Detour Complete Series

by Kacey Shea

  “Feel better now?” Iz says, his eyes glassy and lids half cracked.

  “Not really. I don’t get it, Iz. I don’t fucking get it. We were together for one night, but this has been weeks in the making. More than just attraction. It was more than a one-time fuck. I care about her, and you know me, I keep my circle small. I thought she felt the same, but man, after talking to her . . . I just feel played.”

  “Here.” Iz pushes off the wall and hands me his joint. “You need it more than I do.”

  I don’t usually indulge, but considering the situation, I have to agree. Pinching the paper-wrapped weed between my lips, I inhale.

  I hold my breath until it burns, then hand the joint back to Iz and nod.

  “Now.” He sucks it between his mouth while I exhale the smoke in a thin stream. “You need to tread easy with that girl. She’s been through shit. This lifestyle, the one you lead, it’s got all sorts of triggers for her.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Her daddy, I used to party with him, you know.” Iz lifts his chin to study the sky. Stands there with his joint centimeters from his lips. I watch his face, waiting for him to speak, while the sounds of city nightlife fill my ears. Horns honk, engines rumble, tires squeal, and it all comes together in a muted backdrop. Iz doesn’t speak for several minutes and I wonder if that’s all he’s gonna say. If that’s his story, none of what he said helps me understand Lexi better. The only thing that’s calmed my anger is the shared Mary Jane.

  I drop my gaze from the sky and open my mouth to say peace out. Before I do, his deep timbre pulls me back.

  “She used to come visit when Richie wasn’t on the road. He had this place right on Mission Beach where we’d all stay. Sometimes for days; sometimes weeks. Drinking, smoking, sex. It was pretty hardcore, man. And Lexi’s mom, she’d come by, bring Lex, and disappear for a few days. Lexi was a good kid. Smart as she is now, but when she started getting curves in all the right places, shit got weird.

  “There was this one party. It was fucked up, more than normal. We were all trippin’ on acid. Even Richie. Lex was there one minute and then she wasn’t. Only we didn’t notice her gone ’cause everyone was too messed up. ’Cept for Richie’s bass player, Dan. He never touched the hard stuff. Well, he noticed the girl was missin’. Went lookin’ and found her in the bathroom.”

  Iz blinks several times, tokes on the joint, and shakes his head.

  It sucks Lexi was around that kinda shit as a kid. I can’t imagine watching my mom party or get wasted. She was always larger than our problems, a super woman who worked hard, doing whatever was needed to take care of me. She’d never have left me with someone like Richie for a weekend.

  “Shit, man. When Dan went in that bathroom, he found Lexi being held down on the floor by one of his junkie friends with tears streaming down her face. The dude was assaulting her. She was a little girl, Trent. It was fucked up.” Iz shakes his head and goes back to stargazing.

  My stomach fills with acid at the thought of what she’s been through. Even without the play-by-play, anger bubbles and grows with every beat of my heart. That shouldn’t have happened. Her mother shouldn’t have left her. Her dad shouldn’t have been doing shit like that, having people like that around. Being a father is a fucking privilege, not a right, and just like that, every bit of admiration I had for the great Richie Sands evaporates, disgust left to reside in its place.

  “What happened next? What did Richie do when he found out?”

  “Don’t really know. I was too fucked up and missed the whole damn spectacle. All I know is I never saw Lexi ’round his place again.” The joint is nearly done when he meets my stare. “Want another? You can have the last hit.”

  “Nah, man. I’m good. Gonna go find Austin and Sean to have dinner before we roll out. You coming?”

  “No, thanks. You young’uns talk too much. I’m gonna sit out here ’til it’s time to bounce.”

  “Thanks for telling me about Lexi. And for the weed.”

  “Anytime, bro. Anytime.”

  30

  Lexi

  I pushed him away. I had to do it to avoid becoming someone I promised myself I wouldn’t. Because I need to be stronger than she was. And I am. I pushed. And yet . . .

  I can’t believe he left.

  I always knew he would, but it stings more than it should.

  No one ever stays when the shit hits the fan. It’s better this way, before things got too complicated. Before our lives were endlessly intertwined. I made the right choice. But fuck . . .

  Why does it hurt so badly? I can hardly catch my breath.

  The boys are gone and won’t be back anytime soon. The minute Trent walked off the bus I grabbed my guitar and notebook, barely able to stumble back to my bedroom and lock the door without losing myself in a fit of tears. Only then did I let myself cry. I had my pity party for one, and when I couldn’t find peace in that, I turned off the light and tried to find sleep. But snuggling into the bedding only increased my thoughts of Trent. How only hours ago his body, strong and capable, made me feel every inch of arousal, with every touch of his hands on my skin, every kiss, and that glorious tongue. He marked me, owned me, and I’ll probably never be able to sleep in this bed without remembering.

  The seconds turn to minutes, and minutes to hours. Without a glance at my phone I know it’s almost time to roll out of this city and head to our next stop. The bus engines roar to life. The rumble is soothing, familiar, and the exhaustion of the day presses down. My eyelids flutter shut and I’m close to giving in to sleep when I hear the guys board the bus. Their drunken banter, faint enough I can’t make out the words, heightens my awareness. As much as I don’t want to, I strain to listen for his voice.

  I shouldn’t have. His singing is loud enough to greet me. “In the jungle, the mighty jungle . . . Fuck! Pick up your shoes, jackass. I ’most killed myself.”

  There’s a scuffle and more words I can’t make out. I consider stuffing a pillow over my ears but instead sit up so I can eavesdrop better.

  Bang, bang, bang! The beating at my door startles me, and my pulse races at an unhealthy pace. The knocking continues even louder.

  “I know you’re in there. Mmm sorry, Lex. Sexy Lexi with the fucking sexy legs. Please open the door.”

  I don’t, though. I don’t answer in hopes he’ll stumble back to his bed and sleep it off. I wonder how much he drank. If he hooked up with any girls. Damn it, Lexi. Of course he did. He’s Trent Donavan.

  “Open the fucking door!” he shouts. The bus thrusts forward, and there’s another thud against the door. It may have been his body.

  “Go to bed, Donavan! She’s not opening the door.” Sean. He’s always looking out for me.

  “I can’t! I need to talk to her! Lexi! Lexi please. Please, please, please, baby. Open this goddamn door. I’ll shout all night until you do.”

  “Someone shut him up!” Austin.

  “Lexi, come out and talk to me, baby.”

  When he calls me baby my anger from before resurfaces like a tidal wave. Baby. I’m not his baby. I have a name, and I refuse to be grouped along with all his other babies. Shoving off the covers, I pad to the locked door and bang my fist at the thin panel. “What? You want me to come out? What then, Trent?”

  “We can work this out,” he says, sounding so pained and so close it’s as if he’s leaning against the door.

  My body battles with my mind, hand already on the knob, but I can’t give in. “We can’t work this out. I don’t want to be with you.” I whisper it so low I’m not sure he’ll hear.

  “You do! I fucking know you do!” he screams and the doorknob rattles. He swears and hits the door again. “Like all the other women tonight. Everyone wants something from me. You want me.”

  I draw my hand back. His words burn. “You’re an ass!”

  “Open the door, Lexi.”

  “No. No! You don’t get to come here and demand shit from me. And I refuse to come out and
smell the stench of some skank all over you!”

  “I don’t smell like anyone else, Lexi. I swear I didn’t fuck anyone tonight.” His words slur with his begging, but they don’t make me come closer.

  “How can I believe you?”

  “You just can. Fuck.”

  But I can’t. I can’t believe and I can’t trust. Maybe that’s not his fault. Maybe it’s just me and how broken I am. Either way, I step back and climb into bed, and drag the covers around my body like a shield.

  When I don’t respond he laughs, an intoxicated overzealous sound. “Open the door and inspect my dick. I didn’t fuck anyone, Lex.” He laughs again, almost a giggle as if he’s high. “How could I when Mr. Trent only wants you. I only . . . Please let me in. Let your jungle lion come back to his queen.”

  “Go to bed, Trent.” I grab my phone, click the do not disturb, and affix my headphones to play my go-to list. I can no longer hear him. I wonder from the occasional rumble of the bus if he’s given up on banging at the door.

  I don’t sleep well, my mind full of unrest, but I manage to catch a few hours. Early in the morning, when sunlight cascades through the cracks in the window shades, I ditch the headphones and cocoon myself beneath the blankets. The only sound that enters is the steady rhythm of the bus chugging down another US highway.

  A nagging feeling keeps me from falling back asleep, though. Regret. It’s something I don’t have much experience with. It pounds alongside my headache and burning eyelids, the aftermath of too many tears.

  The new day brings perspective, and I realize I need to talk to Trent. We can’t just leave things the way they are. Not with another two months of this tour on the horizon. I won’t be responsible for hurting him, for fucking things up with the band. The more I consider last night and the words he said, the more I come to understand how upset he was. Something I didn’t expect when I demanded he leave.

  I toss the covers off and step to the door, needing to use the restroom before I find caffeine and aspirin to kill the throbbing in my temple. Unlocking the doorknob, I twist the handle to open the door, and almost scream when I practically trip on the big body blocking my path.

  Trent.

  He groans, lifts his head, and rubs the sleep from his face. “Lexi.” There’s so much depth in the way he murmurs my name that my eyes begin to water. He scrambles off the ground, still blocking my path, but now I have to look up to meet his gaze.

  The other guys must still be sleeping because the only sound that stretches between us is the groan of the bus motor. “What are you doing on the floor?” I say just above a whisper.

  “I wanted to be close to you.” His gaze lowers and he reaches out until his fingers thread through mine. He squeezes, a simple touch, but it’s what I needed. “I’m sorry, Lexi. I’m sorry I left you last night. I should have never done that.”

  “I pushed you.”

  “But I know better than to fall for that. It won’t happen again. You can’t keep me away.” His lips kick up with a smile. “I’ll wait at your door until you open up.”

  “I’m not good at letting people in.”

  “We’ll figure it out together.”

  “How can you be sure? What happens when you get tired of waiting? Or dealing with my shit. What happens after this tour is over?”

  He steps closer still. Only a fraction of space exists between us, and even though I ache for his touch, to lean into him, I have to know these answers. I can’t go in blindly. I can’t get lost in him. The risk of losing myself is too high.

  “You’re still wearing my necklace,” he whispers, his eyes focused at my throat.

  “Well, it’s my necklace.”

  He grins, lifting my hand with his until he holds them both against his heart. The rock steady beat slows my nerves. “I’m glad you didn’t take it off.”

  “I’m scared,” I whisper. My eyelids lower because his stare is too much. Too knowing. Too full of love and promises and things I never expected.

  “We figure this out. Together.” His lips ghost over mine in a gentle kiss, one that’s careful because any more and I might break. “Together.” He says again and releases my hand. Both of his arms wrap me in an embrace that brings my body flush with his.

  “I’m sorry I pushed you away,” I whisper into his chest.

  His lips rest atop my head as he hugs me tighter. “I’ve got you, Lex. If you push, I’ll pull. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Promise?” The question leaves before I can reel it back.

  He answers before I even try. “Always.”

  31

  Trent

  I thought I was living the good life. That I had made it. That the years of being broke and chasing dreams were worth it, because I had achieved the ultimate dream: playing music for a living; gaining fame and all the perks that came with it, including a seemingly limitless supply of money and women.

  I was wrong. So fucking wrong. Nothing comes close to the satisfaction and pure wellness that fills my soul. All from one woman. Because that woman is mine. Lexi owns me, everything I am, without pretense or bullshit. She’s the most honest, real person I know, and this past week together has been both exciting and enlightening.

  She’s letting me in and I take that as a true honor. From city to city we give our best performances, and at night, tangled together in sheets, we learn each other’s bodies. But more than that, we learn our stories. Those sacred, insignificant moments in our lives, like first kisses and heartbreaks, tenth birthday parties and childhood friends, filling in all the spaces of our pasts. She hasn’t talked about her father, or the day Iz told me about when things went wrong, but I trust she will when she feels safe and ready. It’s quickly become my goal to earn that from her, because she’s already done that for me. I can tell her anything. Like I said, she owns me.

  The guys have been surprisingly good with things. Sure, they give us shit and complain about having to listen to us have sex, when in reality, I know they’ve heard worse. Lexi gives it right back, though, her feistiness and sarcasm unscathed by our new relationship. If anything, I’m the one struggling not to go ballistic every time one of the guys throws out an insult. Even in good fun, a protectiveness I can’t contain comes over me.

  We roll into Ohio, our third show of the week, and Bedo’s there to greet us before we head out for a press tour. The thought of leaving Lexi on the bus while we meet radio station hosts and give interviews doesn’t hold much appeal today, but it comes with the job.

  “Go, do your thing. I need to work on stuff anyway,” she says, pulling on a tight T-shirt that shows her curves.

  “A few things?” I raise a brow and meet her reflection from where I’m styling my hair in the mirror.

  Her face lights up with a smile and she almost bounces on the balls of her feet. “Amie called me when you were taking a shower. After this tour, I’m recording my first full-length album. In a professional studio, using a legit producer, not paid for with my life savings. I’m so excited!”

  “That’s great, babe!” I turn and pick her up when she jumps into my arms, squeezing her tight and swinging her in a half circle.

  “Sorry, I know that’s pretty average news for you, but this is a big deal.” She pulls out of my arms and tries to play off her excitement, but her eyes still hold their joy.

  “I remember what it’s like, Lex. It hasn’t been that long since 3UG was just a bunch of nobodies touring in a rented van, using tips to pay for gas and bumming a place to stay the night courtesy of our fans’ generosity. This is big. I’m so fucking proud of you. When are you going to record?”

  “Not ’til September. But she wants to book the time now.”

  “In LA?” I hate how needy I sound, but I can’t stand the thought of her being far away. I know it’s a possibility; more like a probability. We might share the same career, but logistically, it’ll be a challenge to be together after this tour.

  “Amie said she’ll email over some options. Right now,
I just want to focus on getting my best songs ready. Maybe write something new.”

  “You’re gonna kill it.” I pull her in my arms for a kiss. The intention is a quick good-bye peck, but when her fingers thread into my hair and tug me closer, I lose myself in her spell.

  Knock, knock, knock. “Break it up, lovebirds. Time to roll, T,” Austin yells through the door.

  “That’s me.” I pull my lips away with a grin and Lexi shakes her head.

  “You may need to fix that hair.” She lets loose a giggle and steps back, climbing onto the bed where her notebook and guitar await.

  “It was perfect until someone messed it up.” Stepping in front of the mirror, I have to laugh.

  “What a bitch.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Nah. She can mess it up anytime.” I finish combing it down with my fingers and grab the door handle. “Later, Lex.”

  “See you soon.”

  Some stuff never gets old, like being onstage, or recording a new single, or even being awarded recognition from peers. But other stuff, like today when we’ve spent the last three hours going radio booth to booth, being asked the same questions and having to appear engaged when all I want to do is get back to the bus, I feel every bit the entitled rock star I am. Same fucking questions. Same fucking answers. It gets old.

  “Trent, you’ve been known for being a bit of a player with the ladies. Can I ask, how does the field in Ohio hold up compared to other states?” The disc jockey asking this wears a stupid smile.

  I tap an anxious beat against the denim of my jeans because I’m not exactly sure how to answer. Sure, Lexi and I aren’t seeing anyone else, but we also haven’t had that conversation. The one about how to deal with press, or really anyone outside this tour. I haven’t even approached the subject with Bedo, though I’m sure he suspects we’re together more than not. I lift my gaze to him instead of the DJ, and catch his narrowed glare. My guess is he also doesn’t approve.