Learning to Forgive (The Learning Series) Read Free Page B

the fuck drove it, but they are going to pay.
    When I turn around, I realize more people are watching me–some smiling like idiots, some sneering like bitches. I hike my guitar higher on my shoulder and walk over to the line, shoving past the people waiting to get in the door. I hear a lot of “Heys” and “Fuck yous” behind me. Don’t care. I have tunnel vision and want some fucking answers.
    The closer I get to the front, the louder the yelling coming from inside becomes. When I reach the door, another fucking hand on my shoulder stops me. “What?” I yell and turn.
    Carlos, one of the bouncers I used to work with, scrutinizes me with his freaky dark eyes. Yeah, it’s nice to see a familiar face, but there’s someone else I need to see, and someone else who has something of mine that I want back.
    “Blaire?” He looks as if he’s been hit with a two by four, judging from the surprise that’s on his round face. I know I look different from a year ago, and I know I’m dressed like a street walker, but if he licks his lips one more damn time I’m going to bust them with my fist.
    “Is Janet inside?” I don’t wait for an answer. I shove my guitar in his arms, and then make my way past his large frame and into the crowded bar. My nails dig into my palm to keep from freaking out over all the close bodies pressing against me. I also try to ignore the ever-present memories, but being here-the place that held my brother’s happiest memories- they feel stronger and like it was just yesterday, we were on that stage. I let his face and last words enter, but direct it all into anger. Let my sadness fester and build into something that’s slowly killing me. Hatred.
    I head in the direction of Janet’s office that sits down the hall that is beside the stage but the place is like a fucking mad house and I can’t get a few feet in the door without people getting in my fucking way. Breathe… Just breathe, Blaire. 1…2…3… I continue to count like I always do when I feel overwhelmed and do my best to avoid having another panic attack. Too many people mixed with too many emotions are not good for me without some form of alcohol in my system. I can’t relax and feel more and more agitated and closed in with every second that passes. I’m almost ready to run but continue instead.
    Finally, I reach the crowded bar and yell for Chris, who is running his ass off. He comes over, but before he can reach me, I look over and see Janet walking my way. She still looks the same, worn out from working many hours at the bar, and worrying about money. She’s had it hard for the past few years, and I’m sure me disappearing didn’t help. Her hair color is a dull brown now instead of the bleached blonde it was last year. She also has some graying at the temples.
    The only word to describe the moment we lay eyes on each other is bittersweet. I’ve missed her, but I’m so pissed and confused. She smiles and comes over to give me a hug, but my arms remain at my sides. I don’t want her affection. Not now. It brings back too many memories of what I used to have.
    So I keep my walls up and skip the pleasantries. “What the fuck, Janet? Why the hell is Benji’s bike outside?” I yell over the loud music, and she’s immediately taken by surprise at my new tone. I’m not the same girl that she consoled all those months ago nor am I the quiet Mouse she used to call me. I’m a loud bitch with a voice who wants to be heard.
    Her smile vanishes, and I’m glad. I don’t want to be reminded of her friendship or kindness. I just want Benji’s shit back and to earn some money to get my ass out of here. To disappear.
    “Nice to see you, too,” she says sarcastically.
    “Dammit, Janet. I’m serious. Do you still have my stuff?”
    She studies me for a second with tired eyes. I can only imagine what’s going through her head. I look like a fucking streetwalker. “I still have some of it. But you vanished. I’m not gonna hold