My Name is Julia

A Novel

Lois Alan

To request permission, send email to Lois@LoisAlan.com or call 720.515.7483

Chapter 1

May 1986 – a Detroit suburb

I sit on a slab of cracked cement near the driveway, allowing the late afternoon sun to dry my tears. The first two weeks of marriage should be blissful. Happy. Not the beginning of a life sentence. I ache for the comfort of a loving husband. A gentle touch, a hug. Anything.

He bursts out the door and stops short when he sees me. His eyes narrow, like he’s trying to think of something else to argue about.

I try to smile, but my emotions refuse to betray me.

He huffs a breath and strolls to the curbside mailbox in the shade of the tall maple. Scores of sparrows chatter like an army of squeaky wheels. Returning with a stack of mail, his brows draw close together as he examines a manila envelope. “Why is my wife getting mail from another man?”

He says wife as if it’s some sort of disease.

I rush to his side, and the air disappears from my lungs when I recognize the handwriting. No. Not now. Not today. I grab the envelope. “That’s addressed to me.”

It slips through my fingers as he holds it beyond my reach and drops the rest of the mail. “You’re not Julia Sebastian anymore.”

My shaky hands grip his arm, pulling with all my strength. “Give me that envelope.”

He jerks his arm from my grasp, causing me to fall hard onto the ground, then looks down his nose and smirks. “Well, aren’t you all worked up in a tizzy.”

I dust the dirt from my aching thigh and glare at him. Fine. Maybe if he reads another man’s expression of undying love for me, he’ll snap out of this awful behavior. Things can’t go on like this.

He rips open the envelope. His eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare as he grabs my arm and yanks me to his side. His fingers dig into my skin. “What is this?” he says through clenched teeth.

My eyes fall onto a photo proof sheet, and a stabbing pain rips through my body. My knees weaken. I don’t understand. Those pictures were destroyed a long time ago. “I … I’m sorry. Please—”

“You … you’re nothing but a—” His eyes grow wild as he shoves me away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

My mind races, trying to figure out what to say, what to do. “Those … that … that was before we met.”

Life drains from his dark eyes, and his finger hovers inches from my face. “I never should’ve married a girl like you.”

Chapter 2

Six months earlier – November 1985

I apply a deep shade of red to my lips, picturing his long, dark curls. The way he shakes them away from his eyes when he talks to me. Oh, those eyes. I spray Obsession on my neck, wondering if he’ll be close enough to smell it. The chorus of “Panama” blares from my room, and I sing along as I tame my curls with Vidal Sassoon styling lotion.

My roommate, Kathy, bursts into the bathroom, and my makeup bag falls into the sink. “Oh, Jules. I’m sorry! I thought you already left.” She returns my bag to the counter. “Gabe’s taking me to dinner at Luciano’s. He’ll be here in 30 minutes.”

“Let me guess. You’ll have a bottle of Chardonnay with a side of Fettuccine Alfredo?”

Kathy laughs as she brushes her long blonde hair. She gives me a double take and smiles. “Wearing your new lipstick, I see.” She raises her brows. “I knew it’d look great on you.”

“It’s not too dark?”

“Not at all.” She sprays more perfume on me. “You’ll get his attention one way or another.”

I restrain a smile. It took me a while to admit I was attracted to Bryan Harper, the lead guitarist in my band. But now that Kat figured it out, she won’t let it go.

“Flirt with him tonight, okay? Just a little.”

“We’re gonna be busy. It’s Vicky’s first practice and she needs to learn our entire set.”

“Oh man, I wish I could go with you. I’m dying to hear her sing in person.”

“Yeah, me too. And if she sings like she did on her demo, we can start playing gigs.” I tighten my moccasin boots, stand tall, and smile. “Well, how do I look?”

“Like a rock star.” Kathy lifts her brows and nods. “He doesn’t have a chance.”

***

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel as I inch through the downtown-Detroit traffic. I wave another driver into my lane, and we lurch forward like hungry people in line at a soup kitchen. My exit finally arrives. The 45-minute drive has taken an hour. I park my truck and race into the studio, juggling my gear against the blustery wind.

I step into the rehearsal room, and everyone is already set up. Bryan’s brown curls fall just past his shoulders as he plays his electric guitar. His eyes sparkle when he sees me, causing butterflies to swarm in my stomach. Danny, our bass guitarist, is in his own little world, practicing riffs. I rush to my position, and a girl with tight pants, jet-black hair, and ivory skin stands near my amplifier.

She looks up from a sheet of lyrics and flashes a beautiful smile. “You must be Julia—”

“You must be Vicky—” We both speak at the same time and laugh. I want to talk more, but it’s pointless with everyone playing their instruments. I lift my guitar from its case and connect my reverb pedal to the Marshal amplifier.

She points to my Gibson L6S guitar. “It’s so cool you play,” she says close to my ear.

I nod a thank you, and my adrenaline spikes. Vicky has the right look, and I already like her.

“Okay, everyone. Let’s get started,” Wayne announces from behind his drum set, chomping a huge wad of bubble gum. He’s a talented drummer, but equally full of himself. I tolerate it, though. His uncle owns the studio and lets us practice here for free.

“Let’s start with ‘Round & Round,’” Bryan says into his mic. The lighting is muted, making it easy for me to get distracted by his snug jeans. And his lips. There’s something about the way he wears his guitar. “It sounded good last time, but I want to hear it with vocals.”

“Agreed.” I shift my focus to Vicky. “A powerful singer will pull the song together.”

“Okay,” Wayne says. “Vicky, you ready?”

She bites her lip, steps to the microphone, and nods. “Let’s do this!”

Wayne taps his sticks, giving us a two-beat intro. Bryan, Danny, and I begin in sync. I concentrate to ensure I don’t miss a single note or chord. Vicky belts out every word in key, showing off her wide vocal range. It’s a difficult song, but we’re all riding the same wave. Feeding off one another. It’s like a rock & roll symphony, and there’s no better high in the world.

Three hours fly by, and we have five songs ready. Vicky is the piece we’ve been missing. Her voice is the glue that holds these songs together. And from the look on everyone’s faces, I think we’re all feeling the same way. Maybe this band can actually make it.

Wayne jumps from the drum riser, flings one of his sticks into the air and catches it. “Dudes, with these songs down, we can play the VFW party.”

“Can your uncle record a couple songs with Vicky to update our demo?” I ask Wayne.

“No need. I already got it booked. Under our new official name, Artemis.” Wayne smirks.

“Artemis? Like the daughter of Zeus?” Bryan says.

“No.” Vicky laughs, her eyes glued on Wayne. “Like the name of my parrot.”

I can’t believe Wayne booked a gig and named our band without talking to us first. If he wasn’t such an excellent drummer, I’d want to replace him. Instead, I laugh with everyone else.

“Let’s drink to Artemis.” Danny cracks open a can of beer from our band’s stock in the studio fridge. Wayne’s the only one old enough to buy alcohol, another reason I tolerate him.

“Sorry, I have to go. I need to be at work early tomorrow morning.” I face Bryan, and our eyes lock. Energy surges through my body as I turn away, trying to conceal my smile, wishing I could stay longer. I pack my gear and head toward the door. “See ya all on Saturday.”

“Julia, wait up.” Bryan pulls on his black leather jacket, grabs his gear, and catches up to me. “Can we talk? In my car?”

My stomach flutters, but I try not to read into anything. He probably wants to set up another practice session at his house. Working out tricky guitar parts outside of scheduled rehearsals is the reason we play so well together. Why would tonight be any different? I shrug. “Sure.”

He holds the studio door open, and a blast of wind nearly blows the case from my hand. We run to his Ford LTD and set our gear in the backseat. He starts the engine, and cold air bursts from the vents. I shiver, pulling my jacket tight across my chest. Why do I feel so nervous?

“You were quiet tonight, especially toward the end.” He adjusts the vents and temperature. “Is everything okay? I mean, with Vicky and everything?”

“Yeah, she’s awesome.” A warm sensation creeps across my cheeks. Did he notice me looking at him tonight? Ugh. “I’m excited we’ll be able to play the VFW party.”

“Me too.” He faces me and smiles. “We sounded great tonight. I mean, you know, our whole band. I think we finally have what it takes to get noticed.”

I glance at his lips, wondering what it’d be like to kiss him. No! I need to go back to Los Angeles. I can’t get distracted from my goals. Not again. I lift my shoulders. “Yeah. Maybe.”

He releases a long breath, creating a vapor cloud. “I know. You want to get back to California.” He shrugs. “But something good could happen here.”

Our eyes meet and chills race to my fingertips. Now is not the time to rant about the Guitar Institute. “You’re right. If it’s meant to be, we’ll get noticed no matter where we are.”

He leans closer and raises his brows. “True, but only if you stay in the band.”

I study his warm brown eyes and feel our friendship morphing, as if we’ve been caught in the swell of a North Atlantic surge. I swallow. “Oh, really?”

“Really.” His gaze lingers, and a slow smile appears on his lips.

I try to steady my breathing, feeling drawn to him like a tide to the shore during a full moon.

He wraps his arm around me, gently closing the gap between us. “Still cold?” he whispers.

“Not anymore.” The warmth of his breath awakens every nerve in my body, piercing my core with some sort of magnetic pull. I close my eyes and inhale the subtle scent of his cologne mixed with the leather from his jacket. It’s intoxicating.

He pulls back a little and looks into my eyes. “Do you want to go out Friday night?” His question swirls like vibrant colors in a kaleidoscope.

“Yes.” My answer escapes without permission, though it’s the only viable response.

Our fingertips explore each other’s hands; his delicate touch rendering me helpless. Our eyes meet for an instant as he moves closer, and his lips tenderly kiss mine.

***

I pull into the driveway next to Kathy’s car, which means Gabe’s Ferrari is probably in the garage, and he’ll probably spend the night. I walk into the candle-lit house. Foreigner plays from Kathy’s bedroom, but she’s in the kitchen, wearing an oversized T-shirt and emptying the last of a bottle of Asti Spumante into her glass. “Hey, girl. How did it go tonight?”

I lean on the kitchen counter, thinking about Bryan, and my body tingles. “I’m glad I wore that new lipstick. You’re gonna be proud of me.”

Kathy’s mouth widens into a huge smile. “What happened?”

“Okay.” I grin. “So, after practice, Bryan says he wants to talk. We go into his car and—”

“Hey, Jules. How’s it going?” Gabe comes into the kitchen wearing only his jeans.

“A hundred percent amazing.” I smile at Kathy, eager to finish my story.

Gabe gets a beer from the fridge and lights a cigarette. “Ian came by looking for you tonight.”

Kathy hands me an envelope from the counter. “He wanted me to make sure you got this.”

“He’s coming here on Friday to etch some art on my windshield.” Gabe blows smoke toward the ceiling. “You should talk to him. He misses you.”

“Friday? Here?” My eyes bounce from Gabe to Kathy.

She bites her lip and shrugs, giving me puppy eyes. “I said they could use the garage.”

“Oh.” Tension squeezes my head as I check my watch. “Ugh. I need to get some sleep. Good night, guys.”

Kathy gives me a knowing look. “We’ll talk soon.”

I go into my room and toss the envelope onto my nightstand. My mind drifts to the tender moments with Bryan as I get ready for bed. I still can’t believe we kissed. I close my eyes and smile, and my stomach flutters again. It was everything I imagined it would be. Perfect. Magical. Inhaling, I flop onto my bed and reach to turn off the lamp when I see Ian’s envelope. He printed my name with his usual artistic flare, adding delicate embellishments. I let out a long sigh as I open it and read.

Dear Julia, I know you need space to concentrate on your music, and I hope things are coming together with your band. But ever since you moved out, my life has been empty. I can’t stop loving you. I still see your face whenever I close my eyes, and every curve of your body is imprinted in my mind. Please give me another chance. Life has no meaning without you. Forever yours, Ian.”

Just what I thought. How many times do I need to tell him it’s over?

I switch off the light and roll to my side. The scent of Bryan’s cologne remains on my skin.

Friday night, I smile.

Friday night, I groan.

Chapter 3

I stop at the entrance of my boss’s cubicle. “Morning, Mr. Zimmerman.”

Sitting at his desk, he peers above his reading glasses. “A bit early for you to be so chipper.”

“It’s Friday. The air is crisp.” I take a deep breath and smile. “Life is good.”

A subtle grin appears on the retired Army Colonel’s face. “Coordinate your schedule with Mr. Russell. That proposal needs to be shipped FedEx by close of business today. And report to HR to select your benefits package. You completed your six-month probation, exceeding my expectations.” He stands and shakes my hand. “Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you.” It feels good to be recognized, even if this job is just a means to an end.

“And make sure I get an aisle seat when you book my flight to Newark.”

“You got it.” I dash around the corner to answer the phone in my cubicle. With the handset in the crook of my neck, I scribble a message as the other line rings.

Mr. Markovich comes to my desk and jots a note, Coffee for 6 in 10 minutes. He points to the conference room and makes a silly face, like he dreads going in. He reminds me of my dad.

I hold back a chuckle and nod. “Mr. Nowak from TACOM is holding on line three,” I say to my boss before rushing to the break room.

“Hey, Jules.” Yvette examines the donuts as if selecting an engagement ring.

“Good morning.” I measure coffee and fill the reservoir with water. “The budget meeting’s about to start in the main conference room.”

“I was spared.” Yvette chooses a chocolate-glazed donut and chatters about her plans to prepare a fancy dinner for her in-laws on Saturday. Makes the time go fast while I wait for the coffee to brew. She’s my best friend here at work. A few years older. Married, no kids. Probably makes good money. But sometimes I wonder if she’s happy. “What’s the latest with your band?”

“I’ll tell you everything at lunch.” I can’t hold back this grin as I load the coffee cart and head to the conference room. She’s gonna flip when I tell her I’m going out with Bryan tonight.

***

I pull into my driveway, turn off the engine, and hear “Radar Love” from inside the garage. Ian. I need to think of a way to get him out of here before Bryan arrives. But how? My mind spins into overdrive as I walk to the garage. I take a deep breath, turn the cold knob, and step inside.

“Julia.” Wearing a faded concert jersey on his thin frame, Ian tosses back his long hair.

I blow dusty shavings from the intricate roses he etched into the windshield of Gabe’s car. “You’ve always been a talented artist.”

“Just need to put another rosebud in the corner, then finish the leaves.” He pops the top of a beer bottle. Two spots from the 6-pack are empty. “I took the day off, so I don’t have to rush.”

“Are you planning to finish tonight?”

“Hope to have it done before Kat and Gabe get back. She was craving egg rolls, so they went to Wing Lee’s.” Ian moves closer, his bloodshot eyes gazing into mine. “Did you read my letter?”

A heavy sigh escapes. “Yes.”

“I have so much to make up to you. Let me take you to dinner so we can talk.”

“No, Ian. We broke up, remember?” I glance at my watch.

He leans against the wall and lights a cigarette. “Oh, I see. You have plans.”

“Bryan’s coming over. We’re, um … working on some songs for practice tomorrow.”

“Good.” He shrugs. “But if there’s even a glimmer of hope, I’ll never give up on us.”

“Ian, please. There is no glimmer. There is no us.”

“Come on. We had a good thing. You and me, Gabe and Kat. So many memories.”

“Why can’t you see? Our relationship, everything we did … it threw me off course.”

“I know. Things got crazy for a while. But now you’re in a band, back on track. I want to help you with all that promo stuff we started.” He reaches for my hand.

I jerk it away. “Ian, stop! No more! You need to get it through your head. It’s over.”

He throws his hands up. “Okay. I get it. Now that you have your fancy job and a room here with Kat, you don’t need me anymore.” He scoffs. “You just used me for a place to stay.”

“Don’t you dare turn this around. If anything, you took advantage of me.” I narrow my eyes. “I would’ve been better off on the streets of LA.”

He glares at me as he chugs the rest of his beer. He snuffs out his cigarette and turns on the etching tool. As he steps toward the car, his foot catches the power cord. He loses his balance, and the tool dings the hood of the Ferrari 308. He inspects the damage, mumbling profanities.

Cringing, I hold my breath and back away from the car.

Ian rips the cord from the outlet and storms out the door. “Tell Gabe I’ll finish tomorrow,” he says as he beelines toward the bus stop. Ian relies on public transportation. It’s cheaper and more convenient, he says, since he works downtown. But I think it’s because he enjoys the freedom to drink. It’s cold. I’d offer him a ride, but he’d misinterpret my gesture. And with his long strides, he’s already halfway there. At least I don’t have to worry about him for the rest of the night.

Once inside the house, I jot a note to Gabe saying Ian will finish the job tomorrow. Bryan will be here in twenty minutes. I rush to my room to get ready.

***

At seven o’clock, a knock at the side door causes my pulse to race. He’s punctual. I take a deep breath and check my reflection one more time before I answer.

“Hey.” My stomach flutters as I hear myself giggle. Ugh. I need to chill out.

“Hi.” He smiles and hands me a bouquet of orange daisies. A beautiful arrangement he must’ve purchased at a florist.

“Wow. Thank you.” I smell spearmint on his breath as we hug.

“We’ll be cutting it close for the earlier show. Want to hang out here and catch a later one?”

“No sense in rushing.” I place the daisies into a jar and turn on the tap. The scent of his cologne distracts me, and water overflows into the sink. I hope he doesn’t notice. “You thirsty?”

“Sure, what do you have?”

I open the refrigerator and notice a bottle of Boone’s Farm Sangria. Kathy won’t mind, especially if I’m drinking it with Bryan. I chuckle. “How ’bout some cheap wine?”

“I’m game if you are.”

I pour two glasses and hand one to him. “To our band, Artemis.”

As we take the first sip, one of Kathy’s Siamese cats rubs against Bryan’s leg.

“Oh no you don’t! Scat!” I stomp my foot. “Sorry, I’m allergic. Let’s go to my room.” I lead him into my bedroom and turn on the stereo, adjusting the volume so we can talk.

“Cool set up.” He thumbs the strings of my guitar in its stand. “May I?”

“Sure.” I light a candle as he sits on a red milk crate and casually strums chords.

“Nice collection.” He nods toward a pile of Guitar Player magazines next to my dresser.

“I never miss an issue.” I grab the top copy and open it to an earmarked article I’ve read a hundred times. “Check this out. That’s Eddie Van Halen guest teaching a class at the Guitar Institute.”

“It’d be cool to learn a few tricks from Eddie, that’s for sure.”

“When I get there, I’ll have access to their network of other musicians and producers, too. Knowing the right people is even more important than knowing how to play. And LA is full of people who make things happen.” I watch Bryan’s fingers move across the neck of my guitar. He’s good. But I want to be better. And the Institute will push me to become my best. It’s the smartest way for me to get my songs on the charts.

He pauses and takes a sip of his wine. “When are you going to start?”

“January, maybe. But next fall is more realistic. Living in LA is expensive, so I’m saving every dime I can.” My mind drifts to a conversation I had with a student after my audition. He gave me some tips on how to survive when money is tight. I run my hand over my mattress. “Even if I have to sleep in the back of my truck and live on peanut butter and crackers, I’m going to do it.” Bryan’s eyes shift back to the fretboard. He must be sick of hearing about my LA dreams. I don’t want our first date to be our last. “So … what else is going on?”

“Wayne and Vicky went out tonight.” He smiles. “We like having two girls in the band.”

“Really? Well, maybe Vicky and I will start an all-girl band and leave you guys in the dust.”

“You better not.” He smiles, returns my guitar, and moves next to me on the bed.

I turn off the light. The glow from the stereo and the candle is more than enough. Over the next hour, we finish the bottle of wine. He’s so easy to talk to, and funny. But it’s his drive to make it in the music industry that really impresses me. He wants to find success as much as I do. I rest my head on my pillow, and he lies next to me. Our faces so close we breathe the same, sweet air. Slowly our lips meet, and my mouth tingles like it does after the first taste of a hot fudge sundae.

Noises come from the kitchen. “My roommate must be home.”

“Will she care if I’m here?”

“Not at all.” I turn up the music and return to his side. We kiss again. Our bodies connect perfectly like two pieces in a puzzle. He seems content exploring my lips with his, and I run my fingers through his curls and caress his neck. The fluttering in my belly intensifies.

A heavy thud in the living room, followed by sounds of a scuffle, interrupts the mood.

“What was that?” He sits up.

I listen at my door to arguing, pleading. Are Kat and Gabe fighting? “I’ll be right back.”

The moment I step into the hall, Kathy pulls me into the bathroom. “Gabe is in the living room with Ian. He’s drunk,” she whispers. “He was sitting outside your truck, without a coat. Drinking Jack Daniel’s. Shivering, sobbing, yelling,” she says. “He had blood all over his hands.”

“Blood?” My eyes widen. “From what?”

“He has a deep cut on his wrist. Says he doesn’t know how it got there.” She shakes her head. “I cleaned it and wrapped it with gauze. There’s no more bleeding.”

Drinking wine on an empty stomach is affecting my ability to think. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“No! He’s mad. He saw Bryan come inside with those flowers,” she whispers.

“She’s a liar!” Ian’s shrill, slurred words hit me like a punch in the face.

Kathy peeks into the living room and lets out a quick breath. “He’s trying to get into your room again.” Her expression tightens. “I need to help Gabe. You and Bryan should go.”

Still trying to wrap my mind around the situation, I nod. “Kat, I … I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” She whizzes past me toward the living room.

I rush back to my room and blow out the candle. “We need to go. I’ll explain outside.” I grab Bryan’s hand, pulling him as if the house is on fire. We slip past Ian’s drunken rants seemingly undetected. We get into Bryan’s car, and I point down the road. “Let’s go. Please. Just drive.”

He pulls out of the driveway and accelerates. “What’s going on?”

“My ex-boyfriend is in the living room. He’s drunk. And angry.” My muscles tighten. “Kathy and Gabe found him outside my truck with blood all over his hands.”

He faces me with raised brows. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. But Kathy stopped the bleeding and bandaged him up.” I tell him about my chat with Ian. “He said he’d finish tomorrow and headed toward the bus stop. I didn’t know he was going to the liquor store. And I certainly didn’t think he’d come back tonight.” I snatch a cigarette from Bryan’s pack and light it, even though I don’t smoke. “I told him we were working on music, but he saw you come into the house with flowers.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

“No.” The nicotine gives me a head rush. Or maybe it’s the wine. She’s a liar, loops in my mind. “I broke up with him so I could focus on my goals. He knew you were coming over tonight, but I said we were working on music. I should’ve told him the truth.”

“If you broke up with him, he should respect your decision and leave you alone.”

I lean on Bryan’s shoulder as he drives. Content just being near him. Ian was jealous of my ambition, especially if that meant I’d go back to California. He’d deny it, but when we were together, it was all about partying. No time for practice or playing in a band. The total opposite of Bryan.

He drives to a 24-hour diner. We find a booth toward the back and order fries and chocolate shakes. He doesn’t ask about Ian or talk about what happened. Rather, he tells stories about his life. I relax, allowing him to take my mind off everything. I even laugh a few times.

Several hours pass, and he drives me home. “You want me to come in with you?”

“No, I’ll be okay.” I shake my head. “Thanks for everything. I’m sorry—”

He interrupts my words with a delicate kiss. Then another. And another. “Get some sleep,” he whispers as he squeezes my hand and smiles. “We have practice tomorrow.”

I step out into the cold and walk toward the door, then turn and wave as he waits for me to get inside. The night was far from what I imagined, but in spite of everything, it was still good.

When I get into the house, reality slaps me in the face. The Jack Daniel’s bottle, smeared with brown fingerprints, along with dirty paper towels, gauze, and scissors surround the orange daisies Bryan gave me. Kitchen chairs push against the wall. A note from Kathy, written with a thick, black marker is taped to the refrigerator. “We need to talk before I go to work tomorrow.”

*** End of Sample Chapters ***

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Caution! Regarding the novel My Name is Julia

Content Warning: This book is intended for a Mature Audience. It contains animal cruelty/animal death, criminal court and jail, criminal sexual conduct, drug & underage alcohol use, gaslighting, infertility, narcissistic behavior, potentially offensive language, physical injuries, and self-harm.

Trigger Warning: This book includes domestic abuse & violence, including spiritual, emotional, physical, & verbal abuse.

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