Like The Wind

by Bengtsson, J.

  The three multiplied into six, then those six mutated into twelve and that was before the mitosis began spitting out carbon copies of teenage girls all wearing Uggs and sipping on Strawberries and Crème blended Frappuccinos. Within minutes, we were fully surrounded.

  “One at a time,” I pleaded, trying my best to appease the crowd bearing down on us.

  “Bodhi?” Breeze scooted closer, her confidence in my ability to handle the situation seeming to waver. I got her concern. I was starting to feel overwhelmed myself, and that usually signaled the onset of stage four fangirling. As more bodies crammed together in the small space, the oxygen level decreased and I had an eerily similar feeling to being caught in the middle of the firestorm. Having been in this position before, I’d seen things spiral out of control. Even with security, it was always a harrowing experience.

  I grabbed her hand. “Stay close.”

  Abandoning our ice cream cones, we pushed our way toward the exit. Like concertgoers in a mosh pit, bodies jostled against us, hands ripping at my clothes, scratching my skin, and pulling Breeze’s hair.

  “Don’t let go,” I warned as we made our way down the sidewalk, the mob of bodies propelling us forward.

  “Bodhi?”

  Something had changed in Breeze’s demeanor. We’d escaped a firestorm, driven through a wall of flames, but even then I hadn’t seen this look of panic in her vibrant eyes.

  I should have warned her or, at the very least, prepared her for such a scenario. But instead I’d faked who I was because I didn’t want her to see the real me. I was the guy who’d grown up in a bubble and who couldn’t go for a walk with a dog, or dash into a grocery store for a carton of milk, or get a damn ice cream cone without the threat of being mauled by a large subsection of the population.

  I’d purposely deceived her because I knew damn well that me thriving in Breeze’s world was entirely different than her thriving in mine.

  Someone like Breeze, easy-going and earthy, could never flourish in an environment where people were routinely slurped up by the fame machine and spit back out, bloodied and bruised.

  “You’re going to be okay,” I said, trying to ease her distress even as mine soared. “Just don’t let go of my hand. We’re almost there.”

  I could see the car ahead, but the crowd was like quicksand, and the more we struggled, the faster we were being sucked down. Suddenly, her hand was ripped from mine and no matter how hard I tried to claw my way back to her, I couldn’t.

  “Get to the car,” I called to her, lifting the key to unlock the door. The battered Range Rover had delivered us to safety before and I had faith it could do it again. “I’ll come to you.”

  But that was a tall order seeing as I was being swept up in a sea of girls. A storefront window stopped our forward motion but did nothing to improve my situation. I was now trapped with a press of bodies sealing me against the glass.

  I could no longer see Breeze over the crush of bodies. If something were to happen to her because of my own damn stupidity, I’d never forgive myself. Why had I insisted on ice cream? What was I, five?

  Scanning the area, I tried to figure out the best approach when I spotted a girl struggling for air. This wasn’t just about me. If I couldn’t get this under control, people were going to get hurt.

  “Back up!” I shouted, trying to be heard over the screams. “If you want pictures you have to move back.”

  And while those in the front tried to follow my order, they were losing ground to the fans pushing forward. Surprisingly, over the roar of the mob I could hear Breeze’s frightened voice calling 911 for help. Although minutes earlier I would have balked at involving the police, I now saw no way out of this without help.

  Before the police arrived to take control of the situation, a concerned group of passersby, led by Breeze, managed to break up the crowd enough to free those in the heart of the melee. Including me.

  Sore ribs, police intervention, and a hundred selfies later, we’d finally made it back to the safety of the car. Breeze twisted in her seat, buried her face in the crook of my neck, and burst into tears. Holding her tight, I rubbed her back, soothing her as best I could. With every sobbing breath she took, I knew this carefree woman could never survive under the oppressive blanket of my fame. I was losing her.

  19

  Breeze: Big Girl Panties

  I’d never consider myself a weepy girl, but the last few days had tested that long-held belief. As if the firestorm didn’t forge enough bad memories, now I had the ice cream stampede embossed in my brain forever. I wasn’t naïve. I knew Bodhi was famous. But I guess I hadn’t realized the extent until it nearly killed him.

  Dropping him into the middle of a perilous riptide was something I’d never intended to do. How could I have known timing was everything in the life of a teen idol? In some ways I felt deceived by Bodhi. He knew something like this could happen and, while I was laying out the plans for the day, he’d said nothing. Bodhi should have warned me, outlining the dangers that came with frenzied fan behavior. Had I any inkling that something like this could occur, I never would have put him in that position in the first place.

  How quickly the tides had turned. Just this morning I’d been dreaming of our future together. Bodhi really was the perfect guy in every way… except one. And sadly, that one way threatened to destroy us both. How could he and I make this work with millions of fans vying for his attention? And how could I maintain any sense of normalcy in my life if it was attached to his?

  Bodhi and I had driven home in silence, escorted by three squad cars. An uncomfortably quiet dinner followed, the two of us struggling to make small talk with my parents or eye contact with each other. I’d had every intention of pulling him aside as soon as dinner was over, but Bodhi blindsided me, announcing he was tired and going to bed early.

  No doubt being manhandled by an unruly mob took a lot out of a person, but I suspected Bodhi’s sudden onset of fatigue had more to do with the uncomfortable conversation he knew was coming his way.

  Finding a quiet spot on the patio, I sank into a chair and dialed up Mason. We hadn’t had a chance to talk since the night of the fire and I needed to get his take on things. Of all people, he understood how my mind worked and I hoped he’d have better luck coming up with a solution to the Bodhi problem than I did.

  Mason answered on the first ring. “Okay, so I just saw the raw footage on TMZ and can I just say, girl, you’re looking spot on.”

  “Thank you.” I laughed. “I especially liked the part where I was standing on the sidewalk alone, screaming his name.”

  “I agree. That was some academy award worthy shit right there.”

  Maybe I would have found the whole thing humorous had I not felt this was the beginning of the end for Bodhi and I.

  “And for your information,” Mason added. “I’m pissed that I had to find out about you and Bodhi Beckett on social media. I feel robbed.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything but, now that it’s all over the web, there’s no reason to hide anymore. What do you want to know?”

  Turns out he wanted to know a lot, and I spent the next half hour answering all of Mason’s questions. When he was finally caught up I said, “You have no idea how scary that was. I’ve seen stuff like that on television but, up close and personal, it’s a whole other story. I’m not kidding when I say someone easily could have been seriously injured. The whole boy band adoration thing is out of frickin’ control.”

  “AnyDayNow fans are crazy. I’ll give you that,” Mason said. “I went to one of their concerts last year and the screaming was so bad they were handing out earplugs to anyone who looked old enough to still use Facebook. But look on the bright side, at least life with a pop star isn’t boring, right?”

  “No, it’s definitely not boring.” I sighed. “But, I don’t think it’s for me.”

  “What do you mean? You’d better not be breaking it off with him before I get to meet t
he dude… or get a backstage pass to one of his concerts. You’re not doing that to me, are you?”

  Him? It wasn’t like this was a calculated attempt to make Mason’s life unhappy. This was about me and my own misery. “I hate to say this, but if I’m going down in flames, so are you.”

  “Ah dammit, Breeze. You couldn’t hold it together for one week? With Bodhi rising from the dead, this weekend’s AnyDayNow concerts are going to be epic.”

  “Can we focus on what’s important?”

  “That is important.”

  “Okay, let me rephrase it—something less materialistic.”

  “Oh, you want me to get deep with you? Fine. I don’t get it at all. I thought you liked him. Hell, this morning you texted me and said you were falling in love. And now you’re talking about leaving? It was one incident, Breeze, chill out!”

  “That’s the thing, it’s not one incident. This happens to him all the time. Am I just supposed to stand on a street corner like Jane calling out to her Tarzan for the rest of my life?”

  “Here’s the thing. I’ve listened to you bitch and complain for over two years about not being able to find a man who makes you feel… I don’t even want to say this, but I suppose I must… all gooey inside. And now that you’ve found the Pillsbury Doughboy, he’s not good enough because he’s frickin’ loved by millions! Boo-fucking-hoo, Breeze. Ugh, I want to murder you right now.”

  “Wow, tell me how you really feel,” I said, not sure if I should laugh or cry at his brutal assessment.

  “You can’t deny it, Breeze. Because of what Brandon did to you, you’re scared of rejection so you push men away before they can hurt you. I get that—Brandon caused you a lot of pain. But it’s also why you’re perpetually single, and if you continue this pattern you’ll be all alone at thirty-five and I’ll be forced to bang you in order to give you the kid you always wanted.”

  “You don’t want to bang me?” I whined.

  “Not particularly, no. In case you forgot, I’m gay! And besides, that wasn’t the main point I was making.”

  “Yeah, I get it. I’m a mess of human emotions. What’s new?”

  “Look, I’m going to give it to you straight, Breeze. You’re a pretty girl. I see the way guys look at you. You shine. But every time someone shows an interest, you find some ridiculous excuse for why you can’t date. Then, as if by some miracle of god, a gorgeous pop star is dropped into your lap free of charge and what do you do? Oh, yeah, you find a reason to drop kick his ass right back up to heaven.”

  Neither of us spoke for a moment as I let his words sink in. Although I didn’t much care for his delivery, Mason was right. I was afraid of rejection. And Bodhi with all his beauty and talent and nickels, he was the biggest risk of all. What would happen when someone else came along, someone better at surviving fires and flash mobs than me? Then what? I’d never fallen this fast or this hard and it was a terrifying feeling to know Bodhi had the potential to destroy me.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” Mason backtracked. “That was harsh. I’m not in the best place right now. Don’t listen to me.”

  I instantly picked up on the defeatist tone. “What do you mean? What’s happening?”

  “Just… nothing.”

  “Mason?”

  “I can’t, not now.” He sounded so exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in a week. Why hadn’t I heard this earlier? I’d been so consumed by my own drama that I hadn’t stopped to consider he might have some of his own.

  “Talk to me.”

  A quiet rumbling low in his throat. “I’m on the ledge, Breeze.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He didn’t respond but I could almost hear his heart beating through the line. Whatever he had to say was breaking him in two.

  “I overdosed the other night in Vegas.”

  “On drugs?”

  “No, on love,” he answered, despair overlapping the sarcasm. “Of course on drugs.”

  His admission was like a stab through my heart. Not only was I shocked by his news but there was an unbearable feeling of guilt. I was Mason’s best friend, yet he hadn’t felt comfortable enough to confide in me that he’d started using again. I’d suspected it, even asked him point blank once, but he’d come up with plausible excuses for his behavior, so I pushed my worries aside. I suppose the fact that he was able to hold a job and function in his everyday life was enough validation for me to take his word at face value. Now, I wondered why I hadn’t dug deeper, fought harder.

  “What did you take?”

  “OxyContin, mostly.”

  “Mostly? Was it deliberate?”

  “I wasn’t actively trying to kill myself, no.”

  “That doesn’t sound encouraging.”

  “It wasn’t as bad as last time, I promise.”

  A couple of years ago, he’d almost lost the battle. It took two doses of the opioid reversing drug naloxone to revive him. A stint in rehab followed and, as far as I’d known, he’d been clean ever since.

  “I’m so sorry. I wish I was stronger. For you. For me. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. But, Breezie, mentally, I’m barely hanging on. I think I’m going to end up just as crazy as my mother. I can feel her disease growing inside me like a weed. It’s only a matter of time.”

  The turmoil coursing through Mason could be felt across the divide. I knew well his fear of becoming like her, but if he continued down this path, that’s exactly where he’d end up.

  “They wanted to send me to a rehab facility straight from the hospital but there were no open beds. So I checked myself out yesterday.”

  “Oh, Mason.”

  “I know. Rehab’s still in the works. I’ll get help.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come.”

  “You were dealing with your own stuff. Besides, I didn’t want my drug habit to ruin your chance with Bodhi. That’s how badly I want a ticket.”

  I gave him the required chuckle but was still worried sick. “You know I would have dropped everything for you?”

  “I know, and that’s why I wanted you to stay put and focus on yourself. If there’s anyone who deserves love, it’s you.”

  No, he deserved it—the little boy who craved affection, but never got any. If only Mason could find the peace that had always been lacking in his life. “I can’t let you be home alone after an overdose.”

  “I’m not home alone. I have a caretaker.”

  Aside from me, Mason rarely had people over to his apartment. He was weird about stuff like that. “You do? Who?”

  “Curtis.”

  “Curtis? As in ‘pees sitting down’, Curtis?”

  “Yes, Breeze, one and the same. He was in Vegas too. He’s the one who called the ambulance. He stayed at the hospital with me. Curtis has experience dealing with people like me.”

  “You mean hot guys with mommy issues?”

  Mason laughed and the sound was like music to my ears. “No, withdrawing drug addicts. Listen, can you do me a favor?”

  “Yes, anything.”

  “Pull up those big girl panties of yours, and go tell Bodhi how you feel.”

  “I don’t know. I feel like I need to come to you.”

  “No…you need to stay where you are or I’ll never speak to you again.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Curtis has this covered.”

  “All right then. When I get back, we’ll figure everything out. You’re going to be okay, Mace. I promise. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Breeze. And don’t forget about those backstage passes.”

  * * *

  After changing into my t-shirt and sleep shorts, I tiptoed to bed and slipped under the covers as quietly as possible. Bodhi was on his back with one arm resting over his forehead. His bare chest exposed, it was as if he were taunting me with his perfection. Had he not gone to slunk off to bed to avoid our talk, I might have been more adventurous. But since I wasn’t entirely sure where we stood, I kept my gre
edy hands to myself.

  The bed creaked, then the bedside lamp unexpectedly switched on. Bodhi rolled to his side and his arms tucked around my chilled flesh. Drawing me into his warm body, he buried his face into my neck and peppered small kisses over my shivering skin.

  “I thought you were asleep,” I whispered.

  “I can’t sleep. I heard you talking on the phone.”

  “With my friend, Mason. Oh, and before I forget, he’s requesting a backstage pass to one of your LA shows. I don’t know if you can make that happen, but I figured I’d throw it out there.”

  “Yeah, I can make it happen.”

  “Thank you.” Running my fingers along the muscled curves of his back, I asked, “Nervous about tomorrow?”

  “Not as much as I’m stressing about today. I’m so sorry, Breeze. What happened this afternoon, it was just insanity.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t your fault.”

  Bodhi’s miserable eyes met mine. “Actually, it was. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. If something had happened, I never would’ve forgiven myself.”

  “But nothing happened and I’m fine.” Why I felt the need to lie to him, I couldn’t say but, by minimizing the impact the day had on me, I’d squandered the chance at an open and honest dialogue.

  “I think sometimes I forget who I am when I’m with you. You just make me feel so good—normal—and I forget about my limitations.”

  “So what happened today, that level of fan worship, it’s normal?”

  As the seconds slipped by, he squeezed me to him a little tighter and then sighed heavily.

  “Pretty much, yes.”

  I nodded, gutted by his admission. This wasn’t something that would magically go away. If I wanted to be with him, I’d have to learn a new normal.

  “You’re so nonchalant about it, like it’s no big deal.”

  “I’ve been famous my whole life, so I don’t really know any different. Even when I was five, before I even knew how to write, I’d get stopped on the street and asked for an autograph. It’s normal for me.”