Page 44 of Julien (Confessions 2)

“But,” she said as she slid out of the booth and stood, “we’re not finished.”

“Oui,” Julien said. “We are. You can leave the way you came. If you have any further questions, you can contact Lise via our email. Goodbye.”

Before Gail could think of anything else to say, Julien turned and walked out of the lounge and down the hall to the kitchen, where he shoved through the stainless-steel doors and braced his hands on the counter in front of him.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That was not how that was supposed to go today. Bad press was the last thing he needed weeks out from an opening, but as he stood there in the kitchen, Julien felt his legs give out and stumbled back to the wall.

As he slid down it, his ass hit the cold tile, and he raised his knees and lowered his head down between them.

Broken. He was so fucking broken. His entire body was shaking uncontrollably, and as he sat there in the silence of the kitchen, all he could hear in his head was Gail’s words: They must be very proud of you. What about siblings?

Julien shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing, and by the time he got himself under control, he had no clue how much time had passed. It could’ve been minutes. It could’ve been hours. And with an unsteady hand, he reached in his pocket for his cell phone and called the one person he knew would take him away from all of this. Who would help him escape his own damn self.

“Julien?” Priest said by way of greeting, and since Julien couldn’t seem to find his voice to speak he just sat there. “Julien? Where are you? The restaurant?”

Julien shut his eyes and focused on Priest’s voice. Focused on an image of his face and then…Robbie’s. If he could just get out of there, be somewhere else for a while, somewhere where he could stop thinking about every fucked-up thing for just one damn minute and maybe focus on the good, then maybe, just maybe, he could get through the night without having another attack. “Oui.”

“I’m coming for you. Don’t move.”

“Non, mon a—”

“Don’t. Move. That’s a fucking order, Julien. I’ll be there in…shit, in ten minutes.”

Then the line went dead. Julien placed the phone down on the tile beside him and waited for Priest to come find him and put him back together again.

Chapter Twelve

CONFESSION

I don’t want to go home. I want to forget.

PRIEST LOOKED ACROSS the center console of their Range Rover to where Julien was sitting staring out at the traffic passing by. He hadn’t said two words since Priest had arrived at the restaurant, made their apologies to Lise, and then ushered Julien out to the car. And now as they sat there in the dark confines of the SUV, Priest reached over to take Julien’s hand in his.

Julien started slightly, and when he turned his head in Priest’s direction, he said, “Je suis désolé.”

Priest shook his head as he slipped his fingers through Julien’s and squeezed them. “Don’t apologize to me. You know I don’t need it.”

Julien looked down to their hands and then nodded.

“Are you going to tell me what happened in there this afternoon, mon cœur?”

Julien leaned his head back against the seat. His lips were pulled tight, and the side of his jaw ticked, his face a mask of torment as he thought about whatever had happened earlier.

“Julien?”

“Oui. It was…Gail, that was the reporter’s name. She started out nice enough. It felt good, comfortable. We ran through the usual Q&As, but then she started to ask questions I didn’t want to answer. Questions she knew she wasn’t supposed to ask. I’ll never understand why reporters think they can get away with that shit when it’s clearly stated in the contract I sign that I will not discuss my private life.”

“So you told her to get the fuck out.”

Julien’s head whipped around so that he was facing Priest, and when he saw the crooked grin on Priest’s lips, Julien shook his head.

“I did,” he admitted, and then brought his hands up to cover his face. “I lost it, Joel. I…”

“Julien?”

“She just kept pushing and pushing, and asking all these questions about my parents and Jacquelyn, and after last night, I—”

“Julien,” Priest said, his voice firm now, wanting to cut through the rambling words and panic he could see forming behind Julien’s eyes. “What did happen last night?”

Julien went to turn away, but before he could, Priest reached out and took hold of his chin, keeping his face angled toward him. He pinned Julien with a look that demanded he tell the truth, and finally Julien said, “Nothing. It was just—”

“Really?” Priest interrupted.

Julien opened his mouth, and Priest leaned over the middle of the car until only inches separated them.

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