Stage Dive 02 Play (26 page)

He sighed, shifting his weight against me. I moved my feet farther apart, keeping my arms tight around his middle. The man was not light.

“I’m missing a beat, Anne. I can feel it. Shit ain’t right.”

I looked up into his beautiful face. My heart breaking for him. “I know. But it’s okay. We’ve got you.”

He just frowned down at me.

“I’ve got you,” I said.

“You sure?”

“Very.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Thanks, pumpkin.”

“Let’s get you back to the hotel room.”

The rain had stopped, thankfully. David stepped in again, helping Mal over to the Jeep, leaning him up against it. One of the shiny black Escalades was parked nearby.

“Man, where’s your keys?” asked David, digging through Mal’s jeans pockets.

“Geez, Davie. I was saving that especially for Anne.”

“I’m not interested in your dick. Where’s the key’s to your car?”

“Don’t get me wrong, man. I love you, just not in that way.”

“Uh, got ’em.” David dangled the keys from a finger. “Anne, you good to drive him? I’ll follow you back, help you get him up to your room.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

“Awesome,” Mal mumbled. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. His mouth, on the other hand, he opened wide. “I LOVE YOU, ANNE!”

I jumped, somewhat startled by the noise. “Holy shit.”

“I LOVE YOU.”

David just looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

“Huh. He is really drunk,” I said, and David half-smiled. Best just to ignore my mini heart attack over Mal saying those words.

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU, ANNE.”

“Yeah, okay. Shut up now.” David tried to slap a hand over Mal’s mouth.

“AAAAAAANNNNNE!” My name was a long, drawn-out howling kind of noise, muffled at the last when David managed to cover his mouth. Muted grunts and snarling came next.

“God damn it,” swore David. “He just fucking bit me.”

“My love shall not be silenced!”

I did my best not to laugh. “Mal? I’ve got a headache from you accidentally kicking me in the head. Do you mind being quiet?”

“Oh, shit, fuck, okay. Sorry, pumpkin. So sorry.” He stared up at the sky. “Look, Anne, stars and shit. It’s beautiful, right?”

I looked up and sure enough the clouds had parted, allowing a couple of brave stars to shine through. “Right. Let’s go back to the hotel now.”

“Mm, yeah, let’s go. I have something in my pants I want to show you.” His clumsy fingers started in on the waist of his jeans. “Look, it’s real important.”

I grabbed his fingers, squeezed them tight. “That’s great. Show me back at our hotel room, okay?”

“Okay.” Mal happy sighed. The air around him consisted solidly of scotch fumes.

“Thanks for texting Ev.” David pulled open the passenger side door, grabbed Mal’s arm, and proceeded to shove him into the car. “You think tonight was fun, wait till we go on tour. Then things’ll get interesting. First time ever there’s been girlfriends or wives along.”

“The way you say that … should I be afraid?”

Mal hammered on the passenger side window. “Anne, my pants itch. I think I’m allergic to them. Come help me take ’em off.”

We both ignored him.

David scratched his head. “Think it’ll be a learning curve for all of us, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The future was a big, ripe ball of I had no damn clue what would happen. And for once, that was okay.

There was groaning, loud, long, and explicitly painful. Most closely it resembled a wounded animal. Though with an animal, there would have been less swearing. These noises coming from behind me didn’t speak of fun times. No, what these noises referred to was a special particular level of hell called The Morning After a mother truckload of booze.

“Pumpkin.” Mal buried his face in the back of my neck, pressing his hot skin against me. “Fuck.”

“Hmm?”

“Hurts.”

“Mm.”

The hand stuffed down the front of my pants flexed and curled. It pressed down on all sorts of interesting places, making me squirm.

“Why’d you put my hand down your panties while I was asleep? What’s that about?” he mumbled. “Christ, woman. You’re out of control. I feel violated. ”

“I didn’t do that, sweetheart. That was all you.”

He groaned again.

“You were most insistent about having your hand there. I figured after you fell asleep I’d be able to move you. But it didn’t happen.” I rubbed my cheek into my pillow, his bicep.

“This pussy is mine.” His fingers stretched, pushing against the material of my underwear, stroking accidentally over the insides of my thighs. So not the time to get turned on. We had talking to do.

“Yes, that’s what you said. Repeatedly.”

He grunted and yawned, then rubbed his hips against me. Morning wood pressed into my butt cheek. “You shouldn’t have made me drink so much. That was very irresponsible of you.”

“I’m afraid that was all you too.” I tried to sit up but his arm held me down.

“Don’t move yet.”

“You need water and Advil, Mal.”

“’Kay.”

His hand withdrew from my crotch and he rolled onto his back with much huffing and puffing. I hadn’t managed to get him into the shower last night. Accordingly, this morning, we both stank of sweat and scotch.

I got him a bottle of water and a couple of pills and sat back on the side of the bed. “Up. Swallow.”

He opened one bleary eye. “I’ll swallow if you will.”

“You got it.”

“You better mean that. A man doesn’t like to be lied to about that sort of thing.” Ever so slowly he sat up, his lank, blond hair hanging in his face. He stuck out his tongue and I dropped the pills on it, then handed him the water. For a while he just there, sipping the water and watching me. I had no idea what came next, what I should say. It was so much easier to just crack stupid jokes than to actually attempt to be deep and meaningful. To help him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, just to break the silence.

“Why? What’d you do?” he asked softly.

“I mean about Lori.”

He drew up his legs, braced his elbows on his knees, and hung his head. There was nothing but the noise of the air conditioner clicking on, the clink of silverware or something from the room next door. When he finally looked up at me, his eyes were red rimmed and liquid. Mine immediately did the same in empathy. There wasn’t a part of me that didn’t hurt for him.

“I don’t know what it feels like so I’m not going to pretend I do,” I said.

His lips stayed shut.

“But I’m so sorry, Mal. And I know that doesn’t help, not really. It doesn’t change anything.”

Still nothing.

“I can’t help you and I hate that.”

Fact was, a part of wanting to soothe another person was making yourself feel useful. But nothing I could say would take away his pain. I could turn myself inside out, give him everything, and it still wouldn’t stop whatever was wrong with Lori.

“I don’t even have a functioning relationship with my mother, so I have no idea. Truth is, I used to wish her dead all the time. Now I just wish she’d leave me alone,” I blurted out, then stopped, reeling at my own stupidity. “Shit. That’s the worst thing to be telling you.”

“Keep going.”

Crap, he was serious.

I opened my mouth and my throat closed up. The words were dragged out kicking and screaming. “She, um … she checked out on us, Lizzy and me. Dad left and she went to bed. That was her great solution to the problem of our family falling apart. No trying to get help, no doctors, just lying in the dark doing nothing. She pretty much stayed in her room for three years. Apart from the time child protection services came by. We managed to persuade them she wasn’t a complete waste of space. What a joke.”

He stared at me, his lips thin and white.

“I came home one day and she was sitting on the side of her bed with all these little colored pills lined up on her bedside table. She was holding this big glass of water. Her hand was shaking so bad it splashed everywhere, her nightie was all wet. I didn’t do anything, not at first.” That one moment was horrendously clear in my head. Hovering by the bedroom door, torn over what to do. It had to be manslaughter, to stand by and let it happen. Something like that had to stain you.

“I mean, it was so tempting,” I said, my voice cracking. “The thought of not having to deal with her anymore … but then Lizzy and I would have gone into the foster-care system and probably gotten separated. I couldn’t risk that. She was better off at home with me.”

His gaze was stark, his face pale.

“So I stayed home to watch her. She tried to kill herself a couple more times, then gave up on that too, like even dying was too much effort. Some days, I would just wish I’d been five minutes too late. That she’d managed to finish it. Then I’d feel guilty for even thinking that way.”

He didn’t even blink.

“I hate her so much for putting us through that. I get that depression happens and it’s a serious, terrible illness, but she didn’t even try to find help. I would make her appointments with doctors, try to get brochures and information and she just … you know, she had kids, she didn’t have the fucking luxury of just disappearing up her own ass.” Tears slid down my face unchecked. “Dad wasn’t much better, though he did send money. I guess I should be grateful he didn’t forget us entirely. I asked him ‘why’ when he was leaving and he said he just couldn’t do it anymore. He was really quite apologetic about it. Like he’d ticked the wrong box on a form or something and now sorry, but he was opting out. Family? No. Oh shit, did I say yes? Oops! Fucking asshole. As if saying sorry changes anything when you’re walking out the door.

“You don’t appreciate how much time it takes, running a house, paying the bills, doing all the cooking and cleaning until it’s all down to you. My boyfriend stuck with me for a couple of months but then he became resentful because I couldn’t go out Saturday nights to games and parties and things. He was young, he wanted to go out and have fun, not stay in to look after a manic-depressive and a thirteen-year-old kid. Who could blame him?”

I ducked my head, trying to line up the important details in my mind. It wasn’t easy, considering how much time I’d spent trying to forget. “Then Lizzy rebelled and that just made everything so much worse. She hated the whole world, and who could blame her? At least when she behaved like a selfish, immature kid there was an actual reason behind it, what with her being one. She got busted stealing from this store. I managed to talk the owner into not pressing charges. The scare seemed to snap her out of it. She settled down, got back into her schoolwork. One of us had to make it to college because I tried, but there was no way I was keeping up with school on my own.”

What a fucking scene I was making. I blinked furiously and scrubbed away the tears. “You know, I actually wanted to cheer you up or something. Anything.”

His silence was killing me.

“So that’s my tale of woe.” I gave him a smile. Doubtless it looked as shitty as it felt.

“Mom’s got ovarian cancer,” he said, his voice rough. “They’re giving her a couple of months at best …”

It felt like my heart stopped. Time stopped. Everything.

“Oh, Mal.”

He pushed back his hair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “She’s so fucking happy you’re around. Kept going on about you at dinner, how wonderful you were. You’re her dream come true for me. She’s been wanting me to settle down for a while now.”

I nodded, trying for a better smile. “She’s really great.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, Anne. That’s not the only reason why, though … I mean…at first that was a big part of the reason.” He gripped the back of his neck, muscles flexing. “There’s more to it now than making her happy before she’d–” He paused, his lips twisting, unable to say the word. “You know there’s more, right? We’re not pretend anymore. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know that.” This time I totally aced the smile. “It’s okay.”

So our start had been dubious. It didn’t change where we were now.

“Come have a shower with me?” He held out his hand.

“I’d love to.”

He gave me a gallant attempt at a smile.

The bathroom was spacious, white marble with gold trim. We even had a grand piano out in the living room, should the mood strike. Apparently his parents were up in the presidential suite so we’d had to make do with second best. Second best was pretty fine.

He stripped off his boxer briefs. I got the water running at the right temperature, letting the room slowly fill up with steam. Hands slid over me from behind, tugging down my panties, drawing up my old Stage Dive T-shirt. It was the only thing he’d okayed me wearing to bed last night in his drunken wisdom. We were our own small, perfect world in the warmth of the shower cubicle. Mal stepped under the water and it soaked his hair, ran down over his beautiful body. I slid my arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest. The arms he put around me made everything right.

We could deal with things alone. Of course we could. But it was so much better together.

“Worst fucking thing is the morning,” he said, resting his chin on the top of my head. “For a few seconds, everything’s alright. Then I remember she’s sick, and … it’s just … I don’t even know how to describe it.”

I held him tighter, hanging on for dear life.

“She’s always been there. Used to drive us to shows, help us set up. She’s always been our biggest fan. When we went platinum she got a Stage Dive tattoo to celebrate. At the age of sixty, the woman got inked. And now she’s sick. I can’t get my head around it.” His chest moved against me as he breathed deep, let it out slow.

I stroked his back, the length of his spine, up and down, smoothing my hands over the curves of his ass, drifting my fingers over the ridges of his rib cage. We stood beneath the hot water and I soothed him as much as I could.

Let him know he was loved.

I picked up the bar of soap, running it over him, washing him like a child. First his top half, from the lines of his shoulder blades to the muscles in his arms, every inch of his chest and back. Washing his hair was tricky due to the differences in height.