by Ruby Rowe
This guy could be the poster child for peer pressure. Shaking my head, I get up to return to my machine.
“No, thanks. I’ve been high for days.” Examining the stitches on the skirt I’m making, I notice a few of them are crooked. “And it’s showing in my work. Shit, I’m going to have to redo this stitching.”
Zain tugs on my arm. “You need a break, babe. Do some lines with me, and we’ll shoot the shit and chill all night.”
“I can’t. I promised to have this outfit done for Apple in two days.”
Standing, he grabs my mouth and kisses me. Like every other time his lips have touched mine, I lose my ability to think rationally … to be responsible.
I lose a little more of the old me.
“Come on, Butterfly. I’ll give you another guitar lesson and make you come afterward.”
“I wish someone was making me come tonight,” Toby quips.
“Dude, can you give us some privacy? I need to remind my girl how much I need her.” Z winks at me, and I can’t deny that it gets my panties damp.
“Man, the common area is cramped.”
Reaching into his pocket, Zain pulls out a baggie of blow and tosses it to him.
“Here. Go make it a party, and you won’t notice.”
Excited about his free score, Toby licks his lips. Zain swipes the bong from him, and after taking a hit, he sets it on the table, right next to my sewing machine.
The look he gives me suggests I’m not going to get any work done tonight. That also means I’ll be exhausted tomorrow unless I do blow then, too. My drug use is becoming a cycle, one Z claims he’s been riding for years.
I don’t know how he does it. When I’m messed-up, I feel like my body is being controlled by someone else. I’m a puppet yet again, but it’s drugs that are pulling the strings. Drugs and his homey–my rock star boyfriend.
Pulling me onto the couch that stretches across the back of the bus, Zain directs me to straddle him. He devours my mouth, his hands groping my breasts in the process.
He groans against my tongue, and I taste two of his sins: weed and whiskey. Soon, I’ll taste myself after he goes down on me. He always wants to kiss my mouth afterward, and I think it’s added insurance, his way to instill how connected we are and how exquisite he makes me feel. Needing to regain control, I push on his chest.
“What are we going to do about the paparazzi once we stop in the morning? I bet they’re still tailing us.”
Kissing my neck, he replies, “Baby, stop worrying. We’ll do what we did the last couple of days. We’ll face them head-on.”
“You mean, you’ll pull me closer, lick my ear and grin at the cameras. My parents have to think you’re a hellion.”
His devilish grin returns. “You’re mine. I want to show everyone, and I’m not going to pretend to be someone I’m not.”
“Maybe you’re pretending every day.”
“What does that mean?”
I bite my lip. “Maybe this isn’t the real you. Sometimes I wonder if you feel you have to be this way for the public.”
Reaching into his pocket again, he holds up another baggie.
“Stop overthinking, sweetheart, and sail with me. I’m not ready to come down from my show-high.”
The bag of powder dangled in front of my face is like a sandy white beach calling for me. The heat and high I’ll feel snorting it will be more powerful than any vitamin D the sun could provide.
I lick my lips, and it reminds me of Toby doing the same. My heart pounds, and for the first time since I met Zain, it’s not racing for only him. It craves what he’s holding.
“OK, but tomorrow, you have to give me space to work.”
“Sure.” The sparkle in his eyes tells me he’s not serious. As I move off of him so he can get the lines ready, I feel a wave of nausea come over me.
It’s my conscience.
My gut is warning me that I’m wading in dangerous waters.
Apple
With horns up, Olivia flings her arm forward and back to the music. Zain breaks into a solo riff, and along with the thousands of excited fans, his girl screams.
We’re front row at the Wells Fargo Center in Philadelphia as we watch the band with pride. Olivia turns her head to grin at me, and her bright eyes show the euphoria she’s feeling right along with me. I can also see that my friend is dripping with sweat.
Downing the last of her beer, she places the thin, plastic cup inside the three stacked empty ones she’s been holding. She stumbles, and Nash grabs her by the waist to catch her.
Leaning in front of her to speak to both of us, he says, “We need to go. The crowd is pushing us, and the band is almost finished with their set.”
“I don’t want to miss the end,” Olivia replies.
“You also told me to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid. Since you’re close to falling on your face, it’s time to go,” he says sternly.
I take hold of her arm. “He’s right; we should go.” Nash ushers us away, and as he struggles to keep Olivia upright, I think about how she’s acted since joining the tour.
I have no doubt she’s talented at sewing. The items she’s made for me have turned out fantastic, but Olivia’s becoming a different person than the one I met for lunch at the country club.
Zain’s taking her down when what I wished was for her to pull him up. That was selfish of me. What if I’ve made a terrible mistake by encouraging her to come on tour with us?
***
“Zain’s flirting with that fan,” Liv says from where we’re seated on the sofa in Z’s hotel suite.
“I don’t think so. He’s only being his charming self.”
“No, you missed him signing her boob. He also whispered something in her ear.”
“It’s loud in here, so he was probably making sure she could hear him while he thanked her for being a fan. You can’t become jealous, girl. I learned that quickly. I’d go insane if I got upset every time a woman ogled or touched Tripp. I know he only wants me the same way Z only wants you.”
“I guess.”
I shift on the sofa to face her. “Hey, why are you having doubts?”
Still never taking her eyes off Zain, she shrugs.
“I think he wants whatever will give him a rush. What if I stop giving him that feeling?”
“You won’t. He loves you, Olivia. You’re different than the women he meets on the road.”
“I was when we met, but not anymore.” Getting up, she adds, “I need another drink.”
After watching her stumble to the bar, I look at Tripp across the room. Sensing my uneasiness, he immediately makes eye contact with me. Once he sees my expression, he excuses himself from a couple of guys he’s chatting with.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he sits next to me.
“It’s Olivia. She’s drunk or high all the time, and she’s saying crazy shit about Zain not wanting her. When I brought her on this tour, I thought she’d be a good influence on him, but he seems to be using more. It was selfish of me to invite her into his chaos.”
“I was worried he’d change her for the worse.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that?”
He smirks. “Telling you my concerns wouldn’t have done any good, and you know it. You had your mind set on her joining us.”
Spotting Toby at the bar with Olivia, I stand.
“I have to fix this.” I stomp across the room, and grabbing Toby by the forearm, I pull him aside. Crossing my arms, I say, “I need you to talk to Zain.”
“About what?”
“Get him to stop using. I know you’re encouraging him to stay doped up for your own personal gain.”
“You don’t know shit about me.”
“I see it, Toby. I feel it.”
He laughs. “You feel it. What the hell does that mean?”
“Olivia’s spiraling. Nash and I are trying to stop it, but we can’t when you keep feeding her and Zain drugs.”
“For someone yo
ur age, you act like a mom. Instead of worrying about Zain and Olivia, you should be focusing on that loose cannon you’re with. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he snaps.” Stealing a glimpse of Tripp, he shakes his head. “He looks like he wants to murder me as we speak.”
“Toby, please. Olivia’s trying to keep up with Z so that she won’t lose him. If something happens to her, or she leaves the tour, it could tear the band apart. Do you want to be partly to blame?”
He glares at me. “No one is forcing drugs on them. Besides, weren’t you the one who brought Blondie on the road with us?”
“Yes, but I thought Olivia would help Zain, not make him worse.”
“That was your first mistake; Z doesn’t want help. Stay out of our lanes.”
Olivia
“You liked that girl with the enormous tits,” I murmur to Zain as we sloppily slow dance in the master bedroom of his suite. The rock playlist on his phone includes “Crazy” by Aerosmith, and I’m thinking maybe I’ve gone crazy for Z.
“I love enormous tits, but only on one girl.” Winking down at me, he grips my waist harder to stop us from moving. “Why the fuck are we dancing? How did this form of embarrassment happen?”
I laugh. “I think we were trying to hold each other up from exhaustion.”
“I’ve got the fix for that.”
“Maybe we should sleep tonight.”
“It’s too early, babe. I’m still up from the show, so let’s party.”
“Are you going to grow tired of me?”
Gripping my chin, Zain furrows his brow.
“Damn, Butterfly. Never, so don’t let the fans make you insecure. None of those chicks are you.”
Believing him, I smile. The song ends, and Z lets me go so he can retrieve something from his duffel bag at the foot of the bed. I can’t see what’s in his fist as he grabs a water from the minibar and climbs on the bed. Still wearing his black combat boots, he seems on top of the world.
“Come here. I have something for us.” He brandishes an alluring grin as he bends his finger, signaling for me to join him. Out of nowhere, my stomach aches, but I ignore my intuition that’s physically manifesting itself.
Heeling off my shoes, I climb on the bed with Z and make a serious realization. I’m once again at the mercy of a man. Only this time, I’m in a dire situation. I found the will to draw a line in the sand with Ken, but with Zain, I ran right through it and dove into the deep water with him.
My brain knows I should swim to shore before I drown, but my heart wants me to stay by Z’s side to do whatever he wants. It loves him. Maybe if I tread the water long enough, I’ll find a way to save us both.
Standing in front of him, I redo my ponytail and straighten the top I’m wearing.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say as that rope around my gut tightens.
“Then close your eyes and open your mouth.”
Taking one last look at his roguish smile and intense raven eyes, I do as he commands. He places a pill on my tongue and pours water over it. Some of the liquid escapes at the creases of my mouth before I have time to swallow.
I find the courage to do it.
I down the pill without knowing what it is.
I put all my trust in Z.
Or rather … I give up the little bit of independence I thought I gained by leaving Ken. Maybe it was the alcohol I consumed tonight that made me this dumb.
I’m drunk on love and adventure.
I’m addicted to Zain Richie.
I think he’s addicted to me, too, but the monumental difference is that I crave him more than I crave drugs. I fear he craves me second.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Zain
I pace the hotel room as Dr. Spicer examines Olivia’s swollen ankle.
“You need an X-ray. I think it’s only a bad sprain, but I can’t say for certain.”
Coming to a stop, I reply, “If we go to the hospital, the paparazzi will follow us.”
He looks over his shoulder and scowls at me.
“You should have considered that before you gave her MDMA and jumped on the bed like it’s a fucking trampoline.”
“Damn, Doc.”
Olivia glances my way just long enough for me to see the shame in her eyes. I may have gone too far last night, but it was fun while it lasted. We were supposed to rock that bed in more ways than one, but then Liv tumbled off of it, scaring the shit out of me.
It took hours for my doctor to get here, so the rest of the crew left for our next gig. Well, all but Apple and Tripp. She refused to leave Olivia behind, and Tripp refused to leave Apple. They’re waiting in the other room, likely planning my next ass-ripping.
“Look, I’m sorry I kept you on a plane all night. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Can we speak in private?” he replies curtly.
Knowing Olivia can’t get up from the bed to give us privacy, I head to the ensuite bathroom with Dr. Spicer. After shutting the door, he nails me with a look of aggravation.
“I already prescribe you more medication than I should. No amount of money is worth losing my license or landing myself in jail, so please stop mixing those medications with illegal substances.”
I glide my hand through my hair. “Got it, and again, I’m grateful for your help.”
“If her ankle’s broken, she’ll need a cast, so take her to get the X-ray.” He looks me over. “You need to hydrate and eat, Zain. You look rundown. Come see me for a physical the next time you’re in town.”
“Will do.” Wanting the conversation to end, I open the door. Apple’s sitting next to Olivia on the bed, and their somber expressions make me nervous.
Before leaving, Dr. Spicer gives Liv instructions about icing her foot and keeping it elevated. Once he’s gone, I lift my eyebrows.
“We need to find an urgent care that does X-rays.”
“With Olivia loving to sew, do you understand how fortunate she is that her arm’s not broken?” Apple asks spitefully.
“The doc doesn’t even think her ankle’s broken, but yes, I get that it could’ve been her arm. We were just goofing around.”
Apple stands. “Whatever. You never take anything seriously. I’ll go order two cars. You and Olivia can take one to the clinic, and Tripp and I will try to lead the paparazzi away in the other. I’ll arrange for a jet to be on standby for you. Please try to hurry. You can’t miss the next show.”
“Sure thing, Mother Teresa–I mean, Peaches.”
“Zain,” Olivia says wearily. “She’s only trying to help. My parents will hunt you down if they hear I’m hurt. Trust me; you don’t want them making an appearance.”
“All right.” Gripping the back of my neck, I make eye contact with Apple. “Thanks for the help. Text me the flight info, and we’ll meet up with you in New York City.”
Nodding, Apple leaves us alone.
“Uh, I’ll send Nash for more ice. Maybe we can get the swelling down before we leave.”
“I can’t be this reckless again. I should’ve asked you what you were giving me.” Biting her lip, she looks out the window of our suite. “It scares me how much fun I was having with you … how good that Molly made me feel.”
“Babe, you fell. It was an accident.”
Snapping her head in my direction, she replies, “One I likely wouldn’t have had if I’d been sober. Telling your doctor what happened was humiliating. I’ve never felt so ashamed.”
Her tired eyes fill with tears, and the sight is like a saw to my heart. Taking a seat next to her, I hold her hand. Some of her messy hair has slipped out of her ponytail, and her makeup is smeared from our long night.
“I’m sorry I gave you the pill. I was wasted at the time and thought it would make you happy. You were acting all sad and shit about the female fans, but don’t worry for a second about Dr. Spicer. He’s cool and won’t tell a soul what happened.”
“But I’ll always remember how careless I was and
the trouble I’ve caused your band. I can’t believe Apple and Tripp are being so patient with me.”
“Apple’s sweet. She butts into business she shouldn’t, but I know she means well.” Tears stream down Liv’s cheeks. “Butterfly, talk to me.”
“She thinks you have a drug problem, and I’m starting to agree. I mean, we do them every day.”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Zain, there hasn’t been one day since I joined you that you haven’t taken something.”
“And we’ve been over this. My schedule’s grueling, so I have a system that keeps me functioning. That’s all it is.”
“I don’t know.”
Cupping her face, I gaze into her doubtful eyes.
“If I thought I had a problem, I’d seek help.”
“You would?”
“Yes.”
“Promise me you won’t let it come to that.”
“I promise. Now, don’t let the band or Apple get inside your head. They have their own issues because of Tripp’s brother dying. They constantly worry I’m going to end up like Nathan, but I’m nothing like the guy.”
“OK.”
“So, are we good?” I ask, smiling. Giving me a weak one back, she nods.
“I only worry so much because I love you,” she murmurs.
“I love you, too, and since you’re injured, I get to spoil you. You can’t object this time.”
She gives me a faint laugh, and it’s the music I’ve missed all morning.
“All right. Just this once.”
Apple
“Are you working on the eMagazine article?” Tripp asks after joining me in the back lounge of the bus.
Without looking up from my laptop, I reply, “Um, no. I told Dad to give the feature to another journalist. Unfortunately, that means they’re choosing a different band to showcase.”
“Why would you do that?”
Setting my laptop on the couch, I find the courage to make eye contact with the broody guy I love.
“I can’t give him the kind of story he needs without revealing private information about the band. My dad especially wants the first issue to be shocking to the readers. I won’t do that to Borrowed Faith.”
