart, and emerge stronger.
But the question that haunted me remained – who could I trust now? Cara's motives were suspect, and Lizzie...well, Lizzie had shattered my trust more thoroughly than I ever thought possible.
As the first rays of dawn painted the sky with streaks of pink and orange, a decision crystallized within me. I wouldn't choose between them. I wouldn't let either of them dictate my future. I needed a clean slate, a chance to rediscover myself outside the entanglement of their drama.
With newfound resolve, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't used in weeks. It was Gerry, my one constant source of unwavering support. The line rang once, twice, and then her familiar voice filled my ears.
"Hey, Ing? Everything alright?" Her voice, filled with concern, was a balm to my soul.
"Gerry," I managed, my voice thick with emotion. "I need you. Can you come pick me up?"
There was a beat of silence before she replied, "On my way, love. No questions asked."
A few minutes ticked by, each one stretching into an eternity. The silence was broken by the rumble of Gerry's car pulling up beside the curb. Relief washed over me as I stumbled to my feet, my legs still heavy with fatigue.
She got out, concern etched deep on her face. "Hey, love," she greeted me, pulling me into a tight hug. The familiar scent of her vanilla perfume and lavender laundry detergent provided a comforting anchor amidst the chaos. "What happened?"
I leaned back, wiping the remnants of tears from my cheeks. "It's a long story," I began, the words tumbling out in a rush as I recounted the events of the previous evening. I told her about the fight with Lizzie, the video, and the gnawing suspicion about Cara's motives.
Gerry listened patiently, her hand gently squeezing mine throughout my narrative. Once I finished, a heavy silence settled between us, broken only by the chirping of birds awakening to the new day.
"Wow," Gerry finally breathed, her voice laced with sympathy. "That's a lot to unpack, Ing."
I nodded, my throat constricting with a fresh wave of hurt. "I don't know what to do, Gerry. I feel so lost."
She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay to feel lost, love. This is a big blow. But trust me, you'll get through this."
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, letting the morning sun cast a warm glow on us. Finally, Gerry spoke up, her voice hesitant. "There's something you haven't told me yet," she said gently.
I looked up at her, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"The band," she clarified. "You haven't mentioned them at all."
My heart sank. The band, our passion project, had been pushed to the back of my mind by the emotional whirlwind of the night before. But Gerry's words were a much-needed wake-up call.
"I... I don't know," I admitted, my voice small. "Everything with Lizzie just..."
"Ingrid," Gerry interrupted, her voice firm but loving. "Don't let her take that away from you too. The band is a part of who you are, a source of joy and creativity. Don't throw it away because of her mistakes."
Her words resonated deeply. She was right. The band wasn't just some hobby; it was a creative outlet, a safe space where I could express myself freely. And lately, with everything going on with Lizzie, it had become my lifeline.
"You know," Gerry continued, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "why don't we get you to one of the rehearsal rooms now, take some anger out on the drums and then we can have a girly night in?"
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. The thought of getting lost in music was suddenly very appealing. Perhaps, just perhaps, Gerry was onto something.
"Okay," I agreed, a flicker of hope rekindled in my chest. "Let's do it."
The rhythmic rumble of Gerry's car lulled me into a false sense of security. The initial flicker of hope I'd felt about the band had dimmed under the weight of a new dilemma: Cara. Gerry's words about not letting Lizzie steal the music from me echoed in my head, but the thought of facing Cara after the previous night sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over me.
"Hey," Gerry nudged my arm gently, her perceptive eyes catching the shift in my mood. "Everything okay, Ing?"
My voice barely rose above a whisper. "It's Cara," I admitted, the weight of the name heavy on my tongue. "I don't know how to act around her after last night."
Gerry furrowed her brow, concern etched on her face. "What exactly happened, Ing? You didn't mention anything about Cara in your story."
Taking a deep breath, I recounted the scene at the pub, my voice catching as I described Cara's smugness and the glint in her eyes that could only be interpreted as triumph.
"She showed you the video, right?" Gerry asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
I nodded, bitterness rising in my throat. "And then she just stood there, watching me fall apart. It felt almost... calculated."
Gerry pondered this for a moment. "That does sound suspicious," she conceded. "But on the other hand, maybe she just wanted to show you the truth so you could make an informed decision about Lizzie."
I wasn't so convinced. The way Cara had watched me, the way she seemed to take pleasure in my pain – it felt off. But without proof, accusing her would only create a bigger chasm within the band.
"I don't know, Gerry," I finally managed, the uncertainty hanging heavy in the air. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just being paranoid."
Gerry offered a sympathetic smile. "Look, why don't we just head in and see how things go? If Cara acts weird, we'll deal with it then. But for now, try to focus on the music."
Hope flickered anew. Focusing on music had always been my escape, a sanctuary where emotions dissolved into melody and rhythm. Maybe, just maybe, it could be that again.
As I stepped into the familiar embrace of the studio, the comforting buzz of amps and the rhythmic pounding of drums filled the air. Nick and Alex looked up, surprise blooming on their faces.
"Ingrid!" Nick boomed, his voice filled with relief. "We were just about to text you"
"Yeah," Alex added, his usual shyness momentarily forgotten.
I offered a weak smile. "Sorry guys, long night," I mumbled.
Gerry, sensing the awkwardness, stepped in. "Alright everyone, let's not crowd her. How about we give Ingrid a few minutes to settle in, and then I'm ready to hear what you guys have been working on!"
The boys readily agreed, giving me a moment to collect my thoughts. My gaze drifted towards my bass guitar, its worn neck a familiar comfort in my hand. Plucking a few strings, I closed my eyes and let the music wash over me.
The familiar melodies and rhythms started to work their magic. As the boys launched into an old favorite, the world outside ceased to exist. Lizzie, Cara – they all faded away as I poured my emotions – the hurt, the anger, the confusion – into my playing, my fingers flying across the fretboard with a raw passion I hadn't felt in weeks.
When the last note faded, a comfortable silence settled over the studio. I opened my eyes, a sense of calm settling over me. For the first time since the fight with Lizzie, I felt a glimmer of peace.
"Woah," Nick finally breathed, shattering the silence. "That was... intense. Where did that come from?"
Alex's eyes mirrored Nick's awe. "Seriously, Ing. You were on fire."
I offered a genuine smile, one that reached my eyes. "I just... needed to get something out of my system, I guess."
Gerry winked at me. "Seems like music therapy worked its magic again."
But as we were about to launch into another song, a peculiar silence hung in the air. Nick nudged me, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Where's Cara? You two are normally joined at the hip"
The realization hit me like a cold wave. Cara wasn't there. No text, no call, no explanation for her absence. A part of me felt a flicker of irritation, but a larger part couldn't help but wonder if Cara felt regret? Had she realized the weight of her actions, the potential damage she'd caused? Or was this simply a strategic move, leaving me to stew in uncertainty?
The question remained unanswered
Stepping out of the studio, the familiar hum of the city washed over us. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, painting the sidewalk in a warm glow. The weight of the practice session, the unresolved tension with Cara, lingered in the air, creating an awkward silence between me and Gerry.
"So," Gerry finally spoke, her voice laced with concern, "you gonna tell me what happened with Cara?"
I hesitated, the image of Cara's smug face flashing before my eyes. "Honestly, G, I don't even know what to think. Part of me is mad, part of me is confused..." The jumble of emotions threatened to spill over.
"Please can we talk" Lizzie had come up behind me and grabbed my arm.
The memory of her smugness at the pub flashed before my eyes, instantly hardening my resolve. "No, thanks, Liz," I replied, my voice firm. "I need some space."
Lizzie's shoulders slumped slightly, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face before she mumbled a quick goodbye and retreated back down the street. Watching her go, a pang of guilt tugged at the edges of my anger, but I pushed it down. Right now, I couldn't afford to be swayed by her crocodile tears.
As Lizzie's figure disappeared around the corner, Gerry glanced at me with a knowing smile. "Need a shoulder to cry on, love?"
I managed a faint smile back, a small flicker of gratitude warming my chest. "Not this time, G. Thanks though." I reached into my pocket and pulled out my box of cigarettes and pulled out a joint that looks different to the rest.
"if your doing that I am going to the shop, I hate the smell" Gerry giggled as we walked seprate ways.
Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from Cara.
"Hey Ing, Fancy some company? I owe you a big apology."
My heart hammered in my chest. Was Cara genuinely remorseful? Or was this another calculated move, a way to further manipulate the situation?
I spotted Cara approaching from the opposite direction. She was walking briskly, a determined set to her jaw. Catching sight of us, she quickened her pace and a hesitant smile flickered across her face.
"Hey guys," she said, her voice tinged with nervousness. "Mind if I steal a drag?"
I passed her the joint as she attempted to catch her breath.
Cara's smile faltered slightly, but she held my gaze. "I can explain everything," she said, her voice gaining conviction. "But can we talk about it inside? It's a long story."
As we reached the steps leading up to my building, Cara finally broke the silence.
"Alright," she began, taking a deep breath. "Here's the deal. Remember that showcase gig we played a few months ago? Apparently, a scout from 'Wildwood Records' was there."
My eyebrows shot up. Wildwood Records wasn't a household name, but they had a reputation for nurturing up-and-coming alternative bands. They weren't giants, but they were a chance.
"Apparently," Cara continued, "they were impressed. Enough to request some demos. So, I took the liberty of putting together a compilation of our best stuff."
A flicker of anger sparked within me. Cara had no right to make such a decision on her own, but before I could voice my protest, Gerry nudged me with her elbow.
"Hold on, Ing," she interjected. "So, you're saying you sent them our music without telling us?"
Cara winced slightly. "Look, I know I should have talked to you guys first. But this is a huge opportunity, and I didn't want to miss it."
I couldn't deny the truth in her words. A record label, even a small one like Wildwood, could be a game-changer. But the way Cara had gone about it left a bitter taste in my mouth.
"And the meeting?" I asked, my voice still laced with suspicion.
"They loved the demos," Cara said, a hint of triumph creeping back into her voice. "They want to meet with us. In person. Next week."
The news hung heavy in the air. This was it. The potential turning point we'd all been hoping for, delivered in the most unexpected way. I glanced at Gerry, who has been earsdropping on the converstation since she returned searching for a reaction. A slow smile spread across her face.
"Well, Ing," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "Looks like you have a decision to make. Are you ready to move on and take a shot at the big leagues?"
Thats the end of book 1 guys, I already have the first 5 chapters of book 2 written and will post it this weekend!
What do we think will happen? :D