by Daisy Allen
“Is that a yes?” Brad asks, his eyebrows raised, his mouth open, a look of hope on his face.
“The hell it is. I was laughing at how crazy you are. I wasn’t even going on the tour myself! What makes you think I’m going to take my injured five-year-old?” I shake my head at his gall.
“Because. Because name one reason why the fuck not?”
“Er, because he has a broken arm in three places and probably needs to be near someone who can care for that sort of thing; because he has school; because he is five years old and shouldn’t be gallivanting around the country like a groupie; because I need to work, or find a new job because I’m probably going to be fired from this one; because you and I can not be in the same damn room together without kissing; because…”
“Whoa, overachiever, I said name one reason. And anyway, none of those are valid,” Brad interrupts me. “Yes, he has a broken arm. Well, people have had broken arms before, and we will make sure he has the care he needs. I wouldn’t jeopardize his health for anything. And school? He’s five. He can take a few weeks out and not have it affect his application to Oxford, and this is more of an education than anything he’d learn in school.”
I open my mouth to argue but Brad’s hand comes up to cover it as he continues.
“And groupie? Hello, we have a cupboard of board games on the boys’ bus. I think you have a very distorted view of just how we live. And if you get back on tour with us, you won’t be losing your job. And as for the kissing…are we kissing right now?”
“Hell no.”
“Then, see? No problem! I can totally not kiss you.”
“Brad!”
“Just, okay. Sit down. Sit! Jeez, it’s like blood out of a stone.” He waits until I’ve sat before he sits down next to me, his lecture continuing. “You need to do this, for you. Your time to shine remember? This isn’t about us. This is about you, You, you, you, you, you. This story is going to put you on the map. And I want to be a part of it.”
When he sees me not arguing, he hands me a business card. “This is a number of a nanny agency that Dennis has gotten in touch with. Meet with a few of them, pick one, and they’ll be coming with us to take care of Ben, 24/7.”
“I can’t afford that,” I tell him, embarrassed to have to admit it.
He tilts his head and looks at me like I’m mad. “Yes, you can. Because you’re not paying.”
“What?”
“Dennis and Phil have done their ‘your people talk to my people’ thing and between your paper and the band, we’re going to cover for it. I mentioned that you’re a stubborn mule-ass and won’t accept the money, in which case Phil has decided that you will be getting a very substantial raise for the duration of your time with us. They’d rather you did it their way of course, tax things blah blah, I tuned out, snore. But anyway, it’s all taken care of.”
Has he really organized all this for me?
“It’s four weeks. Doing what you love, having the person you love most right there beside you,” he concludes, saying the exact right thing.
I don’t know how to respond. Am I really considering it? Am I crazy?
Brad looks at me, his top front teeth digging into his lip, waiting for my answer.
“It does sound like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Ben would have a fucking ball, and after his accident, there’s really no chance I could leave him,” I think out loud.
My time to shine.
Maybe it really is.
“Brad…what about us?” I have to ask.
He thinks for a minute, and I appreciate that he does. That he doesn’t just have some prepared answer. “Ball’s in your court. I will do whatever you want, leave you alone, or be on call for 24/7 orgasms, and everything in between. I don’t want what’s going on or not going on between us to affect your decision. I don’t want it to be the reason you say no.”
“Okay.”
“Wait, are you—” His eyes widen and he searches my face for clues.
“Wait.” I hold out my hand.
“You’re considering it?”
“Maybe…”
Brad jumps up and runs into Ben’s room, pulling something out of his back pocket. I follow him, confused.
“Hey Benny Boy, do you know what this is?” He waves something in front of Ben’s face.
“Sure! It’s a helicopter, is that for me?”
“Sure is, but I’ve got something even better.”
“Ooh.”
“How do you feel like going for a ride in a real helicopter?!” Brad asks him. And I realize I’ve lost this battle.
“I would love it!”
“Then convince your mother.”
“MOMMY! Can we go in a helicopter ride, can we? I’ll eat more yogurt! Please Mommy, please!” Ben begs me, TV forgotten.
“You bastard.” I glare at Brad.
“I said the ball was in your court. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to smash it there,” he says, victory written all over his face.
I sigh and stroke Ben’s hair. “You really wanna go?”
“YES, MOMMY!” Ben insists excitedly, almost jumping out of bed.
Brad is watching me when I face him. I say one word. “Fine.”
“Is that a yes?” he asks, his voice almost as excited as Ben’s.
“It’s a ‘fine,’” I say, refusing to give him too much.
“I’ll take it!”
***
I must be crazy. Certifiably, freakin’ out-of-my-mind bonkers to be agreeing to this. But in the moment, my brain couldn’t rustle up an argument that he hadn’t thought of. I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words “Because I’m still in love with you but I can’t let you break my heart again.”
I mean, it’s not true, is it? I don’t know.
I only know that when I’m with him, I feel like those words are just right there, on the tip of my tongue.
So, now I’m home, packing clothes for my little boy to join me on a band tour around Europe.
“Mommy!” Ben calls me from his bedroom in our cozy apartment.
“I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”
“How is Fin going to come with us?”
I walk into his room to see him peering into the fishbowl. “Well, um, honey, Fin is actually going to stay home with Grandma. He’s going to help her take care of the apartment for us while we’re away.”
“Oh, he’ll be good at that. He’s always looking out of his bowl.”
I nod. “Yep, you got it. Now come help me pick what clothes you want to bring.
“Look, Mommy look! It’s Brad!” Ben points to the TV.
Brad had texted to say that they expected their meet and greet in the local mall might be covered by Entertainment Tonight, so I’ve had the TV turned on since the afternoon, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. And there he is.
“Stupid, sexy fucker,” I mumble under my breath, again and probably not for the last time.
The camera focusses on each band member for a few seconds at a time, and each time it lands on Brad, my heart rotates like a fidget spinner in my chest.
The video cuts to the guys finishing their set and a bunch of women rushing onto the stage, trying to reach for the guys. They just laugh and stand back, letting their security push the horde back. The knot of jealousy simmering in the pit of my stomach tightens, and again I ask myself what the fuck I’m doing.
“Look, Mommy, look!” Ben yells again, calling my attention to the TV.
Brad appears on screen again. This time he holds his palm out and the camera zooms on the words “Can’t w8 2 c u soon, Butter & Ben!” A red love heart encircles the words. And it’s like a cool breeze washes over me, assuaging the fear.
“What did it say, Mommy?”
“He says he can’t wait to see us soon, baby.”
“That’s so nice, isn’t it, Mommy?”
“Yeah, buddy, it’s so nice. He’s so nice.”
They cut to some footage of the guys performing, and the knot th
at was in my stomach relaxes to a warm, throbbing heat a little lower, where my hips meet my legs. And I can’t help but wonder what it’ll be like when we see each other again.
Ding dong
The bell rings and I run to it, sliding my feet into the slippers by the door.
“Hello?” I’m greeted by a delivery guy carrying a bike.
“Are you Ben?” the pimply teenager asks, not caring that he has a mouthful of gum.
“Um…do I look like it? What’s this?” I point to his delivery.
“It’s a delivery for, um, Ben…” he says, checking the delivery sheet.
“It’s a bike.”
“You’re about as observant as me,” the little shit fires back.
“Ben’s my five-year-old son. I’ll sign for him.”
“Fine.”
I hand him the signed board and push the bike into the hallway just as Ben wanders in.
“Who was it, Mommy? OHMYGOSH! Is that for me?” His face lights up and he runs his good hand along the handlebars.
“I guess so. Let Mommy read the card. ‘For my brave boy, love Dad.’” My blood runs cold. Who’d gotten in touch with him?
“It’s from Daddy?” Ben asks, crouching down to look at the tires.
“Er, I guess so. I guess he heard about your accident.”
“A new bike! I can’t wait to ride it!”
“Whoa, it’ll be a while yet. You can play with it in the apartment, but no riding until your cast comes off and the doctor says it’s okay,” I warn him.
There’s a ding on my cell phone and I brace myself before reading it.
I just got a text to say the bike’s been delivered.
Yeah, thanks. You shouldn’t have done that. It’s too much, I reply to Ben’s father.
It’s fine, I knew you probably couldn’t afford another one. He’s right. And I hate that that’s the case as well as that he knows it.
Who told you about Ben’s accident? I ask.
Your mom, but it should’ve been you. Can I talk to him?
Yeah, call on the home phone in five minutes, I tell him.
And you? Can I talk to you?
No.
I turn off the ringer on my phone and put it down, returning to Ben’s room to pack, watching him play with his new bike’s handlebars.
The dread runs through me as it always does when Ben’s father gets in touch. Irrational, maybe, but I feel it nonetheless. Maybe a trip away really is the best thing for us both right now. Get out of London, and out of reach.
The phone in the hallway rings, and I flinch.
“Ben, why don’t you get that. I have a feeling it might just be for you.”
I watch my little boy jump off the bed and run to the phone, his happy jabbering making me smile even through the fear.
Chapter Twenty
Brad
It’s been three days since I left London and met up with the group in Birmingham. Three days of walking the tight rope between elation that Emily and Ben are going to be joining me soon, and sheer terror of receiving a phone call to say she’s changed her mind.
After the show in Northampton the other day I expected her to call or text, but it’s been radio silence. She had mentioned that she was very busy getting everything ready for Ben, what with interviewing nannies and packing and getting her house ready for her mom. But I’ve heard nothing. And I’ve been trying to tell myself that sometimes no news is good news.
“Oi! Get out here, numb-nuts! We’re playing a drinking game!” Jez yells to me from the living area on our bus.
I wander out to see the guys have got a big head start on me and have developed an acquired fashion style of wrapping their ties around their foreheads.
“All right, what are the rules?” I ask them.
“Every time they cut to a commercial, we drink!” Marius explains.
“What the hell kinda stupid game is that? What show is this anyway?” I glance up at the screens.
“World’s Best Commercials!” the three yell out in unison.
“Ah. That explains why Sebastian’s trying to eat that cheese stick with the wrapper still on.”
“Wha?” Sebastian looks up from his snack.
“Where’s your ball and chain?” I grin at him, tugging on his tie.
“On her bus where she belongs!” he says cockily.
“Ooh, wait ‘til she hears that!” I threaten him.
“I ain’t afraid of her!” he counters, then loud-whispers back to me, “but seriously, don’t tell her.”
“Commercial!” Marius announces.
“BOTTOM’S UP!” Sebastian and Jez shout and down their drinks and motion for me to do the same.
I sigh and take a drink from the beer Jez handed me. “How long does this show go for anyway?”
“I dunno, it’s a marathon”
“Hell.”
***
Did I ever tell you that you smell of blueberry muffins?
No. And I’m glad you didn’t. Why were you sniffing me?
I dunno, you always smelled nice. What did I smell like?
Orange Tic Tacs.
Oh, I love those.
I know :)
I know you know. You know everything.
Do I?
Sure. You know I miss you so much.
You’re drunk. Go to sleep.
You know I want you so much.
You’re going to regret these texts in the morning.
You know, if you were here, I’d be kissing you so hard.
I didn’t know that, but I guess I know it know. What about you? What do you know?
I know you want me to kiss you.
Do I?
Yes. And you want me to. I could taste it when we last kissed.
What else could you taste? On my finger?
Your pussy.
How could you taste that?
I remember how it tasted.
After all this time?
Yes, I crave it. Look for it. No one tastes like you. Only you taste like you, and I crave it. Do you know something else?
What?
I’m stroking my cock thinking of you right now.
Do you want to know something?
What?
If you tasted my finger now, you would taste my pussy.
Fuck. I’m going to come just thinking of that.
Then think of it.
I’m coming, Butter. I’m coming for you.
Good. Now it’s my turn.
***
“Up and at ‘em, gentlemen! It’s coffee time!” a loud voice announces, accompanying the knock on the side of the bus that seems to go on forever.
“Kill ‘em. Whoever that is, kill ‘em,” I moan into my pillow.
“Can’t. They have coffee,” I hear Marius whimper in the room next to me.
“Fuck it all to damn hell. Fine, spare ‘em, but only if they bring coffee tomorrow too, ”Jez mutters from the hallway as he drags himself out to greet the coffee.
“Not a damn chance, dickhead,” Sebastian replies.
I force myself to sit up, my phone falling from my chest. For some reason, my pants are half way down my legs and—
Oh fuck.
I check the screen of my phone. Seven messages, all from Emily.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I want you too.
Do you want to know what I’m doing?
Brad?
Brad are you still there?
You came and passed out, didn’t you?
You suck!
Oh no, no no no no no!
I scroll through the messages from last night. I can’t believe what I’m reading, and that it went so far. If I wasn’t so hungover, I’d probably have to jack off again. As it is, I’m horrified. it is not what I wanted to happen with her. But oh God, the tequila. It gets me every time.
There’s only one way to deal with this.
Grovel.
I don’t wait for coffee before I send her a message
.
I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened. I must’ve fallen asleep. Forgive me?
No. Comes the answer.
Let me make it up to you?
You’re obviously still drunk.
Butter?
Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen. It’s probably good it didn’t.
I miss you.
Get used to it.
What? You are still coming aren’t you?
Yes. It was a figure of speech.
I’m glad you’re still coming.
Don’t get used to that.
You coming?
Anyone coming.
Yes ma’am. I’m sorry again.
It’s okay. It was fun while it lasted. Gtg. See you this afternoon.
***
I’m nervous. I’m actually nervous.
I’ve played to millions of people on TV at the Grammys, I’ve played to hundreds of thousands of people at Glastonbury, but standing here at the airport with this stupid rose in my hand, waiting for Emily to get off the plane, I’m actually fucking nervous.
It’s bad enough that I was having spontaneous heart palpitations and erections just thinking of her, but after my stellar performance last night, I’m not really sure what she thinks of me right now.
I’m actually glad for the buffer that Ben is going to be, and to be honest, I’m really looking forward to seeing the little tyke as well. He’s like a tiny male version of Emily. He’ll say something and it’s like I’ve heard it before. Or he’ll run his hand through his hair and then look at it, as if surprised at how silky it is, just like I’ve seen her do a thousand times before. I’m fast falling for the little kid, and it’s scaring me almost as much as it is falling for her.
“Brad!”
“Benny Boy!”
He runs up to me as if we’ve known each other for years and jumps up into my arms. I hug him tight, taking care to not jostle his arm. And he giggles, for what seems like no reason at all.
“How are you doing, buddy? I’ve missed you guys!”
“You have? Mommy’s missed you too. She said it like ten times.”
“Oh she did, did she?” I allow myself to look at her for the first time.
“Never mind that. Go get your bag.” Butter ushers her son along.
“So, you missed me, did you?” My grin feels like it’s splitting my face in half.
