by J. L. Brooks
Hunter's hand tightened a little bit.
“Hold that thought, that’s one.”
Opening my eyes, I looked confused. “One what?”
Drawing closer to my face, he brought his lips to my ear and whispered.
“One time I am certain I made you happy. Now tell me about your twenty-second birthday.”
My breathing increased to match my pulse. I did not know what he was intending to do by drawing forth these past moments in time.
“You planned a romantic weekend. You booked a hotel, bought me sexy lingerie. Everything was orchestrated, but my cat got sick and almost died. I was afraid I couldn’t pay the bill to save her, so you cancelled everything and used the money for the vet.”
“That’s two.” He shuddered.
“Hunter, you don’t have to do this.”
“But I do Lila. I haven’t seen you in over a decade and I know you are about to leave my life, possibly forever. Not everything was bad, just a few things. But those few things have overshadowed everything good that happened between us. It’s not about us being together again. It’s just important to me. These memories are special, meant for us to share for the rest of our lives. I don’t want you to forget that at one point you loved me.”
I breathed in and out deeply. My lungs filled with stagnant air, gasping for something fresh and sustaining.
“Hunter, I will always love you. It’s also one of the reasons I can’t stand your ass.”
I laughed jovially while trying to break the tension. I hated this heavy shit. I avoided it at all cost. This is why I didn’t do relationships. He smiled knowing I wasn’t ready to go there. Wherever “there” was.
We sat quietly across from one another waiting for dessert to arrive. Before the waiter returned with our sweets, Hunter scooted his chair next to mine. Hidden beneath the white tablecloth, his hand perused the opening of my shorts. Our backs faced the surrounding patrons, oblivious to our actions. His hand dipped below the waistband and his fingers gently moved in a circular motion.
“I can’t stand you either. Sometimes you can be such a cold bitch. Other times, like now, you mold so perfectly to my direction and threaten every excuse I have to distance myself.”
We appeared as lovers, caught in each other’s gaze, yet I was desperate for relief. My body was so tightly wound, despite being thoroughly worked just an hour before. I would never be tired of Hunter Michaels. Not because of who he was in public, but because of these private moments we shared. Our history forged a bond so deep that time was unable to disintegrate it. I couldn’t exactly attribute that as a benefit, as it could also be a hindrance. We should have moved on, but here we were.
Curling my head into his neck, I stifled every moan and cry. Shaking subtly, I rocked as my body responded to his caress. As I finished, he pulled his hand away from my body and immediately brought his fingers to his mouth and licked the wetness off. The waiter came not a moment later and asked how our dessert was.
“It’s perfect, always is.” Hunter chuckled quietly.
I blushed at Hunter's comment, yet smiled all the same. He was just as ornery as I.
“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”
I turned and giggled while breaking the crust of the crème brulee with a spoon.
“I was really waiting for this. The rest is just passing time.”
The ride back to the stadium was quiet and comfortable. The sheer bliss made me lethargic in his arms. I knew the night was only beginning, yet I savored the bubble Chicago seemed to shelter us in. Upon opening the doors in the parking garage, the festival was in full swing as the thunderous bass penetrated the concrete layers.
“Are you ready for this?” Hunter asked appearing somewhat concerned. I brushed my hand across his neck and pulled him in for a chaste kiss.
“Of course dahhhhling, let’s do this!”
Before I was thrilled to be here, now I was downright ecstatic. In addition to watching Hunter perform, I was able to see one of my favorite bands from long ago.
Twilight Sleep was synonymous with Cincinnati drum and bass. The live instrumental group took the music to incredible heights and the members were by far the most eclectic yet lovable group of guys I have ever encountered. When Hunter would do shows, I would always slip away to watch them play and made a special effort to attend shows whenever possible. Composing such a rapid rhythm on a computer and drum machine was child’s play compared to what they did in real time. Every song was groundbreaking and never failed to make me jump into the sky.
Looking out into the crowd, I saw an entirely new generation following in our footsteps. It did not make me feel old; it bred a sense of hope. Our upbringing was far from idyllic, it was the culture that carried us through the trials. Now here we stood; the select that got that break and snatched it out of opportunities reach without question.
Hunter’s fingers snapped and his head bounced in rhythm with mine. A small twinge of jealousy flowed through me knowing this is what he got to do as a career while I was holed up in a small studio apartment glued to a computer. I never saw my fans outside of intimate signings and social media contacts. Here, they were all in one place. I could not fathom a giant book reading with over one hundred thousand people listening to me as I read lines from my latest tome. The only way to describe it was electric.
Hunter was up next and got behind the band in preparation to hand over the turntables. It was actually an entirely different set up, switched by the audio crew, yet all a part of the same gear so it appeared fluid and minimized interruption. When the set ended, Andrew the percussionist came over to Hunter and shook hands while giving the “bro hug.” Turning to me, his eyes grew wide with surprise and picked me up into a giant hug and kiss on the cheek before walking off the stage. It was completely innocent, yet my heart did a slight flutter as Hunter shook his head laughing. Fanning myself off, I turned to walk to a more inconspicuous place, yet Hunter grabbed my arm and dragged me onstage with him. Horrified, I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.
“What are you doing?”
He smiled mischievously while picking up the microphone without letting go. Greeting a screaming crowd, I was thankful for the earplugs protecting my ears. Pyrotechnic displays lit up all around, as the heat from the lights behind us warmed my skin even more in the summer humidity. Looking at me with adoration, the crowd grew quiet to hear him speak.
“I have a very special lady here tonight that is going to help me open up. Back in the day, she used to help me write songs, and even lent her voice to a few. Some of you may know her as best selling author Lila Keaton, but I know her as honey. So give it up for this sexy woman, as we take you back with a little old school.”
The crowd roared as my eyes grew wide. I looked out at the sea of people and stood frozen. This was not happening. This was worse than the dinner a few nights ago. Why he was doing this to me I had no idea, but I felt there was no escape. Before I could run, Hunter placed the needle down on the record and violin notes filled the air. I closed my eyes tightly to fight the tears, yet they poured out as fast as the snares coming from the sound system. When the bass started thumping, my arm went into the air, invisibly hammering down with a fist. Back and forth, my shoulders moved while my knees bounced and hips shimmied. Hunter knew what he was doing. He knew I could not resist this. I knew this song almost as well as I knew his body. I wrote it.
With a slight cough and deep breath, the cool metal of the microphone touched my trembling lips as I waited for the right measure in the track. The country fiddle and guitar melted against the driving bass. Mashup’s were my absolute favorite, and right now I couldn’t believe this was really happening. My eyes stayed shut; if I opened them, I would panic and lose my confidence. In this moment, it was the music and me. Nothing else existed. Tapping my hand against my thigh and my toes against the ground, it was all or nothing.
The devils got my number
and my wings a little burned
&n
bsp; time is of the essence
and it seems I’ll never learn
Wasted my good graces
on more than forty nights of sin
When heaven comes a knockin
I hope they let me in
let me in
let me in
let me in
My eyes opened to a multitude of bodies rioting under Hunter’s influence. I had been pacing back and forth across the stage, feeding off of the crowd's excitement which gave me confidence. Within seconds he had sampled my words and was already weaving them over the track. With raised arms clapping above my head, the music was moving faster than my brain was processing, so I blew a kiss and waved goodbye before slipping away. Leaned against a cool concrete pillar, I gazed out once again at the flashing lasers and writhing dancers packed like sardines in the stadium. Hunter was so in tune with the audience, they fed his energy and he gave it right back.
I felt the urge to enjoy the show along with the crowd, so I navigated my way through and down into the open mob below. Hunter was focused on the set and would not miss me on the stage. Flashing my pass, I tucked it into my shirt after crossing into the congregated area. It was more packed here than next to Hunter, but it felt more natural to be with everyone else.
Jumping and shaking, I began to pour out sweat as my muscles worked furiously to keep up with the beat. I lasted four tracks before my body reminded me I hadn’t danced like this in years. Moving back as the crowd thinned, I found the restroom and splashed cold water over my face and chest.
Taking the time to check out the vendors, I purchased a few items, including a black Arial Assault tank top. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a young girl who appeared no older than seventeen grab the fence and start to have a seizure. Her friends looked around and took off quickly leaving her alone. I rushed to her side and grabbed her just as she was falling to the ground. Her eyes were glassed, pupils dilated. A stream of foamy blood came from her mouth as she began jerking in my arms. I had seen this before in drug overdoses and immediately knew that is what was happening.
Screaming, no one could hear me. People passed by without offering assistance, despite looking on curiously. With everything I had, I picked the girl up and carried her to the nearest security guard. I followed them to the medic office as they worked to stabilize her and watched helplessly as her seizures grew more severe. She was strapped to a board to restrain her thrashing body, which stopped moving a few minutes later. Before the ambulance arrived, they lost the pulse and began CPR. Shouting voices surrounded me as I remained silent against the wall, a bystander to the horror occurring before my eyes. I wanted to help, yet there was nothing I could do. Her reaction was unlike anything I had seen before, which unfortunately I had seen far too often. A drug I had never heard of was mentioned as the medics did their best to try and revive her. As the gurney carried her to the ambulance, a soft arm touched my shoulder, bringing me back.
“Ma’am, are you okay? Are you the one that brought her to security? Are you a friend?”
I shook my head. I was not okay.
“No, I saw her by the fence. Her friends ditched her. I caught her before she fell. No one would help me. I don’t know who she is.”
“Do you mind sticking around for a while? The police are going to need to ask you some questions. We appreciate your help, it’s just routine.”
“Of course.” I nodded and searched for a place to sit.
Shivering, one of the medics brought me a blanket and asked if I wanted something to drink. The police arrived a half hour later and interrogated me on what I saw. I asked about the drug fentanyl the medics mentioned. With stone faces, they looked at the ground at the same time.
“It’s horrible. These kids can get the stuff off the internet, cook it up at home. It’s lethal, one dose and you see what can happen. The heart shuts down. It’s stronger than heroin and ecstasy combined, and it’s cheaper. They can buy it for ten dollars a dose. All it takes is one hit, boom, they are gone.”
I suddenly understood why Hunter was so angry with me the night before. Drugs were not like they were when we were younger. They were so much worse. Back then you took a chance. Now, you knowingly took something that could kill you instantly. I wanted to believe the girl was still alive, yet the radio call confirmed she was pronounced dead en route. Hearing it threw me into full-blown shock. A girl died in my arms. I wanted to scream, and nothing would come out. My body would not move. I replayed it over and over again in my head. Everything happened so fast. Why didn’t I stay on the stage? Hunter.
Oh shit! Hunter!
“I need you to find some one for me. I don’t have a phone.”
I pulled the pass from my shirt.
“I’m here with Hunter Michaels. Arial Assault. I need to tell him where I am.”
Panicking, the officers sat me back down.
“Miss, we will find him, calm down.”
One of the officers sent a few men out to find Hunter and bring him back. It took nearly an hour before he came rushing through the door. Snatching me up, he held me close as the dam finally burst open.
“I couldn’t help her. I tried… I tried…” I wailed.
“Shhhh…. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here baby.”
Hunter sat down and pulled me into his lap while asking the officers what happened. They recounted the story of how I found the girl and brought her to the security guards.
I laid limply against him, exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a bed and sleep. I had finished the statement and was free to go. They thanked me for trying to help, and apologized for the outcome. I hugged the security guard who helped me bring her in.
“We all tried. That’s all we can do.”
Curling me into his side, Hunter escorted me to the waiting car. He had my belongings and said nothing as I crawled inside. I rested my head on his lap and sobbed while thinking about the girl's family, the girl, me. That could have been me, not less than twenty-four hours before.
For as quickly as I ascended into heaven, the ground hurled towards me even faster with a resounding thud. If I thought the journey into sobriety after coming off heroin-laced ecstasy was wretched, nothing could cleanse my eyes and heart after tonight. Hunter held me, as I laid in shock unable to process everything that had happened. If I could sleep and then wake to know this was a lucid nightmare, I just might escape unscathed.
“Talk to me Lila.”
There was nothing to say. I looked briefly into his eyes before curling my head further into his lap. In less than two days, I would be in my childhood home. A modest Craftsman style house near Lake Erie, it would have to suffice until the next stage of my life decided to appear. Moving in with my parents seemed like such an insignificant ordeal compared to last week. Whereas before I felt failure, I now felt relief. I would be safe and secure; I could rest and regain my bearings. With my voice muffled into his pant leg, I mumbled out.
“I want to go home.”
Hunter’s fingers gently combed through my hair and down my back in slow circular motions.
“I know. I’ll get you there.”
He sounded the way I felt. Lost.
The night before, he asked me to come back to him, yet even I had no clue where I was, so how could I possibly guide another human to safety. Tossed against the rocks by a tempestuous sea, my emotions were scattered into indiscernible fragments. By closing my eyes, I could travel to another place in time, one where life was not so complicated. I found myself imagining Buckingham Fountain in Grant Park. Hunter had taken me to watch the light show one evening long ago. It was such an iconic figure I was humbled by its presence. The colors danced to music coming from embedded speakers. While the water sprayed and flowed, we danced among the spectators, slowly in each other’s arms.
Opening my eyes, I realized I could have that memory come to life very quickly. Tapping the driver on the shoulder, I asked him to take us to the fountain and turned to Hunter who gave a weak smile.
The drive was not too terribly long before we pulled up along the curb. Crawling out, I grasped his hand and moved swiftly towards the fountain which was about to begin the hourly show. We had not missed it, yet I would have waited the forty-five minutes until the next round without complaint.
“Dance with me,” I whispered while pressing my body close and wrapping his arms around me. Slowly we moved side to side as the big band music serenaded us in the humid summer evening. His fingers trailed slowly up and down along my spine, languidly finding a comfortable pace, tapping along with the drums and trumpets. I could smell the intoxicating natural musk trapped in his shirt from sweating on stage. I tried not to think about what I missed and focused on enjoying the moment.
“This is three.”
He tightened his embrace, knowing I was trying. I wanted the happy memories, and being here jogged so many more. The record store in Oak Park. Eating strawberries on the roof, perched on the edge of the apartment building he lived in near downtown. The house full of German exchange students celebrating a birthday party where he played and I drank schnapps and ate cake. Memories are peculiar things- one can trigger a multitude. The fountain came on and passed without much notice. We swayed in our private waltz until the next round of tourists arrived. Turning me around and pulling my back against his chest, he rested his chin on my shoulder and watched the display with me.
“You don’t have to go home Lila. You can stay with me. I’ll take care of you.”
I breathed out deeply hearing the words I longed for, but they were far too late. Shaking my head, regret tightened around my throat like a noose.
“We both know this is temporary. No sooner would I agree, and then I become a burden. And don’t say I won’t. I have already caused you enough grief. Just take me home while things are good between us. I promise to smile when I think about you okay?”
