Crocodile Tears: A Boy Meets Girl Story

by Daya Daniels

  “Hi,” I say, giving her a small wave. “I’m Liv.”

  The tall woman places a hand in the center of her chest. “I’m Yandi. Zane’s personal assistant/a lot of things.”

  I laugh and bob my head a few times.

  She has a buzz cut on the sides but the hair on top of her head is a little long. Her mocha skin is caked in makeup and her brown eyes are rimmed thick with black liner. She looks hip and cool.

  “Where is he?” she asks narrowing her eyes while she looks around.

  “He must be inside.”

  “Okay. I’ll look around. I’ve brought breakfast if you’re hungry, since Lionel has the week off. It’s pastries, fruit, and some Starbucks cappuccinos.”

  “Who’s Lionel?”

  “Zane’s chef.”

  “Oh.”

  “Zane doesn’t bring girls here. I was just surprised to find a-a woman here.”

  “Yeah, he told me that.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah.”

  The woman in front of me makes a comical face. “Okay, well it’s nice to meet you.”

  Yandi gives me a smile and nods before she heads back inside. I slump against the pillows behind me and look out at the sunrise. I inhale and sniff the pillow that Zane slept on last night, which still smells like him.

  I pick up my sweater that rests at the end of the bed and pull it on. Standing, I head back over to the glass wall, taking in the incredible view of the beach below. The water crashes against the sand, creating a roar and a mist of sea water that reaches where I stand. Seagulls dip and dance in the sky just above and sing. Everything about being here is simply serene.

  Pulling my sweater tighter, I head back inside to find Zane.

  Liv

  Taking two flights of stairs, I end up on the top floor. I follow the deep voice I can hear in the distance, down the wide hallways. Art hangs on the wall to my left, while the wall to my right is all floor-to-ceiling glass that looks out at the ocean below. I make my way to the end and push the bedroom door open. It’s a huge space. The far wall is all glass, much like the way here. The only thing in this room is a large bed covered in plush white linens, that rests right on the wooden floor—there’s no frame. No curtains cover the windows and there’s no television. A pile of books rests in the corner of the room, next to two electric guitars that lean against the wall—one is in a case.

  Two suitcases are in the center of the floor with clothes falling over the sides of it.

  Zane is on the phone, sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless. His dark hair is damp from a shower. I take in the lines of his muscular back and the shit-ton of tattoos that decorate his porcelain skin. Auribus Teneo Lupum is written across his shoulders. It’s the same Latin script that’s engraved on the platinum bracelet he gave me.

  I narrow my eyes when I realize he’s almost entirely covered in writing. I spot a poem. The first line of it is, “When I have fears that may cease to be...” I spot more quotes scribbled across his skin in ink.

  “Uh, huh. Fuck if I care,” he mumbles into the phone he’s holding and nods. “Cash sings but that’s all he fucking does. I write the songs. But if he wants to write, let him write. I don’t give a shit. I have enough on my plate. I’m drownin’, man.” Zane laughs.

  I glance at the clock on the nightstand, noticing the time that’s close to six in the morning.

  When Zane sees me, he stands and steps towards me, still holding the phone to his ear. He places a kiss to my cheek, looking down at me.

  “I have to go. I have to be on the tarmac in a little bit,” he says, right before hanging up.

  He pulls a simple white V-neck T-shirt over his head. I stare into his piercing grey eyes, which look fresh this morning. His face is clean-shaven.

  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  I shrug. “It’s okay.”

  I keep my eyes on him and then let them drop to his chest and abs. I feel so rushed like I’ve been given everything and now it’s all going to be taken away.

  “You can shower in there and I think I have an extra toothbrush. A new one of course, in the top left drawer.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I have to be out of here in half an hour to LAX.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, heading towards the bathroom.

  “Tarver will take you home. I’ll call you tonight.”

  Once inside, I stand in front of the vanity and take in my reflection. I look fresh. My hair smells like the ocean and my eyes are bluer today than I’ve seen them in a long time. I pull open the drawer and find a toothbrush. I brush my teeth and wash my face. I strip out of my clothes and turn on the hot water. I step inside enjoying the feeling of the hot spray on my skin. Grabbing the body wash, I soap myself up. It smells fresh and herbal—just like Zane.

  After today, I would be alone again.

  I begin to sob.

  Zane

  Checking my watch, my temperature rises. I don’t know why I’m pissed, I just am. The tour dates. The band. The songs I need to finish writing... Everything compounded is making me tense. I pull a baggie from my pocket and do a few snorts. It’s not enough. I need a fucking beer.

  I wish I had more time with Liv and I will, when I get back. I knew what I told her didn’t go over well. I’d no doubt it looked like I screwed her and now I was sending her on her way. I laugh at myself. When did I not do that? I had a poor track record when it came to women. I usually banged and moved on. I always used a condom. With Liv last night, I didn’t. I let out another loud sigh, wondering just how many of these things were still in my lungs, just begging to be let out. I didn’t have space for delicate creatures in my life, which didn’t make sense, since Liv was as fragile as they came.

  This morning her eyes were blue. So blue, they caught me off guard. She seemed happy but the way her face collapsed when I told her I had to go, did something to me. It felt like a kick in the balls, and now, mine were turning blue. It wasn’t like she didn’t know. Technically, we’d talked about it already.

  I run a hand through my hair. I can hear her sobbing in the bathroom, underneath the assault of the water hitting the tiles. I don’t know if they’re real tears or the ones she cries when she wants me to crumble. I guess it doesn’t matter. Either way, they affect me. A moment later, the shower turns off and I can hear her rummaging around in my stuff, likely looking for something.

  Standing from the edge of the bed, I head towards the bathroom door and nudge it open. Liv wipes her eyes, while she moisturizes herself. I take a deep breath and clench my jaw. She puts her bra on and pulls her dress over her head but the tears are still falling. She wipes her face and moves to take a seat on the toilet, brushing her hair. I fold my arms and lean against the wall, just watching her. She doesn’t speak. She barely even looks at me and it makes me feel small.

  “You’re not coming back.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I ask, nearly laughing, when she rushes by me visibly pissed and out the door, still barefoot.

  “I said, you’re not coming back,” she says loudly.

  I check my watch. Yandi sings out for me.

  Liv shrugs into her sweater and heads for the door. I follow and grip her arm before she can open it. She’s still crying...

  “I told you I’m coming back.”

  “You’re lying.”

  She yanks out of my grip and grabs the door handle. I place my hand above her head on the door and forcefully shut it. When it slams, she flinches.

  She spins around pinning me with a blue-eyed glare I’m sure will turn me into solid ice. “Let me go. I. Want. To. Go!” she screams. “I. Want. To. Leave!”

  I jerk back, stunned. A scowl spreads across my face at her rage. Usually, I might laugh but this crazy reaction to me leaving, just pisses me the fuck off. I’d known this girl all of three days and we were already arguing. This is why I don’t do this shit. I dip my head to look right into her face, certain my jaw ticks from the anger that courses through me
at her statement.

  “You can call me a lot of things, Liv, but don’t you ever call me a liar.”

  She sobs more and wipes her face. “I heard her. Yandi said you’re going to Japan when this tour is done. You won’t be back here the entire summer or probably even the winter, Zane.”

  I chuckle and look away from her. “I haven’t been told about that, Liv, but my intention is to be back here for you. Why are you crying?”

  She covers her face with her hands. Now, I’m faced with a tidal wave of sobs.

  “Because.” She hiccups.

  I pull her to my chest and sigh. “Because what?”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go really, Zane. I can go home but there’s nothing there besides Olga. I just thought, I don’t know...” she mumbles into my shirt.

  She shrugs out of my hold. I grapple with her and curl my fingers around her upper arm, yanking her into my chest.

  “You thought what?”

  “Nothing,” she murmurs, still attempting to slip out of my unyielding grasp.

  Yandi shouting my name, Liv’s endless tears, and the blaring of car horns in the driveway send my irritation to an insane level.

  Liv stills and meets my eyes. Yandi bangs on the door. “Zane, we have to go!”

  “Give me a goddamn minute!” I roar.

  Liv is beginning to hyperventilate and the tip of her nose and cheeks are pink. “Just let me go. Let me go,” she mumbles, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater.

  I take a deep breath when she reaches for the door again and turns the handle, brushing her hair away from her face. When she tries to pull it open, I hold it shut and stand above her but I don’t speak. It’s quiet for almost a minute until I say something in the hopes that she’ll calm down.

  “Taking you along with me on tour isn’t really the way I want to spend time with you, Liv.”

  She spins around and gives me the brightest expression that manages to creep out from behind her tears.

  “But I don’t want you to think I don’t want you, because I do.”

  I cup her face in my hands and kiss her lips. She sniffles.

  “I don’t care, Zane. I just want to be with you. I don’t have to ask Stanton or Audrey—they won’t even notice I’m gone. I have my passport.” She smiles.

  I sigh, knowing I’m fucking asking for it. If I take Liv on this tour with me, the band would never let me forget it. I need to spend my time writing music, doing press gigs, music videos, and endless performances—not attempting to cultivate a fucking relationship, if that’s what this is. I don’t even know what the hell this is! On top of that, between sound guys, roadies, managers, and all the dudes that are involved in this tour, I’d no doubt a few of them would want to get in Liv’s pants—just like I did. Did I really want to deal with fending assholes off for the next six months?

  I take a deep breath, staring at the hardwood floors beneath my boots. I don’t know what I’m doing and I know I don’t. I might be a lunatic too. I didn’t do relationships with women, for this very reason. None of what I was thinking of made any fucking sense, but still, I was considering it.

  Liv is a drama queen. If I had a stage, she’d be on it, front and center. She’d be a bona fide Oscar-winning actress. But I still fucking loved everything about her. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her over the summer because I couldn’t make it back. I rake my fingers through her hair, taking in her pretty features.

  I enjoyed being deep inside of her last night but it wasn’t enough. I want her toned legs over my shoulders. I want to stare into her gorgeous eyes and take in every wince and frown line in her pretty face, when I let her have it. I want to kiss her mouth when she moans my name. I want more and I know Liv does too. So far, I’ve only had a taste.

  “Zane!” Yandi shouts out.

  “Fuck, I’m coming!”

  Liv chuckles at my annoyance and her laugh makes me feel better. I don’t know why but it does. She giggles again when I kiss her lips.

  “Let’s go then,” I whisper and her pretty blue eyes smile at me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Liv

  “Vere are youuuu?” Olga asks in her thick Ukrainian accent. “I expected you home yesterday, then nothing.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say into the phone, hoping she can’t hear the roar of the 747’s engines in the background.

  “Who are you with?” Her voice goes up an octave. “Not that drunk boy, I hope.”

  I take a deep breath before answering. “He’s not drunk all the time, Olga.”

  “Yes, yes. I know he is. I know his type,” she rattles out. “And I didn’t like the way he was looking at your ass when he came here yesterday.”

  I snort out a laugh and cover my mouth. “He’s fine. He’s nice, honestly. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I know his type, Liv. The rock ‘n roll, playboy type. They’re only about sex, music and drugs and partying. He probably has a whole band of groupies following him around.”

  “He doesn’t.” I sigh, not even sure if I knew that to be the truth.

  “You’re a pretty girl. I don’t want you to end up with one of those... What are they called S-S... Um.”

  “STDs?” I ask, horrified.

  “Yes,” she hisses. “STDs—there’s a whole list of them.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathe out. “I promise I won’t get an STD, Olga.”

  “Okay. Okay, just be careful, Liv.”

  “I will,” I promise, wanting to get back to the real reason why I called. “Will you send my things to the address I gave you, please? Don’t forget my sketchbooks, okay.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.”

  “It’s not a lot, just some stuff I want to have with me for the next few weeks.” Months. “I can buy the rest.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, dyakuyu. Thank you.”

  Olga laughs. “My girl, you know I love when you speak my native tongue.”

  I giggle and spin around to stare out the window, taking in the white clouds that whiz by the windows. “Yes, I know.”

  “Harazd. Okay.”

  “Harazd. Okay, I have to go. Thanks.”

  I hang up the phone and press it to the center of my chest. A hard knock lands on the door. It opens slowly. Yandi pokes her head in, holding a laptop in her hands. She sidles up next to me to show me the screen. There’s a few internet pages up for Victoria’s Secret, Topshop, H&M, and Forever 21.

  “I didn’t know if you wanted to look this over before I finalize the orders,” she says, referring to the various online shopping bags that she’s filled for me. “It should be there by tomorrow morning, but in the meantime, I’ll go and get some things for you myself when we land.”

  I laugh, feeling a little embarrassed that Yandi is doing this for me. “I plan to go shopping when we get there,” I tell her.

  Yandi lets out a dry chuckle and scrunches her face. “I don’t think you understand, Liv. You may not be able to do that anymore, once the press gets a hold of the fact that you and Zane are dating.”

  Dating?

  “What do you mean? We’re just friends.” I think?

  She sighs and gives me a long look, before a bright smile overtakes her face. “I suggest you talk to Zane about the details of whatever it is that you two are doing. But, I’ve never had to do this before or had another woman aboard this plane. So, I don’t know what’s going on with you guys but I guess that’s a convo for the two of you. I’m just doing my job.”

  “Okay.”

  Yandi places a hand on my shoulder and guides me to sit in one of the chairs in the small den in the sky. “Some things are going to change. I understand you’re the daughter of Tom Stanton but still Tom is not Zane, if you get what I’m saying.”

  “Oh,” I whisper, not entirely sure about what she means but I think I get it.

  “You’ll have everything you need when we get to New York, no worries.”

  I give her a nod and she heads
out of the room, shutting the door behind her. I tap the faceplate to my phone, pulling up Stanton’s number and start to type a short message. At this hour, my parents are probably shitfaced somewhere, schmoozing with their Beverly Hills plastic friends. I look the message over before I send it. It only says “Will be in New York for a week with Zane P.” I hit send and stare at the brightly lit screen for a while. There’s no response.

  What did I expect?

  Liv

  We were two hours in flight aboard the Boeing 747. I don’t know why but I imagined we’d be flying with the rest of the band, which turned out not to be the case. The only other people on board this flight besides Zane, Yandi, and me were the two pilots and a stewardess.

  I shut the door to the small room behind me and head further to the back of the plane. I glance out the windows along the way and take in the blue sky. I knock before pushing the door to the small room open. Zane is sitting on a sofa and singing along to the guitar in his grasp that he’s playing. He doesn’t look up. His eyes are closed for a while before he opens them. I linger in the crack, watching him for a little bit.

  He hit the chords and sings a few lyrics, then writes everything down. I spot music notes as well as words, which litter the pages of a thick book. He strums the chords again. I slip into the room and find a seat in a corner on the opposite sofa. Zane scribbles more notes/words down, picks up a beer and guzzles it down. His eyes look tired and I truly wonder how much cocaine he’s snorted tonight, but he keeps playing.

  His thick fingers strum the chords while he sings.

  “Oh, wait until September. Will you remember?

  “The cold rain. The searing pain that brought me to my knees.

  “This is where I stay, begging for you to say. Please that it was all for something.

  “Don’t leave me down. Let me drown.

  “In the angry sea that is you.”

  Zane’s lyrics are beautiful, poignant, and the notes he hits bring the words to life. His voice is deep and soulful. He shuts his eyes and sings an entire verse. I kick my boots off and curl up in the corner of the sofa and listen to him sing.