Down Beat

by Max Henry

  “Why were you?” Her voice is hoarse with the consequence of my regrets.

  “To purge. Figured the more I could get the shit out of me, the quicker I’d get better. I lived on water and dry crackers for a week.”

  The familiar weight of disappointment blankets me as I sit with Tabby encased against my chest. I fucked it all up, did such a stupid thing, and what’s worse is I can’t say with honest clarity I wouldn’t attempt it again.

  I’m not sure if that’s more selfish, or stupid?

  “Do you see it now, though?” she whispers.

  Her hands slide from my arms as she slowly pulls away.

  “See what?”

  “Why you do it.”

  I track her as she rises and walks to the counter with her things. Her hands shake as she gently sets the phone and menu down, and then wipes under her eyes with the side of her finger.

  “I guess it must be a cry for help, right?”

  Her face remains impassive as she fidgets with the paper.

  “Kitty. Look at me. Please.”

  “Why?” The single word is almost imperceptible, she utters it so quietly.

  I swallow back the urge to walk away, to hide and deny the truth, the pain, and the hopelessness of it all. I’ve done that for years, and where has it got me? “Because you make me feel ashamed of myself when you can’t look at me. You make me feel as though you wish I wasn’t here.”

  Her bloodshot eyes snap to mine; she tries so hard not to cry. “Nobody wishes you weren’t here, Rey. Nobody except you.”

  I frown.

  “That’s what I want you to see,” she explains, hand on the counter as though it’s the only thing that holds her up. “You said Toby found you the first time. Your own brother. And yet you tried again.” She holds her hand up to ask me to let her finish when I try to say something. “Then Kris found you, and although you know it hurt him deeply, and that in turn upsets you… you tried again.” Her palm slides from the counter, and she slowly makes her way back over to where I sit on the floor.

  My chest compresses as she places her feet either side of my thighs and sets her hands on my shoulders to brace herself as she lowers onto my lap. It takes everything in me to stay leaning back on the heels of my hands and to let her direct this. Her warm palms track up the sides of my neck until she has my jaw in her hands, her eyes wet with what can only be empathy.

  “You think you do this so other people will take notice and help you.”

  I nod, agreeing one hundred percent.

  “You do it,” she whispers, “because you’re waiting for yourself to take notice and help.”

  Huh? I frown, searching her eyes for more. Yet she stays rigid, waiting on me to understand.

  “You think I won’t help myself?”

  Her head slowly moves from side to side. “Your music, Rey. What do the lyrics talk of?”

  “Hurt,” I say, averting my gaze as she continues to watch me close. “Anger, and resentment.”

  “Where’s the hope?” she asks gently, thumbs stroking my face. “Where is the line that tells of how you overcame?”

  They don’t exist. I sing about how trapped I feel, how hopeless. “I’m my own worst enemy, aren’t I?” I search her eyes, hoping for confirmation that I understand now.

  A soft smile curves her lips. She almost looks… proud?

  “Don’t underestimate yourself. Stop telling yourself you’re worth nothing. Don’t use your music to pet your pain, to nurture it, and to feed it. Use your music to push it out, to heal, and to encourage you.”

  Who the fuck is this woman? And who the fuck put her on a path with me?

  Is this what divine intervention feels like? Because no way in fucking hell did we crash her concert by pure chance.

  I push my hands off the floor to lean into her, Tabby having to adjust her seat on my legs to keep from falling backward. Her hands slip back to my shoulders as I loop my arms around her waist and tug her flush against me.

  “Twenty-seven years of hell,” I tell her as I search her face. “Almost three decades of pain before I’m finally gifted you.”

  Her throat bobs as she swallows, the silence in the room deafening while I wait on her to answer—to say anything.

  “You have to do this yourself,” she tells me carefully, eyes flicking between mine. “I can support you, but I won’t do it for you.”

  “Help me,” I plead. “Come back with me, kitty, and show me how to write better music. Uplifting music.”

  She scoffs, looking away until I give her a sharp tug to bring her back. “I don’t know the first thing about rock music.”

  “You said it yourself—it’s basic once you break it down. It’s layers. You know how it works.” Damn it. Come on, kitty. “Please.” She pulls in a sharp breath as I close the small space between us and place a kiss to her forehead. “I need you.”

  Her gaze meets mine, and for a fleeting moment I find my utopia.

  I always thought it was a place, an event. But it’s not. It’s a feeling.

  A feeling I only get from one person.

  Her.

  “I don’t know. I—”

  “Please,” I whisper again, skimming my nose against the side of hers. “I’ll talk to Wallace and see if we can get you on stage again. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  She relaxes against my arms, giving me all the confidence I need to take this that one step further.

  “Come be with me,” I murmur as I lean in for the kill.

  She sucks a sharp breath in her nose as my lips brush against hers. The hammering of my heart fills the brief second I give her before I repeat the action. Don’t reject me. I’ve asked for plenty in my life, but all I hope for in this moment is for her to need me too.

  Her warm breath caresses my mouth as I hold steady a hair’s breadth from her, giving her that last out, that last chance to push against me and back away. Yet she doesn’t. The whole day, the disruption I caused and the pain I put Toby through is justified the moment she leans forward and gives me her wordless answer.

  Her lips tease mine, soft and seemingly unsure before a switch flips. Her kiss grows hungry, her ass scooting forward as she tries to get closer, to remove any space between us while she tugs at my bottom lip with hers.

  I’m not one to brag, but I’ve kissed plenty of willing girls over the years, yet not one of those meaningless hookups hold a candle to this.

  Maybe it’s Tabby? Maybe it’s because for the first time ever I actually feel the unmistakable need to have a person close, to keep her with me. For once, I can’t imagine why I would want to walk away.

  I tilt my head a little, allowing her to deepen the kiss as she brings her hands to the sides of my face. Her breath comes fast as she finishes with a single, teasing sweep of her tongue before she pulls back and presses her forehead to mine.

  “Okay.”

  I chuckle, stealing another brief taste of her lips. “Is that all? Just ‘okay’?”

  She laughs, pulling back to look me in the eye. “Okay, Rey Thomas. I’ll join you. But not because you’re some famous person who can show me the world, blah, blah, blah.” Her eyes roll. “But because it’s you.” She sets a palm to my chest, over my heart. “Because you were brave enough to show me the real you, and that guy, the nice guy, the real guy, is the one I like.” She peers up at me from under her lashes, bashful. “The one I really like.”

  “Fuck, kitty.” I wrap a hand around the back of her head and pull her in for a better kiss, a more heated kiss.

  The kind that tells her I really like her too.

  “You make me feel like a horny fucking teenager all over again: awkward and a little bit insane.”

  She laughs, swatting at me before her face falls and she pulls in a deep breath. “I’m serious, Rey. I like the real you, and that guy I’d help any damn way I could.” She dots a cute little peck of her lips on the end of my nose. “Because I want him to stick around. Always.”

  Fuck. For
her, I might have finally found a reason to want to.

  THIRTY

  Tabitha

  “Smells Like Teen Spirit” - Nirvana

  Kendall’s gaze skims over Rey as he stands at the window, phone to his ear while he seemingly talks Toby off a ledge.

  “You,” she hisses under her breath, finger pointing toward the hall. “Bedroom. Now.”

  I lead her into my room, well aware she wants privacy so she can grill me about what the hell went down in our pokey little apartment.

  Truth? I kissed a guy. And it was more than just a kiss. It was… it was a reintroduction.

  I met the real Rey. The vulnerable Rey. The guy who parades around with his mask of fierceness on, lest somebody see the truth: he barely holds on.

  “What the fuck, Tab?” Kendall ditches her purse next to the door before starting on her coat. “Spill. Everything. Now.”

  I shrug, not ready to give her all of it. Rey shared some pretty personal things. Things that I’ll keep from my best friend, even, out of respect for him. “He needed a break.”

  “You realize his promoters are spewing over the change.” She stands staunch, arms folded. “He might be their best asset, but he needs to remember everyone can be replaced.”

  “No they can’t,” I snap. “People aren’t expendable, Kendall.”

  You can’t replace someone in their entirety. You can find a suitable substitute, sure. Somebody who can get the job done. But people are unique. Everybody holds that special mix of traits that make them who they are. And that is why we love them: because they make us feel a certain way, or act a certain way. You can’t successfully replicate or replace a person, otherwise why would we grieve?

  “What’s going on here, hon?” She leans a shoulder against the doorframe, giving the hallway a quick glance.

  “He needs help,” I explain as my ass hits the side of the bed. “You heard him sing, heard that pain. I don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes with the tour, but he came here because he seems to think I can help him turn his mindset around.”

  “Can you?” Kendall asks softly. “And should you? You’ve known the guy personally all of a week.”

  “Almost two.”

  “Whatever. It’s not very long, Tab. Why you?”

  I shrug. I’ve asked myself the same question all day. Why me? “I guess only he knows that. All I know is I can’t in good conscience turn away a man who is crying out for help. What kind of a person would that make me?”

  Kendall sighs, her lips pressed in a flat line. “One who knows her limits, I guess.” She glances to the floor, arms folded. “Where will it leave you?” Her head turns as she checks we’re still in the clear. “How do you feel about this? Why do you want to do it, other than moral guilt?”

  I study the carpet, embarrassed to admit the truth for fear it makes me sound like just another groupie. “I like the guy, Kendall. Behind all that public bullshit, there’s a really genuine man.”

  “Or so he wants you to think.”

  “He said he’d talk to their boss and see if I can open some shows again.” God, that sounds so lame out loud. I have no doubt he’ll ask, but do I really think that a label will throw some unknown in the mix on the whim of their rebellious front man?

  “You think he’s telling the truth about that?”

  I lift my gaze to hers. “I don’t know for sure, but I hope so. I have to at least give it a try, right?”

  She huffs out her nose, seemingly as torn as I am. “What now? He doesn’t think he’s welcome to stay here, does he?”

  “I don’t know. Why? Would that be a problem?” Why is she so anti-Rey? What has Toby told her?

  “I’m just saying that maybe it would be in his best interest if we managed to convince him to get on a plane back to the tour tonight.” She lifts her hands, palms showing.

  “Tabby?”

  “He will,” I whisper to Kendall as I stand. Rey’s footfalls head our way. “He was online doing exactly that, sorting tickets, before you walked in from work.”

  “Did I interrupt?”

  Kendall spins to find Rey directly behind her, hesitant, in the hall. “You’ve got a lot of people worried, you know that? Maybe you should let somebody know where you are next time you have a diva moment.”

  She marches toward the living area, leaving him staring at me with a surprised lift of an eyebrow. “She always that blunt?”

  I nod as I turn. My bed creaks when I hit it face-first. “Ugh,” I mumble into the bedspread. “Ignore her.”

  His chuckle draws closer, his weight making my mattress dip toward him. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I think Kris and Emery talked Toby around to the idea.”

  “He didn’t want me there?” For some reason, knowing that stabs at my gut. I’m not exactly the type who cares what people think of me—each to their own—but I don’t want to be labeled as at fault for this. “He knows I had nothing to do with your impromptu visit, right?” I don’t want to end up in the crossfire of a war between siblings.

  “Yeah, he knows it was all me.” Rey stretches out across the bed also, and then reaches out to snag me by the shirt.

  I tumble against him when he pulls, my hand only just saving me from a pretty damn ungraceful collision between my nose and his shoulder. “Easy.”

  “Fuck easy,” he mumbles, encasing me in his arm. “Tour with me, kitty, and you’ll soon see there ain’t much that’s easy when it comes to the life and times of Rey Thomas.”

  I feel adored, tucked in his hold, and yet at the same time I’m not fool enough to not recognize that I’m currently in the hands of an expert showman.

  I know without a shadow of a doubt that he’s about to majorly change my life, but if that’s for better, or worse, I don’t know. I can’t distinguish the line between our reality and this illusion I seem content to be caught up in. I know what I should do, I know what the “smart” thing to say would be, but like a junkie staring down that last needle, I’m not quite ready to walk away from the danger.

  The lure of the thrill that comes with his drug is too strong. One week, even one day. How amazing would it be to experience his world?

  Fuck—you’re only gifted one life. May as well make sure it has some memorable moments to laugh about in your old age, right?

  “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

  He smirks, pushing up on one elbow to look down at me. “Depends.” Firm fingers find my chin and coax my face up toward his. He places a soft, slow kiss to my mouth, gentle and reverent as he pulls back. “I don’t think I will.”

  I rest my forehead against his lips for a moment before I settle against his side. “Tell me. Any crazy ex-girlfriends or stalkers I need to know about? Do I need my own bodyguard?”

  His chest vibrates beneath my ear with his laugh. “Fuck. I wish.” He lets out an amused snort. “I haven’t exactly been celibate, kitty, but no, there aren’t any crazy exes.”

  “Really?” I push up to rest on my elbow, and frown at him. “You haven’t broken numerous hearts on your rise to fame? I find that hard to believe.”

  His stoic expression kills the humor. “I don’t let people get that close to me, Tabby.”

  His switch from “kitty” to my actual name—albeit a shortened version—leaves me unsettled. He’s dead serious. It intensifies the pressure somewhat, knowing that this connection, this rapid burn we’re on, is new for him.

  “You look worried,” he muses, tracing my face with his finger.

  “Because I am.”

  “Why?”

  I pull free of his hold to sit on the edge of the bed. “What if I hurt you? What if I end up making you worse? I’m not a shrink, Rey. I know music—classical music. That’s all. I’m no expert in how to help somebody who’s bipolar.”

  The shutdown is visible as he rolls off the foot of the bed and then stands tall. “So don’t treat me as bipolar,” he grits through a tight jaw. “Treat me as fucking human.”

  I do
n’t get to say another word before he storms from the room, his heavy footfalls retreating to the living room before the slam of the door echoes through the place. Shit. I launch from the bed and skid into the main room to find Kendall staring at me with her brow raised in a “What do you want me to do?” expression.

  “I’ll be back soon.” I scramble to tug my boots on, whipping my coat off the back of the bedroom door before I skid back past Kendall to chase him down.

  “He needs a fucking babysitter, Tab!” she hollers as I swing the door shut behind me.

  My blood boils as I hit the stairs, my anger split between her ignorance and his stubbornness. Why can’t she see that there’s clearly a deeper reason behind his behavior other than he’s a spoilt musician? And why does he always presume people believe that his labels are all there are to him?

  I step out onto the sidewalk and get hit with the bite of a cool night breeze. The sun has completely gone to bed, only the glow of the streetlights giving me a limited view of the area. Which way would he go? I glance left, and then right, deciding on a whim to turn right since I read somewhere that men are more likely to pick that direction, which is why menswear is most often to the right of a shop entrance.

  My recall of useless knowledge comes in handy when I spot him the next block over, stooped over to talk to a fan who’s spotted him out alone. The girl bounces on the balls of her feet before she tucks herself into his side so she can take a selfie.

  Rey’s grin is wide, almost as large as the surge of jealousy that fires through me when the girl places a bold kiss on his cheek.

  I bury my fists in my coat pockets and power on, catching up as she heads down the side street, suitably pleased with herself. “What are you doing?”

  “I could ask you the same.” His fake smile is gone, the pissed off wanker I got back at the apartment firmly in situ.