Rocker Series

by Gina Whitney

  I moved to sit on the arm of the couch. My arm still connected to Ender’s. Where the fuck was the bottle of JD? I scanned the room, not paying anyone any mind. I had one singular thought. I needed to get wasted.

  I smiled as Jake walked over with the bottle JD. Thank fuck for Jake. “Here ya go. You’ll be needing this.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. What. The. Fuck. Ever.

  I grabbed the bottle, taking a long pull. The fiery libation heated my insides like no other. Well, not like no other, but it’s what I needed. Numbness. Dave walked a blonde bombshell in with her medical bag in tow. The boys parted as her long, tanned legs carried her closer to me. Her blond hair fell long over her one shoulder. The fact that she had a short, tight black pencil skirt didn’t help matters. I am all man. I do appreciate the beauty in all things…especially female things.

  “May I?” She removed Ender’s hand from mine, carefully bringing it in for a closer look. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. What have you gotten yourself into, Mr. Gunner?” She handed her bag to Ender, who accepted, and, by the way, stood there like a fucking mummy with his mouth agape.

  “May I ask everyone to leave?” she addressed the group, all of whom were staring at her like she was their favorite lollipop. “I’d like to treat him. He looks like he could use a few stitches, a soak in the tub, and early to bed.” She motioned for me to have a seat on the couch. I complied.

  “I think I’ll be staying, doc.” Ender’s voice rang a little too sweetly. “Everybody, clear the room. I’ll call you when she’s done with Abel. No worries. I’ve got this,” he addressed them with authority.

  “Your choice, sir,” she stated flatly.

  And so it began. She might as well have pulled out a red cape, flagging it at the bull. Game on Ender.

  “Yes, it is my choice…Pet.” Ender opened her leather satchel full of medical aids. She stiffened at his words, but his hand came to rest on her lower back. “I will leave you to it. I’m going to make some coffee for him.” He nodded toward me. She nodded in agreement. I gave him an eye-roll. Whatever.

  “Ahem. Anytime this year would be fine. And I don’t need fucking coffee.” I motioned to the bottle of JD. “I’ve got this fucker right here! My new BFF.” I took a swig. I needed that burn.

  “The alcohol’s thinning your blood. In turn, it’s going to be hard to stop the bleeding. Do you think it’s possible to refrain from drinking for a few hours?” Doc’s blond head tilted with curiosity as if she were speaking a foreign language and waiting to see if I had any idea to what she was saying.

  “Listen, Lady Bird, I’ll let you do whatever the fuck you need to do and leave. In turn, you will keep your opinions to yourself…respectfully.” I smirked. Fuck her and her elitist attitude. “Here’s what you’re here to fix.” I gave her my hand. “I say you get to it.” I turned my attention back to JD. Who I’ve neglected for the better part of twenty minutes.

  “Ender,” I yelled across the room. I noticed her stance was now rigid. Good.

  “Yo?” he called back.

  “Bring me my guitar.”

  He walked in with a cup of coffee, gently laying it on the coffee table in front of me. He picked up the guitar I had chucked earlier and laid it on the couch with the neck across my lap. He knew what I needed and why. My only other source of comfort outside of the bottle was that fucking guitar.

  Lady Bird continued emptying her bag with everything that was necessary to aid my wound. She prepped the wound carefully, then asked Ender to fill a bowl with warm water. He did. Next, she laid a towel across my thighs and gently laid my hand upon it.

  My hand was suddenly killing me. I had a shooting, stabbing pain up my fucking arm and into my bicep. The sutures delivered a tight tugging sensation as she closed my gash. Was it my skin being pulled or my heart? Why. Why. Why did it always go back to her? My beauty.

  “Are you okay? Are you in pain?” Lady Bird’s warm breath on my aching hand had my heart wincing. She was on her knees, paying careful attention to her handiwork. Her aid was welcomed. Her insinuation was NOT. I knew women better than some knew themselves. Her tits resting on my knee whilst her tongue darted out to moisten her lips was not part of doctoring my wound. Motives. Every fucker had them. Lady Bird more than likely had motive leaking down her inner thighs.

  “Not the kind of pain you can help me with, Lady Bird.” I removed my hand from hers. We were done. “Ender, kindly show the doctor out.” My eyes never left hers. I didn’t need her conjuring up some moment that never happened.

  “I will leave these for you. You can’t take them while drinking. You may take two every four to six hours when you’re sober,” she instructed, straightening her skirt as she stood. Ender was right there to help her.

  “I didn’t mean any disrespect, sir. I was just offering my comfort as a physician,” she said while grabbing her antiseptics, gauzes, and medications, and quickly threw them in her bag.

  “Yeah, I got that, Lady Bird. It’s not you…it’s me and all that. Sorry, you caught me at a really fucking bad time.” I dismissed her with my hand. I meant every word of it, too. I probably sounded like a jerkoff. Fuck it. I had real hardcore shit to fret about. Not Lady Bird’s feminine feelings.

  “You’re a real asshole, you know that, right?” She grabbed her satchel hurriedly and turned her attention to Ender. “Make sure he doesn’t OD on the pain medication, please. In fact, here.” She handed them to him. “You’re in charge of that asshole now. I’m done. My office will forward the bill,” she said while walking to the door.

  “Relax, mama. He’s always an asshole, but he and his girl just fell out.” He removed a curl from her eye. “How about we meet up for a drink? You look like you could use one. I know I could,” he said, looking back at me.

  “Go fuck yourself, esse!” I grabbed my guitar, tugging it closer.

  “See? I’ve got to deal with this jackass.” He smiled at the blushing doctor.

  “Sure, why not.” She wrote her phone number on the back of a prescription pad, tore it off, and handed it to him. “Hopefully you have manners.” She then grabbed hold of the door handle.

  “I’ll call you later.” He opened the door for her to walk through while taking a good, long, lustful look at her from head to toe.

  Lady Bird turned back, fully flushed. She continued strutting her shit to the elevator. Ender closed the door with a long sigh.

  “Fuck, dude? What the fuck is wrong with you? We used to be simpatico. You’ve fuckin’ lost your shit.” He came over to take a seat. He went to grab my guitar, but I beat him to it.

  Luckily, my injured, gauzed-up hand wasn’t the one I used to pick with. I’d have to wait a few days until my hand was pliable enough to play the chords, though. Fuck. I shook my head, dismayed at myself. What a long fucking few days.

  “My head’s not straight. I’m not in a good place right now.” I decided to put the bottle of JD down. Those pain pills were looking better and better. I needed some relief. “Hand me the meds. My fucking hand’s killing me.” I stared at the mummy wrapped gauze around my hand. A testament of just how homicidal I was. Christ.

  “I’ll stay here tonight. I’ll order up some food. Then I’ll give you two pills.” Ender pulled the room service menu out of the drawer beside the couch. “When was the last time you’ve eaten, bro?”

  I shrugged. “Dunno? I haven’t been hungry.” I hadn’t been much lately. Barely existing aside from the air I was breathing or the JD I was guzzling.

  Ender silenced his phone and placed it on the table. “What can I do, bro? Tell me and it’s done! Give me something to work with here. You’ve alienated yourself from the band. We’re brothers…we want to help. Be there for you. Listen to you. Be the ear you need.” He shrugged. “We’ve been dudes since forever. Let us help you, bro— seriously. We’re all feeling your pain.” He gave way to a heavy sigh.

  It wasn’t until that moment that I truly felt his pain…my band’s pain. My life was affecting them all. That was not my in
tention. But depression’s a fucked-up evil squalor. It insidiously wraps its arms around you and squeezes until you can’t breathe. Can’t see. Can’t think. Can’t anything. That wasn’t my first go around with it. That fucker had plagued my youth. Music, meds, and fucking usually helped thwart some of its brutal effects, but not always. All it took was something significant to happen emotionally and the fucker was back, sucking the life out of me and anyone around me. Some people inherit normal things like eye color, hair color, even mannerisms. Not fucking me! I inherited depression from dear old mom. Fucking lovely. Well, I couldn’t luxuriate or decorate my way out of it the way she did. I wasn’t that fortunate. I looked to alcohol, drugs, and women to help me through it. And yet, the last was not an option that time. All I wanted was her love. Was that so much to ask for? To be with someone whose only motive was to love me for me? Not for what I could give them or do for them.

  I reclined enough to cover my eyes with my forearm. “I’m fucked. I’m really fucked over this girl, dude. I’ve never been so tormented by another person in my life…especially a lovely. You know?”

  I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging it. I always needed that pain. Pain was tangible. Fuck, I was a walking contradiction. I used drugs and alcohol to not feel. Then used pain to feel again. What. In. The. Fuck. Damn, I was a fucking mess.

  Ender grabbed my shoulder in a show of solidarity. I appreciated that. I really did. But, the bigger dominant part of me did not. I didn’t like the feeling. What it implied. I was stronger than that.

  “What is it about her, Abel? Why has she gotten to you? Don’t get me wrong. What went down was fucked-up, dude, but what is it about Gia?” He waited for my answer.

  I took my time. What was it? What the fuck was it about her? The first thought that came to mind was something I would never share with any dude— ever. I really missed her hair in my face.

  I sat forward with my forearms on my thighs. As if that would help me put into words all my befuddled thoughts of Gia. “All I can say is…I really miss the way her innocence tastes. If that makes any sense. I opened my eyes and my heart to her. She made my life beautiful— fulfilled. She’s everything I want. And everything I’m not.” I shrugged. What did he want from me? At that realization, my anger returned. “And what did I get from her? Dishonesty! She played me out. She fucking played me out!” I fisted my hands, ready to pound something.

  “Son, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m here to set the record straight. To tell you the truth as I know it.” My father’s voice rang out behind me. What was he doing there?

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I went to stand, but the room began to sway. Thankfully, Ender was there to spot me into my seat again. Fucker.

  “Hey, Mr. Gunner. I was just about to order up. You want?” Ender asked kindly, but with an air of caution. Fuck, he knew my father better than anyone. If my father were there, he’d be dismissed.

  “Thank you, but no. The boys are enjoying themselves at the bar. Why don’t you join them? I will order for myself and Abel. Thank you for looking after him, but I’ll take it from here.” He dismissed Ender as I thought. Of course. I shook my head.

  “No worries, later. Esse, call me if you need me.” He grabbed his iPhone and headed out with a slam of the door.

  And then it began. My father had successfully sequestered me.

  “I’m not in any mood for one of your father-son speeches.” I threw my legs up on the couch in an effort to thwart him from sitting next to me. So not fucking interested in his shit.

  He sat in a wingback chair, facing me, with his fingers steepled. A trait we both shared when something important plagued our consciousness. “Before you start with your rock-star attitude…let me just say I’m here on behalf of someone who I feel means the world to you. And I know beyond a doubt that said person feels the same. I have no motive other than the happiness of my only son. This goes far beyond money, privilege, social standings, or my profession. So let’s get that out of the way before you start your usual attacks. I’ve heard them all, and you couldn’t be further from the truth,” he shot out in one breath. Then he proceeded to pick up the suite phone to order a steak dinner for two.

  “You look like shit, Abel!” he threw out.

  “Why thanks for noticing, Dad.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Nice bandages. You’ve managed to harm yourself on top of everything else.” He shook his head.

  “On top of everything else? On top of everything like what? Getting fucked over by the only girl I’ve ever…” I abruptly stopped, biting my tongue. I didn’t need to defend myself. What was he getting at, anyway? What does he give a fucking shit for? He never gave a shit unless he had a monetary interest.

  He walked up to the bar and poured himself a scotch. He turned to me with a heartbroken face that I’d never witnessed my father having, ever. “When you left Gia on the tarmac…” He took another swig and refilled his glass.

  “And? What? When I left her what?” Panic laced my voice.

  He placed his scotch glass down. “When you left Gia on the tarmac, son…she overdosed.”

  I winced. His words put my heart in a triangle-choke-hold. Squeezing my once barely beating heart. I grabbed for my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Oh fuck. I couldn’t breathe. The pain…my heart was exploding. Oh God almighty, the pain.

  My father ran over, seeing my distress and rubbed my back. “Abel, breathe. She’s alive. Abel, she’s alive.”

  I lurched forward, vomiting all over the floor. What was he saying? My mind couldn’t compute the simplest words. I pressed into my diaphragm with all my might. I felt something lodged in there. My heart…my heart was gone. Dropped right the fuck out of me.

  He grabbed my chin. “Look at me.” I did. “She’s alive. Do you understand me, son? She’s alive and she’s here,” he yelled.

  My brain was a fucked-up mess of want, need, and alcohol.

  “She’s here?” I questioned. “How? I don’t understand?” My voice was thick with emotion. The pain in my chest was a testament of the depth of love I had for Beauty.

  “Let me explain everything to you. Can you listen for once in your life? Really listen and hear? Christ, you’re so thick-headed.” He huffed, pulling out a cigarette.

  Fuck, I didn’t even know my old man smoked? I nodded for him to continue. I needed answers.

  He blew out a ring of thick smoke before he started. “After you left her on the tarmac, she overdosed on pills. Not sure what it was. It really doesn’t matter. What’s important is she was found in time.” He shuddered before taking another long drag. “She’s been in the hospital up until early this morning. So while you’re living your life being angry at the world, some of us have had life-threatening issues to deal with.” He extinguished his cigarette and stared at me.

  What the fuck was going on? My brain became a turbine of irrational thoughts. I fisted my hair with my one good hand. What did I do? What did I do?

  “How is she?” My voice cracked. “Tell me how she is.” I pounded the table in front of me with my good hand. “I need to know!” I shouted. Unbeknownst to me…tears ran down my face. My father handed me his handkerchief from his suit jacket and I accepted it gruffly. God, my fucking heart hurt. I would never want or intend for any harm to come to her, ever. Especially by my hand. Never my hand. Never…

  “Listen, Abel, she’s had a very unforgiving life. But my suggestion is to let her tell you. It’s her story to tell. What I will say is that what Morgana eluded to is false. She was not going to fuck you over for lack of a better word. Quite the opposite actually…her mother’s a real treasure. One that I plan to personally deal with myself.” My father sneered, looking off toward the window.

  “She’s a product of her milieu, as we all are. That being said, you owe it to yourself and her to listen. To show her the man you project yourself to be. The man I know you are. You are your father’s son…stop fighting who you are. Show her compassion and deference. She will give you
the world. It’s the trifecta. Own her heart, trust, loyalty, and you’ve truly won. Her submission is the coup de grâce.” His primal black eyes stabbed at my soul. Or was that guilt?

  Like an eclipse, I was witnessing something rare. Seeing my father…really fucking seeing him. Not the man he projected to occupational contacts. The beast within him. The same beast that resided within me. This was a fucking eye-opening, outer-fuckin-body experience. A Dom knows another Dom. Why hadn’t I ever looked at my father? I really never looked deeper than his Emporio Armani suits with Hermes pocket squares.

  “Yes, son, I know what you are. You’re my doppelgänger. I know very well what you crave— need,” he announced. A mouthful of garble to someone else. To me, it was an admission of what he is…a Dom. I could hardly say the word silently within the confines of my own mind. I had many questions, but it was not the time. I wanted to see Gia. No, I actually needed to see her.

  “Get cleaned up! I will bring her up.” He nodded toward the bathroom. That wasn’t a request. More like an edict.

  I was sure I had looked like three-miles-of-shit. A hot shower and shave would’ve done me some good. Without looking back at my father, I left the room, more uplifted than I had been in a while. However, my mind was still reeling from if’s, why’s, and how’s. I decided to take his advice. Which was a surprise in itself. He was right to say I was thickheaded. I was. I was a real fucking asshole most of the time. My sudden guilt rode me harder than I expected. I never gave her a chance to explain. I took what the fucking cunt said as law. I should have never done that. I knew better, but my anger and overwhelming sense of betrayal didn’t allow me to recognize it. Why did it take finding out about her overdose to open my eyes? Love is truly blind.

  In life, there are many interpretations of why we do what we do. When you care deeply for someone, the least you could do is listen. Listening would’ve cost me nothing but time— time I wish I could go back and give. Reacting the way I did cost me dearly and nearly cost my beauty her life— a life I couldn’t live without. That girl had me undone. I decided we had both been through enough. Maybe there was a way of working it out without absolutely murdering each other emotionally. If there weren’t, I’d make one. Here’s what I did know: running was no longer an option. Running nearly put her and me in the grave. The only running I planned on doing was running to her. To my beauty— mine.