Untitled

by Jackie Chanel

  “Come over here,” I told her and she did. I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her close to me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been gone a week. I thought you’d be happier to see me, that’s all.”

  “Baby, I’m happy to see you. I’m always happy to see you. I’m just working. Let me finish up here and we can go wherever you want.”

  Her eyes lit up and Ramey’s smile spread across her face. She leaned down and kissed me. She smells like flowers. Only Ramey can step off a plane and smell like she just got out of the shower. I inhaled her scent.

  Maybe I’ve missed her more than I thought.

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked.

  “Home,” she whispered in my ear.

  I rubbed my hands along the smooth curve of her hips and thighs. Her breaths were ragged as my hands slid up her short t-shirt dress and my fingers traced the outline of her panties.

  “We don’t have to go home,” I told her.

  Ramey lifted her dress over her head in one smooth motion and stood in front of me in nothing but a pair of pink cotton panties. I stood up and dropped my jeans to the floor, freeing my growing erection. Ramey licked her lips and took me in her hand.

  “You have missed me.” Her grip was tight as my penis became rock hard in her hand.

  “Of course I have.”

  “Show me. Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

  Ramey always enjoys a little roughness so she didn’t complain when I backed her up against the wall and pushed her panties to the side. She moaned and grabbed a handful of my hair when I slid inside of her.

  “You’ve missed me,” I said in her ear. “Admit it.”

  “Yes, baby,” she moaned. “I’ve missed you.”

  I continued to thrust inside of her as she clasped both legs around my wait and moaned loudly. She felt so good that I didn’t want to stop. Ramey can be annoying sometimes but she’s certainly the best fuck I’ve ever had.

  “Say you love me,” I whispered when her legs tightened around me and her body went rigid.

  “I love you, Aiden! Oh God, I love you so fuckin’ much!”

  ****

  I looked at the clock on my dashboard.

  4:23a.m.

  The house is completely dark but I know Ramey isn’t asleep. I told her that I was going to be home hours ago. She’s still mad that I scheduled a show on the night of the Dior runway show, but I hate fashion shows and she knows it. I’ve seen her walk the runway a million times. It’s always the same shit.

  After my show, Joey and I ran into some friends and decided to have a few drinks with them. That turned into a jam session at his studio.

  Oh well.

  She's already mad about Atlanta. After many arguments, I finally told her that she can stay here if she wants. I don't know how long it's going to take to record this album. Might be a few weeks; most likely, it will probably be a few months.

  “That's not what married couples do, Aiden!” she screeched at my suggestion.

  I cut the engine and grabbed my two guitar cases out of the trunk of the BMW. When I walked into the house, Ramey was standing at the top of the stairs.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “What are you doing up?”

  Ramey walked down the stairs and I went over to the bar to find a cold beer. I don’t care how late or early in the morning it is. I need a drink to deal with her bullshit.

  “Who’s Courtney?” Ramey asked in a very accusatory tone.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Who is she?”

  “That’s what I’m asking you! Yvette called me and said that you and some girl named Courtney were all over each other after the show tonight.”

  I took a swig of my beer. Ramey’s friends get on my nerves. It’s like she has a team of idiot private detectives at her beck and call, following me around like stupid little half assed spies.

  “Yvette doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about! I was with the guys. I wasn’t hanging out with any girls so unless this Courtney chick is a fucking waitress, then I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”

  “And that stupid girl, Chloe, called here again, looking for you. How’d she get our home number? And what does she want?”

  “She wants me to do an interview for the website,” I told her. I’m going to kill Chloe. I told her not to call the house. If she needs me, she has my cell number.

  “You better not be lying to me, Aiden.”

  “You better stop accusing me of shit that I’m not doing,” I retorted. “How many times do we have to go through this bullshit? I’m not cheating on you!”

  “How am I supposed to know that, with all the fucking groupies you have around you all the damn time?”

  “I’m a musician. You’re in fashion. I can’t help it if all of your groupies are gay.”

  “You are such an asshole!” Ramey yelled.

  “Go back to bed, Ramey,” I said. “We have to be at the airport at ten.”

  Ramey leaned against the bar and pouted.

  “I’m not leaving tomorrow,” she announced. “I’m doing the Ferragamo ad campaign with Tatiana. We fly to Milan on Tuesday.”

  “And you’re telling me this hours before we’re supposed to be on a plane together? Is that what married couples do?” I mocked her.

  “I sent you a text hours ago; you know, when you told me that you were on your way home.”

  “Fine,” I said and finished the rest of my beer. “I’m going to bed for a few hours. I’ll see you when you get back from Italy.”

  “What is the problem?” Ramey yelled at me but I ignored her and went upstairs.

  After I left Power, I decided not to do anymore product endorsements unless they're strictly music related. My decision really messed up Ramey's career because there are a lot of companies that only want the two of us. Her work was sporadic for almost a year. Lately, she’s been getting a lot of print work. I'm glad she's getting steady work again.

  She shouldn’t complain about us not spending enough time together when she's always flying somewhere to work. That's why I'm pissed. She’s the one who wants a new house. She’s the one who has to have shoes and clothes that she can’t afford on her own. She wants vacations and diamonds and new cars. I have to work so she can have the things that she wants. She should understand that. But she doesn't.

  “Aiden!” Ramey stomped up the steps and stormed into our room.

  “What?”

  “Why are you mad?”

  “I’m not mad, Ramey. I’m tired.”

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to come home at 4:30 in the morning.”

  “I don’t punch a time clock. I’ll come home when I feel like it.”

  She switched off the bedside lamp and climbed into bed. She sighed. Even in complete darkness I knew she was pouting like a two year old. She does it whenever she doesn’t get her way.

  “What, Ramey?” I caved. I’m not going to get any sleep until I hear what she has to say.

  “Is Sunny going to be in Atlanta?” She finally said what has probably been bugging her for a month.

  “Sunny lives in New York,” I answered. “Why would she be in Atlanta?”

  “Don’t act surprised. She always seems to pop up wherever you are, so I figured that she might pop in Atlanta too, like she did in Vegas and in Mt. Vernon.”

  “Mt. Vernon? She came for my sister’s wedding. She was invited! Don’t start with the Sunny shit,” I warned. “I’m sure you can find a lot more shit to worry about other than Sunny.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I rolled over on my stomach. “It means, go to sleep. Or at least let me get some sleep. Goodnight, Ramey.”

  “Kiss my ass, Aiden.”

  I hope that Sunny doesn’t make an appearance in Atlanta. The last thing I want to do is have to keep Sunny from kicking Ramey’s ass.

  Chapter 41

  “Aiden!” D
elilah called from Sunny’s old room. “If we move back to Atlanta, can you let me have this apartment? You and Ramey can get another place!”

  “No!” I yelled from the living room. “Find your own damn apartment.”

  Delilah’s footsteps bounced down the hallway from the bedroom.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” she asked. “This apartment is perfect.”

  “We’re not moving to Atlanta.”

  “Eww, what’s wrong with you?”

  I’m irritated, that’s what’s wrong with me, and I can’t shake it off. The music I’ve been recording is coming out great and we’ve only been in Atlanta for two months, but there’s something missing and I know what it is.

  “Has Ramey called?” I asked.

  “Seriously, Aiden. It’s Fashion Week in L.A. You know she’s not thinking about you. Do you actually wish she was here?” Delilah wrinkled her nose at the thought.

  “She’s my wife,” I answered. “Of course I want her here with me.”

  “Well, I’m supposed to be at Fashion Week too. I turned down that hosting job to be here. You don’t see me abandoning you like she does.”

  “You get paid to be here,” I reminded her. “This is your job. Ramey’s working.”

  “Believe that if you want to,” Delilah huffed. “PopSugar spotted her at some designer’s after party. She was working all right, working the hell out of that stripper pole she was swinging on.”

  Delilah sat on the couch and picked up a brand new pack of guitar strings. Without me even asking, she started to fix the broken string on my Les Paul.

  “This building needs a gym,” she complained. “I’ve gained seven pounds since we’ve been here. Food in Georgia is different from food in California.”

  I laughed. “Stay away from Kat’s peach cobbler then. She made it for me.” I stretched my legs and yawned. Delilah noticed my exhaustion right away.

  “You need to get more sleep. Take a nap. We can skip dinner with Tracy and her husband, especially since they’ll be at Smithe’s later for the show. I’m going to try and find a Trader Joes or Whole Foods and get some healthy food. The burgers, ribs, and whatever Kat is feeding us has got to end.”

  Delilah moved over to the loveseat and let me have the sofa to myself. I was asleep before she finished fixing the string on my guitar.

  I woke up hours later to the sound of my cell phone vibrating on the coffee table. I picked it up and checked the caller ID before answering my wife’s call.

  “Hey babe, what’s up?”

  “You sound terrible. Are you sick?”

  “I was asleep,” I told her. “Where are you?” I couldn’t place the noise in the background but it certainly didn’t sound like a fashion show.

  “LAX,” Ramey answered.

  “Are you coming to Atlanta?”

  “No, silly,” Ramey laughed. “Didn’t you get any of my text messages last night? I’m on my way to London. Philip De La Croix wants me to shoot a fashion spread for British Vogue!”

  “Who the hell is Philip De La Croix?”

  “He’s the hottest photographer in London! You’ve seen his work. And he wants to shoot me! Can you believe that?”

  “Why wouldn’t he, babe? You’re gorgeous. When are you coming back?”

  Ramey got quiet. I knew what she was about to say before the words left her mouth.

  “Aren’t you almost finished with your CD?”

  “No,” I answered. “We still have a lot of work to do.”

  “Aiden, I don’t want to come back to Atlanta,” Ramey whined. “It’s boring there. All of my friends are in L.A.”

  “Come on, Ramey,” I pleaded. “I miss you. I want to see my wife. That’s not too much to ask.”

  “Aww, honey, I miss you too. I’ll see what the agency has me booked for when I get back. If I can come, I will.”

  “Okay.” I’m not satisfied with her answer, but I don’t feel like arguing with her over it. “Have a safe flight. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Aiden. See you soon.”

  I hung up the phone, found a bottle of Grey Goose in the fridge and fixed myself a drink. Something doesn’t feel right. My body is all stiff and sore and my throat is starting to hurt. I’ve been working non-stop since I got to Atlanta. Between gigs, the studio, writing, and Rabbit’s, I haven’t had time to really rest. I picked up my cell and called Delilah.

  “Good, you’re awake,” she said. “I picked out a couple of outfits for you and laid them on your bed. I’ll be home soon so be ready to leave for dinner when I get there.”

  “No,” I said. “Call Tracy and cancel. I don’t feel good and I’m going back to bed.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “I just don’t feel good. I’m going to try and sleep this off.”

  “Are you going to be able to perform tonight?”

  “I’m going to try. That’s not until ten anyway. I’ll be okay by then.”

  But I wasn’t. Even after sleeping until nine, I woke up feeling worse than I did earlier. I ignored Delilah’s outfits and changed into jeans and a t-shirt, gargled with some Listerine, and popped two Tylenol Cold capsules.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” Dee-Lee asked when we got in my car. “You don’t look good, Aiden.”

  “They’re expecting me. I can’t cancel now.”

  “Can you even sing?” Her voice was full of worry. It feels good to know that I have someone who cares about my health and well being.

  “I’m gonna do the best I can. My fans will appreciate it more if I show up and try than not show up at all.”

  “I’m making you a doctor’s appointment in the morning.”

  I didn’t even bother to protest even though I hate doctors. Instead I drove down the street, saving my voice until I got to Smithe’s Bar.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Delilah rambled. “I bet you just have a virus. It’s a good thing that I stocked the apartment with organic and healthy foods. We both have to stop eating so much junk.”

  The bus came out of nowhere...at least I didn’t see it coming. The light turned green and I started across the intersection of Peachtree and Ellis. The next thing I know, there’s a city bus barreling down Ellis through the red light. I floored the gas, trying to get out of the way but it was too late. The bus slammed into the driver’s side of my Mercedes.

  I heard the crash and felt the impact. A searing pain went up the entire left side of my body. Delilah’s screams echoed in my ears. Then I heard nothing.

  Chapter 42

  “Is he okay? Where’s Delilah? Is she okay? Damn it, Roxy, tell me something!”

  The frantic voice sounded far away. I couldn’t barely make it out. All I could focus on was the pain, and it wasn’t just in one place. Everything hurt!

  I tried to open my eyes but my left eye was swollen shut. I looked around the room but the vision in my other eye was too blurry to really see. I could see enough to know that I’m in a hospital.

  What the hell happened?

  “Calm down, girl,” I heard Roxy say. “Delilah is fine. Aiden will be too. I promise you, he’s alive.”

  “What’s wrong with him? What aren’t you telling me, Roxy?”

  The voices grew weaker as they moved away from the room I was lying in. Things slowly started to come back to me. The bus...I was driving and the bus hit my car. Paramedics came. They pulled me out the car. I remember being lifted onto a gurney. I remember hearing my sister crying.

  Delilah!

  The heart monitor beside my bed began to beep loudly as my heart rate increased and my lungs refused to let me breathe. What happened to my sister? Is she okay?

  Two nurses ran into the room, with my mother, Sara, Roxy, and Kat trailing behind. One of the nurses checked the heart monitor while the other leaned over the bed, speaking to me in a soothing voice.

  “Aiden, I need you to calm down, honey. It’s okay. Take deep breaths, sweetie.”

  “De
e-Lee?” I croaked out. My throat was extremely dry and scratchy. “My sister?”

  My mother rushed to the bedside. She rubbed the side of my face comfortingly. Her motherly hands were warm against my cool skin.

  “Oh honey, she’s okay. She’s right there in the next bed. She’s fine, Aiden. She’s fine.”

  I turned to look at the other hospital bed but I couldn’t see my sister. The curtain was pulled closed by her bed.

  “Delilah, will you please put down that damn phone and say something to your brother.”

  The curtain was pulled back and I could see my sister sitting on the bed, texting on her Blackberry.

  “I have a pink cast on my arm, Aiden!” Delilah’s cheerful and bubbly voice warmed my heart. She sounded fine.

  “Water?”

  One of the nurses held a cup of ice water up to my mouth and I sipped the water through a straw. The water made my throat feel so much better and made it easier to talk, but breathing hurts like hell.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I asked my mother. Her eyes filled with tears and she started to cry.

  “Damn it, Mom,” Delilah snapped and walked over to my bed. “Stop crying. You’re going to freak him out. He’s not dying.”

  “I’ll get your doctor,” one of the nurses said and both nurses left.

  “How long have I been out? And can you all not gather around my bed like you’re staring into a casket?” The words came out breathlessly and choppy.

  My mom sat in the chair on my right side where I could see her clearly. Roxy and the others backed up two feet. Delilah perched on the edge of the bed. I looked at my mother. Judging by my mother’s tired eyes and messy hair, I’ve obviously been in here for more than a day.

  “It’s been a couple of days,” she answered me. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness.”

  “It’s been four days,” Delilah corrected her. “And you talk in your sleep.”

  “What happened? What’s wrong with me?”

  I moved my right hand and wiggled my fingers. Everything seemed fine there. My left arm was encased in a dark blue cast.