I lay back on the bed and tucked the hand not holding the phone under my head. I stared at the ceiling. “It’s going,” I sighed.
“You don’t sound too happy about that. Is the rock and roll lifestyle losing its luster,” she teased. Shit, if she only knew.
I wanted to tell her about my conversation with Jose. I needed to get this great big pile of guilt off my chest. Ever since Jose had mentioned the possibilities for me this morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was obsessing.
But I couldn’t tell Vivian. Because I wasn’t ready to admit out loud how much I wanted to take Jose up on his offer. That would be to admit how much of a traitorous ass I really was.
I played the part of dickhead really well. I f**ked chicks; I started fights. I spoke out of my ass and pretended not to give a shit about consequences.
But it was just that. . .pretending.
I had learned a long time ago that being a jerk was easier than being someone people walked all over. That it was better to hurt someone before they had the chance to hurt me.
It was f**ked up. It was wrong. I knew this. But I didn’t do heartache and pain very well. I was big pu**y about it actually.
And the thought of screwing over the three people closest to me, while repulsive, was also entirely too appealing.
And if I verbalized it, the ass**le thing wouldn’t be an act anymore.
It would be who I was. I would feel it deep in my bones.
It would be all I knew.
“It’s just overwhelming sometimes,” I said, feeling safe to admit that small truth.
Vivian’s sigh filled my ears and made me feel better than I had all day.
“I’m sure. I can’t even imagine. But you’ll be fine. You’re Cole Brandt. This is what you do. You’ll get up on that stage tonight and you’ll become everyone’s fantasy and you’ll love it.”
“Am I your fantasy?” I chuckled, hoping to god she said yes.
Vivian’s soft laughter was like a kick to the gut. I seriously loved her laugh.
“Some days,” she muttered.
“Only some days? What about today?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear. I don’t think I had ever smiled this wide in my entire life.
“I don’t know. There’s still time for you to piss me off.”
Then we were both laughing and life felt good again.
5
“The guys will be playing in Raleigh next week. You wanna drive down with me and stay over?” Gracie asked, getting into the refrigerator and taking out a bottle of tomato juice. I cringed as she poured herself a cup and drank it.
“How can you drink that stuff?” I gagged, handing her a piece of toast. Gracie shrugged and took a bite of bread, crumbs falling to the floor.
“So, what do you think? Will you come with me?” she asked, following me into the living room. I turned on the morning news and sat down on the couch to eat my meager breakfast of toast and grapefruit before I headed into work.
“I don’t know. It really all depends on what’s going on with work,” I said lamely. And while that was true, it wasn’t my biggest reason for not wanting to trek down to North Carolina.
I also wasn’t entirely sure I was up for a weekend of crazy with Cole.
While things had been pretty nice between us lately, I knew it was only a matter of time before he screwed it all up. Or more specifically screwed someone.
We had spoken on the phone almost every night since last week and he had tried his hand at phone stalking. I hadn’t purposefully avoided his calls, but Gracie and I had gone out and gotten wasted and I had left my phone at home.
I had purposefully left it behind mostly because I somehow knew a certain buzzkill lead singer would call when I was trying my hardest to forget about him for one night.
And it had been working for a while.
We had met some guys at Barton’s and they had come back to our apartment. They were a few years younger, both seniors at Rinard. I had felt a bit like a cougar when the one named Lambert had started putting the moves on me. He was a fresh-faced twenty who obviously hadn’t ventured far from the family farm. He seemed awestruck when I gave him my attention, which was good for the ego.
So I had gone along with it for a while. We had kissed and there had been some mild groping but then Cole happened. Or more like the memory of his mouth and his hands ruined any chance for poor Lambert.
I had shut it down. I had sent poor country boy home with nothing to show for it but a raging case of disappointment. And I had spent the rest of my evening eating ice cream and watching Mob Wives.
It wouldn’t have been such a bad night actually, if I hadn’t had to suffer through the sounds of Gracie enjoying herself with Lambert’s roommate Nathan, on the other side of our all too thin walls.
I had woken up in the afternoon the next day to the incessant dinging of my cellphone. I had been shocked as hell to see the number of texts and missed calls I had from Cole.
It was like he knew or something. I was beginning to think he had hookup ESP. He was able to psychically know when I was trying to have a good time without him.
For a brief moment I thought something had happened to Maysie. That she had been hurt. So I had called him back immediately. When he had asked where I had been in that sexy, husky way of his, I realized that his manic calling had to do with something else entirely.
If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought Cole had been missing me. And when I asked him as much, he had blown it off just as I had expected him to. But there was a note to his voice that was confusing. He seemed almost sad. And a lot vulnerable.
We ended up talking for over an hour. Up until he had to leave for his radio interview. And then he called me again after his show and we ended up staying on the phone until the early hours of the morning.
And there hadn’t been any women in his hotel room. I could tell by the silence in the background that he had been completely alone. That alone was a reason to believe in miracles. Cole Brandt without a girl in his room had me almost believing in unicorns and fairies.
Then I started to wonder what he wanted. It was like when a husband buys his wife flowers out of the blue. The first thought the woman has is, “What did he do wrong?” Or “What is he up to, the bastard?”
And if it involved handcuffs and dressing like a nun again so I could smack him with a ruler for a being a “naughty boy” I’d tell him where to shove it.
Several months ago I had spent four hours, in a nun habit, handcuffed to a hotel bed because Cole couldn’t remember where he had left the keys. In the end he had to call a locksmith to pick the lock.