by Hamel, B. B.
“Grace,” he says.
“You blew up my life. Now I’m nothing but your wife, and my phone won’t stop ringing. It’s pathetic and I’m pathetic for falling for your crap, Joss. If Karl doesn’t send me home, I’m leaving.”
That seems to wake him up. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Yes, I am. There’s no reason for me to stay.”
“You still want a divorce.”
“I wanted this to be a secret, but that’s not happening anymore. So what’s the point? I might as well go home and deal with it later.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says. It’s almost a snarl and I’m surprised by the genuine possessive stare he’s giving me.
“Why do you care so much?” I ask him. “I’m a total stranger to you.”
“You’re not,” he says. “I’ve never… I never wanted to get married. But I did, I married you. There has to be a reason for it.”
“We were drunk. You were bored. I don’t know!”
“I was afraid of marriage before I met you,” he says softly. “But for some reason, with you… it felt right. It’s insane, but it felt right.”
I stare at him for a second and let that wash over me. It’s not just that he wants to control me, wants to own me… I think he feels something. I can see it in his eyes.
But no, he destroyed me. Maybe he felt something, but it doesn’t matter.
“Too late,” I say to him, turn away, and storm off.
He doesn’t chase after me. I’m thankful for that, although part of me wishes he would. I make it to the stairs and start trotting down. I make it about halfway before I lean up against a wall and cry.
I’m so stupid and pathetic. I’m crying in a stairwell like a freaking baby.
I don’t know how I ended up here, married to the rock star god of my dreams and hating every second of it.
14
Joss
I barely sleep that night.
Karl keeps most of the media at bay. I get him to promise to help Grace out with that as well, and he says he’ll do what he can, but won’t even look me in the eye.
I don’t blame him. I’d be pissed too. I basically forced him to accept Grace. He can’t exactly try to get rid of her now with all this attention we’re getting over this marriage thing.
I thought it was a good plan. I thought Grace would understand. I did it to call Karl’s bluff, to force him to accept her. I did it so that I could keep her.
I did it for me.
I knew I was fucking up as soon as the words were leaving my mouth. I wanted to reach out and shove it back down my throat, make myself choke on it, but I couldn’t. I got through the show, and as soon as it was over, I got out of there as fast as I could.
Now, Grace despises me, and I can’t blame her. I despise myself.
I sleep in late the next morning. I go knock on Grace’s door around ten, but she doesn’t answer. I find Chase downstairs getting some breakfast in the little café and he looks at me as I sit down.
“You okay?” he asks.
I shrug. I sip my coffee.
“You fucked up, huh?”
I nod.
“Pretty bad?”
I nod again.
“Dumbass.” He sighs. “What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “She’s pretty mad.”
“Can you blame her? You threw her under the fucking bus, man.”
“I didn’t… Fuck. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know you didn’t,” Chase says, softly this time. “I know you’re not a piece of shit.”
“Tell her that.”
“I will, but who knows if she’ll listen.”
I sigh and lean back in my chair. Chase watches me for a second.
“How bad is it?” I ask him. “I mean seriously, how bad?”
“About as bad as Landon on a normal day.” He grins at me. “She’ll see, man.”
“She’ll see what?”
He arches an eyebrow. “That you’re desperately in love with her.”
I laugh at him and he grins back. I sip my coffee before the waitress arrives and I order something to eat.
We slip into normal conversation about the show and about tonight’s gig, but that comment… it keeps eating at me.
He said it like he was kidding. I mean, I assumed he was kidding.
But what if he wasn’t joking?
Maybe Chase thinks I’m actually in love with Grace, but that’s crazy. I barely know the girl. I want her, that’s for sure. I want her so badly it almost makes my whole body ache. But love her?
I’ve never loved someone before. I’ve never let myself. I saw what love can do growing up. It causes two people to get divorced. It causes missed pickups, missed birthdays. I don’t need love, never did.
That’s what I thought about marriage, though. At least until I met Grace, took that stupid bet, and married her. I really didn’t think I’d go through with it…
But here we are. I married her. My song’s going on the album. I should be happy about that at least.
I guess that’s not what’s really important.
We eat and we talk but my mind’s still on Grace. When we finish, I head back up and knock on her door again. She doesn’t answer. I try calling her, but she ignores me. I try texting, but the same result.
Resigned to my fate, I head to my room. I have a few hours to kill before soundcheck this afternoon, so I decide to take a quick nap.
I get into bed, close my eyes, and immediately Grace is there. Her body against mine, her lips, her tongue. I can taste her, feel her… I can sense her smooth skin under my fingertips, her full breasts, her tight stomach, her round ass… I can hear her breathing, her moaning, her mouth near my ear, my cock buried inside her tight, wet pussy, as I grind deeper and deeper and pleasure blooms all over—
Knocking at my door.
My eyes flip open. I grunt and sit up. I have a fucking hard-on like crazy, and there’s more knocking.
“Hold the fuck up,” I yell and slowly stand, willing my fucking boner to soften. I had a goddamn sex dream in the middle of that nap. I bet I was about to fucking jizz in my sleep.
All because of Grace. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Finally, my dick responds and softens enough for me to pull my pants back on and answer the door. Karl’s there, looking sour.
“We can’t find Landon.”
I take a second to let the words sink in. “Okay,” I say slowly. “I assume you tried all the usual stuff?”
“Calling, texting, all that shit. We don’t know where he is and soundcheck is in a couple hours.”
I glance at my phone. “Shit. Okay. When was the last time someone saw him?”
“Chase says last night. Saw him go into his room.”
I nod. “Okay, that’s good.”
“Maybe.” Karl gives me a stony look. “We gotta find him.”
“I know, I know. Okay, go tell the hotel manager to keep an eye out for him.”
“That’s gonna leak.”
“Then fucking bribe him.”
Karl shrugs and walks away. I try calling Landon’s phone, but it goes right to voicemail.
“Shit,” I say softly to myself. I walk over to Grace’s door and bang on it this time.
There’s no answer.
“Grace!” I call out. “I need your help.” I bang harder now, rattling the door.
Finally, I hear something inside. Just some movement.
“Grace, please! It’s not for me. It’s Landon.”
The door unlocks and opens a crack. The chain cuts across her face as she peers out at me.
“Is he okay?”
“I don’t know,” I say, sighing. “He’s missing.”
“What can I do?”
“I need you to help look for him.”
She frowns. “Why?”
“Because we can’t trust most people, and every single extra pair of eyes helps. Please, do this for the band.
You can hate me all you want.”
“I don’t hate you.”
That makes me pause. “You don’t?”
“No. You’re a selfish asshole and I’m very angry with you. But I don’t hate you.”
“Oh.” Weird excitement blooming in my chest. “Okay. That’s good.”
“Don’t get excited. Asshole.” She slams the door in my face.
I stand there for a second. She doesn’t hate me. She totally should, but she doesn’t.
The door opens and Grace steps out. She’s wearing a hooded sweatshirt, yoga pants, and running shoes. She pulls the hood up over her head.
“Let’s go find that idiot,” she says, and stalks off toward the elevators.
I stare at her ass, perfect in the tight yoga pants, before following after her.
* * *
Grace strokes her chin. “If I were a crazy drunken drummer, where would I go?”
We’re standing outside of the venue, back to where it all began. This was Grace’s idea. Nathan and Chase are looking around closer to the hotel, so she figured we should look around the venue.
“Chances are he wandered in a bar and never wandered out,” I say.
She nods, slowly looking around. “What looks fun?” she asks.
I blink and shrug. “I have no clue.”
We’re in downtown Manhattan, surrounded by big, beautiful buildings. There’s a bar attached to the theater, but I doubt he would’ve gone in there. Grace makes another noise but looks across the street.
“What’s that?” she asks, pointing.
“Fairway?” I read. “I have no clue.”
“Let’s go.”
We cross the street together. I stay slightly behind, admiring her sweet ass the whole time. I should be more concentrated on finding my friend but just being with Grace again is making me feel hopeful.
I know, I know, she’s only doing this to find Landon. She doesn’t give a shit about me. Well, she doesn’t hate me, but she’s still pissed. I get it. Still, I can almost forget that I blew her life up like a fucking idiot.
We stop outside of Fairway. “Market,” she says, frowning. “No way he would’ve come in here.”
“Unless…” I trail off, getting an idea. I head inside of the store and she hustles to keep up.
The young guy behind the counter looks bored as I approach. “Excuse me?”
He looks up, and recognition blooms in his eyes. “Uh, yeah, hey.”
“Did a guy come in here last night, about this tall,” I hold my hand up in the air, a bit shorter than me, “brown eyes, big smile? He would’ve bought a big bag of Swedish Fish.”
“You mean, uh, the drummer?” He grins at me. “I’m a big fan.”
“Thanks, man. So did you see him?”
“I didn’t, but I heard he stopped in.”
I glance back at Grace, grinning huge. She gives me a look as I turn back to the guy.
“What did he say?” I ask. “Do you know where he went?”
He looks a little uncomfortable. “Well, apparently he came in and started yelling about something, and knocked over some displays. He did try to steal some Swedish Fish, though.”
I groan. “That sounds right. Did you get him arrested?”
“Nah, apparently he ran off before they called the cops.”
“Okay,” I say. “Is anyone here that saw him last night?”
“Sorry, no.” He shrugs. “Wish I could help more.”
“You helped a lot already. Thanks.”
“Hey, uh, could I get a picture. Just real quick?”
I grin at Grace as she takes the photo with the kid’s phone. When it’s done, we head outside and stand on the sidewalk.
“Okay, so he was here,” she says. “He could be anywhere by now, though.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But where would you go, if you were him?” I grab her hand and pull her toward me. “Don’t think. Where would you go?”
“That way.” She points down the block, over her shoulder.
“Okay then.” I release her hand and march on. Grace follows, falling into step next to me.
We come to the end of the block and we go straight. Up ahead, there’s a sidewalk under construction and a few of the cones were kicked over. I give her a look but she seems skeptical.
We keep walking. There’s a café, some pet store, a T-Mobile store, but nothing that would catch my eye.
“How far would he go?” she asks me.
“Not much further,” I admit. “I think he’d be getting bored by now. It’s been, what, three blocks?”
“Two.”
“Let’s give it one more.”
We get to the end of the block and cross the street. Nothing looks promising until a little sign on an unassuming door catches my eye.
“What’s this?” I ask. I walk over and read the sign out loud. “‘The Mayor.’ Sounds interesting.”
“You think…?” she trails off.
I shrug. “Let’s find out.”
I pull the door open and we step inside. Fortunately, the place is open. It looks like a little hipster gastropub, all dark leather booths, wood chairs and high tops, and lots of whisky bottles behind the bar. It’s barely lit by a bunch of Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling.
It’s empty and the AC is blasting. The bartender’s standing at the bar end, watching a small TV mounted in a corner.
“Hey there,” I say to the guy. He’s older, in his fifties, with a thick mustache and thin, gray hair.
“What can I get you two?”
“Actually, I was hoping you could help me.” I pull out a stool and sit down. “My friend might’ve come in here last night.”
“Lots of people come in here,” he says.
“You would’ve seen my friend. Crazy guy, named Landon. Probably drank too much.”
He groans. “You know that guy?”
I look at Grace, eyes wide, excitement surging. She shakes her head, grinning with me.
“We’re looking for him,” I say. “He didn’t come home last night.”
The bartender raises an eyebrow. “Really? I put him in a cab myself.”
“A cab?” I frown. “Where’d he go?”
“Told me he was staying at the Ritz, so… I sent him there.”
I groan. “That’s not where we’re staying.”
The guy shrugs. “Well, I told the cabbie to take him there.”
I nod once and stand. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Sure thing. Hope your friend’s okay. He was pretty drunk.”
“Did he… do anything? I mean, yell or something?”
“Nope,” the guy says. “He was actually pretty pleasant until he fell asleep.”
“Got it. Thanks again.”
He nods and goes back to watching his TV. We leave the place and I flag a cab down as Grace crosses her arms.
“Lucky guess,” she tells me.
“Nah,” I say, grinning. “You’re psychic. We’re just following your lead.”
We climb into the back of a cab and I tell him to take us to the Ritz.
“That didn’t sound like him back there, did it?” she asks me.
“No, not really.” I frown. “I mean, he’s not always a violent psycho.”
“Does he go off on his own very often?”
“No,” I admit. “Not often. Although you probably think is normal.”
“Definitely not normal.”
“Believe me, this isn’t common or normal. He was more… subdued last time.”
“What changed?”
I shrug, looking out the window. “We got famous, I guess.”
She doesn’t response for a second. “Isn’t that what you all wanted?”
I watch the buildings flash by, all the people, all their lives happening in quiet, in private. “It’s easy to want something, but hard to understand exactly what it is.” I look over at her. “I don’t think Landon knew what this would really mean for our lives. He doesn’t like all the p
ressure or the spotlight.”
“You’re the famous one, though. He’s just… the drummer.”
“Still pretty famous.” I stretch my legs a little bit, or as much as I can in the back of a cab. “I feel like you have the wrong idea about Landon. He’s not unstable, he’s not crazy, he just… loses it sometimes. I think the pressure gets to him.”
“You’re a good friend.”
I look at her, surprised. She just smiles at me.
“What do you mean?”
“Trying to defend him. Trying to help him. I’d be pissed if I were you. I mean, he’s putting the tour in jeopardy.”
I sigh. “Fuck the tour. We don’t need more money. I have enough money.”
“It’s not just the money, though. It’s the studio time, the contracts, all of it.”
“We’ll find it somewhere else, or we’ll go indie.” The cab pulls up outside of the Ritz and I look at Grace before opening the door. “I’d give it all up to help him out. But that doesn’t make me a good person.”
I push out of the door and walk into the building, Grace on my heels. I feel uncomfortable about that conversation, like she has the wrong idea of me.
I’m not a great guy. I do what I can to keep my bandmates alive and in one piece, but I’m not some great friend. I don’t sacrifice for them. I’m not the nicest one on the bus.
I’m just doing exactly what they’d do for me. Even Nathan, despite all our history.
We head toward the front desk and the young, pretty woman looks up at me with a smile.
“How can I help you?” she asks.
“I’m looking for a friend. His name is Landon Hill. He would’ve come in late last night, probably pretty drunk.”
“Ah, yes,” she says with a knowing smile. “Mr. Hill is staying with us.”
I practically groan with relief. “Holy shit. Really?”
“Really.” Her smile gets bigger. “I’m a huge Slide fan.”
“Can you call his room for me?”
“Of course, Mr. Myers. One moment please.” She picks up her phone, dials some numbers, and hands it to me.
I wait. I let it ring for over a minute before Landon finally answers, sounding like hell.
“Whatthefuckdoyouwant?” he says, slurring it all together.
“Landon, it’s Joss. You’re in the wrong fucking hotel. Come down to the lobby right now or I swear to god we’re leaving you here.”
