Tracks (Rock Bottom) (17 page)

My eyes widen. I can hear a man’s deep voice telling her it was time to go, and then the pounding
stops and footsteps trail away.

Jeremy doesn’t turn, as if he can’t even look at me. He’s silent, deep in thought. His face looks disappointed somehow- depressed and guilty.
Finally he says, almost in a whisper, “Baby, put your clothes back on.”

I feel the urge to cry, but I suppress it somehow.
I am horrendously embarrassed. I’m also a little appalled at how he treated someone he hypothetically used to care about. Or at least should have. I adjust my dress and pull up the zipper. The awkward silence between us is almost deafening.

Is he disgusted?
Angry? What did I do wrong?

After I am back in my dress, he turns to me. His eyes are still red, and the area around his eyes, too. But his face is softer, almost sad. “Why, Dylan? I know you’re not at all like that,” he says.

I blink a few times in confusion. “I remember that first night…And then the girl you just left with…I just want to make you happy…I want to satisfy you…”

“You do,” he cuts me off. He walks over to me and holds both of my hands.
“I don’t want you to succumb to my life in any way. To give in to who or what I am. I need to believe there is a girl like you out there who could care for me. The real me. You’re my sweet, innocent, smart girl. I would never want you to change who you are for me.”

“I
do
care for you,” I say, with all the feeling I could put into my voice. His hand leaves mine and strokes my face.

“You don’t know me yet. Not all of me.
I’m charming, famous, attractive, rich…and I get that.” He doesn’t say it in a narcissistic way, just stating them as facts no one would refute. “But that’s the surface. I am…completely fucked up. Completely.”

I’m confused and hurt. Here I am, declaring myself, and he’s not giving me anything in return.
And the way he speaks about himself…

My eyes well up.

“Dylan, don’t,” he says. “I don’t want anyone else to touch you. I don’t want anyone else to feel you ever again. I want your lips, your body, everything all to myself. I want to be selfish with you. I want you to be mine, even when I’m gone. Don’t you let anyone touch you, do you understand?” he says, grabbing my chin. His eyes are sky blue and sparkling like his guitar. I suppose I should be frightened, or disgusted, but instead I’m awestruck.

“Yes,” I breathe
. As if that was even an option.

He kisses me passionately. I grab him around his neck, holding him to me. I
will the tears not to fall down my face. What if I never hold him again after he’s left?

He pulls away from me and looks at the clock. Its 20 minutes until show time. “I need you now,” he says, unbuttoning his pants.
He pulls them down and sits on the couch as I remove my dress and underwear once again. I climb on top of him and lean against his chest, my cheek against his.

“Make love to me,” he almost begs, in a low sweet voice.
“No one makes me feel this way.”

I place him inside me, and hi
s bare skin feels good inside my body. I’ve never had sex with anyone else without a condom before. It requires him to be very controlled and careful, but it’s worth it, and I trust him.

I try to sit up, but he pulls me closer to his chest again and whispers, “Drown me in you.”

I smile and begin to move.

            
 
We exit the dressing room, fully clothed and somehow put together, and are practically attacked by Jeremy’s group. They surround us and lead us up to the stage, the same as the night before, and into the wings. I see a chair placed in the same spot I sat before, only this time it has a sign that says ‘Miss Ackhart’ placed across the back. I blush.

He is torn away from me
by a stage hand as he downs another beer, crushing the can when he’s through. I take my seat and watch him grab his silver guitar and throw the strap over his neck. A woman is furiously playing with his hair again, while another is brushing his face with powder.

He breathes deeply, slow and steady. He turns to me and gives me a quick wink as the women back away. He raises his arm to the sky again and grabs the bridge of the guitar with another
. He strums the instrument loudly, and the crowd again goes wild.

The show was the same as the one the night before, but I’m still transfixed by it. Every movement he makes is so graceful. I’ll never get used to the way his body moves, or the way it makes me
feel when I see him. The crowd screams, the girls wildly attack the stage, and he looks at home.

After he scream
s, “Goodnight everybody!” into the mic, he runs offstage towards me. I stand and he throws the silver guitar around his back. He gives me a kiss on the cheek before walking over to the men in suits, sitting where they did last night in the wings. They pat him on the back and congratulate him, going over the press schedule for later that night. My heart sinks. I forgot about the press meeting, and it’s taking away from our night together.

I see the blue haired girl from earlier appear from the entrance of the stairway. Jeremy spots her, nods towards her, and she heads into the quick change room. Jeremy shakes hands with the men in business suits and walks into the room with her, shutting the door.

My mouth falls open. This can’t be happening. My mind races. What should I do? We still really haven’t established a title, but I feel like now this is just disrespectful. I straighten up and practically march towards the black door.

I put my ear up to it, trying in vain to hear. The crowd is still loud as they are exiting the arena, but I distinc
tly hear Jeremy sigh, “Oh God.”

The fire in m
y stomach is the surface of the sun. I pound hard on the door. I hear scurrying.

“Open this door!” I scream
.

“Dylan?” I h
ear Jeremy scream in confusion.

“Don’t bother putting your clothes back on. Do you
think I’m stupid or something?”

I hear them
continue to scurry. Finally, the light switches off and the door opens. Jeremy is there, adjusting the sleeve of his black shirt. He looks at me, confused.

The girl appears from behind him, carrying a black bag. She scurries out from the room and starts to walk towards the stairs.
“Whore!” I scream as she disappears from sight.

“Dylan!” Jeremy says in horror. “You think I’m sleeping with he
r? How dumb do you think I am?”

“What’s she doing then? And
who was the guy yesterday, while we’re at it?” I cross my arms, full lawyer mode.

“They give me medical supplies for my heat rash. It acts up on stage because I sweat
and it’s so hot up there.”

I laugh. “Please, Jeremy.
I’m not one of your dumb groupies. That chick has no access to medical supplies. She’s 18 at the most. And weasel boy is skeevy looking.”

He looks down
for a moment and then back up at me, his eyes hard and serious. “Drop it.” His voice is firm and cold. It startles me out of my lawyer mode for a minute. He’s never used that tone with me.

I
pout my lip. “No.”

He grabs me by the arm roughly and leads me down the stairs. I drag my feet, making it seem like I didn’t want to go with him. T
hough of course, I kind of did.

I’m dragged through the hallway and out the gray metal door leading to the parking lot. Jeremy releases me and takes out a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket. He opens the pack, removing the lighter he has stored in there and a cigarette, and lights it. He takes a drag. He grabs his phone from his
pocket and pushes a few buttons, putting it up to his ear,

“Rich!” he says, loud and angry. He takes a drag of his cigarette. “Miss Ackhart
is ready.” He takes the phone away from his ear and hangs up.

I stand still next to him, my arms crossed. After a few minutes in silence, he turns to look at me. He takes a drag from his cigarette
and sighs. “Dylan…” he begins.

“No,” I say. T
he burning in my stomach is probably giving me an ulcer. “Don’t ‘Dylan’ me. I don’t want you to see either one of them again. Neither one. Especially her.”

“I can’t do that, Dylan
,” he says, sadly. “I’m sorry.”

I uncross my arm
s and look at him, hurt. “Why?”

He shakes his head. “Let’s not fight about this
. I’m not sleeping with her. There’s no reason for this outrageous jealousy.” He takes a drag of his cigarette and throws it to the ground. Watching the smoke escape from his lips makes me melt, and the fire dies down a little.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Dylan,” he begins. He grabs my hand. “But this is what I am. This is me. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be better i
f I never talked to you again.”

The words cut me like a knife. “No!” I blurt out. What am I doing? I’m chasing him away. I panic. “No! Forget it. I
t’s not a big deal. I’m sorry!”

What
? Shut up Dylan, no you’re not…

He shakes his head. “No. You have a right to know, but I just can’t tell you. And…”

The panic almost drowns me. “Forget it! Please!”

Damn it! I’m not this girl!
I’m not the girl that gives up on her ideals for a man. I never understood those girls. I never wanted to be those girls.

I hug him tightly around the neck and he grabs my waist. He chuckles.
“Sweet, jealous Dylan.”

I smile.

Damn it if I’m not one of those girls.

Jeremy asks before I get in the car if he could meet me after the press meeting at my place. I don’t ask him why, but I know it’s because of the reporters, and they would never expect Jeremy Mason to stay somewhere else, even at my house. I call Theresa and, after discovering that her date went well and she is planning to stay at Sean’s, I agree excitedly to let him stay.

He opens the door to his black car and lets me slide into the back. I say ‘hi’ to Rich, who no
ds, and look back up at Jeremy.

“See you in a l
ittle while,” he says, smiling.

I sigh. “Ok
ay.”

He closes the door and Rich puts the car in drive, speeding off towards my house. We pass the buildings that have become familiar to me on the way home. I wouldn’t need a GPS to get to the arena anymore, and it’s comforting that Boston is starting t
o feel a little more like home.

“Miss Dylan,” Rich says from the front
seat, stopping my day dreaming.

“Hmmm?”
I say.

“When do you start school?” he says. I furrow my brow.

“In, like, two weeks. Why?”

“I’m just trying to see what my schedule’s going to be like over the next few weeks.” Rich flicks his turn signal and stops at an
intersection. He makes a turn.

“Wh
at?” I say, even more confused.

“You
know, when I take you to school and whatever.”

“Take me to school?”

Rich stops in front of my house. Luckily, I note quickly, no reporters. I assume everyone is at the press conference. Rich turns and looks at me, just as confused as I must look.

“I’m staying
behind in Boston, at least for a few weeks. Didn’t you know?” He turns and exits the car on the driver’s side and waddles around the front of the car. I sit in shock as he opens the door and holds a hand out for me.

“Wait, what? You’re not leaving with Jeremy?” I grab his hand and exit the car.
We walk side by side up the stairs.

“He thinks you need some extra security for a while after he leaves,” Rich says breathlessly. We reach the top of the stairs
and pause outside of the door.

I turn and look at him, and he looks back at
me. “But, he needs you…” I say.

Rich shrugs. “I guess he thinks you need me more.”

I ponder that statement as we continue to stare at each other. “Is this,” I begin, “something he normally does? For his other women?”

Rich laughs. “No
, not even close.”

He tries to open the door but notices it’s locked. I pull the key from the top of my dress and
unlock it. He allows me in first and I shut the door behind him when he enters.

Immediately, I kick my shoes of
f. My feet hurt so bad in heels. I guess I have to get used to them.

“Want something to drink?” I ask, walking towards the
kitchen. I’m dying of thirst.

“Oh no, thanks,” Rich says. “I’m just going to go wait at the ar
ena for the conference to end.”

I open the fridge and remove a bottle of wine. It’s full, so I open it and pour myself a glass.
I’m not much of a drinker, but I need to calm my nerves.