Falling Stars

by J. L. Brooks

“You don’t know what you took Lila. You can’t trust people. What if something happened to you? Something bad? And you are wrong! I would have never laid a hand on you if I knew that you took that. I would have gotten you out of there the first chance I could. Secondly, I don’t fuck those women. I played at that club a long time ago and I saw many interesting things that made me curious. Because of your books, I thought it might help you find something different to write. It was a mistake, I know that now.”

  My chin quivered hearing the regretful confession. The chasm of humiliation grew wider with every passing second. The words poured out of my heart without any levee to hinder their impact.

  “It’s fitting you know. Everything about us has always been a mistake. One or the other has always been doing something careless or with poor reasoning. Do you know why I won’t write the story? Because there isn’t a happy ending. I don’t know how to finish it. No one wants to buy a book where the characters go their separate ways, hurt and broken. Unless they know there is a possibility at some type of reconciliation and the fairytale ending. Our story doesn’t have that and writing it otherwise would feel forced, because I knew it was a lie.”

  I had nothing to lose by telling Hunter the truth. I spent enough time mending my heart just to have it ripped open again. At this point, it was salvageable. Devoting several weeks to create a book, although it be fiction, but based off us, was more than I could handle. Intimate details would find themselves woven into the words, unable to remain extracted from the plot. He didn’t have to live it, or examine it over and over again. It would be like forcing me to not only endure a nightmare, but create a future that would never exist. It seemed like the ultimate cruelty.

  I stood unsteady in the water and grabbed for Hunter before falling down. The spots of clarity were random and I needed to get into bed and let it wear off. I hoped that the stillness would allow my body to fall into sleep. He held me upright and grabbed a towel off the side shelf. Guiding me into the room, I sat on the edge of the bed. Silently, he gently slipped my cotton panties over my legs and tucked me into one of his sheer cotton tee-shirts.

  “You didn’t hear anything I said, did you Lila? It doesn’t matter right now. You need some sleep.” His soft lips touched my forehead before pulling the heavy down comforter over my shoulders.

  Rather than sleeping himself, he opened his laptop and uncoiled his headphones.

  In the dead silence, I could hear deep bass following a steady rhythm. Closing my eyes, I focused on the static sound and allowed my mind to rest as best it could. Unfortunately, I kept going back to the bed in the club. The way Hunter smelled, and how he felt pressed against me. The way his mouth tasted, and the way he filled me so perfectly. Furious with how I could ruin something so wonderful by clouding my mind with narcotics boiled my insides. He was worried I would be angry with him but he was mistaken, it was myself I wasn’t sure I could forgive. Unable to contain it any longer, I stumbled into the bathroom and filled the sink with cool water. Once I was able to submerge my face, I screamed as loud as I could into the marble basin.

  Because of the headphones, Hunter was unable to hear the gurgled cries. It was my absence from the room that drew his attention. After a few good yells, my body was ripped from the sink with his arms.

  “What are you doing Lila? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  He was visibly panicked, as his hands roamed my dampened face frantically.

  “No, I just needed to get some frustration out. I screamed into the water so I wouldn’t bother you or anyone else.”

  Pulling me into his chest, he embraced me firmly and sank to the ground.

  “Damn it Lila, I feel like I can’t take my eyes off of you for one moment or you will be gone forever. I can’t lose you.”

  His chest trembled in restraint while rocking us back and forth. Guilt washed over me.

  “Hunter, you need to let me go. You can’t work with me around you. You don’t need this kind of stress. We are going back tomorrow night and then you don’t have to worry about me anymore okay? I will be home, I will be fine. You need sleep too, you have a big show later. You need to be on your best game for your fans.”

  I knew I was dragging him down. It had been less than forty-eight hours and already I could feel myself holding him back. I swore then I wouldn’t do it, and I sure as hell wouldn’t do it now. This time when I crawled into the cool sheets, sleep finally overtook me, and provided a respite.

  Several hours later, I awoke alone in the hotel room with a splitting headache. The alarm clock said it was three in the afternoon, which meant it was nearly time to head to the stadium for this evening's show. There was no note, and I did not have Hunter’s number as I didn’t even have my own phone.

  Luckily, I made a habit of carrying ibuprofen with me at all times, but it would not completely change the way I felt. Although I took a bath, I still felt dirty, one of the after effects of the drugs. While in the shower, Hunter had returned with a few bags of carryout from a local restaurant. I wasn’t too hungry but knew I had to eat. He was quiet and eyed me cautiously as I readied myself while snacking on the cold chicken salad. Unhappy with the strained environment, I knew I had to do something drastic to change the mood.

  Without a word I shoved him back on the bed and used my index finger to silence his protests. I smiled as I unlaced the brown leather belt holding his jeans up and tugged them down his legs. Slipping between his knees, I braced mine on the floor and bent over his groin, taking the soft member out of his briefs and into my mouth. Feverishly I worked him over willingly. His body responded to every stroke of my tongue and rendered him helpless. I savored every small noise that escaped his lips, and the tightening of his calf muscles against my ribs.

  Deft maneuvering allowed me to bring him to climax quickly, as I swallowed every ounce of his release. Before he could recover, I stood and lightly tapped the side of his cheek.

  “We have one day left, let’s make it count okay?”

  I decided in his absence to either focus on that which I could not change, or focus on what I could. My attitude, despite the drug-induced depression, remembered I had control of some things, mainly my reactions. I had an opportunity to see him perform, and possibly gain a few things to make a story, because I had to face that I would end up writing it. There was also the guarantee of the best sex I would ever have. Looking at Hunter’s sated body I could tell he wouldn’t argue my logic.

  “Wow that was unexpected. Um, okay. I don’t know what to say here.”

  Scratching his head, his slightly swollen member still rested in my hands.

  “Typically thank you would suffice, although at this point it should have already been said. So now, you must say, 'My penis is so happy now, thank you Lila.'”

  He laughed and pulled an arm under his head to prop his face toward mine.

  “Um, my penis said that it is not sure and needs more convincing.”

  Laughing at the remark, I dipped my head once again and brought the soft velvet tip to my lips. Almost immediately, his body acknowledged my touch and prepared for round two. I risked complications in closing my jaw later, but he would appreciate the indulgence in his favorite pastime. He loved how I maintained eye contact, and moved with precision. Long ago, I demanded he teach me what he liked. I suppose some things never change.

  The walk up to the main stadium stage entrance was intense. Even without thousands of screaming fans, there were hundreds of crew members putting everything into place. I followed Hunter quietly through each walkway into the dressing room and out to do a sound check. He was one of the rare DJ’s who still preferred the crisp sounds of vinyl records. Although he had his computer programming to do his shows, he liked being able to work with the smooth black plastic medium. Unlike before, I was not his record bitch and some poor crew assistant had them ready and waiting for him when we arrived. It was his duty to guard them with his life, and he took his job seriously.

  Giddy with excitement, I
raised my eyebrows and pulled in my bottom lip, anticipating the opportunity to pretend to know what I was doing in such a place. I couldn’t mix for shit, but I knew my way around equipment. Lord only knows how many shows I had to help haul speakers and endure bad wiring jobs and bouncing floors. With an outstretched hand, I was given permission to do my worst. The assistant nearly keeled over as I rifled through the records and pulled a few out and placed one on the felt disc of the turntable. Hunter watched in amusement as I opened the small case containing the record needles and attaching them to the arm with ease.

  Running my fingers enviously over the new Pioneer mixer, I knew my brother would share the same sentiments and kill me if I chickened out now. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and I was buzzing with excitement. I had to stop myself from shaking and wiped my sweaty hands on the top of my shorts before touching anything else. Looking back to Hunter once again, he just smiled and nodded.

  I paused before placing the needle on the record, savoring the anticipation. So much time had passed before an event jarred me from my monotony. As a writer, I am constantly trying to transcribe these emotions into written words without actually experiencing them. The real thing was overwhelming and indescribable.

  Lowering the turntable arm slowly to find the right spot, a slight snap of noise occurred immediately before the space filled with delicate piano notes and rapid snares from the Omni Trio track as the tiny needle pulled the melody from the grooves. The engineers knew what was coming and scrambled to adjust levels against my own manipulations of the treble and bass.

  I clutched the headphones around my neck and closed my eyes. For whatever reason, he had my favorite record in his case. The one I bought him long ago, not because it was his style, but because I loved it and he played it to make me happy. Subtly, my head bobbed back and forth as the music took me to a place long gone. It had been years since I had heard it, and each measure filled my soul with joy. Hunter removed the headphones but motioned for me to stay in place. Wrapped around my waist, his body moved against mine as he transitioned into the next record.

  I stilled once I recognized the Cleveland Lounge record. Another one of my favorites, I could not deny how heart wrenching it was even without the memories attached. After the song ended, I gently placed my hand on the volume control and turned it down.

  “Play me something new and happy. Please.” My mood was in desperate need of redirection. Rather than reaching for his case, he placed my hand over his heart and smiled.

  “If I could reproduce what I feel right now, it would be the most beautiful piece of music in the world.”

  With the other hand, Hunter reached behind my head and pulled me into a consuming kiss. Melting into his arms, the sweet gesture was exactly what I needed to purge the sadness. I lowered my head to his chest and giggled.

  “I think I hear it and you're right, start working on that.”

  As I leaned away, the grip of his fist tightened in my hair and held me still against him.

  “I can only write it if you help me Lila.”

  His voice was more of a plea than a request. We were fooling ourselves to think anything would happen beyond tomorrow. We had been in this place before, away from everything where life could be perfect. Now I knew that it was short lived and to hoard every minute possible, as they were limited.

  “I’m sure I can arrange something.”

  Giving him a wink, I knew better than to affect his energy in a negative manner. If he was happy, it would carry him through the rest of the evening. As long as he knew everything was okay, he could mentally prepare for the demanding show. I cringed thinking about the times I would start fights with him intentionally knowing he would have a bad set. That was perhaps one of the worst things I could do, other than someone stealing his needles or records. It ranked up there with things that a DJ’s girlfriend should never do. I wasn’t his girlfriend now, but the rules were still the same.

  I sat on a speaker as he ran through his set and grew more excited. Hearing something on the radio is far different than experiencing it in person. I had listened to him over time, but this was extraordinary. It was a rare gift being able to see someone who had grown in their talent. He made everything look so effortless, which is what a performer does. After approving everything during the setup, he mischievously grabbed my hand and raced to the dressing room. No sooner had the door shut, I was hurled against it. Rough fingers ripped my shorts to my ankles before flipping me around, pressing my cheeks to the cool metal. I balanced on my forearms to prevent my head from banging into the door with the pounding I was about to receive.

  He was in a good mood. My body became a channel for any restlessness he contained. The bruises from the night before would only deepen as his fingers took hold of my hipbones for leverage. My fingers laced through his sweaty hair as his head curled into my neck, biting my shoulders and collarbone. I could take this, I had to. For the first time in forever, I was feeling something real.

  “Lila, we can’t just keep screwing around and avoid the truth, what are we doing here?”

  Knowing I would have a difficult time sitting on the plane ride back to Ohio, I reminded him exactly what was going on.

  “We are not avoiding anything. You invited me to Chicago for the weekend, nothing more.”

  I was trying to be nonchalant about the situation; I refused to appear needy or holding false hope. Reaching down and picking up the button that popped off my shorts, I placed it gently in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

  “A new souvenir.” I stated quietly before gripping the doorknob and pulling it open.

  He remained unmoving while looking down at his fist before shoving the button into his pocket. Passing by, Hunter grabbed my hand and began to walk away from the stage.

  “Where are we going? Are you not supposed to be heading the other way?”

  He seemed hurried while pulling me through the crowd that was growing thicker. There were still a few hours before he went on, yet I thought he would stay close in the event he was summoned.

  “I need to take you somewhere Lila.”

  Following his rushed steps, I surrendered to the unknown and believed it would have to be something better than yesterday. We traveled through the maze of concrete into the parking garage where a town car arrived a few moments after Hunter sent a text.

  “Must be nice having the world at your feet. I can’t wait to see you eat some humble pie in my mama’s kitchen a few days from now.”

  His face took on a melancholy expression. My mother loved him; he even referred to her as Mama. However, he stopped coming over shortly after we separated, despite being close with my brother as well. It was the natural order of things, but one more way our relationship complicated matters.

  “It’s one of the things I am looking forward to most. I was hoping you could ask her to make fried chicken and cookie bars. I know she saves it for special occasions, so I thought it might be easier to persuade her.”

  Picturing Hunter under my family’s roof once again brought both happiness and turmoil. I couldn’t think about it too much because I was starting to feel physically ill. Thankfully, the car was taking us to the John Hancock tower per Hunter's request. The drive was relatively short, and he asked the driver to stay nearby, so whatever he had planned would not be very long.

  He dragged me through the glass doors and massive atrium towards the elevators. Hitting the button for the 95th floor, I glanced at the others around us and felt quite underdressed, but nothing compared to the night before. The doors opened to a large restaurant called the Signature Room. A gorgeous young woman greeted us and directed us to a table in the corner, surrounded by floor to ceiling panoramic views high above the city below. We were facing the west, where the sun was beginning to set and blazing against Lake Michigan. The yellow lights of adjacent skyscrapers illuminated brightly on the horizon. The view was nothing short of breathtaking.

  “Do you like it?” He asked while pulling
out my chair.

  I beamed with delight. Anyone who did not find pleasure in this could only be afraid of heights, and even then, they should surely see the beauty around them.

  “Of course, it’s spectacular. Why wouldn’t I?”

  His finger trailed down my cheek and around my ear while pinning the hair behind it.

  “I should have brought you here last night. I know it doesn’t make up for it. But I don’t want to leave you in Cleveland the same way I did before. I want you to have good memories of me. More than bad ones. I want you to think of me and smile, not feel the way you have all these years.”

  My response was interrupted by the waiter approaching our table. I knew my eyes were red and chose to look out the window while Hunter ordered for us before looking up and smiling briefly. He ordered the vanilla crème brulee, and butterscotch cheesecake. Dinner would have been nice, but I knew there was no time. The pause in conversation gave me time to think about what I wanted to say, which was different from what I actually did.

  “Hunter, let it go. All of it. The past, this week, yesterday. I know what I said was pretty harsh, I didn’t mean it like that. I heard you, but I wasn’t in a place to really listen. You have nothing to prove to me, or atone for. There are too many things we cannot change. You and I are the bird and the fish, which fell in love and could never be together, the stars just were not aligned. It never stopped me from loving you, and it never will. It’s just how it is.”

  He swallowed hard and held my hand, rubbing softly on my fingers and palm.

  “Remember our first day here? We went to Sushi Wabi in the Silver District and drank too many saki bombs, and then off to the Lava Lounge to get even drunker.”

  I laughed at the recalled memory.

  “Yeah, the street sign was loose and I kept trying to stand up and it spun in the concrete. I was praying I wouldn’t vomit in the taxi back to your apartment. It was also the first night we…”

  My eyes closed as the past surfaced. It was the first time we were ever intimate. Despite the majority of the details being fuzzy, I could still recall the way I felt.