Page 151 of Jude

The circus had found me.

More lens flares captured me haggard, soaked to the bone, and hollowed out.

Emboldened, one of the paps eased from the vehicle and crept closer, thrusting a black microphone toward my face.

‘Yo, Jude! Is this an extreme publicity stunt for the new Six Sinners album? Are you guys making a gritty street promo?’

I stared into the glowing red tally light of the video camera, my soul ripping into ragged pieces.

I leaned in close to the lens.

‘No,’ I gritted. ‘I’m in penance. I refused to believe my woman when she told me the truth and turned my back on her when she needed me most.’

I held up my hand, my ring finger front and center, displaying the band she bought for me.

My voice deepened into a timbred growl.

‘If you’ve a good woman in your life, believe in her, protect her, fuckin’ cherish her. Always trust her, or you’ll end up sitting in the cold like this. Sofia, once again, mi dispiace. I may not be yours, but you’re my heart, and I won’t give up on you, not now, not ever. I love you.’

With that, I dragged myself to my car and drove home.

The video of my haggard, rain-soaked announcement hit the news cycle like a digital missile strike.

The footage got plastered across every morning show broadcast and social media feed from New York to Tokyo.

By noon, the internet was in a frenzy, dissecting my bus stop declaration with ruthless speculation.

Sofia’s name also trended as fans tried to find out who she was.

The band sent me messages with screen grabs and attachments from the press that I viewed and deleted.

I ignored it all, and crashed on the couch in my den, locking out the world.

The front doorbell started buzzing at three in the afternoon, a relentless, infuriating racket echoing through the empty travertine corridors.

I slammed a couch cushion over my head, waiting for whoever was on the porch to give up and beat it.

The ringing didn’t stop.

It just got backed up by a rhythmic fist pounding the thick oak paneling.

Sick of the noise, I dragged myself off the sofa, my joints stiff and aching.

I ripped the door open, ready to tear a strip off whoever was trespassing on my property.

The curse died on my tongue.

Maggie stood on the limestone porch, her hand clamped around the handle of a rolling suitcase, her eyes cutting right through me.

Behind her, Kian stood with his arms crossed, his jaw locked in a grim line.

‘We caught the first flight out of Vermont after your face hit the news last night,’ Maggie declared, her voice tight. ‘When your love confession in the rain went viral.’

She took one look at my sunken cheeks and pursed her lips.

Without waiting for an invite, she shoved past my shoulder into the foyer.

Her eyes swept over the bruised hollows under my bloodshot eyes and the thick, messy beard covering my jaw.