Promise Me (Book One of the Kirkland Family)

Promise Me: Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Hannah stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.  She’d changed clothes four times already.  And she hated every outfit.  But now, they were out of time.  Her three o’clock appointment was rearing up on her, and she needed to get over to the studio.  

“I’m going to be sick,” she mumbled.

Justin called out from where he reclined on the hotel bed, “What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

She heard him rise and then he was standing behind her.  “Sweetheart, we need to get going, or you’ll be late.”

“I know, I know,” she said.  “I just need another minute.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders.  “You look beautiful...a little green around the gills, but still beautiful.”  He grinned at her reflection.

Hannah couldn’t breathe.  She ran some cold water in the sink, splashed her face, and then -- too late -- realized she just washed off all her make-up.  “Oh, no!”  Hastily, she dapped her streaked face with a hand towel and dug through her make-up bag for some powder and mascara.

“Here, let me,” he said turning her around and taking the items from her hands.  “You’re shaking so bad, you’ll poke yourself in the eye.”

“Don’t tell me you know how to put on make-up?”

He chuckled.  “Josie made me sit through so many fashion shows that I could probably do it with my eyes closed.  Not that I’ve ever done this before, of course.”

“Of course,” she replied smiling and loving how he could ease the herd of squirrels inside her stomach.  Or was it a colony?  “Do squirrels live in herds or colonies?”

Justin got a weird look on his face.  “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have butterflies.  I have squirrels.”

“Squirrels, huh?” he asked, patting foundation powder on her forehead and down her nose.  “Jumpy ones?”

“Very jumpy.”

He worked on fixing her for a moment longer, scrunching up his face as he concentrated.  “I think they’re called drays.”

“A dray?  I have a dray in my stomach.  Wonderful.”

He smiled as he coated her eyelashes carefully.  “It could be worse.  A group of locusts are called a plague.”

“How do you know these things?”

Capping her mascara, he shrugged.  “Animal Planet...Josie watches way too much tv.”

Hannah turned around and studied his handiwork.  “Not bad, Jack...I think you’ve missed your calling in life.”

“Hmm,” he said, leaning down to nuzzle her neck.  “I think we better get going before you miss yours.”

Taking a moment to straighten the collar of her shirt and brush invisible lint off the knee-length silk skirt, she swallowed down the jumpy critters and grimaced.  “I need to change first.  I look like I’m trying too hard.”

Justin grabbed her tight before she could slip away from him.  “You look perfect.”  Turning her around, he placed a soft kiss on her mouth.  “You look beautiful.  And if I have to watch you strut around here naked one more time, we won’t make that appointment today.”

“Okay...okay...”  She took a deep breath.  “Where’s my guitar?”

“On the bed.”

“Okay...um, just let me...”

“Hannah,” he warned her.  “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know...I just need to throw up first.”

And she did.  Hannah hugged the porcelain throne for a good two minutes.  It was a testament to Justin’s character that he held back her hair, ran soothing strokes down her back and gave her a wet towel to wipe her mouth afterward.  “Better?”

“No,” she moaned.

“How about some toothpaste and mouthwash?”

“Yes, please.”

Twenty minutes later, they stood outside of Raw Studios, and Hannah’s stomach flipped over again.  “You’ll stay with me the whole time, right?” she asked Justin in a whisper.  “You won’t leave me?”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said and ushered her inside.

The recording studio took up three floors of an old building on Union Avenue about two blocks from the Mississippi River.  Outside, it had that generic historical red brick facade and arched windows, lining the length of the building on all levels, but the inside was a different story.  The reception area was only about ten feet across with a few bits of seating and a low counter for the receptionist.  Pretty typical...except it wasn’t typical at all.  Everything had originally been white, maybe three years and three thousand people ago.  The walls, the floors, the desk and counter, the ceiling, all once white, even the chairs were covered with a white canvas material.  But that wasn’t what made Hannah and Justin stop in their tracks.  Though everything started out as a blank slate devoid of color, over the three years since the studio first opened, singers, musicians, clients, delivery boys, tourists, employees -- you name it -- had added their signatures and autographs and random lyrics and stupid jokes and scribbles to the white.  Everywhere Hannah looked, she saw handwriting.  Everywhere.  Her eyes traveled upward, and she could only guess how “The Sharpie King” managed to draw a life-sized image of Elvis Presley on the twelve-foot-high ceiling -- Vegas jumpsuit and all.

“You must be Hannah Baker,” the young man behind the counter said when they walked in.  He smiled at her open jaw.  “It’s quite a lot to take in the first time you see it.  Before you leave today, you’ll be asked to add to our ‘Sign-in Sheet,’ as we like to call it.”

Hannah closed her mouth and cleared her throat.  “Yes, I’m Hannah.  I’m meeting with Olivia Williams.”

“Livie is expecting you,” the man said with another smile.  “I’m Joel Peters, Livie’s personal assistant.  Our receptionist is out sick today, so I’m doing double duty.  But I’ll take you back to Livie, and she’ll take it from there, okay?”

They followed Joel down a long corridor, lined with photos of singers and bands on stage and in the studio, and soon, Joel was rapping his knuckles on the open doorway to a large office.  “Livie, Hannah Baker is here.”

Olivia Watson rose from her desk, and Hannah could only describe the woman as...eclectic.  She expected to see a tall, statuesque woman in a power suit and a severe hair style.  Boy, was she wrong!  “Livie” was so short and petite, she bordered on mini.  Not Little People mini, as she didn’t display the characteristics of dwarfism, but just tiny.  The-top-of-her-head-at-Hannah’s-shoulders tiny.  Then there was the close-cropped, jet black hair with the pink tips, the ivy vine tattoo running from the fingers of her left hand up her arm, and the gray leggings hugging her skinny legs under a chartreuse tunic dress that had to have been homemade because dresses for grown women didn’t come in that size...and she was barefooted.  But the real kicker was the fact that Olivia Williams had to be old enough to claim a few grandchildren -- at least nearing sixty years of age.

“Hannah!” she crooned with an easy, pleasant smile across bronzed cheeks and under shrewd, dark eyes.  “I was beginning to worry you might not show up.”  Olivia circled around Hannah, taking in every aspect of her, and Hannah fidgeted against Justin.  

“I apologize for being late,” Hannah said, clutching Justin’s hand with hers.  “I hope I’m not screwing up the rest of your schedule.”

“Nonsense,” Olivia declared.  “I cleared my whole afternoon for you.  And who is this handsome fella?”

“Oh, this is my friend, Justin Kirkland.”

Justin stuck his hand out at Olivia.  “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Olivia’s black eyebrow arched and she grinned.  “Ma’am?  I’ve lived in Tennessee for ten years, and I still can’t get over how charming these southern boys are.”

Justin flushed and pushed his hand into his pants pocket.  Olivia circled around him, too.  “So, you’re Kirkland?” she mused, while the both of them stood there like cows at a cattle auction.  “How are your arms holding up?  I’m guessing -- from the way she’s hanging onto you -- she’s finally let you down off your cross?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Now, Hannah flushed with embarrassment.  Olivia meant that video, where she had “crucified” Justin with her song.  “Ms. Williams,” Hannah began, and Olivia waved at her.

“It’s Olivia, or Livie, if you prefer,” she interrupted.  “I can see from your faces, I’ve been a little too forward.”  She stood up on her bare toes and patted both their faces as she turned away to gather some papers from her desk.  “Don’t think anything of it.  You’ll get used to me.”  She pointed out of the office.  “Shall we?  I’ve reserved our best studio for you.  It’s on the top floor.”

“Oh,” Hannah said, biting down on her lip, but she kept her spine straight, not wanting her squirrels to jump up into her throat again.  “I thought we were going to talk first.”

“Honey, I do my best talking after I prove to you that you’ve got what it takes,” Olivia said.  “With that said, let’s go record a track.  Did you bring your guitar?”

“It’s, uh, out in the truck,” Hannah said.  “I wasn’t sure if I needed it.”

“Well, send Tall and Sexy out to get it,” Olivia said, winking at Justin.  “I prefer you to use your own instruments to keep you comfortable.”

Justin, who’d been silent since the “I beg your pardon?” stared at the tiny woman.  Hannah couldn’t tell if he was just stupefied, or getting angry at the producer’s presumptuous behavior.  Frankly speaking, Hannah kind of liked her.  Olivia spoke her mind and wouldn’t regret herself when her thoughts finally caught up with her.

But that didn’t mean she was letting Justin out of her sight.  Hannah squeezed his hand tightly, and he squeezed back, as though to repeat his promise, I’m not going anywhere.  “Actually, Olivia,” she said quickly.  “I’d rather not worry about it.  We’re parked a few blocks away.”

Olivia tilted her head up and narrowed her eyes.  “Got the jitters?”

Hannah breathed out a small smile.  “A few.”

Olivia looked at Justin.  “Did she toss her cookies?”  Justin only stared at her.  And Olivia chuckled.  “Oh, I like you...Tall, Sexy and Silent.  You sing any?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied, stiffly.

Up went that black eyebrow again.  “Not at all?  You’d make a hell of a country star.  Girls and women of all ages would go crazy for guy like you.  You wouldn’t even have to sing all that well.”

Justin cleared his throat.  “We’re here for Hannah.”

Olivia’s smile was slow and thoughtful.  “I haven’t forgotten about your sweetheart,” she said, still addressing Justin.  “You see...I do have a method to my madness -- although you might think I’m just downright mad.”  She looked at Hannah again.  “I’ll bet a handful of Skittles you don’t recall us meeting once before.”

Hannah frowned.  “We have?  No offense, Olivia, but I would have remembered someone like you.”

The tiny woman grinned and waved at the air.  “That’s what they all say.  It’s funny how quickly you’re forgotten once the door slams shut behind them.  It was May of ‘02, if I remember correctly.  You showed up to audition for a music video in Burbank.  I was working at Paramount at the time and was scoping the place for new talent.”

Hannah searched her memory.  She’d been to so many auditions back then.  “I’m sorry...I just don’t remember.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Olivia said, herding them out of the office and into an elevator.  “At the time, I thought you were a little unpolished, but you had great potential.  I had hoped to speak with you some more once you finished auditioning, but you stormed out of that room, screaming at Tom, the casting director and telling him exactly where to stick his limp dick.”

Now, it all came back.  “Oh...that audition.  I don’t remember much more than wishing I had an ice pick, or a nail gun.”

Hannah heard Justin make a noise behind her, and Olivia laughed.  “Yeah, Tom was a real jerk,” Olivia sniffed.  “I had an affair with him once.  Glad when it ended.  Anyway...back to my madness.”  The elevator dinged and the door slid open.  Olivia walked out in her bare feet and turned to the left, still talking.  “I’m a big believer in fate, Hannah.  Ten years ago, I would have said you were talented but not right for the music or acting industry.  You were naive, young, and didn’t have enough real-world experience under your belt.  I thought, give her a few years, a few broken hearts, and she’ll be fine.  You had a lot of fire, but not enough emotion, you understand what I’m saying?”

“Um...no, not really,” Hannah admitted, trying to keep up with the fast pace of the shorter woman as she wound through the building, passing closed and open doors and branching corridors.  She peeked back to make sure Justin was still with them.  He was scowling.

Olivia grinned over her shoulder.  “Which is where Tall, Sexy and Silent comes into this conversation,” she said, and Hannah was more confused than ever.  Suddenly Olivia stopped, turned with hands on her hips and asked, “Are you in love with him?”

“Wh-what?”

“Are you in love with him?” Olivia repeated.

Sweat trickled down between Hannah’s shoulder blades.  She could feel Justin’s eyes on the back of her head.  Licking her lips, she said, “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

Olivia snorted, adding a grin.  “It’s relevant because now you’ve got emotion to back up that fire, Hannah.  That’s what I saw in that video.  And there are only two types of emotion that can put that kind of energy into a song.  Love and hatred.  And you obviously don’t hate him anymore, so, I repeat, Are you in love?”

Hannah didn’t have an answer for the woman.  Not with Justin within earshot.

Olivia sighed and pushed into a room to their right.  “I’m going to warn you now, Hannah, this isn’t going to work out if you don’t have the energy behind your voice.  If you’re not in love with him, then I hope you can fake it, and if you are in love with him, then you don’t have to answer me.  Your song will do that for you.  Ready to cut a track?”

Realizing they stood in the middle of a sound studio and Olivia had thrust a guitar into her arms, Hannah thought,  maybe, it wasn’t too late to go home.

*****

There was only one word for the woman.  Pushy.  And crazy.  Okay, that was two words, but Justin honestly didn’t care which one was more accurate.  He didn’t like Olivia Williams.  

He didn’t like the way she looked.  He didn’t like the way she looked at Hannah.  He didn’t like the way she made Hannah feel uncomfortable.  He just didn't like her.

Then she goes and spouts that crap about Hannah needing love to make a song sound right.  Crap, utter crap.  Hannah sang wonderfully regardless.  He watched as Olivia pushed Hannah onto a stool in front of a microphone and tells her to sing any song she chooses.  Hannah gapes, and looks like she was fighting with her squirrels again.

"Do you want to hear the same song or something different?" she asked Olivia.

The miniature woman waved her hand.  "Honey, I want you to sing from your heart, so you decide."  Then she grabs his elbow and says,"You come with me, Handsome."

He shakes her off and plants his feet.  "You know, it never hurts to say please," he states, glaring down his nose at the spiky black and pink hair.  A very strange woman.

Olivia laughed.  "You sure you can't sing even a little bit?  My god, you're a publicist's wet dream."

He bent over far enough to look her in the eye.  "Listen, lady, we're here because you wanted Hannah here.  So far, all you've done is intimidate her, insult her or ignore her.  Personally, I'd be out the door already, but this means a lot to her.  Behave, or I will have to stuff you inside that guitar case there."

A hand touched his arm.  "Justin, leave Olivia alone.  These music people, they're all like this."

He erected himself straight, towering over the tiny woman, but Olivia Williams wasn’t the least bit daunted by him.  “And you still want to do this?” he asked Hannah.

“Yes, I do,” she answered.  “Go wait in the control room with her, and both of you behave.”

Olivia turned to Hannah.  “Yes!  There’s that fire!  Now, give me some emotion.  Get settled, and we’ll cue you in.”

Justin followed Olivia out of the room and into another room with a large mixing board and a viewing window to see Hannah.  A kid, no more than eighteen, sat in a chair, fiddling with knobs and buttons.  “Travis, this is Justin.  Justin, Travis, my best sound engineer.  And don’t let his smooth cheeks fool you.  I practically had to kidnap him from Sun Studios.”

Travis tipped a grin at Justin.  “We’re still waiting for a reply to the ransom note.”

Justin mumbled, “Nice to meet you,” but his eyes were on Hannah through the glass.  She had her eyes closed, tuning the guitar that Olivia gave her, but her squirrels must be exceptionally active, because she kept swallowing thickly.

Olivia pressed a button and called out, “Hannah, whenever you are ready.”

Hannah nodded, breathed in deeply, brought her microphone closer to her, wiggled on the stool, and breathed again.  Then she shifted her feet on the stool rungs.  Adjusted a string on the guitar.  Wiped a palm on her skirt.  Inhaled and exhaled.

And Olivia waited patiently.  Probably the most tolerant she’d been since he and Hannah walked into her office earlier.  Travis sat back in his swivel chair and curled his hands behind his head, waiting.

And Hannah kept breathing and fidgeting.

“Maybe I should--” Justin began, but Olivia cut him off with, “Just give her a moment.  She’s okay.  Nothing like that cajun rock band we had in here last month.  Remember them, Trav?”

The boy snorted.  “Took us three days to get the smell out.”  Travis tilted toward Justin and said, “The lead singer got so nervous, he got the runs.  It wasn’t pretty.”

Hannah finally squared her shoulders and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Olivia pressed the button again.  “Go ahead, darling.”

The opening chords to a song came out of the guitar.  Her finger flew over the strings before she started singing.  It was the song she wrote for him, when she’d been angry with him, the same song that Olivia apparently liked so much.  Justin thought she made a good choice.  It was familiar to her and it’s what caught the producer’s attention.  But as she sang, Justin started to frown.  It just didn’t sound the same.  Maybe it was because of the odd room she was in, or the unfamiliar guitar, or because he was hearing it through speakers...

He glanced over at Olivia.  She was shaking her head and muttering, “Fire...no emotion.”

“But she’s got the bones of it,” Travis replied.  

The song ended, and Olivia spoke through the intercom to Hannah again.  “Again, Hannah.  I want you to remember how you felt when you wrote the song.”

“Okay,” Hannah said and started all over again.  But even Justin could tell she was struggling with it.  Miserable and helpless, he watched her through the glass as she sang a song that didn’t mean anything to her anymore.  There was a sheen of tears in her eyes as she realized how lifeless the music was.  Her voice was perfect.  Her playing was a little shaky, but the words no longer sparked any real anger out of her.  It just wasn’t good enough.

When she finished the second time, Travis looked at Olivia and asked, “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia said, tapping her finger thoughtfully on the edge of the sound board.

“She’s got the voice and the look, and it’s a good song,” Travis commented.  “We’ll be able to sell it.  Maybe if we got a full band in here...”

“Hmm...maybe.”

Justin barely heard them.  Hannah hopped off the stool and was walking circles in the other room, talking to herself.  He could tell she wasn’t pleased with herself, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.  This was what he’d been afraid of.  The hope was dying from her eyes.  And he couldn’t stand it.

“Justin,” Olivia said.  He cast a glance at her.  It was the first time she used his name, and she had an odd gleam to her dark eyes.  “Go in and talk to her.  Give us a few minutes to reset the board.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement.  Rushing into the other room, he immediately drew her into his arms.  “That was amazing,” he said, hating himself for coloring the truth.  She laughed hoarsely and said, “Liar.  It was awful, and you were right.  This was a mistake.  We’ll just go home.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he said, tipping her face up to him.  “You came here to knock their socks off, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”

She sighed.  “I’m just too nervous...no, that’s not right.  I’m scared.  I’m scared of not being good enough, and I’m scared that I might be.  I don’t know if this is what I want to do anymore.  There’s so many good things about my life the way it is, and I’m afraid of screwing that up for something else.”

“Hey,” he said softly, cradling her jaw between his hands.  “Don’t think about all that.  Here and now, Hannah.  What do you want to do right now?”

A warm glow entered her eyes as she stared up at him.  The soft skin of her cheeks tickled his rough palms as she caressed her face against his touch.  “Right now...I want you.”

He raised his brows.  “Right now?  Right here?  I think there’s laws against that, not taking in account for the audience in the other room.”

“I’ll settle for a kiss, then,” she compromised.

“Did I mention the audience in the other room?”

“I don’t care.”

Conscious of strange eyes watching them, he hesitantly lowered his mouth to Hannah’s.  It was a chaste kiss, and Hannah didn’t seem pleased with it.  “Is that the best you can do?” she challenged.

His eyes narrowed as he hauled her up in a confining embrace.  “You’re going to pay for this later.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she whispered huskily.

With a growl of lust, he smashed their mouths together, tangling tongues, creating a song of moans and mews, until Hannah began to take control, savagely plundering and pushing him past appropriate decorum and decency.  His back hit a wall and he fisted his fingers into her hair and shirt to keep them from seeking out bare skin.  

The rest of the world melted away as the kiss gradually softened and resumed with a kind of lazy afternoon sensation.  Justin’s grip relaxed and he bent her across his arms, nipping at her bottom lip, just wanting to taste her for a moment longer.  Hannah sighed blissfully into his mouth and she peeled herself out of his embrace.  With one hand braced against his chest, she blinked and focused on standing upright.  Justin had the wall to support him.  Otherwise, he’d be hard-pressed to keep his knees from buckling.

“Damn, Hannah,” he muttered, shaking the fog from his brain.  “You really owe me for that.”

A fuzzy smile graced her kiss-swollen lips, and she patted his chest.  “You, stay right there.”  She swayed crazily over to the stool and picked up the borrowed guitar.  Speaking into the the mic, her voice took on a raspy, throat quality, and she said, “Cue me in, Livie.”

No answer came back right away, and Justin peered through the glass into the control room.  Travis’s jaw was damn near to his knees, and Olivia -- her head barely visible -- was grinning from ear to ear.  The little woman leaned forward and spoke through the intercom.  “Give me some of that energy, honey.”

Hannah struck a chord and began singing.  It wasn’t the same song.  This one was...what’s the word?  Breathtaking.  Spine-tingling and heart-stirring at the same time.  Hannah kept her eyes closed as she sang.  The lyrics wove through the melody like a magic spell.  A spell that kept him entranced and frozen from beginning to end.

“Hush, my heart.
You’ve got me stuttering a rampart.
If he only knew
What I feel,
You’d hush, my heart.

He smiles at me.
His kisses last an eternity.
I wish I only knew,
Looking at me,
What he sees.

If there’s a chance,
He felt this free.
I’d give him all my love,
Every guarantee,
Grace so bittersweet,
And tell my aching heart
To beat, beat, beat.

Hush, my soul.
His heart will surely grow.
We only need to wait.
Forever, if need,
So hush, my soul.

Cuz, if there’s a chance
He felt like me.
I’d give him everything,
Every guarantee,
Of love so sweet.
And tell my aching soul
To speak, speak, speak

So hush, demur.
We can’t go back to where we were.
My heart and soul
Are silent, austere,
Until he speaks.

Hush my heart
And speak, speak, speak.”

If Justin had any doubt for how Hannah felt about him, it had been cleared up.  Because when she finished her song and opened her eyes, her gaze found him, and he knew he no longer had to ask himself, Are you in love with me, Hannah? 

Yes, she was.

*****