Down Beat

by Max Henry

  Everything comes back to the one thing I can’t fucking change.

  “Fuck off, if you’re just going to stand there and judge me,” I scathe. “Go away.”

  “I don’t judge you,” she growls. “You judge yourself, you stubborn fucking idiot.” She marches into the room, her rage seeming to give her the bravery she lacked before. “When have I ever put you down or made you feel like you’re less of a person because of what you’ve told me?”

  “You don’t have to say it,” I whine like the petulant asshole I am. “It’s implied.”

  “Bullshit it is.”

  I damn near shit myself when she takes a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back. Whoa, kitty. “Fucking look at me, you coward.”

  “I don’t want to.” My damn eyeballs ache in my effort to avoid making contact with her.

  “Why not?”

  “Because then I’m reminded of why this sucks.”

  Her hand relaxes, falling away from my head to her side. “Why, Rey?”

  “Because I look at you,” I say, slicing my gaze to her, “and it fucking breaks me apart to admit that I’m the one responsible for losing the one thing I really love.”

  “Then don’t push me away,” she cries, seemingly as exasperated as I am by it all. “Don’t treat me like this and give me a reason to leave.”

  “I’d rather you left me when you’re angry, than broken,” I murmur, dropping my gaze again without even thinking on it. “Stay with me, and that’s all you’ll be—broken. I don’t want to destroy you, kitty. You don’t deserve that. But you and I both know that’s exactly what I’m doing, isn’t it?”

  “Fuck you.” She shunts me with the palm of her hand. “Don’t give up, Rey. Don’t roll over and die. Fucking fight for something for once, and stop hiding behind your mental illness as though it’s at fault.”

  “Isn’t it?” I shout. “Tell me what is to blame, then, if not that.”

  “You are. You sabotage everything to save face.”

  “What the fuck do you mean?” Save face how? I would have called what I do humiliating myself, since I admit over and fucking over again how weak and wrecked I am.

  “God forbid you admit that you care about something, huh?” She takes a step back, and then another, staggered until she drops to her ass against the wall. “You tell me you love me, and yet you can’t show it.”

  Is she tripping? “What the fuck was the point in kissing you, then? Why the fuck did we mess about in the last hotel, then? Wasn’t that showing it?”

  “No.” She says the word on a bitter laugh. “That’s lust, Rey. That’s you seeking a natural high.”

  She’s got it wrong. So damn wrong.

  “I read up about bipolar, about how it works. I wanted to learn so that I could help. I know what you were doing. You were using me to medicate.”

  “You’ve got it wrong.” I know what she means, but that hypersexuality shit comes when you’re in mania. It’s the God complex at work; you think you’re a gift to anyone and everyone.

  I wasn’t at my high with her; I’ve only been at my lowest.

  “Don’t leave, okay?” I slide off the bed to sit level with her. “We’ll work on this.”

  “When?” she whispers. “While you finish your tour, paying my way because I can’t afford to, let alone service the debts I left behind when I came here?”

  Now who’s the one who can’t look at the other?

  “I need to separate myself from this so I can focus on me. I haven’t been able to write shit since I’ve been here with you, and unlike you, I don’t have a big name to fall back on. I’m still trying to find my place in this industry.”

  I stifle her. I’m goddamn suffocating her creativity.

  I’ve got nothing to say. What else can I say when her mind is made up?

  The truth, Rey.

  “You know how I realized that I love you?”

  She shakes her head, hands slung loosely between her bent legs.

  “We haven’t slept together.” I laugh at how fucking ridiculous it sounds out loud. “If I didn’t give two shits about you I would have found somewhere to drill you after that concert we did.”

  “That’s really insensitive, Rey.” She chuckles.

  “It’s the fucking truth though.” I smile at her, relieved we’ve found calmer waters. “I craved those Messenger calls we made, because I wanted to see you. Ask the guys: I take a hell of a long time to warm up to people I don’t know. But you.…” I grip my hair in frustration, unable to give the sentiments the kind of words they deserve. “I’ve never enjoyed just being with a person like I have you. I mean, don’t get me wrong”—I lift both hands with a chuckle—“I think about taking things to the next level with you all day, every day. But I wanted you to let me know when you were ready. I didn’t want to lose the best part of you by rushing the rest of you.”

  She swallows hard, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

  “Don’t fucking tell me you’re still going. Don’t.”

  She stares at me in silence. I count the beats of my heart.

  “Stay, kitty. Please.”

  “Give me a reason why. And don’t tell me you love me again, because I need more.” She frowns. “I need you to show you care about me, about my goals too. I want to be here for you, but only if you’re present for me too.”

  Those rich brown eyes of hers hold me captive as I cross off all the lines I could give that don’t measure up to what she asks of me. Fuck—I deliver lines for a goddamn living, and yet here I am tongue-tied because the lyric I need in this moment is the linchpin to whether or not we have a future.

  I’ve never felt performance anxiety like I do now.

  So I do the only thing that comes naturally—I sing. I pull the words the only way I know how.

  “The dark before the dawn, the calm before the storm. Solace is what I find with you, when the sun don’t want to shine.”

  Love me, hold me. Tell me you’re here to fix me.

  Love me, hold me. Tell me, baby, please. Tell me you can fucking save me.

  Her chin quivers as I sing the last lines in my head, praying she’s the silver bullet I had in mind when I wrote that song.

  “You added two words.”

  I nod. “Yeah. I did.” I added “with you” to the end of the line.

  When I penned the lyrics, it was the peace I found in the darkness that I had in mind. But it’s her now. She brings me peace when the shadows fall.

  “You still didn’t give me an answer for the problem.”

  “Maybe I had it wrong when I asked you to help write for me,” I say, hands scrubbing the carpet. “Maybe, I need to write for you?”

  Her brow pinches. “Where are you going with this?”

  “Maybe,” I say with a shrug. “If we write something together I can, I dunno, work like a mentor or something? We’ll take you indie; fuck Wallace. You give me the music, and I’ll show you how to market the fuck out of it.”

  The rustle of her clothing brings my head up, and I find her on all fours as she crawls across the floor to where I sit slumped against the foot of the bed. She pushes my legs apart, settling herself between to sit on her heels.

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “I’d do damn near anything for you.” Even give up my sad and pathetic life to make hers what she fucking deserves.

  “I’ve never met somebody who messes me up like you do.” She shakes her head slowly, yet with a smile. “Why do I let you do this to me?”

  “Because I fucking love you, kitty.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her in tight.

  It fucking killed, that space between us. I hate it. It’s so much more than a physical void when there are arguments involved.

  “You make it hard not to love you, too, Rey.”

  “But you’re unsure about this?” I give her space to pull back so I can see her.

  “There’s a lot to consider.” />
  Yeah, there is. But no matter how messed up the puzzle in in my head, I know what the end picture is supposed to show, and it’s her and me. It’s going to take time to sort it all out, get the edges in and then figure out where everything else goes. But the satisfaction once complete will be worth it.

  So worth it.

  FORTY-SIX

  Tabitha

  “Wicked Game” – Stone Sour

  This will break him—I know it.

  I can’t quantify what it is that pulls me to Rey, what it is that gives me the shivers when I think about never seeing him, talking to him again. But I need to risk that to remember who I am.

  Nothing changes. Tomorrow, I’ll return home. But he has to believe I’m going to stay if I can do it clean.

  I hate lying. It’s not who I am. But then, neither is this.

  Looking into his eyes as he gently strokes my hair from my face, I know without a doubt I’d give up my hopes and aspirations for my music to make sure he continues to live his. And that right there is what tells me that no matter how painful, I’m doing the right thing.

  I said to him I didn’t want to start this based on dependency. I never knew I meant my own.

  In the space of a few short weeks my purpose for getting up each and every day has become making sure he survives his.

  That is not healthy. That is toxic love.

  I’m killing myself, stripping away my own strength to give him his.

  I can’t do that, can’t carry on down this path if I want a future where I don’t resent him.

  “I wish you could see what I do,” I whisper. “I wish you could see how much more you are than your faults.”

  His smile is lazy, unconvinced. I hate that. “I like it when you tell me in your own words.”

  “I’ll always tell you, just so you don’t forget.” Even if I’m not around to do it in person.

  His eyes drop, his smile fading as he leans forward to place a kiss against my neck. I thread my fingers in his hair, holding tight as he brushes his lips down to my collarbone. It’s everything I can do not to cry.

  The exterior of this man is nothing but harsh and unforgiving. He’d have a person believe he’s a coldhearted asshole who cares about nothing but his own gain.

  But this. As his hands press tight against my shoulder blades to keep me against him, his kisses leave a hot trail in their wake as he moves to my chest, the base of my throat.

  This man is love. Pure and selfless love. He cares, so much, and it fucking hurts to see him hide such an amazing side of himself.

  But I know why. I know why he does.

  To protect himself.

  It’s what I should do now, not lean back to let him guide my shirt from my body, not set my hands on his shoulders to brace myself while he undoes my bra, all while he holds my gaze with those incredibly truthful eyes of his.

  No. I should stand and walk away. I should burn this to the ground before it has a chance to finish being built. I should respect the fact that tomorrow morning, while he sleeps, I plan to betray him in the worst and cruelest way.

  Doing this… it only twists that poison-laced thorn in deeper. For him, and me.

  “Tell me you’re ready,” he whispers against my skin. “Tell me I don’t have to wait any longer.”

  “It’s okay.” It’ll be okay. One day.

  “God, I love you.” His hands grip my waist tight as he pushes me to my feet. “So fucking gorgeous.”

  It hurts.

  “So fucking beautiful.” His hands make quick work of the snap on my shorts.

  He pulls the zipper down, but he may as well be dragging a knife through my heart. I’m selfless in this moment, in the worst kind of way. He takes his time stripping me down, his hands reverent between each article of clothing. I brace myself with my hands on his shoulders as he helps me to step out of my panties while he’s still seated on the floor.

  The look he gives as he tips his head back to take me in? I don’t deserve it.

  But I want it, and so I take it, which is what makes me such a horrible fucking person.

  “Come here.” He crooks his finger as he whispers the command.

  I bend my knees and settle on his legs, straddling his hips. He scoots a little lower so that my knees have room before they’re up against the bed.

  “I don’t want this night to end,” he muses aloud while his palm glides across my flesh.

  I thread my fingers in his hair at the back of his head, letting my forehead rest against his. “It hurts me to think you don’t see how incredible you are.”

  He sets both hands on my hips, nudging them further around onto my ass before he takes hold. “You make me that way.”

  I don’t. He still doesn’t understand. Maybe he thinks I bring out the best in him? So what if I did? It wouldn’t matter shit, what I can do, if that beauty wasn’t already there inside of him.

  You can’t showcase what doesn’t exist.

  I run my hands over his shoulders, the thrill of the touch bittersweet with the sense of loss that accompanies it. I get this once, when I could have it a hell of a lot more if I stayed.

  But would I still enjoy it, if I let him break me down and use me? I don’t think I could.

  Which is why I get to selfishly make this memory once, and make sure I do it right.

  His eyes stay fixed to mine as I watch my hands trace a path over his chest. His breaths are steady, yet the heartbeat beneath my touch tells me this man is anything but in control as he holds me to him with a borderline painful grip.

  I lean in and give him a chaste kiss, before moving my mouth to his ear. “I’m ready.”

  His right arm bands around my middle, my own thrown over his shoulders as he uses his left hand to push himself to his feet, lifting me. I cling to him, legs wrapped around his waist as he turns and sets me on the bed. His knee settles between my legs, teasing as he presses it against the junction of my thighs. I arch my back, grinding myself shamelessly against him while he hooks both thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and pauses only to give me a cheeky smile.

  “What?” I try and fail to touch him, frustrated that he’s just out of arm’s reach.

  He shakes his head, pulling his knee away to drop his clothing. “Just you, kitty. Just you.”

  My teeth dive into my bottom lip as he bends to push the boxers off his feet. For a fleeting second, I forget why this is such an agonizing union as he straightens out and presents himself in all his naked glory.

  I’m a horrible, horrible person. But looking at the man who climbs on the bed to hold himself over me, I don’t care.

  I couldn’t care. Not when I know that no matter how bad I regret doing this to him, I’d regret giving up the chance to go through with it ten times more.

  “I love you, Tabby. And you know what?” He searches my face, arms flexed as he holds his weight. “It kind of scares the shit out of me.”

  “It scares me too.” Mostly because the thought of what that love will do to us after tomorrow is cause for concern.

  I tease my fingertips down his chest, stopping just before our bodies touch. He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes closed as his abs tense beneath my touch.

  His arousal pulses against me, teasing me with how close we are to crossing over this final boundary. I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him to me to taste that heady mix of cigarettes and mint. Rey’s hands hold me reverently as our tongues tangle, his kiss holding me captive while he rocks his hips against me.

  I shuffle my butt up the bed a fraction to line him with my entrance, indicating I’m ready to skip the foreplay. I need him so badly it physically hurts, almost more than my fractured heart.

  “Be right back.” He leaves me with a final kiss to the tip of my nose, darting across the room to where his luggage sits on the floor.

  Of course. We went into this totally unprepared.

  The foil packet hits the bed next to my shoulder before Rey resumes his position over me. �
�Now I’m ready.”

  I chuckle, warmed at his use of humor. It makes this so much more relaxed, intimate even, that he feels okay enough to break from the intensity of the act.

  It makes this so much harder.

  “It’s not much use sitting next to me though, is it?” I lift an eyebrow, taunting him.

  He laughs, rearing back to kneel between my legs. I push up on my elbows with rapt attention to watch as he sheaths himself.

  God, I need this man in me, like yesterday.

  “Fuck, you’re everything,” he mutters, one hand splayed on my stomach. His touch drags lower, the heel of his hand massaging my pussy. “I wanted to take my time with you, kitty.”

  “I don’t.” My head drops back, my eyes sliding closed as he shifts from the heel of his hand to his fingertips, his touch teasing my entrance.

  “So pretty.” Rey slips a finger inside, pulling it out again simply to taste me on him.

  I damn near combust at the sight.

  He repeats the action, massaging my pussy before each dip of his finger, adding another on the third go. He doesn’t need to warm me up; I’ve been red hot for this man since the moment he placed his face against mine in my apartment.

  I hook a heel behind his hips, urging him closer. He chuckles without opening his mouth, the sound a rumble from deep within as he leans forward to set himself chest to chest with me.

  “This is it, kitty. Last chance to back out.” I whimper as his cock nudges against me. “After this it’s all on.”

  “Bring it.” I hook both feet behind him and pull him toward me.

  He groans as he fills me, his head dropping to my shoulder. “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

  “You’re perfect.” I take his face in my hands, lifting his head as he pulls back and thrusts again, slowly, carefully. “Just as you are.”

  The look in his eyes is my undoing. All his vulnerabilities are laid bare as he builds a smooth rhythm. He trusts me. It’s there in the dark depths of his gaze.

  He trusts me, and I’m about to take advantage of that in the worst way.

  I disguise my pain in my cries as he pulls my nipple into his mouth, filling me with his heat and coaxing me to the edge. His touch is heaven, and here I am, the worst demon he’ll have to fight yet, masked as an angel to his eyes.