Chapter Twenty-Five
When Iris had seen Julian’s name on the screen of her phone that morning, she let the call go to voice mail. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him until she stood beside the plane and knew she had the courage to board.
And now here she was, in a setting she’d never imagined herself in: with nine hundred and ninety-nine other people, in a huge room filled with noise and flashes of light. A few months ago, the notion would have terrified her, and she’d had some anxious moments in the beginning, as the room started to fill. But she’d breathed through it, accepted the anxiety, and realized that there was nothing to fear.
She even felt a sense of kinship with these strangers who loved Julian’s music and had chosen this concert as the perfect way to end a year and bring in the next.
Also, it turned out that, sitting at a table on the mezzanine of a stunning restored ballroom, she was more of an “island” than on Destiny, where everyone minded one another’s business. In this room, people were in pairs or groups. If anyone even noticed her, they would assume she was waiting for a friend to return from getting a drink or visiting the restroom.
She’d worried she might be recognized, from the video that had gone viral. But Vancouver had a huge Asian population, and she was just one slim, black-haired young woman among many. A few guys and a couple of women had asked her to dance or offered to buy her a drink, but when she’d said, “Thank you, but no,” they’d gone away.
Her attention was focused on the stage, on Julian. He looked fabulous, in the typical tattered black jeans and tee he wore to perform, his tattoo twining along his muscled forearm. He sounded amazing and had a crazy kind of energy—fed, no doubt, from the spirited mood of this New Year’s Eve crowd and also, she hoped, from knowing she was here.
He’d told her where to sit, so she’d have a good view of the stage. She doubted he could see her, what with the stage lighting focused on him and the band, but his gaze often seemed to rest on her.
He loved her. She loved him. They were a couple. She didn’t know the details of how things would work out, but she and Julian would figure it out together, day by day. She was an iris and she might bend when the winds blew hard, but she would hold up her head and blossom for Julian.
The band had been playing for an hour and a half, some of their old songs and some from their upcoming album, all equally well received, when Julian announced a fifteen-minute break.
Iris wriggled her shoulders, realizing she’d been so absorbed in the music that she’d barely moved. A glance at her watch told her it was just past eleven. The next set would cross over into the New Year. What would the band do as midnight approached? A big countdown, a thousand people sharing the moment? The new Iris, the woman who loved and was loved by Julian, felt a pleasant anticipatory thrill.
She pulled out her phone and texted her aunt, her parents, her girlfriends on Destiny and her old BFF, Shelley. Then she people-watched, relaxed in her anonymity. Much of the crowd were twenty- or thirty-somethings, but there were a number of middle-aged people and even some with gray hair. Clothing varied from minuscule skirts and cami tops to cowboy boots and hats to evening dress. Hairstyles and makeup were just as varied.
She was about to reach for her glass of ginger ale with soggy lime and melted ice when a young woman with chopped-short hair and huge earrings, dressed in a figure-concealing black top and black leather pants, handed her a flute glass filled with sparkling liquid. “You’re her,” the woman said, “aren’t you? Julian’s girl. Iris. The ‘I believe in Julian’ woman.”
Iris’s heart skipped. “I, uh . . .” Breathe. Stay even. You can handle this.
“I won’t give you away. I just had to tell you what an inspiration he is. And you.”
“An inspiration?” Curiosity chased her anxiety away.
“My uncle abused me when I was a girl. For two years, and I didn’t tell. Then every time there was some family gathering and he was there, I felt like a victim all over again.” Her chin came up. “This year at Christmas, there he was again. And I thought of Julian and of how you supported him. So I went to the police.”
“Oh my. I’m so sorry that happened to you, but congratulations on your bravery.”
A smile trembled. “Thank you. Doing something like that, you sure find out who your friends are.”
Concerned for her, Iris said, “You do. And I hope that . . .”
The smile firmed. “Yeah, turns out I do have some. Like Julian, I’m lucky that way.” She glanced over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers at someone. “And I’m here with them tonight, so I better go. But thank you. Okay?”
“I didn’t do anything. But you’re welcome. I’ll tell Julian. He’ll want to know.” Iris rose, saying, “What’s your name?”
“Marianne.”
Iris, who was shy with strangers, who didn’t believe in public displays of affection, gave the young woman a hug. “Happy New Year, Marianne.”
Marianne hugged her back. “Thank you. Again. So much. Happy New Year to you, too, Iris. You and Julian.”
When she had gone, Iris raised the flute glass in a toast to Julian, Marianne, and all the survivors, and then sipped the bubbly wine.
A few minutes later, the band came back onstage, quickly tuned up, and began to play again. They alternated upbeat tunes, ones that got the audience jumping around on the dance floor, with slower ones, songs that had couples melting into each other’s arms. Iris didn’t even envy them because, when this concert ended, she’d be going home with the hot singer onstage.
She and Julian would spend the early hours of the New Year in each other’s arms, making love with not only their bodies but their hearts and souls, creating the next verse of their love song and promising each other a future.
Watching and listening to the band, Iris lost track of time. But it seemed Julian didn’t, because after the band finished one song, he exchanged a few quiet words with Roy, Camille, and Andi, and then he spoke into the mic.
“In five minutes, it’ll be a New Year. This wasn’t how the band had planned to end the old one, but there’s something I want to do. To share. And my bandmates are kind enough to indulge me.”
He plucked a couple of notes, no tune that Iris recognized, and then he went on. “I’m going to play this next one on my own because it’s brand-new. So brand-new, my band hasn’t even heard it yet. I’ve been working on it for a while, but I could never figure out the ending. Not until today. So bear with me if I fumble a little.”
He paused, looked down at his guitar, and looked up again. “It’s the end of a year, and most of you know that the past month’s been tough for me. The fact that you’ve come here tonight, and many of you have supported me online, means a lot to me. Anyhow—”
A call from the audience interrupted him, a female voice shouting, “We believe in you, Julian!”
Others joined in, those who were sitting coming to their feet as a huge roomful of people chanted, “We believe in you, Julian!” over and over. His bandmates joined in and Iris was on her feet, too, but not calling out because tears clogged her throat.
Julian looked stunned and uncharacteristically ill at ease on the stage he’d owned for the past hours, as noise and energy came at him from all corners of the room. Then he held up his arm, the tattooed one, and spoke into the mic. His voice didn’t cut through the chanting, but gradually the audience stopped so they could hear him.
“Thank you,” he said. “That means more than you can possibly know.” He paused and then said, “As you can imagine, I’m looking forward to the New Year, and to moving forward now that I’ve done my best to exorcise the demons from my past.”
He glanced down at his guitar, played a couple more notes, looked back up. “This past year has also been the best year of my life, because of something that happened to me recently. I think you’ll understand what I mean when you hear this song.”
He lifted his head and gazed straight toward where she sat.
“It’s called ‘Iris,’” he said.