Chapter 15

15

P eter slid his room key in the door, and a soft click and a green light appeared. He let himself in the hotel suite to find Garrett alone with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"What's up?" Peter asked.

"Taking care of some business." Garrett stared at Peter and didn't look away.

Peter looked around the cluttered desk and dresser. "Have you seen my phone? I thought it was in my coat, but I can't find it and I need to call Libby."

"It's probably on the bus."

"Yeah, maybe." Something about Garrett seemed odd, but Peter brushed it off.

Libby huddled against the barn, huge gulping breaths racking her body. Locked in her private misery, she didn't hear Aunt Marge approach.

"What are you doing out here?" Aunt Marge held a shotgun in the crook of her arm.

Libby looked up from the frozen ground. Her lower lip shook as her tear-filled eyes rested on the weapon. What was Aunt Marge doing with a shotgun?

"Speak up." Her aunt's piercing words brought Libby back around. "You should be on the bus to school, not lurking around my barn. What are you looking for?" Aunt Marge's eyes narrowed. "What did you see?"

"Peter broke up with me," she uttered, her voice breaking. A new onslaught of tears and hiccups erupted.

"Good. Now maybe you'll pay attention when I tell you something. He was a snooping rich boy nosing around where he didn't belong. I knew this would happen. You're too damned stubborn to listen to me. You think you know everything. Well, I'll tell you, little Miss Know-It-All, you haven't got a clue about life."

Libby barely listened as her angry aunt ranted. The woman's words meant nothing. Without Peter, her world was empty. Tears overflowed anew.

"Now move your lazy ass up off the ground and get to school. I have work to do and you're interfering." She waved the gun in the direction of the road.

Libby fumbled with her book bag and rose, her body trembling with emotion. "I missed the bus."

Aunt Marge looked her up and down. "That was stupid. Looks like you'll have a long walk to think about how to avoid that mistake again."

Libby's eyes widened. "It's five miles."

Aunt Marge shrugged. "Then you better get started." Aunt Marge stood steadfast like the vacant farm buildings, ugly after years of neglect. Would Libby turn out the same way?

This confrontation was more than she could handle. Libby gulped. No option but to go. Resigned, she walked around the dilapidated barn; the wide door hung open on rusted hinges. She automatically glanced inside.

Libby shouldn't have been surprised at what she saw.

She couldn't turn away from dozens of small plastic bags that sat in tidy rows. She stepped into the barn. Lab equipment with beakers and funnels were set up on one side. Piles of clear bags containing crystals filled a table. There were scales, rubber tubing, and all sorts of paraphernalia littered about.

Was Aunt Marge making crystal meth?

She turned to face her aunt and laughed at the irony. The woman who restricted Libby's every move in the guise of good behavior was cooking meth!

Rage etched Aunt Marge's haggard face. "You think you're so smart. Well, you're an ignorant, self-absorbed child." She stalked closer. "How long ago did your weak, spineless father dump you here? A year? More? And you finally get curious? You're as brainless as your idiot mother."

"Don't talk about my mother like that! She was amazing!" Anger replaced her sorrow.

"Your mother was a fool. She never accomplished a damned thing in her life. She spent years raising you and your bratty sister, and for what? To get splattered on the highway like a bug? Not much of a life."

The cruel words horrified Libby. "How dare you.

You . . . you bitch!"

"Watch your mouth, little girl. I'm all you've got left in this world, and you'd be ill advised to screw this up, too."

Libby bit back her words. Things were happening too fast. She needed to tread carefully and sort things out. She stepped back, away from her aunt, away from the drugs. Without another word, she turned toward the road.

"That's more like it. Get yourself to school, and if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut."

Libby started her long trek down the country road, glad to escape her aunt's insanity. The pea gravel crunched under each step like the touch of sandpaper rubbing her raw nerves.

After a while, the sound became a soothing anthem, lulling her distraught mind into a murky haze, where she could rehash the happenings of this morning in a distant, detached way.

Mile after mile she walked, oblivious to the occasional car speeding by. When Mom and Sarah died, she'd been in shock. This was different. Their deaths were tragic, horrible accidents. Today, the people ripping her life apart knew what they were doing. It emotionally exhausted her. She was tired of being nice, tired of doing what people told her, tired of being let down. Aunt Marge's words stung. There was no one left for Libby, and she refused to think of her aunt as a guardian. The woman was a monster. How could her dad leave her with this lunatic?

A car passed her, slowed, then pulled over and stopped.

Libby plodded forward, eventually reaching it.

"Libby, is that you?" Miss Orman leaned across the front seat and peeked out the open passenger window.

Libby stopped next to the window.

"Why are you walking? Get in." Miss Orman reached across to open the door.

"It's been a bad morning." Libby climbed into the car and set her pack on the floor. Her left hand still gripped her phone.

Ms. Orman took in Libby's disheveled appearance. "Are you okay?"

Libby nodded, but her blank expression remained. She knew her tearstained face was all blotchy. She stared down at the dirt on her secondhand coat and threadbare jeans.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Libby shook her head and stared straight ahead, feeling as fragile as a porcelain dish. Miss Orman checked for traffic and pulled back onto the road.

After a minute, Libby spoke. "My aunt is making crystal meth."

Ms. Orman's head snapped to look at her. "What did you say?"

"She's doing it in the barn. I saw it this morning. I always wondered why she spent so much time out there." Libby didn't know why she told her. It just came out. It didn't really matter anymore. Nothing did.

"Oh dear God. I knew your aunt was odd, but I never suspected her of being involved with drugs."

"Peter broke up with me," Libby said in a monotone voice she barely recognized and held her phone up as confirmation.

"I'm so sorry." Miss Orman reached across and patted Libby's arm. "I wish I could protect you from the painful realities of life."

"It's okay, I'm used to people leaving." Everyone left. Her mom and sister died. Her dad abandoned her in Rockville. And now Peter. She never deserved him anyway.

"This is going to be okay. I promise. Someday you'll look back and this will be a small blip in your life. You'll be happy and successful, and no one will hold you back from great things."

Libby didn't respond.

"Listen, I'm going to help you through this. I'm leaving town for Thanksgiving weekend with my fiancé, but as soon as I get back, we're going to make all this ugliness go away. I promise. Okay?" Miss Orman waited for Libby to react, as though she needed reassurance herself.

"Okay," Libby said, her voice dull as they pulled into the school parking lot.

"Why don't you come to my office, and we can talk for a while or have a little something to eat? When's the last time you ate?"

"I'd rather just go to class." She was already out the door, her backpack hanging heavy on her weary shoulders. "All right, but I'm here for you, whatever you need," Miss Orman called as Libby disappeared into the mass of students.

Later that day, Peter stood in the hotel suite exhausted from a long day packed with interviews. In his palm lay the pieces of his broken phone. "Garrett, what the hell is this?"

"What are you doing messing with my stuff?" Garrett's face turned red and pinched.

"I couldn't find my phone, so I was looking for yours so I could call Libby, but I found mine instead. What gives?"

"Oh yeah, that. Well, ya see, your phone had a little accident. I didn't want to tell you, 'cause I know how you overreact whenever your little hottie is involved."

Peter tensed. Garrett was too cocky, even for him. Something was up. Whenever Garrett got like this it was because he'd screwed with other people's business. Guarded, Peter asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing, really." Garrett's beady eyes stared him down.

Peter knew his brother was lying. A bad feeling sat in the pit of his stomach. "You son of a bitch, what the hell did you do? "

"Actually, I did you a favor. In fact, you should thank me for cleaning up your mess. You won't have to deal with your Midwest farm girl anymore."

Peter dropped the broken pieces of the phone on the side table. He stalked across the room and grabbed Garrett by the front of his designer shirt and shook him. "You better start talking, and fast." He tightened his grip and lifted Garrett off his feet. Fabric ripped beneath his hands.

"Chill man, will ya? You're ruining my new shirt. See what I mean? One mention of your little girlfriend and you go postal."

Peter was about to respond when Adam walked in, futzing with his camera. He took one look at Peter and Garrett. "Dude, what are you doing? Mom and Dad are, like, ten feet away."

Peter shoved Garrett away, disgusted, but his piercing glare remained. Garrett shrugged and fixed his collar back in place.

"Jeez, what'd you do to piss off Peter? Hit on his girlfriend or something?" Adam plopped onto the couch between the two.

"Adam, shut it," Peter said through clenched teeth.

"More like ‘something.'" Garrett puffed up his chest.

"Oh, I gotta hear this." Adam put his feet up on the couch and grinned, with his camera at the ready.

"Peter's little stalker friend won't be bothering him anymore. Turns out she got dumped today." Garrett crossed his arms, looking satisfied with himself.

Peter's heart clenched.

Adam lowered his camera, confusion on his face. "Peter, you dumped Libby?"

Peter spoke slowly, his words measured and jaw clenched. "No, I haven't talked to Libby today. My phone has been missing. Garrett, you better tell me what you did right now, or so help me, I'll break your frickin' neck." He forced his fisted hands to his sides, not trusting himself.

"This morning, while you were on your run, I gave your little friend a call." Garrett loved an audience, even if it was only Adam.

"I told her how bored you are with her and that you want her to go away. Forever." Garrett raised an eyebrow, an open challenge to Peter.

Adam's eyes grew wide with shock. "Garrett, you're a dead man."

"Peter doesn't have it in him. Plus, he'd rather go write a song about it."

Hot rage overcame Peter. "You're lying. You wouldn't dare call Libby."

"I did more than dare. I was quite convincing. I even had the front office cancel her service!"

Peter dove across the coffee table and sent a flower arrangement crashing to the floor. He slammed into Garrett and knocked the breath out of him as they hit the floor. They rolled around on the hardwood as Peter struck out and tried to pin his brother down. Garrett plowed into an antique side table, knocking it over along with a crystal lamp that shattered on impact.

Deaf to everything other than his malicious brother, Peter heaved each breath. He grabbed Garrett by the shoulders and slammed him against the floor. A loud thud sounded at the impact of his head to hardwood. Garrett was unable to avoid Peter's powerful blows any longer.

Peter pinned him and, blind with rage, delivered direct hits. His body hummed with an unseen drive. He noticed the taste of blood in his mouth from one lucky shot Garrett snuck through. But nothing mattered other than the fact Garrett had gone after Libby and hurt her. It was unforgiveable. She'd suffered too much, and this time it was by the hand of his egotistical, power-hungry brother.

Peter went for another hit when he felt himself yanked off the struggling Garrett. His dad and Roger did all they could to restrain him. His mom watched in horror.

"Peter, what the hell is going on in here? Are you out of your mind?" his father roared.

"Jett, calm down. It's not good for your heart," Peter's mom pleaded, taking his father by the arm.

Peter's breath came in quick, heavy bursts, as adrenaline coursed through his body. He resisted the urge to pummel Garrett into oblivion. The last thing he wanted was more heart problems for his dad. He shrugged away from their grip .

"Karen, I'm fine." His father looked from Peter to Garrett, waiting for an answer. "Garrett, you want to explain why Peter felt the need to fight with you just minutes after a camera crew left the room?"

The sound of Adam's camera clicking filled the void. He lounged on the couch, not a care in the world. A carefree grin on his face, he snapped shots of the action, enjoying the drama.

"Adam, put that damned camera down! The last thing we need is evidence of this debacle," his father said.

Garrett lay on the floor, his carefully styled hair a mess, and the beginnings of a fat lip growing. "He's just a little bent out of shape that I called Libby and broke it off for him."

"You didn't!" His mom turned on Garrett in disbelief. "What is wrong with you!"

"I don't know why you're surprised. Garrett always does whatever serves him best. He's jealous whenever I have something he doesn't," Peter yelled.

"Bull! Someone had to end your little-boy crush." Garrett looked around at their parents, Adam, and Roger. "Come on, it's not like we haven't talked about how messed up Peter's been ever since he started going out with her."

Garrett stood up, his torn shirt untucked and wrinkled, a bruise beginning to form under his eye. "I'm just the one with the guts to follow through." Garrett touched his swollen lip and flinched .

Peter couldn't believe what he heard. "You've been talking about my relationship with Libby?" He pushed his hair back in frustration.

"Heck, Dad even agreed. He said the band would be better off if you lost the deadweight."

"Garrett, that's enough." His father's voice was stern, but Peter noticed his guilty eyes.

He turned to his dad. "How could you do this to us, to me?"

"Peter, calm down," his dad ordered condescendingly. Yet he wouldn't look him in the eye.

"No, I'm not going to calm down!" Peter yelled. "You let Garrett do this! You cut us off!" Of all the manipulative things Garrett had done over the years, this was by far the worst. His family was interfering in his life. He couldn't believe they would turn against him. They'd crossed the line.

"This little thing with you two has gone on long enough. It's time to get serious with your music. We have a lot coming up," his father said.

"What do you mean it's gone on long enough? You're putting a timetable on my relationships?"

"It was hardly a relationship, son. You're young. You'll date lots of girls."

"I don't want lots of girls, I want Libby. And YES, it IS a relationship. She gets me. She doesn't care about all this. "

He waved his hands around at the fancy trappings of the room. "And since when am I not serious about my music? Don't you dare use that as an excuse! We've never been as good or successful as we are now."

"That's right, and now you boys have the chance to take this thing to the next level. You don't need any distractions."

"Oh, and Garrett's booty calls after every show aren't a distraction?" Peter accused.

His mother shot a surprised and disappointed look at Garrett. She shook her head. "We'll deal with you later."

"What? The ladies love me," Garrett bragged.

"My God, Dad! Libby's not a distraction. She's my sanity." He'd been happier these past couple months than ever before.

"You have your family for sanity. That's going to have to be good enough," his dad said, pointing a finger at him.

"Are you kidding me? This family is pushing me over the edge! I'm surrounded by you day and night." Peter paced in the small area. "If we're not holed up in a recording studio, we're on that damned bus. I never get a moment to myself, a private phone conversation, or a chance to write without someone interrupting or sticking in their two cents!"

"Peter, calm down." His mother stepped in, trying to soothe his anger .

He let out a deep sigh. "I love her, Mom." He looked from his dad, who stepped away and rolled his eyes, and then to his mom, who offered a look of compassion.

"Honey, she isn't what she seems." She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" He shrugged her hand away.

"Libby's mother has a police record," she said.

"What?" He shook his head. "No, no! She doesn't."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Where was this coming from, and why would his mother repeat such a horrible lie?

"Peter, Roger has a copy of the police record to prove it."

"What? You had her investigated?"

"Well, you were spending all your free time talking to her or going to see her. We've never met the girl. Even your brother thought the situation was a bit odd," she confessed.

Peter looked at his brothers. Adam enjoyed the family drama, and Garrett sported a cocky look of superiority. "Since when do you listen to Garrett? He's only doing this because he can't stand to see me happy."

He turned back to his mother. "You're wrong about Libby's mother."

His parents exchanged a worried glance.

Peter needed them to understand and to know the truth about Libby. "Her mother's dead. She died in a car accident a couple years ago. So, you see, she can't have a police record. That's why Libby's living in Rockville with her aunt. Libby isn't even from Wisconsin."

His mother looked at him with sympathy. "She's told you some tall tales. She wanted you to like her. I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt you."

"You're not listening, either one of you! Libby's entire family was in the car. Her little sister died that day, too. Libby's got scars to prove it. After the funeral, her dad lost it, and she got dumped at her aunt's. It's not her fault if her aunt's a criminal. My God!"

He threw his hands in the air, frustrated beyond belief. He looked to each family member, willing them to understand. The regret on his mother's face told him she now understood.

"Roger got it wrong. Mom, you never should have let this happen." Peter shook his head, walked over to his mother, and spoke quietly. "I need to talk to her. I need to fix this. I can't imagine what she's thinking. I don't even know how to get ahold of her without going to Rockville."

"No one's going anywhere," his father interrupted, crossing his arms. "We're headed home to San Antonio tonight for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Plus, the European tour is about to kick off, and we're already behind schedule with promotion."

His mom rubbed his back. "Don't worry, we'll get ahold of her. It'll be all right. I know it seems terrible right now, but you'll feel better tomorrow."

"No, I won't feel better until I can talk to her and make sure she knows we're okay." Thank God Mom understood. He could always count on her in a crisis.

That night, Libby, wearing a baggy T-shirt, paced her bedroom, unable to sleep. She didn't want to be at school, and now she didn't want to be here, either. When she came home, Aunt Marge gave her the silent treatment, which was fine. A bag of meth sat on the kitchen counter like a huge elephant in the room. Libby supposed now that Aunt Marge's business dealings were out in the open, she didn't feel the need to hide anything anymore.

The evening inched by, a slow torture into night. More than anything, Libby wanted Peter. She didn't care what Garrett said. In her eyes, Peter would always be perfect. She would love him for the rest of her life.

She broke down and tried to call him, in desperate hope that Garrett was wrong, but her phone had no connection. Garrett had cut the phone service and, as a result, cut Libby out of Peter's life. It was truly over. This flashy phone was no more than an empty shell.

Her stomach growled with hunger, but she didn't dare go downstairs in search of food. She didn't trust herself around Aunt Marge. What she really wanted to do was light the barn on fire and watch her aunt flip out as she lost the only thing she cared about go up in smoke. Libby plopped back down on the bed, miserable, wishing she could sleep.

It was after 11:00 p.m., and her body wouldn't give in. Some freakish adrenaline from losing Peter consumed her body. She stared at the shadows the moonlight cast across her room. She tried to block out all the painful memories. Her mom covered in shattered glass. Her sister hooked up to machines that couldn't save her. Her big, strong father crumbling before her eyes. His car driving away. The memories morphed into equally painful thoughts of Peter; him, singing to her at Parfrey's Glen, the way he held her in his arms, and his eyes gazing deep into hers.

Suddenly, a crash sounded downstairs. She jerked up in bed and heard another crash, then loud voices yelling. She sat paralyzed on her bed, unsure what to do. Downstairs, her aunt's shrieks filled the house.

Someone was breaking into the house.