“I screwed up,” I told her, taking the hand towel she offered and wiping my mouth. “So sorry I got sick on you.”
“It’s ok, baby,” she soothed. “I’m here for better or worse.” Marsha left me briefly at some point, but she didn’t abandon me. She returned and set a chilled bottled water beside me, a pillow and a blanket. But I wasn’t able to make use of any of it for a long while.
Yeah, it was that bad.
When it was finally over, my stomach was so sore it felt like someone had kicked me in it. My reward for my stupidity. That plus my dry mouth and a pounding headache. Not to mention the bruises along my inner thighs from the bull. I made a note to myself, hoping I would heed it the next time I was tempted to escape my problems with alcohol.
One shot with my bestie and zero mechanical bulls.
I rose slowly and grabbed the edge of the cold counter to steady myself. I filled a glass with tap water and took the Tylenol Marsha had left for me. I avoided my reflection. I didn’t need to make this any worse than it already was.
After carefully stripping off my clothes, I took a long shower and washed my hair. I felt more like myself by the time I was done. Wrapping a big white towel around me, I stepped out. My comb and a toothbrush were on the counter near where the pain reliever had been, within easy reach. Again, my bestie had anticipated and set out exactly what I would need. When I was done rinsing with the complimentary hotel mouthwash, I gripped the counter again and lifted my gaze to face the reflection I had been avoiding.
"Oh my." I put a hand to my rounded mouth. The woman who stared back at me with her long dark hair dripping into the white towel looked like a wraith. My skin was paler than usual. My golden eyes had purple smudges beneath them. My cheekbones seemed hollow and my lips were chapped.
"No more benders," I told my reflection. "You're too smart to act this stupid." Hearing a ping from my phone, I turned and noticed Marsha had placed it on a folded washcloth on the floor, screen side up. I knelt down carefully and scooped it up.
Marsha: I heard the shower. How r u feeling?
Raven: Like hell. Is Dr. West in? I could really use some wise counsel.
Marsha: i dont know about wisdom but i luv u & want what’s best for u. Will that work?
Raven: Yeah, for sure.
I set the phone down on the counter, took my towel off and replaced it with Lucky's Killers t-shirt. Yes, Marsha had set out a change of clothes, too. Longing pierced the left side of my chest as the soft cotton settled around my shoulders. I lifted the edge of the collar to my nose. Mandarin and rum, his scent still lingered on it.
"Hey." I shuffled out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Her face aglow from her phone’s display, Marsha set it down on the mattress and pulled herself up into a seated position on the bed.
"You look terrible."
"I know. Thanks for taking care of me." I would have shrugged a shoulder, but my tummy was feeling too iffy for unnecessary movement.
"I only did what you would do for me. Sit here beside me." She threw back the covers and scooted over on the bed leaving a space for me.
"Most unconventional therapist ever. Booze and booty calls," I quipped lamely, climbing in beside her.
“What do you expect? I don’t even have a license.” She flipped the covers over my legs. “But for some reason you keep coming back. I must be doing something right." Smiling softly, she tucked the blankets tighter around my lap. "You should’ve used the blow dryer on your hair. You're going to be cold with your hair all wet, and you always get the frizzies when you air dry."
"Who's to see?" I shrugged, and my stomach reminded me why that was a bad idea.
"Hmm. He might not be here, bestie.” Her brows creased together. “But you still need to take care of yourself. I’m in enough trouble with your man as it is. He’s gonna kick my ass about tonight. I put a ginger ale on the nightstand. Why don’t you try to sip on it? If we get you rehydrated maybe you’ll start to feel better sooner."
"I will.” I slowly twisted, picked up the can and took a careful sip using the straw. “I love you, Mars,” I said after I was sure the liquid was going to stay down.
"I love you, too. It’s pretty sad that you have a bestie so well versed in how to treat a hangover." She patted my leg. "So take another sip and then talk to me. I wanna know why you're so emotional. It’s not like you to overdo it with the booze. And before that with Smith? You practically caved into every one of her stipulations."
"She holds all the cards this time," I grumbled.
"Um no, she doesn't. She left a couple of aces. One, her reputation is on the line. Two, she expects this show to be huge. She wants it to be. She needs it to be. We can use that to our advantage. Plus, I’m pretty sure Barbara would help us if we ask. But Smith and her PA aside, something’s changed. I know you. I know the way you are. Tonight was very unlike you. What’s going on? What’s happened since we last talked?”
"I got a little scuffed up by a stampede of Lucky’s fans in Atlanta. He made a unilateral decision and kicked me off the tour until he can work out a scenario that is quote safe for me unquote. He doesn't trust me to take care of myself. And what I did tonight sure didn’t help." My stomach roiled anew.
"Wow.” She shook her head. “How scuffed up are we talking about?”
“Some road rash on my palms from the concrete when I fell. An inch-long gash on my knee.”
“That must have been scary.”
“It was. But it’s nothing compared to how bad I feel now. I love him, Mars, and I trust him. But between you and me, we both know how things are on the road. With Ivan, I ignored a lot of the warning signs. I can’t do that with Lucky. I won’t do that with him. I want him, all of him, all to myself."
"Did you tell him that?" She whispered.
"Yeah, basically." I nodded.
"What did he say?"
"After he got mad for me questioning his integrity?"
“Oh, honey.” She shook her head sadly.
I sighed. "He took me to the airport. He told me to do whatever it took to make Smith happy. That he would work on the security problems on his end. That he wants us to be together."
"You’ve got some situational stress on your relationship for sure. And I certainly get now why you acted the way you did with Smith. But if you give WMO all they want they're gonna have you do stuff that’s gonna make an alpha male like Lucky go insane."
"Yeah, I know. I guess that’s why I overdid it tonight. To escape my problems, but they're still there. It was dumb."
"We all do stupid stuff, Raven. He’s not going to hold that against you.” She was probably right about the night’s alcohol binge. But it was the other stuff that worried me. My current predicament with the executive was the top priority to sort out. Caving might get me out of her clutches the fastest. But capitulating might also cost me Lucky. I had to think this through carefully. I had to find a solution that worked for the short and the long term. The long term being my relationship with my favorite sexy frontman.
BY THE MORNING I had reached a decision. I paced the length of our hotel room working out the logistics in my mind while Marsha went to get us some decent coffee. The caffeine was mostly an excuse. I knew she needed a sanity break from my emotional state. I stopped pacing to look out the window. Cars and taxis filled the Avenue of the Americas below, typical early morning traffic in Manhattan. The sky was too cloudy to see where the rising sun was in the sky, but I knew it was too early to call Lucky.
My cell started ringing. I scooped it off the bed and glanced at the display. It was my dad. We had been conversing regularly since our reconciliation. "Hey Daddy,” I answered. “How are you? Is everything ok?"
"Hi, Raven. Yes, it is. Only it's hot as Hades down here. My drum major passed out during marching practice and almost toppled from his platform, but we got him hydrated and everything turned out fine in the end.”
“Oh, well that’s good.” I took another sip of my soda. I needed to replenis
h my fluids, too.
“Are you drinking enough water out there?” I queried. He was a lot older than his students.
“I carry a camel pack with me at all times, but thanks for looking out for me. Miss you, Raven. How are you? I tried to get a hold of you yesterday. I called Lucky, and he told me you were in New York. Is everything ok between you two?"
I shook my head, tears choking my reply.
"Raven, are you still there?” he prompted.
“Yeah, Daddy. It’s just that things are a little strained with Lucky right now." The words started tumbling out. "WMO is putting pressure on me. Lucky and the Dragons are a real hot commodity because of the success of their new single. His fans are getting too pushy, and he thinks it might be best if I’m away from the tour until he can improve the security situation."
"But you want to be with him regardless of the risk."
"Yes." That was it exactly.
"I understand his point of view. He wants you safe, darling. I want that, too. But I also understand your side. Being separated when you’re in love is difficult. Your mom never wanted us to be apart, either."
"Yeah?" I dropped to the bed. I loved to hear anything he would share about my mom. Sure it made me miss her more to talk about her. But sharing our memories drew my father and me closer.
Be brave, I could almost hear her say. I reached for the pendant that had been my mother’s wedding ring. It hung from my neck on my brother's chain. A part of her and a part of him. Both gone now, I closed my fingers around the tangible reminder of them.
"She left all she knew behind when she came with me to Dallas. I don’t think we were ever apart more than a few days. Even after you and your brother were born, she refused to pursue a musical career of her own. It’s hard to be separated from someone who’s your best friend and your better half."
"It is." I thought about that. Marsha held the title of best friend, but Lucky filled that role as well. In different ways. It wasn’t an either or situation. I needed them both. And was he my better half? I knew that answer immediately. Hell, yes.
"So what are you going to do about it?” My father asked gently. “The pressure WMO is putting on you? And the rest?"
"I'm going to do the best I can do. For WMO. For Lucky. For all the people I love. For myself."
"That's my girl.” He was quiet a long moment. I was, too, as I absorbed his praise. “That's exactly how your mom would’ve tackled it."
"I know. Thanks, Dad. I just hope I can pull it off."
"Do you remember the stories she used to tell you about the Navajo monsters?"
"Yeah."
"The Yeetso was your favorite.”
“He’s the biggest one.”
“Yes. Do you remember how you’re supposed to weaken or slay a monster?"
"You have to learn all you can about its destructive powers so you can understand what it can potentially do to you and what you can do to it. Knowledge is the key to defeating or destroying it."
"Do you have the knowledge that you need, daughter?"
"Yes, Daddy." I thought of the things Marsha had pointed out about Suzanne Smith. This time I needed to make the exec believe she needed me more than I needed her. "That’s just what I needed to hear. I’m glad you called."
"I’m glad I did, too. I want you to come visit me for Christmas. Bring Lucky. Marsha, too. All your new friends. Would you consider doing that?"
"Yes." I smiled. "I’d love to."
"ANGEL." LUCKY ANSWERED his phone on the first ring. My heart fluttered, and my eyes filled, but I blinked back the tears and willed my pulse to slow. If I wanted to have any prayer of keeping Lucky and protecting what we had found together I was going to have to stop feeling sorry for myself and start taking some proactive steps to deal with my dilemma. "Are you ok? I tried to call you after the bar, but Marsha said you were ill."
"Yeah. I was up most of the night. I acted stupid because I was scared."
"I don’t want you to be frightened, Raven. I told you we'll work this out."
"I know you did, Lucky, and we will. But you need to remember I’m the other half of the equation. You're going to have to let me contribute to a solution. Suzanne Smith had Marsha and me in her office last night. She made some threats about breach of contract. She’s demanding some changes in the filming of my season.”
“What threats? What changes?”
“Monetary penalties. She wants to reshoot some of the footage involving Rocky, Alec and you. She’s already gotten Morris involved. He’s going to have the band stay in New York for a couple of days after your show in Jersey. Basically, I think it’s going to come down to me giving Suzanne the sex appeal she’s seeking, which I’m willing to do, but my own way. I need to be true to myself and why I started the Rock Fuck Club in the first place. I want to run my ideas by you before I go to her with them. We're a team now. And I want our team to grow stronger. We have to be stronger. There are a lot of forces out there that could tear us apart if we let them.”
I held my breath, wanting him to reassure me.
"Angel, I would do anything for you. But…”
“But what?” I really needed to hear absolutes from him, confirmation that there wasn’t anything in the world that could come between us.
“But I’ve seen how sexy you can be. And I prefer that any new experimentation along those lines be between you and me without any cameras around. With that being said, I love you, and I love that you thought to come to me first. So why don’t you tell me what you have in mind."
"HAVE YOU HEARD from Smith yet?" Marsha asked from her seat on the bench beside me.
"No." I swiveled away from the distant view of the Statue of Liberty out the boat window behind us to face her instead. "I checked my cell before we pulled away from the dock."
"Damn." A briny wind whipped a streamer of her blonde hair across her pretty face. The wind was strong today. It was snapping the flags on top of the Staten Island Ferry as we had boarded it.
"Yeah, she's taking her sweet time to mull it over. But I know what she’s doing. It’s an old negotiating technique." I had looked up a bunch of stuff on the internet after talking to my dad. Business articles about tactics. What to say, what not to. I was going to be better prepared the next time the WMO exec and I met. "Even if she gets back to me today, I'm not returning communication until tomorrow. Let her squirm for a while. It’s her turn to be in the hot seat. Right?"
"Welcome back, badass bestie." Marsha took my hand, looked in my eyes and smiled encouragingly. The PA system crackled to life giving instructions on disembarkation. When the announcement was through, Marsha's expression returned to reflective lines. "What did Lucky say when you told him your plan and everything?"
"He was cautiously supportive." I shrugged. Mostly, he had postponed further discussion until we could talk in person. He wasn’t happy. I could hear it in his voice. I wasn't happy, either. Making the best we could of a bad situation sucked. Worry over the outcome of that upcoming conversation with him made the tortured post-bender lining of my stomach churn. Truthfully, it had started the moment I had woken up. Anxiety had dampened my enthusiasm all day. Grand Central Station, Rockefeller Center, Central Park and now the Staten Island ferry, the highlights of New York tour should have been fun except instead of feeling like a mirthless marathon. I had pasted on a smile for all the photos and videos Marsha took. It had been nice the two of us hanging out like old times, but my glued on grin was starting to loosen. Not that my bestie was fooled.
"It'll be ok." She squeezed my captured hand again.
"It will, or it won’t." I withdrew my hand and swiveled away, gazing back to the water. But I wasn’t focused on the setting sun, the seagulls flying overhead or any of the few other watercraft in the distance. I mentally replayed the images I had sorted through on the Dragons’ Facebook page. Lucky was so sexy in them, but he wasn’t ever alone. No, of course not. Sure, it was mostly him at meet and greets. Lots of times it had been me taking the
commemorative cellphone shots for the fans. But when I had been there it hadn’t seemed as though he had held the girls as close or allowed them to be so bold with him. I hadn’t felt threatened by them then the way I was feeling now.
So many girls. Too many with their hands on the center of his naked chest or low on his abdomen. Apparently while I'd been dosing my anxiety with tequila shots, he had been doing his fair share of self-medicating, too. A Captain Morgan's rum bottle dangled from his fingertips in many of the more recent photos. I had a pretty good idea why he was wearing sunglasses in them and why his response to what I had revealed about WMO had been so strangely muted.
Not that he doesn’t care, I reminded myself. He had only been hung over. We both had been suffering the unpleasant aftereffects of hitting the liquor too hard.
The evidence, should he choose to examine it, was right there in front of him. Being separated wasn’t good for us. Errors in judgment happened when alcohol gets involved. Mistakes could be forgiven like Marsha had said, but only if they didn’t go too far. We needed each other. Day by day. Night by night. We were better and stronger side by side.
We disembarked, took the escalator downstairs and had just hit the sidewalk when my cell started ringing.
"Hello," I answered, unable to see the display in the glare.
"Hi, Raven."
"Oh hey, Barbara.” I recognized the voice. “Thanks for returning my call." Beside me, Marsha raised a brow and shifted in closer. We were an island of two in a steady stream of flowing foot traffic.
“No problem. I usually take a break around dinner time. Where are you?”
“Battery Park.”
“During rush hour? I bet it’s crazy with tourists and locals.”
“Yeah, it’s like the freeways back home in Dallas with more people instead of cars.” I got bumped suddenly and nearly dropped my phone. "Hey, I was wondering if we might get together and chat somewhere. I have some questions for you about WMO and your boss that I hope you might be willing to answer."
A Postseason One Novella: Rock F*ck Club, #2 Page 8
