Love Letter Duet: The Encore Edition

by Callie Anderson

  The first week was horrible. Four guys in a small van, following a luxurious tour bus, wasn’t exactly what I’d call living the dream. We were crammed into a tiny motel room with two double beds. Axel couldn't sleep because he was stressed about our performance, which led him to constantly pacing the room. I continuously checked my phone because I missed Emilia, Pete shuffled a deck of cards non-stop to keep himself occupied, and Harry tried to get laid after every show. Most nights no one got any sleep from the loud moans and religious beliefs of the girls he ended up with fucking in the bathroom. It was fucking miserable. I didn’t want to be ungrateful for the opportunity, but being on the road like this was harder than I expected.

  By the second week, we'd gotten accustomed to things. Axel had finally calmed down, Pete had put the cards away, and Harry…

  Well, he was still trying to get laid.

  I spoke to Emilia every morning before she left for work and we'd text back and forth throughout the day. It was the only thing that kept me going. I missed that damn girl with every ounce of my being. I wanted my muse back in my arms. I didn’t care how big of a pussy it made me.

  Me: I miss you.

  Emmy: I love you.

  Me: 16 more days.

  Emmy: 15 1/2 plus 3 hours.

  Me: Lol

  Emmy: Are you ready for today's performance?

  I sighed at her message. It was tough at first because no one knew who the hell we were, but they stuck around and listened to our performance since they had their VIP passes. The performances were getting easier, and the music flowed, but we were still singing other artists’ music. Axel said it was good practice for us on stage as well as the chance to learn some new choreography, so I took it all in, trying to appreciate the experience and soak every ounce of it up.

  Me: I’m ready to see you. Just a few more hours.

  Emilia: I love you. Kick ass later.

  Me: I love you too. x

  We were warming up under our tent when a familiar face greeted us. I’d seen him before, but I’d never caught his name.

  “Hey, Gus.” I could tell by the way Axel greeted him with a firm handshake that he was the director of some bullshit at Q135. After he and Axel exchanged pleasantries, he looked over to the rest of us.

  “You guys have done a great job these past four weeks,” he said, nodding with approval. ”At first we were a little hesitant, not knowing how you guys played as a band, but I'm actually here for a different reason.” He reached over and patted Axel on his shoulder. ”We want you guys to join us on our Jingle Festival Tour. We had a band who recently dropped out at the last minute, so we have a slot to fill. You guys will be the opening act, get to see a few different cities, and hopefully make some new friends backstage. It will be great exposure for you guys.”

  From my peripheral, I could see all their smiles: Pete, Harry, and Axel. They were eating this up. This could be the break we needed. The chance to tag along on a well-known tour and get our names out there. To be noticed by people other than the usual folks that frequented Yorks. We would be backstage with other musicians, producers, and music executives. I could see the light bulb shining over Axel's head. He was thinking the same thing.

  My own smile faltered as I thought of her. Emilia. It would mean I would be away from her for three months. Four weeks had been torture. But three months? How could I survive that many days away from her? If we did this show, we’d back on the road in a few days. Touring on a real stage had been my dream for as long as I could remember, but being with Emilia was becoming my new dream. Together we could conquer the world, and I would have it all.

  Once Gus left, Axel pretty much skipped his way over to where I stood. You would have thought he spent the last ten minutes talking to John Lennon. I understood his excitement. I felt it too. Deep down I was thrilled for this opportunity, and there was no way I was going to let it pass us by. But something kept tugging at my heart. More like someone. Her father had gone off and become a famous rock star. Would she be okay with me doing the same? Would we be okay?

  “Wes, man.” Axel snapped his fingers at me. “You okay?” he asked when I looked up at him. He was giddy as fuck, grinning from ear to damn ear.

  “Yeah.” I quickly smiled. “This is awesome!” And it was. Things would work out.

  “All the pussy a man can have,” Harry chimed in and humped the air.

  I shook my head at his typical rocker antics and turned away from the guys as Pete argued with Harry about taking this opportunity seriously. The tour would be starting in a few days. I rubbed the back of my neck, deep in thought. I would barely be home before I had to turn back around.

  “Yo.” Axel approached me. “What’s going on?”

  Clearing my throat, I looked over at him. We were friends, but we were also in a band together. The last thing I needed was to keep any doubts from him. He knew me, and that meant he could tell something was up. It was best just to let him know what I was thinking.

  “What am I going to tell Emilia?” I gulped.

  Axel’s brows lifted. “That's what you’re worried about?” He pulled out his pack of cigarettes, shook one out and placed it between his lips. “She knows the deal, man. Bloody hell, she was born on a tour bus.”

  “I know, but does that mean she wants that for herself?” I asked Axel, but I knew I was really asking myself that question.

  “Listen—”

  “You guys are on in five!” a loud voice interrupted us from outside of the tent.

  I cracked my neck, releasing all the tension.

  “Emmy isn't that kind of girl.” Axel took a drag of his cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. “She loves you, man. Trust me, she'll be happy for you.”

  I wanted to believe Axel. I’d have to trust that he was right.

  20

  EMILIA

  The four weeks were almost up, and I was counting down the days until Weston came home. We’d missed each other’s calls more often than not because he was mostly able to talk while I was at work, and my work schedule was hectic since we were approaching the tour date. In an effort to make the four weeks pass quickly, I’d also pulled shifts every Friday and Saturday night at Sparrows. Even though our calls were short and sparse, he was ecstatic every time I spoke to him.

  Axel’s plan was a success; Elephant Room’s social media fan page grew by the day, and fans began to post pictures of the guys. Late at night, when I missed Weston the most, I logged on and stared at him on stage, imagining what song he was playing at that particular moment. As the weeks passed, the pictures showed how the crowd surrounding them on the small elevated stage grew. As I had predicted, they were becoming a success.

  Over the past week, I’d been running a low-grade fever and had a nasty head cold. Elephant Room’s last performance was the Thursday before Memorial Day weekend and Weston would be home in the next day or two, so I needed to get some rest. Crawling into bed at seven, I pulled my phone off the charger and sent Weston a goodnight text message.

  Me: Enjoy your last show. I can’t wait to see you. I love you.

  Placing my phone on my nightstand, I took the antibiotics the doctor prescribed.

  The covers on my bed shifted and a cold draft brushed past my warm skin. The mattress next to me sank in.

  I was no longer alone in bed.

  “Les . . .” I complained.

  Calloused hands wrapped around my body and tugged me closer, my back resting against his chest. Weston’s manly scent invaded my small room. “Shh, I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

  My eyes flew open. This all seemed too real to be a dream. Twisting to face him, I guided my hand over his face. The scruff on his cheeks must have been at least three days old. “Am I dreaming? Are you really here?” My voice cracked and my eyes pooled with tears.

  Weston’s deep chuckle was music to my ears. “Unless you were expecting someone else?”

  My hands clung to his body. “Your show?” I bit back a sob.
r />   “I rented a car and left the second it was over.”

  “You were almost seven hours away.”

  “And I laid rubber to kiss you goodnight.” His hands cupped my face. Our lips were mere centimeters from each other when I pulled away.

  “I’m sick. I don’t want to get you sick.”

  “Emilia, I didn’t drive all night and practically break into your house so I could not kiss my girl.” Before I had the chance to protest, Weston stole a kiss.

  He was here.

  He was finally home.

  Weston fell asleep clutching me to his body. I lay awake watching him sleep. The hours passed, the sun rose, but I refused to move from my bed. Weston finally awoke a little after eleven. My hands were tucked under the pillow as he pried his eyes open.

  “Morning, beautiful.” He spoke in a raspy voice. “How are you feeling?”

  My smile grew. “Much better now that you’re home.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick? I noticed the prescription bottle.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you. It’s just a sinus infection. I’ll be as good as new in a few days.”

  “Come here.” He reached for me, our bodies wrapped together. Inhaling my scent, he whispered, “Do you have any idea how much I missed you?”

  My fingernails scraped along his ribs. “I don’t have to leave the house until Tuesday. Why don’t you show me?”

  “That seems like the right thing to do.” He bit down on my shoulder. “But do you mind if I take a shower first? I feel like I have a month’s worth of dirt on me.”

  Weston headed towards the bathroom as I strolled to the kitchen to make us something to eat. The shower ran for a long time before he turned it off. Serving us breakfast in bed, I joined Weston back in my room with eggs, toast, and a fresh cups of coffee. His eyes were tired as though he hadn’t slept in days.

  “Are you okay?” I asked when he only picked at his food.

  “Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind. It was a stressful four weeks, a lot of pressure to perform well.” He sipped his coffee.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Weston took our empty plates and stacked them on the dresser. A mischievous grin appeared on his face. “I don’t want to do anything but love you until my knees give out.”

  I bit my lower lip. Talking was overrated.

  Weston and I refused to leave my bedroom, but hours of sex made us ravenous. Ordering out, we sat in my kitchen devouring a pizza. Though clothes were against the rules in my room, we got dressed since Leslie would be home from work soon. Wearing booty shorts and Weston’s T-shirt, I stared at him, dressed in jeans but no shirt. I was infatuated with him; I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. Every possible chance I had I stole a kiss, a hug, at times even a tender touch.

  Keys clattered outside as Leslie opened the front door. “Hello!” she shouted into the house. “I’m coming in. If you two are doing it, now would be a good time to stop.” Weston laughed as Leslie walked inside with her hands covering her eyes.

  “Ass, we’re dressed.”

  Leslie joined us in the kitchen, where her greedy hands reached for a slice of cooling pizza. “I can see you two have been busy today.” She looked over at me and winked. “I’m kidding. It’s good to have you back Weston.”

  A smile quirked his lips. “It’s good to be back.”

  “Why don’t you sit and eat, Les?” I said as she walked around with the slice in her hand.

  “Can’t do. Harry called. He and the guys are on their way back. You two aren’t the only ones who have some making up to do. Plus,” she grabbed another slice, “I need to get laid as much as possible since you guys leave on Tuesday.”

  My head cocked. Tuesday?

  I faced Weston. His chin had fallen to his chest and his shoulders were tense. Exhaling, he cracked his neck. “We have to leave again for the Summer Ball Festival on Tuesday morning.”

  No.

  I just got him back; he couldn’t leave again.

  Leslie ducked out of the kitchen without making a sound. I wanted to scream. My heart ached with each beat. “Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice was barely audible.

  Weston turned his chair toward mine. His hand scratched the back of his neck as he tried to find his words. “I didn’t want to see you upset.”

  “So you lied?”

  “No.” Weston pulled me onto his lap. “I was going to tell you. I just didn’t want to ruin our time together.”

  My palms framed his face. I wanted to believe everything would work out, but the pain at the pit of my stomach told me I was dead wrong. Four weeks was hard. Three months would be excruciating.

  “Em.” his fingers slid up my back, “Say something.”

  “I’m only upset because I’m selfish and I want you all to myself. But I’m so happy for you, Wes.” I kissed his lips. “My boyfriend is going to be famous. But next time, can you be the one to tell me?”

  “I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” His hands ran up my back and under his shirt.

  “Promise me we won't leave the bed until Tuesday.”

  “I promise.”

  21

  EMILIA

  Love sucks.

  It brings you the most joy and then it rips it away, leaving your heart dismantled.

  I tried to stay positive. I went to bed the following few nights before Weston left again and repeated the mantra that everything would work itself out.

  But I didn’t believe it.

  That Tuesday morning, I woke up early, showered, and got ready for work. Weston was still fast asleep on my bed. I bent over and kissed his soft lips. “Call me later,” I whispered in his ear.

  “Em?” He captured my hand so I couldn't walk away.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Tell me you love me.” His groggy voice made me want to crawl back in bed and never leave his side.

  “I love you.”

  “And I you.”

  I didn’t look back as I left my house.

  It was three months. There were people in this world who’d spend years without seeing their loved one.

  It was three months.

  When I arrived home later that night, I found Leslie on the couch. A small cooler sat on the coffee table with Smirnoff Ice. “Just the person I was waiting for. How was your day?” she asked.

  “Uneventful,” I muttered. Dropping down next to her, I reached for a bottle. “It’s going to be a quick three months, right?”

  “The quickest,” Leslie lied.

  Soaking our hearts in alcohol, we sat in silence.

  “What are you most afraid of? I mean about Weston being on tour?” Leslie asked. Her eyes were focused on the plant that sat by the window. “Drugs or groupies?”

  “I was going to say that maybe he would enjoy the freedom and never come back to me, but I hadn’t thought about those two. Thanks for that.”

  “Harry’s been doing a lot of cocaine lately,” she mumbled.

  “Well, aren’t you a blast to talk to tonight.” The last thing I needed to think about was Weston and drugs. That fear was too close to my heart.

  Leslie chugged back her drink and dropped her head on my lap. “I’m afraid they’re going to make it big and Harry will never look at me again since he’ll be able to have any girl he wants. They’ll sit in his fancy hotel room, in a big Jacuzzi tub, and get fucking high.”

  I giggled. She had let that image stew in her mind all day. “I’m afraid of Weston breaking my heart.”

  “A heartbreak does hurt like a motherfucker.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder why I’m your friend,” I huffed. “You suck at giving advice.”

  Love was a parasite.

  It feeds off your body, claiming everything as it grew.

  Weston called every night after his set was complete and stayed on the phone with me until I fell asleep. It was the highlight of my day. Every night he told me about his set list, what new mate
rial he and the guys were working on, and which artist they met while on the tour. I told him how busy I was at work, making sure the tour he was on ran smoothly, and I complained about not being able to kick this damn cold.

  By the last week of June, I was okay with him being away. Cinthia would be having her baby within the next few weeks and I was confident I would make her proud with my work. The sheer panic of losing Weston had subsided. I still missed him, but the calendar I hung in my cubicle assured me every day was one day closer to seeing him again.

  I was also counting the days until the Fourth of July. It would be my first day off since Memorial Day, and I desperately needed the break. I had been working close to fifty hours a week, and most weekends I brought work home with me.

  Sally, Leslie and I had planned a girls’ day out on Venice Beach for that day. Weston had a packed weekend, as well; his schedule consisted of three consecutive nights of shows. In the past week, Elephant Room had been moved from the makeshift stage in the parking lot to the first slot on the roster. They would be the official opening act for the headliner. Their concert outside the arena had grown so much it had become a fire hazard. Performing on the main stage drove the fans to their stage earlier. It was the first time they would be performing on a massive stage, and I wanted nothing more than to be there to watch them, but I would experience it first hand when the tour made its final stop at Staples Center in August.

  My head was buried in ads for next week's song rotation when Cinthia tapped on my cubicle. Her stomach was round like a basketball, and it appeared she would pop any minute. She needed to stop working and take her maternity leave, but she was stubborn, and constantly repeated, “Just one more day.”

  “Can I see you in my office, please?” She turned and waddled away.