“I. Need. To. Leave,” I heave out between long breaths.
“Oh, no Em, please don’t do this.” Johnathan begs, running into the room after me he kneels down in front of me rubbing his hands on my shoulders.
What the fuck, does he think I like feeling this way? Do I like having salt poured into my veins! NO I DON’T! He did this to me. He hurt me and I allowed it. I’m such a dumb bitch!
I heave my chest in and out. I need to calm the hell down. I can’t, my mind is twirling and swirling and I can’t see right side up.
“Baby, oh baby. Please calm down. It’s going to be okay.” He keeps rubbing. All the while I know Stacy is standing very close and watching this whole fucking this play out. I am such a bitch. I know this has to be hurting him.
“Don’t. You. EVER. Call. Me. Baby. Again,” I huff out slowly between breaths. A chair is brought up to by backside.
“Sit down, Miss. Bronwyn,” I hear James’s deep voice instruct and I listen, collapsing into the chair.
“Thanks,” I pant. Sweat is trickling down my face oh and shit so are tears. I am crying! No! Be strong! Don’t cry in front of him. You’re letting him win.
Asshole scoots closer and places hands on my thighs caressing them. I am shaking and crying and I cover my face with both my hands.
“Did you do this to her?” I hear Stacy finally chime in, his voice is like acid dipped in acid and fried in it to make it extra crispy.
I want to scream. YES HE DID! But I’m just as much to blame. I allowed him in and he hurt me. I stay quiet and my sobbing worsens.
“Baby, look at me. Emily. Please. I’m so sorry. Just look at me. I need you. I need you to look at me,” He begs. In his panty dropping voice.
I don’t move.
“Answer me, motherfucker, did you do this to her?” Stacy barks loud and ferociously, he’s like a lion protecting his Nala.
I can feel Johnathan shift in front of my body, angling toward Stacy.
“I didn’t do this to her. No. They did in there. She doesn’t need to hear this shit about me,” he snaps.
“She already knows that Johnathan. Why the fuck would she care anyhow?”
Oh, no! Here is comes. Here comes the truth! I pray, please God don’t let Stacy hate me. Please make this pain go away. Please just please let Stacy stay my best friend. I need him.
“She cares just like I care, Stace. I love her and I told her that last night,” Johnathan says, his voice is even, giving nothing away.
“WHAT!!?” Stacy screeches so loud it pierces my ears. “You fucking love her? I’ve loved her my whole goddamn life and she won’t have me. What makes you fucking think she’d ever consider having your ass? I’ve never hurt her and never would. You on the other hand would sell her into sex trafficking if it suited your needs,” he spits, raw and to the point.
“I know she’d have me Stacy because I think she might feel the say way I do. I’m sorry man. I know you love her and I understand why. I love her too.” He talks low and nice. Treading lightly with fragile Stacy.
I sob louder, shaking.
“Did you fuck him last night? Emily Sue Bronwyn, did you fuck him?” His voice is harsh and it shreds my heart. This pain is so unreal. I always thought physical pain was the worst. No this is the worst pain in existence.
I nod.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD! You fucked him! After I left last night. Son of a bitch.” I can’t see him but I can hear him pacing and breathing hard. Anger saturates the air.
I rub my eyes free of tears and look for him. He has his hands on his head tugging his shaggy hair. Pacing in long strides. Johnathan is kneeling his hands still on my thighs. Not paying a bit of attention to Stacy his eyes are firmly planted on me.
“Please don’t hate me, Stace,” I mutter under my breath. He hears me, stops, comes next to my side and gazes down upon me. Ignoring Johnathan.
“Em, I will never hate you. I love you. You’re my best friend. I don’t like that you fucked this jackass.” He tilts his head towards Johnathan. “But I’m here babe. You got me for life whether you want it or not.” He smiles. I exhale hard; I didn’t realize I was holding my breath.
“As for you.” He stares daggers at Johnathan. “I am ashamed of you, Jonathan. I thought you were my friend and I thought you respected Emily in some way. Or me at least enough not to talk your way into her panties,” he snarls.
“I didn’t talk my way into her panties. I think she wanted me there. I wanted to be there, Stacy. I don’t want you to be hurt; you’re one of my closest friends. But I need her and I love her. I’m not going to apologize for making love to the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I can’t do that even if you want,” he says softly and my heart somehow swells and throbs happily in my chest. The butterflies are back and fluttering at full speed. The pain is slowly decreasing.
“I call bullshit, Johnathan. I’ve worked with you for four years. Don’t think I don’t know what you do. You claim to have never felt this way before. You play the love card. You play the innocence ‘I only want to touch you baby just let me please you.’ Shit. It works, I know it does. You’re a pro. That’s why I’m not surprised it worked on the most wonderful woman on the planet.” He looks at me and there goes my heart again into the vat of saltwater. Stacy knows the dick wad.
I fucking knew Johnathan played dirty. I knew he did this. God, why didn’t I listen to my brain and not my pussy? She’s in so much trouble. Stupid horny bitch. I think I might have fallen in love with him last night. I know that sounds completely irrational and when I think it. It sounds like I need a straitjacket and locked into a white padded cell. But I seriously feel that way. Now all I can do is mend my broken heart. Pull it back together and hope it works again in twenty years when I decide sex and love is okay again.
Johnathan is staring at me, horrified. Yep I checked out again and it wasn’t in his favor. Serves him right.
“It’s not like that this time,” he murmurs, staring at me. His lips are pouty and sad.
“Sure it’s not, Johnathan. You do this all the time. You meet a hot feisty chick on the road and she fires your engines up for a while. Two, three weeks of heavy fucking and I love you’s. You swear you’ve never felt the way before and then you get bored when you realize it’s just one-dimensional. There is no future. Then you do the super nice thing and buy her a plane ticket back home, slip her a couple thousand for her troubles and send her on her brokenhearted way. It’s not like I blame you, dude. You were never loved right as a kid. You can’t know how loving is supposed to feel like. That’s not your fault. And frankly as long as you’re cool and the band is good I don’t mind helping take the women to the airport or being a shoulder for them to cry on when you dump them. But this time is way different. You can’t do this to Emily. I won’t let you. She is fragile when it comes to love and relationships and I will NOT allow you to hurt her like you’ve done to all those other nobodies. She is somebody and my best friend. This ends today. You say you’re sorry and you promise me and her both that you will never ever try to fuck her again. No more ‘I love you’s’, no more ‘I can’t be without you’. And if I see or hear another over-the-top primal man protective bullshit come from you, I will seriously quit. The only thing she needs is distance from you and support if she ever asks for it. But she has to ask for it. You’re not crawling between her legs again. I better not hear anything else. DO YOU GET ME? MY FRIEND!”
Wow! Did this just happen? Did my best friend seriously put the hottest rocker on the planet in his place? I know he’s just looking out for what’s best for me. So I’m just going to sit here and shut up. I’d rather not argue anymore and my heart is shredded. The only person to help me now is Stacy. The best man in my life.
I look down at Johnathan and his face is void of all color and he looks lost. I want to pull him into my arms and tell him it’s going to be alright. Even with a broken heart, I want to help him. I want him to be okay. But I have to let him go. I can’t l
et this go on. Stacy is right. If he’s seen Johnathan play this routine time and time again, I would just be another to add to the list. Thank god for best friends.
Johnathan turns his head mechanically towards me. Retracts his hands from my legs and stands up. “I’m sorry Short…. Emily. I didn’t mean to hurt you or break your heart.” Tears are filling my eyes again. “Please don’t cry, baby. Stacy is right, I am fucked up. You deserve better than me. You need a man who can love you and give you lots of babies. Who isn’t screwed up in the head.” He smacks himself in the head. “I can’t hurt you like I’ve hurt many others.” He turns and walks away.
Now it clicks. The others. Then ten women he was talking about last night. That must be what he is talking about. He’s done this with ten other women. That makes sense now. I’m number eleven or would have been. Shit, I dunno. Maybe I’m in, maybe I’m not. That’s confusing and it doesn’t matter anyhow.
Chapter Twelve
We went back to the bus that night and I basically locked myself into my bunk and I only left it when I had to for the next weeks of the tour. When the band played, I’d stand with Stacy on the side stage. I’d follow clothing protocol to the T. Nobody bothered me and Keith must have realized I wasn’t quite right because we spoke only on an occasion about work mostly, and the weather. I’ve also grown to hate Deacon. He is a pompous prick who fucks anything with two legs but ever since the convo with Johnathan he’s never tried to bang me, not even once. Except maybe spout a flirtatious comment here or there but I can handle that. I don’t attend any after parties. Stacy tried to drag me along once but when I saw Johnathan cloaked in arm candy I left before I could even get a drink in me. It hurts seeing him, but with every day that passes, my heart hurts a little less. Three days before our last gig I heard the entire band chatting, minus Johnathan; he was held up in his room which is where he’s spent most of the past few weeks—either in there or a hotel room. I’ve not stayed in the hotels we go to. I stick to the bus. It’s like home to me now and my bunk is a like a cave I can crawl into when the pain gets to be too much.
Anyhow, I heard the guys bragging about this huge orgy they had in the presidential suite in this hotel they were staying in when we were in Atlanta. I didn’t mean to listen but when I heard Johnathan’s name brought up I couldn’t stop myself. Shame on me! But I can’t help it. So they were talking about how there was fifteen women in the suite with them. That they all took turns banging this really hot chick named Amber. I think that was her name. And then they split out the rest. It should shock me to hear those rather repulsive stories but I’ve become immune, if that’s possible.
“So did you guys check out Johnathan last night? I thought he’s been acting strange but last night totally confirmed it,” I heard Price say. I was laying in my bunk, my Nook in my lap. I turned and stuck half of my head out of my bunk to get a better listen.
“Yeah I saw the whole thing. Jay had this hot blonde with a smoking hot bod, big juicy tits and a pussy to die for. He was naked. Well his shirt was on but that monster cock of his was out. I was just hoping that my lady didn’t see it because she’d be all over that. So… I’m watching him sit on the kitchen table and this chick is between his legs, playing with herself. Moaning rather loudly. He had his hands in her hair and shit. She’s got his dick in her mouth and she’s sucking and pumping his hard with her hand. Really going at it, ya know? When she takes it out of her mouth coming up to the tip the fucker is seriously flaccid. I don’t think there was any blood in that cock of his. He is broken, dudes. I mean seriously fucking broken. I don’t know if it’s his past fucking with his head or what. But I’ve never seen this man go so long without fucking and he’d never pass a BJ up or five in a damn night,” D added.
I had never heard of such a terrible thing but the fact that Johnathan couldn’t get hard that night kind of made me feel triumphant in a strange, very messed up way. Not that my pussy is made of gold or anything but on the off chance that he couldn’t get it up because of it makes me feel super sexy and awesome on the inside. Sad for him though because that’s gotta be a pain not to be able to get off with a sexy woman sucking on your manhood. Not that I like the thought of anyone sucking his cock. Deep down I wish it was me. Pathetic? Yes. But that’s the sad truth of it all.
So now the tour break has taken over and we all have split our separate ways. I’m back here at home with Stacy in my old bedroom. We are sleeping together in my old full sized bed with the bright pink comforter and I am seriously staring at my old ceiling that has Justin Timberlake plastered all over it. The young J.T from Nsync. I was such a damn girl back then. Boy crazy as all get out. Stacy always hated these posters. But I still love them. I bet some of them might be worth a pretty penny or two for the right buyer. But for now I’m going to let my parents keep this bedroom the same way it was when I moved out and went to college.
Nothing like being back in good ol’ Bettysville. Named after some lady, two hundred or some years ago who baked a damn good pie and they named a town after her. Or some stupid shit like that. A town that if you blink you’ll miss it. One mom and pop grocery shop, a pizza joint, gas station, bank and a little diner. That’s all you’ll find here. You even have to go to the damn post office to pick up your mail. Which I always hated. My parents find it charming. I find it inconvenient.
Lots of people who grow up in smaller towns either love them and want to stay in them or are the opposite and crave the big city lights. I’m the latter. I love cities, the bigger the better. I’ve only been to LA once to visit Stacy for five days and I loved it then. He took me all over, we hit up the walk of stars, the Chinese theater, Rodeo Drive, Malibu at the beach and about ten other fun and memorable places. I would love to live in LA or anywhere along the coast. New York City is my home now. Or until I get tired of it and move to someplace warmer. I need warmer. Don’t get me wrong, I love the whole four seasons. Where there are long summers that run from the beginning of June with nearly a hundred degree heat and the humidity so high it’s like you’re breathing in water. That lasts until September. October you hit the cool down point and the leaves fall in such warm beautiful colors. People have big colorful trash bags stuffed with leaves in their front lawn in the shapes of pumpkins and spiders for Halloween. Then by the middle of November its frigid cold and you wonder where the hell fall went. The winter trickles in, leaving us quickly cold and the snow starts whenever it wants. There is no rhyme or reason to it. Many times it snows steadily from December through April. Other years we get a light dusting in January and it’s a mild winter after that. I can’t begin to understand my life, let alone mother natures fucked up hormone cycles. Then we hop into spring which is probably my favorite part of the year. You have Easter and flowers and thunderstorms. Spring would be the only reason why I wouldn’t want to leave the northern states and take up in some place like Texas, Florida or Southern Cali.
Lying next to handsome lightly snoring Stacy, I can’t help but feel a little grateful for where I am in life. Sure my life as of late has kind of sucked and my love life has always suffered. But I have the best mom on the planet who when we came in late tonight off a red eye flight out of North Carolina she had my bed freshly laundered and her famous butterscotch cookies on a plate in the kitchen. Stacy could probably eat his weight in them. I love them but I think he loves them more. Probably has something to do with the fact his mom never baked a day in his life?
I quietly slip out from under the covers and tiptoe in my orange pajama short set into the hall quietly shutting the bedroom door behind me. My bedroom is on the second story facing the road in my parent’s three bedroom, one and half bath, Victorian. My mom has always had a night-light in the hall since I was a kid so if I went downstairs late at night I wouldn’t trip and fall down the stairs. It must have worked because I never did. The stairs creek as I tiptoe down them. They’re hardwood and well maintained for a hundred and thirty year old house. I tiptoe my way into our sizable living room. Well one
of the living room spaces. We have three. Houses like this one are always broken up for social events in the eighteen hundreds.
There’s a parlor off the front door that’s mauve and very feminine with Victorian era rose prints everywhere. That’s where the book shelves are and my mom’s chunky executive desk, that I spent years doing homework on. The living room is across from that and is less stuffy. With its cream leather sofa, loveseat and a big screen T.V for my dad to watch his monster truck rally’s on. It’s sitting on top of a dark brown electric fireplace. It’s elegant, I suppose. But way more modern than the house itself. I always loved growing up in this place. It seeps history into your bones when you sleep.
I drop onto the sofa and the leather welcomes me with a crunch. The air con is blasting high in this heat wave Indiana is consumed by. Mom said the farmers are mad because there has been less than adequate rain and it’s a stifling one hundred and two with high humidity most days. That’s an Indiana summer for ya. Hot as hell. At night as a kid I loved sitting and gliding on the porch swing. Now I would rather relax inside. Five minutes in this heat and you’re breaking a sweat.
I click on the TV. It feels like months since I’ve watched anything on the boob tube, as my dad calls it. The TV on the bus is hogged by Xbox junkies and we don’t have cable anyhow. The movie choices the men own are just as bad. Mostly slasher films mixed with a little Godzilla and the only seasons they have are the complete collection of Family guy. Which I hate! Apparently Keith and D love it. No wonder they lose so many brain cells.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to brain-dead comedies, they do have some value but I think I’d rather stick to shows like the Big Bang Theory and Friends to get my share of tummy rumbling humor. Hell, I’d even watch Archer. That’s downright hilarious at times for a comedy cartoon with a sexy main character. Sounds off-the-wall, I know, to have a crush on a cartoon but if you’ve watched the show he’d be the wallpaper on your cell, computer and tablet. He’s not mine but I think that might come to replace The Rock that I have on them right now. Well, my cell is a picture of me and Stacy but the other two are of Dwayne THE ROCK Johnson. I just love him. Probably because I grew up eyes glued to the T.V watching him wrestle. It was love at first sight for me. And when he’d ask if I could smell what he was cookin,’ I’d be star struck and felt like he was talking only to me. Yep, I was drunk on The Rock love, all the way back to the time of WWF, WCW and NWO and the Macho Man Randy Savage “Ooh Yeah!”
Stricken Rock Series: Complete Box Set Page 12
