by S. J. Blaze
Rolling Stones wants us back in New York City in early November for a photo shoot and a complete write up on the band. That’s insane! Outside of our video shoot and album covers, we’ve never had a full on photo shoot. Wow. Talk about intimidating.
Gunner also comes down on Bull and me, hard. Do we not give a shit? Don’t we know better? Quit acting like fucking pussies? Hey! In the end, I know he’s right. I’ve been childish. Bullet keeps digging under my skin, like a mosquito bite or something. I’m from Florida, and it’s our state bird. I know mosquitoes. You want to ignore it, but no, you scratch and pick at it and then it scabs up and looks gross. Bull is equal to that yuck right now.
I cook for the trio and we spend the rest of the evening talking; catching up on the daily grind and indulging in the unusually low ball brand of humor that my trio is epically known for that I lose all sense of time. That is until Coen calls.
“Hello?”
“Where the fuck are you?” He sounds furious, no ‘hi’ or ‘how are you?’
“I’m with the guys, calm your tits.”
“Wait, what did you just say to me?” He practically screams in my ear. Trio talk must be rubbing off on me.
“I just meant that everything’s copasetic.”
“You need to come home, Charlie. It’s getting late. Say goodnight to your little friends.” With that he hangs up on me. I’m in such awe that I simply stare at the unsightly devise wondering, ‘What the hell?’
“Uh oh, lover boy sounded pissed,” Trig says and I can’t stop the shade of embarrassment that creeps across my skin. They heard him yelling at me. I look over at Bullet and he appears to be as livid as Coen sounded seconds ago. His nose is flaring like his namesake, Bull.
Without wanting to cause any trouble, I stand and try to compose myself. “Well, I should get going. It’s getting late.” I glance at the clock to see its nine thirty-two. Hardly late, but apparently so.
I grab my things and lean over kissing Gunner and Trigger on the heads with a couple of ‘love you’s.’ When I get to Bull, he stands up. “I’ll walk you out.” With his hand on my back, he walks me to my car.
“Baby girl, you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I mean, shit, does he yell at you like that all the time? Does he fucking hit you? I’ll kill him, if he does.” He growls and I can see his teeth grinding in anger.
“Bull, I’m fine. He must have had a hard day or something.” I try to sooth him by placing my head on his chest, just above my tattoo, the one hidden in his shirt, the one I desperately miss but will never voice aloud. In response, he wraps me in his arms and breathes me in.
“I’ll kill him, just say the word,” he murmurs into my hair.
“I know, Bully.” I rub my hands up and down his back, feeling the tension there. The chilly late October air is whipping my hair around freezing me in place. “I hate fighting with you. Promise me, no more.” I search his face, noting the growing indifference.
“I can’t promise that, baby girl. I try and all, but things are changing. My head aint right. Sorry.”
I nod and disentangle myself. That one hurt like always, he’s good at it.
On my drive home, I think about how I should react to Coen; go on the offense or play the good little girlfriend. Should I pick a fight or acquiesce?
I ponder my new dilemma for the duration of the entire forty-minute ride back. I know I lost track of time, but I was with the trio not scoping out the corner for my next trick. He’s overreacting, and this isn’t the first time. If I keep being a doormat, then he’ll keep treating me like one. I make up my mind and with each floor passed in the elevator, I feel my determination strengthening. That is until it opens and reveals a rather flushed looking Coen in sweats and a tight tee. His arms are crossed and I see the tension pulsing through them. Uh, oh.
He stares at me as I walk out of the car and stop a few feet away from him. Is he expecting me to apologize? Excuse my contemptuous behavior? Doormat Charlie no longer, I copy his pose and put on the meanest face I can muster. I think it’s mean until I notice his lip twitch a bit, like he wants to smile.
“You should have texted me,” he states calmly, his face a neutral mask.
“Yes…” That’s all I’ll give him until I know where this is going, and hopefully it’s not in the hallway. In my periphery vision I notice Mal’s door is still closed but I wonder if he can hear our argument and feel the insane antagonism.
“I don’t like coming home and finding you not here,” he begins.
“I don’t like getting yelled at. And while we’re discussing our dislikes, I really do not like being manipulated, and conned into living together, I never said I was ready for that. We’ve barely dated and yet everyone keeps congratulating me on my upcoming nuptials. Even Brantley said something the other day about maternity leave, how he’d gladly wait for me and they’d be exceedingly accommodating. I’m twenty-two, Coen!” I rub my fingers against my eyes and try to stop the building pressure. If he gets to be mad then I do, too.
“Tout va bien ici?”
Everything okay out here?
Malice finally emerges shirtless, and crosses his arms. As he stands just outside of his doorframe, I hear a voice behind him asking if something’s wrong.
I quirk a brow. He does have a date. Or maybe a boyfriend at this point. I wouldn’t know, though, as he doesn’t share anything.
“Retour à votre date.”
Go back to your date. I answer gruffly. Either people keep me in the dark, manipulate me, or ignore me. I’m so tired of all the nonsensical men in my life!
I charge past Coen, through my door, in my condo. I rush to the bathroom, pull off my clothes, and grab my pills to pop. I’m putting today to bed. Why should I stay up and alert when Coen is only going to argue and try to sway things?
He follows me into the bedroom and watches me from the bed. He’s already undressed and in position. I climb in to join him but curl onto my side facing the wall. I want nothing to do with routine tonight.
I can feel the bed shift as he moves towards me. Pulling me back into him, spooning me. I arch my back in response and try to wiggle away but he pulls me closer.
“You might as well quit, I won’t let us go to bed apart.” I feel his words as he spouts them against my hair.
“I’m tired, Coen. I don’t want to fight. I’m done for the day.”
“So, about this baby we’re having. When can we get started on that?” He chuckles.
“Coen, I swear to…” I’m trying desperately to pull him off of me so I can do some bodily harm.
“I’m just kidding, love. Relax, Charlie. I’m sorry how things elevated tonight. You’re right, I overreacted.” He lightly brushes his nose against the shell of my outer ear and breathes out, “I’m sorry, love.”
I sigh. I have too much on my plate to whine about some overbearing boyfriend moments.
“Goodnight, Coen.”
“Goodnight, Charlie.” He kisses me a few more times and then everything is silent. I wait to hear the evening of his breaths. My mind in motion, I’m lost in a sea of images. Even the pull of the pill doesn’t lull me to drift away, though I’m eventually lost to it. Surreptitiously surrendered.
Tomorrow came too soon and I awoke on Coen’s chest. I honestly don’t know how or when he does it, but somehow I always end up there. I escape the condo without any interference and drown myself in the minutia of work. It may not be stimulating but it’s occupational.
During my lunch protein shake break, I text Tank to let him know to delay the fight until after the photo shoot. It would make me look pretty badass to have a few bruises and cuts, and it would most definitely go with my ‘new’ image, but I doubt the label would be thrilled with me. As it is, I’m walking on thin ice.
Malice stops by to check on me but I’m fairly unresponsive. He has an entire hidden life that I’m not privy to, and I find it rather offensive. After we stare at each other for fifteen minutes, both of us grunting and
barely speaking words, he leaves warning that he’ll be at the gym when I get there.
After an abusing afternoon at the gym, I limp to my condo door when I hear arguing. Quickly unlocking it and barging in, I find Bullet and Coen in a face-to-face battle of wits. No fists appear to have been unleashed at this point, but both are at the ready by their sides.
They each stop yelling and back away from each other when they see me enter.
“What’s going on?” I ask numbly, taking a moment to scan each of them, quickly looking for any injuries or tells.
Coen crosses his arms and glares at me. “Your little friend was just leaving!”
“Little friend,” Bullet chimes in. “I’m bigger than you, Richie, you pompous fuck!”
“I told you she doesn’t want you. She upgraded, now get the fuck out!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! You…” I point to Coen. “Bullet’s my best friend. Why are you talking to him like that?”
“Why the fuck are you defending him? He came to our home, picking a fight with me,” Coen retorts growing angrier by the second.
There are so many things wrong with that last sentiment. “I’m not.” I really am, though. “I’m just trying to figure out how two of the most important people in my life are practically attacking each other? Anyone want to share?”
I look at Coen. He looks to Bullet and then to the ground. Next, I drag my attention to Bullet. I openly stare with raised brows and wide eyes giving him the go ahead and tell me look.
He walks over, kisses my cheek, and whispers, “You look so fucking sexy all flushed and sweaty like that. Love you, baby girl.” Then he glares back at Coen and points at him. “I’ll be watching, mother fucker.”
After the door closes behind him, I scowl at Coen. “What the hell just happened?”
“You tell me. He certainly isn’t my friend.”
No. I guess he isn’t. Abandoning any hope of a prolific conversation, I run and shower. Dinner is painfully reserved and full of dead and debilitating air. I’m drowning in it so severely that I can barely taste my chicken and broccoli.
“Were you ever going to tell me that you’re leaving in two weeks?” Coen asks killing the silence with a death blow.
“Last night we fought, tonight we fought. When would have been a suitable time to bring it up?”
“Anytime!” he shouts and throws his bundled napkin on his plate. “I don’t want you to go! These guys are a bad influence on you. That guy,” He points to the closed door, like Bullet is going to walk through it any moment. “He’s in love with you. I can see it in his eyes. I don’t want you near him.”
“Wait, are you forbidding me A) to go to New York City and do the Rolling Stone piece and B) to spend time with Bullet?”
He smiles in satisfaction. “Yes, I’m so glad we’re in agreement.” He stands, grabs our plates, and takes them to the sink. I’m left flabbergasted.
I storm up behind him while he’s washing the dishes. “You need to leave,” I say in an empty voice. I thought he loved me. How could he possibly take such a big chunk of my heart away and not think it would kill me?
He turns off the water as his hands firmly grip the edge of the sink, still facing away from me. “I don’t believe that’s going to happen, Charlie. You see, I won’t let you go.”
“Coen, if you can’t accept me, then you need to leave. Bullet is part of me. If you don’t like it leave!” I breathe in my calm trying desperately to preserve it.
“Charlie, I know how you feel about them, but put yourself in my shoes. I won’t stand for my future bride to be in constant company of partying Neanderthals.”
“Maybe we aren’t on the same page. I care for you greatly, Coen, but I won’t give them up. Perhaps we both need time to cool down.”
I see his head nod a few times, the resignation evidently clear. “As you wish, love.” He grabs his keys and cell and storms out the door. I even hear him lock it from the outside.
I don’t trust him not to crawl in bed with me in the middle of the night, so I call Malice to see if I can stay there. He doesn’t answer and with thoughts of that possible date the other night, I don’t want to disturb him. He deserves happiness despite all the secrecy. I call Gunner, next. Another no answer.
I have a key to Trig and Gun’s place, so I quickly pack an overnight bag and a work outfit and head that way. I’ll analyze what just happened with Coen later. My thoughts are too muddled to strategize a proper Coen response. This will take time to finesse and finagle. I need a safe haven to shelter me until I’ve been fortified.
Chapter Thirty-Five
For the entire week I barely hear from Coen. The guy who ‘couldn’t sleep without me’ was doing just fine. Of course, I didn’t give him an option. After that first night at Gun’s, I started to stay at Malice’s place. Coen is too clever and I’m not sure if I trust him to have my best interests at heart.
The trio and I practiced every day. We even got into the Halloween spirit by picking out matching costumes for Saturday’s concert. I heard the local hard rock station mention us repeatedly and our single was thrown into Musicland rotation. It was mindboggling.
Coen stopped by the office as Halloween neared and forbade me to go to New York City. I tried to explain that this was an amazing opportunity for the band but he refused to budge on his viewpoints, as did I. Despite our arguing, I miss him greatly and feel his absence increasingly weigh me down.
With Andrew, I could easily cut him out and not think twice about it. With Coen, I gave too much of myself. When we spoke, we connected. When we ate, we bonded. When we touched, we unified. I miss his gentle touches and kisses. I miss his smile and laughter when he thinks I did something adorable. I miss him. I hate missing him. I’m amazed how one part of my life could be thriving while the other dwindles into oblivion.
The Friday before Halloween, I receive a text from Bullet asking if I want to go to Harley’s Halloween party at her church. Apparently, my girl asked specifically for me. The weather is creeping to freezing and poor Abbey will have to hibernate until the spring. But on the back of Bullet’s bike, he catches all of the wind and cold. That man is so big he could be a wall in front of me. He gets the wildly chilled air while I enjoy the view and the freedom, once more this year.
I decided to go as a ninja. I’m dressed in black from head to toe with only a slit where my eyes are visible. Besides, it’s her church’s party, so I can’t exactly dress like a naughty police woman, naughty schoolgirl, or naughty anything. Covering up, especially in this weather, is the way to go.
Bullet didn’t bother dressing up. Instead, he has his white thermal under his cut and ripped jeans. I rarely see him wear his cut outside of these family events and I wonder why. He’s a club member, though he doesn’t do much, claiming he lives outside the main area. I suspect more to that story but it isn’t like Bull is a heart to heart type of guy. If he wants you to know something, he’ll tell you, whether you want to hear it or not.
Harley was dressed as one of the Frozen characters, Elsa. I should know as she’s made me watch that movie a trillion one times. Most of the BBMC family was there, too. Not that Gage character, though. I guess he didn’t think he could get through the church door without engulfing in flames.
We stayed for a couple of hours talking, dancing, and eating some fantastic pot luck. I swear pot luck is the best thing ever invented. Well, besides chocolate.
It was so much fun that I even convinced Dallie and Wrench to dance with me, though Bull refused. I did watch Harley get a dance in with him, though. She has her uncle wrapped around her finger. It’s seriously adorable, and I must find a way to harness this newfound knowledge. The possibilities are endless.
On our way back, Bull dropped me at Gun’s place. He doesn’t trust himself enough to have me sleep at his place, and since we arrived back so late, I didn’t want to disturb Malice. Neither guy is home, so Bull insists on staying with me.
I clean up, change into sweats, and make
my way to the couch. Bull has already grabbed all of the extra pillows and blankets and has made the couch into a bed for me. I climb in and use his thigh as a pillow. He scrolls through his phone while combing through my hair. After such a long day, I fall asleep in minutes, excited to see what the rest of Halloween will bring my way.
After waking up solo on the couch, I ended up staying the entire day with Gun and Trig. We practiced for a while and then our manager, Rick, showed up with lunch to give us the rundown for the next week. We’re expected at nine in the morning on Tuesday to go over the shoot. There will be two days of shooting followed by the interview. We’ll be staying in New York City to do any additional shooting, if the magazine sees fit, and spending the rest of the week promoting the new single we’re about to release.
Bullet joins us and we all get dressed in our costumes for the night. I thought we should go as the Scooby Doo gang. Trig said he’d even dress as one of the chicks and I could drag Malice on as Scooby. But I was overruled. That’s what happens when you’re with a bunch of dumb boys. So when we walk on stage in our full blown Kiss costumes and started rocking ‘God gave rock and roll to you’ there was a curious reaction from the crowd. Some people screamed for Kiss while others cheered for LG. Despite my tits and obvious height deficiency, I made an excellent Gene Simmons.
When Gunner finally piped up and the crowd recognized his voice, the entire club came alive. It was Halloween after all, and time to play.
On Sunday, I stop at Coen’s. I still have the key so I let myself in after realizing that he wasn’t home. I feel like we’ve drifted apart and need to decide where we want this relationship to go. Together. I don’t want to be told.
Malice had been safeguarding Coen’s ring for me, not knowing what to do with it, I leave it on the kitchen counter with a note. I want Coen to know that I stopped by and that I haven’t given up on us. I explain that it doesn’t feel right to wear the ring with the way our relationship has deteriorated. Maybe when I return we can find a way to mend things. I don’t know what to think anymore. Is saving this relationship the right thing do? Or is it time to resign from relationship bankruptcy before it bleeds me dry?
