Page 47 of Star Struck

‘I’ll go and see them. Your parents. You’re right, I’ve been selfish.’

‘You do that.’ A moment stationary, then he was back to leaping around. ‘Catch you later.’

‘Have a good evening.’

I watched him dance out and when the door closed, I gave into the urge to cry. That hadn’t been the Felix I knew, it had been someone else in his skin, someone brittle and cold. The things he’d said, the pain in his eyes, none of it was my Felix. My Felix was impervious, break proof, a body full of fun and lax morals, a smile, a blown kiss and a slow dance away from who he’d been tonight.

But he had been right. At first I hadn’t been able to face seeing his parents because I was afraid of the look that I’d see on their faces. That look that said I reminded them of everything they’d lost; their slow, sad, pitiful acceptance that I had lived while their daughter had died. The look that would have told me they wished it had been the other way around. Yeah, Skye. You’re a waste of space . . .

And a tiny voice that hid right in the back of my mind whispered guilt to me. The guilt that poked at me whenever I wondered why I’d given up my seat to slump in the back with Felix . . . well, after his outburst I guess I knew now. Michael and I had fought. That was all, some stupid argument about our engagement probably, something so pathetic and disposable had meant that my best friend had taken my passenger seat and died because of it.

The tears dried stiff on my cheeks. Goose pimples rose on my arms and the back of my neck, and I remembered Jack earlier, standing with his arms clamped around himself, obviously fighting his own memory.

Jack. Jack who was giving me only half a story. Felix, who was changing in front of my eyes. I couldn’t sit here with my brain spinning, I needed to do . . . something. I opened the door and saw Lissa going into Jack’s room down the corridor. She had her hair on sideways and was carrying her shoes, both clear marks of someone who’s been in the vicinity of Felix for a while.

I locked my room and followed her. Jack opened the door at my knock. ‘Hey. Checking up to see that I’m working, eh? Genius.’ He stood back to let me in. Lissa was flopped in a chair, one foot up on her thigh, massaging her toes with an expression of mingled bliss and agony.

‘Hi, Skye. Wow, your Felix certainly knows how to party.’

‘What did you want, Liss?’ Jack folded his arms and stared at her.

‘Cool down, Iceman. I came to fix some of the paperwork.’ Lissa put both feet back on the floor and then looked from Jack to me, and back again. ‘But I guess it can wait, if you two have a prior engagement.’ She kept her eyes on Jack.

His expression never flickered.

‘Actually, Lissa, I wanted to talk to you,’ I said. ‘About Felix.’

She held both hands up in the air. ‘Whoa, back off girlfriend and let someone else play with the toys.’

‘He’s all yours. But what I mean was . . . what you said about him the other day. That he was on some kind of destruction course?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, cautiously. ‘What about it?’

‘Has he said anything, or . . . He was devastated right after the accident, of course, but it’s just not in Fe’s nature to be down for long. He was back to partying a few weeks later, and showing up at mine with a takeaway and incredibly tall tales.’

‘He cries a lot, you know that?’

I stared at her. ‘Felix hardly ever cries. He didn’t even cry on the anniversary. I was a wreck, but he sat in with me, we watched some crappy TV show where everyone sings “Auld Lang Syne” and drank a bottle of Zinfandel and I cried so much I was sick.’

Jack moved, warily. ‘Liss, maybe this isn’t really the time for this conversation.’

‘D’you know Jack, I think it might be?’ She didn’t take her eyes off me. ‘Felix is . . . ah, I guess even I don’t know what Felix is. One hell of an actor? Maybe. Destroying himself?’ She shrugged. ‘Something is with him, and I sure as Christ don’t know what it is. But you ever see him on a come-down, you watch his eyes, Skye. That boy is ruined.’

I sat down suddenly on the edge of the bed. ‘Why? Why is he pretending, why is he falling apart and not letting me know?’

‘Maybe he didn’t dare.’ Jack sat next to me. ‘Maybe he felt he had to carry the pain for the both of you.’

‘Perhaps there are questions he doesn’t want you to ask.’ Lissa kicked her high heels back on, shuffling her toes right down into them. ‘Okay, guys, time to do business. I’ve brought papers for you to sign, Jack.’ She scuffled in her tote bag and pulled out a sheaf of typewritten A4.

Jack held the stack loosely. ‘What will you do now, Liss?’

Lissa waved an arm. ‘Sea, fish, plenty more. I got other clients, sweetie, other irons in the fire. The whole agency never revolved around you.’

‘I know, but . . .’

‘Jackie-boy, the good old U S of A is my territory. Okay, your British agency and mine have affiliations, but you want to head back to the land of teacakes and white cliffs and “gor blimey guvnor”, you go alone. Right?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s really okay,’ she said, more softly. ‘It was never real with us. You were lonely. You still are lonely, I get that, but you don’t need me any more.’

‘Just, after what happened . . .’

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