Page 22 of Hamartia
Her eyes light up with something. “Ah, I really hope so. But we’ll see if they let him.” She sighs around her straw. “Listen, I have so many people I have to talk to, but let’s catch up again later? Sooo glad you made it.” And then she’s gone in a cloud of pretty, fragrant energy.
I refill my glass which I’ve downed already and venture out into the party. I manage to avoid talking to anyone until the guitarist from Death Note stops me—they supported us on tour last year and I have absolutely no clue why Luca’s here, until he tells me he’s dating Haven’s best friend. The actress I saw her with at the afterparty. He congratulates me on the win and has just started talking about having me on a song he’s just finished, or even giving it to me because he thinks it would suit my vocal better, when I see him.
Impossibly, he’s not wearing the suit he wore on the carpet or the dove grey one he wore at the afterparty. He’s wearing a black wool sweater and slacks and pair of black-rimmed tinted glasses, his hair swept back from his forehead, his skin glowing and dewy.
There are two guys with him, one I’m certain is his manager or bodyguard, and another is one of his band members—the small one he’d spent a lot of the night talking to at the show.
Like when they’d arrived in the basement after the show, I feel his presence like a physical thing. A low thrum. A crackling of electricity that flows across the room from where he’s looking around for Haven.
I hear her shriek before I see her. Louder than she did with me. But then she’s hugging him too and he’s smiling and doing his little bow and the crowd goes back to whatever they were doing before he arrived. No one anywhere near as interested in him as Haven and I are.
Luca from Death Note is back to telling me about the song, an ‘alt-rock love poem about a bird’ apparently, and I’m telling him to send it to me whenever and I’ll have a listen.
When I finally manage to break away, I head in the opposite direction to where Jaehyun is, heading outside to the backyard where people are smoking in little huddles around the pool, and where the music is quieter and more sedate.
It’s out here I find Crawford. Telling some wildly exaggerated story about when we were last in the Philippines and we all got arrested at the border by armed guards who wanted to have their dogs sniff our assholes. It’s not quite the truth but I don’t correct him. Just laugh along with the particular way he has of weaving stories to suit whoever the audience is. It’s a skill. One I envy. He’s the same on stage. The crowd hanging off every word he says in a different way they do with me. He’s a great songwriter for this very reason too—except he never wants to put in the work. Playing guitar, he says, isn’t the same. It’s not work.
I’ve positioned myself with my back to house because I don’t trust myself not to stare. When I’ve been out here a half hour or so, I make an excuse that I need a piss because I’m scared he might only have turned up to be polite and that he’s gonna leave before I get a second alone with him.
I don’t examine what the fuck I want to be alone with him for.
It’s busier inside than it was when I arrived, and the kitchen looks too crowded, so I swipe a bottle of beer from the ice bucket on the dining table instead of going to refill my tequila, opening it with the keyring in my pocket. Panic skitters up my chest when I can’t see him and I decide to check if he’s still here by exploring the house a little. It really is a nice place. One that will need a deep clean tomorrow.
There’s a mezzanine-type level at the top of the first landing overlooking the rest of the house, with a small library, some thoughtfully placed art, and a few comfortable looking armchairs currently occupied with an actor I recognize and two girls I don’t, who are hanging on his every word. They don’t even notice me. There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall and I go towards it, glancing into each room as I pass. Not that I’m expecting I’ll see him in any of them. The door to one is pulled open wide and then Haven is strutting out, wearing a pair of sweats and a hoodie as opposed to the dress and heels she had on earlier.
“You lost?” she asks, smiling brightly.
My brain momentarily struggles to come up with a reason why I’m wandering around her house so I hesitate, laughing as I try to come up with something.
“I was looking for Crawford, my bandmate—the guy I came with?” I say, finally. “I tend not to only let him off the leash outside.”
Haven laughs but she still has a look on her face that makes me feel exposed. Like she’s caught me in a lie.
“He’s still here, by the way,” she says, as we walk back down the hallway the way I came.
I almost trip over my feet because I know who she’s talking about. I just don’t know why. My face feels hot. I decide to play dumb.
“Crawford? I should fucking hope so, I told him not to run off.”
“Jaehyun,” she says.
We’re at the open landing now, but the group of three who were there a minute ago are gone. It’s just us.
“Jaehyun?” I turn to her, mouth twitching. “Oh, cool. I’ll try and catch up with him.”
“That’s who you were looking for, right? Who you were looking for when you arrived too.”
Her tone is still friendly but there’s something new in it now.
I’m terrified at whatever look might be on my face. I know if I deny it then it’ll come out too strong to be plausible. While I’m considering my options—what feels like hours is only moments—she goes on.
“I can get him up here if you wanna talk to him alone. I know how these parties can be, and he’s rarely ever out in the wild without his security so the chance of you getting a second alone with him is non-existent, trust me. But if—.”
“Haven, listen,” I laugh, fizzing with nerves. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea about this. I’m not…I don’t…”
“I saw you with Crawford outside when I came upstairs.” She cuts over me, gently. “You were lying about looking for him. So, either you were looking for me, or you were just looking around my house…or…” She leaves it hanging there.
“What if I said I had a weird thing for interior design?” I make a show of looking around. “And I really like your house. I just wanted to check it out.”