Playing the Pauses

by Michelle Hazen

  I exhale. But he wouldn’t have a job on another tour, he’d just be following me around. I can’t ask him to be my groupie, any more than I could be his.

  A fist squeezes inside my throat, and I scowl at the window. I’m being stupid, letting the fantasy of this week spill over into the reality of my life. I’ve sacrificed everything for my dreams, and I’m not giving them up for a guy. Besides, I damned well know I’m not built for picket fences and office jobs.

  And what I feel when I look at Danny doesn’t change that.

  I fight the urge to curl my knees into my chest. I wish I had a few minutes alone instead of heading back to the crew—all their knowing eyes waiting for me to lose myself in lust with a musician like so many girls before me.

  Danny’s hand flips over and he catches my fingers. He ducks his head and finds my eyes, the question clear in the air between us. I don’t know why he ever speaks, because he can communicate so well with his silence. But right now, even that small familiarity strangles my chest and sends my gaze fleeing for the window.

  When I don’t answer, his thumb strokes over my knuckles, and then he takes his hand away. My fingers twitch at the loss and I look up and realize he’s taking the ring off his middle finger. He picks up my left hand and slides it onto my thumb.

  Something jolts fiercely through me; I tell myself it must be fear of discovery. There’s no way it could be excitement because to a girl like me, a ring is just a cage. “Danny, you know I can’t wear this...”

  “You play with it all the time. You like it.” He shrugs. “Keep it.”

  I glance up. To Danny, it’s really that simple. “But everybody will know it’s yours,” I say hoarsely.

  “We’re still stuck on what other people think? Seriously?” His jaw tightens.

  I take off his ring, the silver warm like his body, and squeeze it inside my fist until the edges bite my flesh. “Danny, I’m not ashamed that I’m sleeping with you.” Up front, the driver shifts in his seat. I wonder if he’s a Red Letters fan, if he recognized Danny. Well, screw it. If he did, he’d better hear this part too. “There is nothing about you that embarrasses me, nothing I’m not proud of.”

  “Maybe not.” His shoulders are hard. “But you think if people see us together instead of separately, that makes you less.”

  I shake my head, because he doesn’t understand. He’s the talent, not the crew. Everyone always falls for the star, and Danny O’Neil has no notion of what it feels like to be a cliché.

  “This industry is fucked.” His words scorch the air between us as the driver swings into the first of the lanes funneling into the airport. “It’s all just posing, putting on a show all the time whether it’s for the benefit of the fans or the reporters, or even the tour staff. There’s no such thing as ‘off stage.’” Danny shakes his head once, hard. “I thought you were above all that.”

  I rear back. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m sorry I upset you, Danny, but—”

  “Don’t ship my stage clothes over,” he interrupts. “I’m wearing my own stuff. People come to the shows to see me, and that’s what they’re going to get. If they don’t like it, they can fucking go home. And I want to do an interview, put this crap about me and Jera to rest.” He sneers at me. “Don’t worry. I won’t bring you up.”

  I fold my hands in my lap, wondering if I just sacrificed my last ten days with him. “I’ll set it up,” I say quietly. “Do you have a preference of media outlet?”

  The car darkens as we enter the labyrinth of different terminal drop offs, and I see familiar faces ahead. Clancy and Jera laugh together, and Jax and Ruben chat animatedly—talking about soccer, judging by the gestures.

  “I swear to God, if you call me Mr. O’Neil right now, I am going to lose my fucking shit.” The energy in Danny’s body crackles until the shell of the car ought to creak under the strain.

  I meet his eyes, the beautiful green-gold of his irises alive with fury, and I don’t know how I’m going to drag my body out of this taxi. I used up everything in me just to leave his apartment.

  “I am so sorry.” I say the words in the way he sometimes speaks, like they’re seeping out of my pores, draining from my hands. He looks away as the cab slows to a stop. I hold out his ring, below the level of the window so no one will see.

  He swipes it out of my hand, the door bangs open, and he’s gone. All the intensity of him sweeps out of the car and my ribs squeeze suffocatingly, like he took the air with him.

  I force myself to get out of the car. My face smiles at Jera and my leaden arm lifts to wave at Simon, who stands a little apart from the rest of the crew.

  And then his fingers slide around my shoulders. My skin sings to life, the scent of black pepper and rain-washed wood filling my deflated lungs before Danny’s lips touch mine.

  His body is hard, lean muscle and vivid energy arousing every part of me it is pressed against. I always thought his mouth would be hard too, but it’s terribly soft: sweet safety cradling me as the heat of his tongue sweeps inside. His scent winds into my hair along with his long fingers, and he holds me in a way I’ve never been held, like he’s supporting the weight of every crazy thought I had on the ride over here, while his lips sip away all the pain that has been ricocheting through my body.

  Danny shifts back, my face sheltered between his palms. His eyes are easy again, and it makes me so, so happy, the feeling filling me up like a balloon swelling inside my ribs. He tips my chin down and leaves a kiss on my forehead, his lips so much different now that they’ve tasted mine.

  I didn’t know. He’s always been sweet to me, quick to smile when I make a joke or to distract me when I’ve been on the phone to my mother. He’s said he didn’t want us to be short term, but until this second, I didn’t realize what that all meant.

  Danny O’Neil can’t be in love with me. He just...can’t.

  I am frozen as he steps away and goes to the taxi. He pays the driver, picks up his bass and suitcase in one hand, and mine in the other. Without looking back, he goes into the airport.

  All their eyes are on me, but it takes a few breaths before I can look. Jera grins, bouncing on her toes. Jax looks flabbergasted and Ruben’s eyebrows nearly surpass his receding hairline. Even Jayna is smiling. Does that mean they’ll gossip less, or more? What does this mean for my next job?

  I clear my throat. “Is everybody here yet?” I step farther onto the sidewalk and pull out my cell phone, opening to a to-do list. “Let’s get the equipment grouped along with the checked baggage, okay?” Staring down at my phone, I will the waves of tingling in my body to recede. It’s like the aftershocks of orgasm, or adrenaline rush, or maybe both.

  Something nudges my elbow, and I flinch and glance up. Clancy stands next to me, his eyes warm. “You know, girl, I’ve seen a lot of people fall out of this life when they were ready for a family. I gotta admit, I didn’t think you’d be one of them, but take it from a man paying alimony in three states: this is a good thing.”

  My spine stiffens. “I’m not going to— It’s not like that.” My teeth ache with the effort of holding back what I want to snap at my old friend, but if I want the staff to think Danny won’t affect my professionalism then I have to freaking act like it.

  Smoothing my hair back, I lead the way inside. I ramrod us through check in despite one damaged passport and one oversold flight, chew down our additional baggage rates and then drag the whole circus through security—only momentarily stalling the process when one of the new light techs tries to carry-on an open fifth of vodka he “forgot” in a hidden pocket of his luggage.

  By the time we make it to the gate, I can’t help but steal a glance at Danny, losing the battle against analyzing what that kiss was supposed to announce. Did he save it until we were in public because he wanted to reveal our relationship to the crew, or was it about something more? Something...permanent? And why does that put a whirl of hope deep in my belly when I know there’s no way it could work out in actual reality
?

  All the potential options suck, and it’s not a conversation I want to have with myself, much less with Danny. When we reach the gate, I turn off for the ladies’ room instead, just to buy myself more time.

  As soon as I get inside, Jera pops in behind me. “So...that just happened.” She grins so brightly that it tugs a wry smile onto my face.

  “Shouldn’t you be giving me the ‘If you hurt my friend, I will remove blank appendages’ speech?”

  “If I thought you’d hurt my friend, I’d have already shouted, ‘Oh God she has a gun!’ in security and been done with the problem.” Jera flares her eyes at me and drops her messenger bag onto the counter. “Besides, without you, I’d have to get half-naked with Jayna twice a day, and I can only assume that would end in me missing some appendages.” She makes a face. “That girl is scary. Don’t tell her I said that.”

  “I am...not following.” I put down my purse on top of my carry-on.

  “It’s not the mohawk. It’s more the...” Jera gestures vaguely in a circle in front of her face. “General air of sociopathy.”

  “Not why is Jayna scary, why do you have to get half-naked with her?”

  “’Cause she’s the only other girl on the tour.” Jera waggles her eyebrows at me. “Now wash your hands and you’ll see.”

  “I’d say this is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had in a ladies’ restroom, but I’ve toured with Acid Fingernails.” I start washing my hands, my distracted brain finally clicking into gear. “Jesus, you got engaged and got Jacob’s name tattooed across your ass, didn’t you?”

  She winks. “Oh honey, it’s not my ass I’d put his name on.”

  As soon as I reach for a paper towel, Jera snatches up her messenger bag in one hand, my wrist in the other, and drags both into the handicapped stall. Once inside, she produces a giant tube of unscented lotion and strips off her shirt: an oversized black tunic of loose cotton that I only now recognize as totally out of character for the tight-tee-wearing drummer.

  The tattoo is white ink. It’s red with irritation but when it smoothes, the effect against her pale skin will be subtle and classy, like brocade. The design is of a delicate, leafy vine threaded with thorns. It gently circles her right wrist, climbs her arm with a little flounce of a curl around her shoulder muscle, and then begins to fall across her back.

  Jera turns to show me the rest, unbuttoning her pants and shoving her waistband and underwear down on one side so I can see the whole thing.

  When the tattoo dips into the small of her back, the leaves begin to dissolve into musical notes that twist and swirl all the way over to her opposite hip, moving into the incredible texture of smoke right before they fade away.

  “I’ve always loved these vines,” she says. “Danny drew them onto my car for me, and he’s said for years he had a design for me when I was ready. I told him I didn’t want to see it first, just to put it on.” She peeks over her shoulder at me, handing over the lotion. “Can you believe how utterly awesome it came out?”

  I shake my head. “Holy shit, Jera. I just...wow.”

  She giggles but then winces as I start to dab lotion over the musical notes. “I thought it would hurt more to do it but it’s the afterburn that is...” She shakes her head. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing nobody told me or I might have chickened out and gone for a tiny star on my ankle instead. Plus, it’s a pain in the ass to try to catch a shower twice a day to wash it, and I don’t even want to think about how likely it is to get infected with all the traveling we’re about to do...”

  She chatters away as I work up her back, my fingers tracing every place that Danny’s needle entered her skin. I can’t even fathom having his kind of talent, to be able to make beauty like this anytime you got the urge.

  I help Jera back into her shirt and tuck the lotion into her messenger bag, startling a little when she leans in and wraps me in a tight hug.

  I lay my clean hand on the un-injured side of her back, giving her a light squeeze. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Thank you,” she whispers and pulls back to look at me. “For making him so happy.”

  My skin goes cold. She didn’t see his face in the taxi when I gave back his ring. And she apparently didn’t read the flight schedule either. I look down.

  “I don’t think you get how different he is with you,” she says. “He rarely brings girls home, hardly mentions them to me or Jax. It just never occurs to him. And he’s really private. The fact that he kissed you in front of everybody, that he wants people to know you’re together, it’s um...” She smiles. “Weird, actually. But in a good way.”

  The tears come, and I don’t have the energy to stop them anymore. I just turn my face away, blinking hard as Jera sucks in a guilty breath.

  “Jera, you have to know I can’t... I mean, right now I have to take any job I can get, so I barely even live anywhere. But with Danny, I...” My voice breaks and I can’t finish.

  She hugs me so hard it knocks me back a step, her hair tickling my nose. “Fuck, it’s just never simple, is it?” she murmurs. “But I can see how much you care about him. For what it’s worth, I think you guys are amazing together.”

  She steps back, reaching up to swipe a tear off my cheek.

  “Don’t be sad. He’ll kill me if I just made you sad.” She winks. “Come on, I have to go play huge concerts in exotic countries instead of fucking the brains out of my gorgeous fiancé. We’ve all got problems.”

  A laugh bubbles up through my tight throat. Jera snaps the lock open and grabs a wad of toilet paper, stuffing it into my hand as she nudges me out of the bathroom stall.

  “Silver lining?” she says. “Now that you’re dating Danny, I don’t have to be sad that I’m never going to see you again when you leave the tour. I feel like I might even be starting to get the hang of this girl talk thing. Look, we’re talking about boys in the bathroom. That’s girly, right?” My laugh catches on a hiccup this time. She narrows her eyes, pointing at me in the mirror as I stop to check for mascara streaks. “Don’t even burst my bubble if I’m wrong. Seriously.”

  I reach over and pat her un-tattooed arm. “You’re super girly. Any day now we’re going to graduate to watching Sex and the City together.” She looks horrified, which tugs another smile out of me. “I’m kidding. Honestly, though, it’ll be nice to have one person on the tour who isn’t disappointed in me for falling into bed with the hot bass player.”

  “It didn’t look like Danny was too disappointed.” She smirks. “Now go talk to him. I doubt he’ll apologize for practically peeing a circle around you in front of the crew, but I’d bet you a pair of top-shelf martinis that he’s worried about what’s going through your head right now.”

  When I exit the restroom, I spot him right away, sitting one gate over from the rest of the group. With a long exhale, I drop into the seat next to him, letting my carry-on and purse slump onto the floor next to me. Fuck, it’s going to be an endless day. But even though I have no idea how to handle this, my stomach settles a little just at being close to him.

  Danny waits.

  “Those few days you went in to work?” I slant him a look. “Worth every second I had to give you up for.”

  “Liked Jera’s tattoo, did you?” He smiles.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it in...” I shake my head. “Just ever. I wish you had told me. I’d have loved to come watch.”

  “Jacob sat in for part of it but...it was something the two of us kind of needed to do alone.” Danny pauses. “Lot of stuff has happened. It was good to talk.”

  I watch him, wondering if he’ll say more. I’m tormented by the idea of all the things he might have said in that room, pieces of him she knows that I’ll never get to. My eyes fall to my lap. Christ, I’m a hypocrite. But even knowing that, all I want to do is reach over and take his hand so I can feel the warmth of his palm comforting my skin.

  So I do.

  His brows bounce, and then a smile lifts the edge of his li
ps. “Got to admit, I thought you would be mad at me for kissing you in front of everyone.”

  “No going back now. But I’m going to have to juggle a lot of shit from the crew, and once the rumors spread, I have no idea if I’ll be able to get another job.”

  “So work the next tour for The Red Letters. You said yourself that with our sales the next one will probably stretch for months.”

  “I don’t want a job everybody thinks I slept my way into, no matter how high-profile it might be.” I meet his eyes. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be staff. I was one of them, but now I’ll be little better than a Backstage Betty.”

  “Bullshit.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

  “Everybody knows you got this job before we met, and your crew has done their jobs whether they were high or sober, on twenty minutes of sleep the last time the bus broke down, and running on Skittles and Doritos when the catering fell through in Philadelphia. They’ll do their job just the same knowing we’re together.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to deal with them.”

  “I know I promised I’d keep you a secret.” His voice is quiet now, his eyes steady and private as if we’re not in a terminal filled with hundreds of strangers. “I used to think it was enough that I knew the truth about myself, that the people closest to me knew who I was and what I cared about. I figured it didn’t hurt anything to let people think what they wanted about me. But I’m starting to think I’m the one it hurts.” He looks down.

  I cup my hand around the base of his neck, holding him hard as I lay my forehead into the curve beneath his jaw, exhaling all in a whoosh. “God, Danny, how am I supposed to be mad at you when you say things like that?”

  His big hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, hugging me a little tighter.

  “I never wanted to hurt you,” I whisper against his skin. He sits back, his brow creasing as his hand slips down to my shoulder. I look up into his face. “This all started because I was afraid someone else would hurt you and I...” I shake my head, willing myself not to cry. “I never meant to lead you on, Danny.” His hand loosens, and I reach up to cover it with my own before he can pull away. “It’s not that I don’t want you,” I whisper fiercely. “If I lived down the street, it would be different. But we can’t even really date unless one of us moves to another state and even then, I’m just starting out. When I can get a job, I have to go.”