Heavy Metal (A Badboy Rockstar Romance) (13 page)

But I couldn’t tell Brandon any of that.  It would make me sound weak, stupid and petty.  Would the shame I constantly felt ever stop following me around like some dark raincloud hanging over my head?  Sometimes it was downright debilitating. 

Disentangling myself from Brandon’s embrace, I sat up.  “I should go.”

“Already..?” Brandon asked.  His disappointment was evident.  “We’ve got a bit more time, no?”

“What if there’s traffic?  I don’t want to miss my bus,” I told him, standing up and tugging my clothing back into place. 

Reluctantly, Brandon climbed to his feet as well.  He walked around the bed so he was right in front of me, and then reached out to pull me close to him. 

“If Carl gives you any trouble at all, you call me, okay?” he ordered, handing me his cell phone.  “I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing...I will drop it all for you.  Hell, if I’m onstage when you call I will leave in the middle of a show if that’s what it takes.”

“Brandon, I’ll be fine, I promise.  And I can’t take your phone...what will you use?”

“I’ve got other phones,” he assured me.  “Take it,” he said again, kissing the top of my head.

“Alright, I will.  Thank you.”  I reluctantly pulled myself away from him.

“I’m going to miss you so much.  I know that probably sounds needy and dumb, but I’ve gotten so used to having you around that I kind of forget what my life was like before you were a part of it.  I really don’t want to be reminded,” he said, making a face.

“I’ll miss you too,” I assured him.  Already, there was a sensation of tightness in my chest.  The thought of being separated from Brandon was physically uncomfortable, making it hard to breathe and difficult to concentrate. 

“Give me one more hug before you go,” he ordered, reaching for me again.

Although I desperately wanted to, I took a step back so he couldn’t embrace me. “No.  If I hug you again I don’t think I’ll be able to let go,” I admitted.  Walking out the door was going to be hard enough as it was.  There was no need to make it any more difficult. 

Why was I making such a big deal out of this anyway?  It wasn’t a big deal.  I was going to go back to Carl’s place, get my cat and then meet up with Brandon again in time for the next stretch of his tour.  I’d be back in his arms again before I knew it...and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had inexplicably come over me.

“Goodbye,” I whispered.  My mouth was dry and my palms were sweaty.

“Take care of yourself, you hear?”

“You too,” I replied before making a hasty beeline for the door.  I was afraid if I didn’t leave right that minute, I never would.  Why was this so difficult?  Why did my legs feel like they had turned to lead and why was every fiber of my being screaming at me to stay?

“Love you,” Brandon called after me.

I didn’t dare look back, because that would mean I’d heard him.  Instead, I let the door shut behind me and raced outside to the car that was waiting to transport me to the bus station.  Brandon’s words echoed in my head the entire way down to the lobby, and as I sat in the backseat of the car, I realized my hands were shaking.

He’d said he loved me, but how could he?  He didn’t know the real me, not fully.  He didn’t know I was insecure and anxiety-ridden and covered in stretch marks that would never fully fade.  He didn’t know I meticulously counted every calorie that went into my mouth to the point that it had become an obsession, and that some days I starved myself just to feel as though I had control over
something
in my life.

If Brandon knew all that, surely he wouldn’t love me.  He most likely wouldn’t even like me.  He’d probably go running in the opposite direction, desperate to get as far away from me and my dysfunction as he possibly could. 

That would destroy me. 

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was pretty sure I was falling in love with him.

“Carl!  Let me in you bastard!” I shouted as I pounded on the window of the ground floor apartment we used to share.  I had been out there for a while – too long.  And I was making a scene.  The neighbors were probably watching by now, peeking out their windows to see what all the commotion was about.

The last thing I wanted was to call attention to myself or the ugly situation with my ex.  Unfortunately, that was exactly what I was doing.  It was embarrassing to think about, sure...but what other choice did I have?

Knocking again, I felt my frustration reach new levels.  Carl was so immature, among a host of other things, such as selfish, rude, mean and arrogant.  He was worse than a child, pretending he couldn’t hear me when clearly he knew I was out there. 

Actually, it wasn’t fair to compare him to a child.  A child would have been far better behaved.

“I can
see
you in there!” I informed my ex as I banged on the window more insistently, scowling at him through the glass.  He was sprawled out on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, half sitting and half reclined.  There was a large bowl of potato chips resting on his considerable gut.  Even from where I stood I could see crumbs all over the place.

“
Carl!”

He looked at me and then, and I gave him the dirtiest, most hateful look I could muster.  If looks could kill, he would have been a dead man!  No sooner than our eyes had met, he looked away.  It was as though he thought if he couldn’t see me, I couldn’t see him either.  What a moron.

Why did everything with him always have to be so difficult?

I pounded on the window harder, my temper flaring.  Maybe it was hard enough to cause the glass to shatter, I didn’t know.  And to be honest, I didn’t particularly care.  If it broke, it broke.  If Carl would have opened the damn door one of the first ten million times I had knocked, it all could have been avoided.  It was his fault.

The entire window rattled in protest, shaking in its frame as I unleashed my wrath on it.

Normally I wasn’t one to flip out.  At a young age, I had learned to fade into the background.  Getting noticed usually meant nothing but trouble, so I had tried to make myself invisible whenever possible.  That had carried over into my adult life.  In fact, I wasn’t sure I had ever raised my voice to Carl before...until now.

My anger had caught me by surprise, and I could tell Carl hadn’t been expecting it either.  His entire body had stiffened and he had an expression of utter confusion on his face, as though he didn’t quite know how to handle the new and improved, more assertive version of me.

I saw him mutter something under his breath.  I was no lip reader, but I was pretty sure it was a four letter word.  Then he reluctantly hoisted his large frame up off the couch, pulled his white wife beater down over his hairy belly and stomped over to the door as though I was inconveniencing him.

It was really quite remarkable that he’d had the nerve to chastise and even purposefully humiliate me about my weight, I thought to myself as I watched him lumber over to the door.  He could stand to lose a few pounds himself.  I hadn’t ever cared about his weight, though.  I had been perfectly willing to accept him as he was.  But his hypocrisy was rather astounding sometimes.

The door flew open and I marched over from the window to find Carl glowering at me.  His entire face was screwed up in a rather unattractive grimace, his upper lip drawn back in an unwavering snarl.  Maybe it would have been effective had Carl been a dog, but on a grown man the expression looked rather pitiful. 

He was trying to intimidate me, but it wasn’t going to work.  When I saw the way he was looking at me, it only strengthened my resolve to stand up to him once and for all.  So, to Carl’s dismay, I didn’t back down.  Instead, I balled my hands into fists at my sides.  Then I squared my shoulders, stood tall and, ironically enough, tried to make myself as big as possible.

“Give me my stuff,” I demanded, face-to-face with the man I despised.  There was no point in exchanging pleasantries.  That ship had sailed thanks to Carl’s ultimatums, rudeness and juvenile behavior.  So I was going to get right down to business and get what I had come for.  Then I was going to get the hell out of dodge – and away from my ex for good.

Nothing was going to stop me or stand in my way.  I was a woman on a mission.

Carl was still glaring at me but it wasn’t fazing me.  I was done with letting him push me around, no longer afraid of his insults or criticism.  Why had I let his words eat away at me for so long, anyway?  They were only words.  They didn’t have power unless I allowed them to, and a jerk like Carl didn’t deserve to have any power.  Enough was enough!

The change that had come over me was profound, and I wasn’t about to let Carl bully me.  I had already allowed him to get away with that for far too long.  Why should I even care what he thought?  I had an amazing guy in my life who constantly reminded me I was worthy of respect, and little by little I was beginning to believe it. 

I mattered.

No matter what Carl said or did, I mattered.

At the end of the day, it was that simple.  If only I had realized it sooner!

“Carl, I said give me my stuff,” I repeated when he didn’t immediately react.

“Get it yourself,” Carl muttered.

He stepped aside only slightly, so that I would barely be able to squeeze past him.  I knew that move was very much intentional, meant to make me feel like I was at his mercy.  Maybe it was even meant to make me feel self conscious about my size.  Even after I had lost weight, he had still continued to try to make me feel bad about my body. 

Actually, now that I thought about it, it seemed possible that his insults about my appearance hadn’t had much to do with my looks at all.  Instead, they had been meant to keep me feeling insecure and self-conscious...and under Carl’s control.  If I hadn’t been overweight for the duration of our relationship, it wouldn’t have helped matters.  He simply would have found some other so-called flaw to criticize.

This time I wasn’t about to tolerate any of his bullshit.

“Fine,” I said, pushing past him and going inside. 

The place was, as I had expected, a dump.  It was a nice enough apartment suite.  Or at least it had been when I had lived there.  I had singlehandedly kept the place clean, coming home from a long day at the diner to pick up after Carl, who was a complete slob, not to mention incredibly selfish.  Now that I was no longer there to clean up his messes, it was no surprise that Carl had allowed the place to turn into a pigsty. 

Dirty dishes were scattered all around the living room, littering every surface.  A quick peek confirmed that the bedroom was no better.  Carl’s rumpled clothes were on the floor, along with a couple damp towels that would surely mildew if he didn’t do something about them soon.  Most men of Carl’s age knew how to take a shower, get dressed and feed themselves without creating chaos and disarray, but not Carl.

It wasn’t that shocking he was so incapable – or unwilling – to look after himself.  He’d had me doing it for him for years, and he was also the laziest man on the face of the planet.  But if he expected me to feel pity or guilt when I took in his surroundings, he had another thing coming. 

I didn’t care. 

Carl and his disgusting filth weren’t my problem anymore.  Let the damp towels mildew and the food remnants rot.  In fact, let the whole place deteriorate until Carl’s world came crashing down around him.  It would serve him right.  He deserved it.

“Mittens!” I called as I walked through the apartment, ignoring the mess.  “Here kitty!”

The cat was nowhere to be seen.  He was probably off sulking beneath the couch or under the bed, I reasoned.  Mittens was usually affectionate and sweet, but every so often his behavior reminded me that he was still a cat.  A bit of “cattitude” was to be expected. 

When he finally emerged from his hiding spot with his nose in the air and an expression of unmistakable indignation on his furry little face, I expected he would likely refuse to even acknowledge me at first.  He was probably going to make me grovel for forgiveness after leaving him with Carl for a few days. 

I could handle that.

The cat would turn up when he was ready, I decided.  In the meantime, I would concentrate on grabbing the few other things of value that I had left behind.  It was a strange feeling to realize that my stuff was only stuff, most of it totally replaceable and unimportant.  But I was here now, so I may as well grab what I could.

Making my way into the bedroom, I flung open the closet. 

There wasn’t a whole lot I needed or even wanted. 

Most of my old clothes were far too big for me, and when I had suggested going into the city to buy a few new items, Carl had snapped that we couldn’t afford it.  It hadn’t been true, of course.  After all, he always had plenty of money to throw at his stupid sports memorabilia collection.  It was just that his priorities were all screwed up.

But I had known there was no point in arguing with him.

Instead, I had punched a new hole in my belt and used it to keep my pants from falling off my newly slender frame.  When my shirts had become so baggy that they had started to look sloppy, I had taken to tucking them in.  It hadn’t been ideal, but it had been an improvement. 

Scanning the contents of the closet, I quickly selected a few items that still somewhat fit me.  Then I stuffed them into the black garbage bag I had brought with me.  I wasn’t concerned with what happened to the rest.  Carl could donate them, throw them out or even wear them himself for all I cared.

Next, I went over to the chest of drawers where my important papers and other documents were stored.  Carl stood in the doorway, silently watching me as I rifled through the contents of the drawer.  I ignored him, focused on the task at hand. 

The sooner I could be in and out of his place, the better.

But things weren’t going as smoothly as I had hoped.

“Where’s my passport?” I demanded, looking up at Carl with a raised eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“My passport,” I repeated, my jaw clenched.  “I usually keep it in here.  It’s gone.”

He shrugged.  “Are you planning on going somewhere?” he asked.

That was none of his business and we both knew it.  Disregarding the question, I gave Carl an icy look.  “You haven’t seen my passport anywhere?” I tried again, hoping that for once in his life he might actually try to be helpful. 

But of course, that was far too much to ask of him.  Even as I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, I knew that.  He had never lifted a stubby, potato chip grease covered finger a day in his life, so why would he inconvenience himself now?

He gave me a blank stare, but his poker face wasn’t the greatest.  I could see that he was rather poorly trying to hide a self-satisfied smirk.  That smug bastard was enjoying watching me turn the bedroom upside down in a fruitless search for my stuff! 

After I had tossed all the items from the chest of drawers onto the bed, I let out a sigh.  My passport definitely wasn’t there.  I slammed the chest of drawers shut hard, my patience wearing thin.  I could tell I wasn’t going to get anywhere with my stupid ex regarding the passport issue, so I turned my attention to more important matters.

“Seriously, where is Mittens?” I demanded.  “You must know?”

“Don’t look at me.  I’ve barely seen that stupid cat since you left.”

That made sense, I decided after briefly mulling it over.  Mittens hated Carl with a passion, so usually didn’t make a point of being in the same room as him unless it was to shoot dirty looks and growl menacingly.  Most often, though, Mittens kept his distance.  I could hardly say I blamed the cat for that.  Right now I wanted to be as far away from the guy as possible, too!

Walking out into the hallway, I began to call out for the cat.  Normally he’d come running the second he heard me, usually under the assumption that I would give him food.  Even if he was angry with me, I half-expected he would at least poke his head out from wherever he was hiding to assess the situation and determine whether I had a treat for him.

Treats were, after all, the one guaranteed way to get back onto Mittens’ good side.  He was fickle like that, easily persuaded by the tender, chicken flavored little pellets he gobbled up like candy.   So I went to the cupboard where the cat’s food was stored and grabbed the half-eaten bag of goodies.  As I did, I noticed that Mittens’ food supply was getting down.  That was good.  At least it meant Carl had been feeding the cat, not that I’d ever had any doubt of that.

Deviously, I shook the package of treats loudly.  Mittens knew that sound.  Mittens
lived
for that sound!  I fully expected him to momentarily forget all about his cat rage and come racing over like a bat out of hell, mewing insistently until I gave him his treat. 

And I wasn’t above manipulating my way back into his good graces if need be.  My lovely cat had taught me early on that he was an erratic little creature and that sometimes it was necessary to fight fire with fire!

So I shook the bag of treats, and then I waited expectantly.

But this time – for the first time ever – there was no response.