Shape of My Life

by DC Renee

  He was the reason I could pull myself from the dreams or the weird daydreams or even from my present insanity. It was thinking of him and hearing his voice in my head that got me through whatever was going on with me. I needed him, and I sincerely hoped he wouldn’t give up on me after I told him.

  I thought about calling him or even texting him to let him know I was okay, but I had a lot more to say than that, and it wasn’t something I wanted to saw over the phone. I’d catch him before the show and talk to him, or at the very least tell him we needed to talk after the show. I was just hoping I’d make it in time for him to see me and know we were okay.

  “Where’s Grennan?” I asked Clark when I saw him messing around with some equipment.

  “I saw him headed toward his dressing room not too long ago,” he told me.

  “Thanks,” he responded.

  “Hey.” He stopped me. “You okay?”

  “I will be,” I told him honestly. I will be when I see Grennan.

  You’d think I would have finally had my fill of those “not happening to me” moments. You’d think everything I was going through would be enough for a blockbuster film on paranormal stuff. You’d think things couldn’t get any more, “puh-lease, that only happens in books.”

  But the universe wasn’t done laughing at me.

  Even before all this crazy nonsense, I had believed that what Grennan and I had was real. So real that I had only a minuscule amount of fear he’d tell me my kind of crazy was too much for him to deal with now. I thought if we were together, we could overcome whatever twisted shit was happening to my mind.

  He had promised to make me believe I was worthy of him, make me believe he cared about me, make me believe things would be okay between us; make me believe we loved each other. Well, he accomplished what he set out to do. He just forgot to add, “Don’t worry, Brooklyn, you’ll find out it was all a lie one day.”

  For a split second, I actually thought my mind was messing with me again. I wish it had. I really, really wanted to believe I was in one of my weird daydream scenarios and that I just had to wait it out and the scene before me would disappear, and I’d be staring at Grennan’s smiling face as he sang for me.

  I wonder what I must have looked like standing there with my mouth gaping, taking in the scene, my eyes blinking rapidly to push the image away. I wondered why I even cared about what I looked like.

  I had opened his dressing room door. I didn’t knock. Why would I? I didn’t announce myself ever. I guess I should have. I guess I should have alerted the man who had just asked me to move in with him that I was entering what clearly wasn’t our space. Because if it had been our space, I wouldn’t have found him with a half-naked woman pressed against him, their lips fused as if someone had taken a blowtorch to mold two pieces of metal together, her hands in his hair and his hands wrapped around her arms.

  A very tiny voice in my head told me this was because I had pushed him away earlier and had ignored his attempts to contact me. I had hurt him, and so he was hurting me. And then a louder voice sang at the top of its lungs. “Bullshit.”

  I couldn’t be sure if I gasped. I think I did or maybe Grennan just felt my eyes burning holes into him. He pushed her away, and his eyes found mine. They were wide with fear, and I’d be lying if that didn’t make me feel a teeny-weeny bit better. I’m talking microscopically better. So small it didn’t defuse the situation.

  I backed away just as I heard his voice. “This isn’t what it looks like, Brook.” That time, I know I gasped. I turned and ran as the tears trailed down my cheeks.

  That was the first time he had called me Brook. I had always been his Brooklyn. He had told me before he’d call me Brook or some other pet name when he knew I knew we were secure. I could tell you with one hundred percent certainty that when you find your boyfriend lip-locked with someone else, you are the furthest from secure. So that same voice that yelled, “Bullshit,” before was screaming out loud and clear now too.

  This isn’t what it looks like, Brook. I didn’t know what hurt worse. That he had called me Brook, or that it was an obvious sign that it was exactly what it looked like. I stifled the sob that threatened to escape.

  I heard him calling my name, my full name, but the damage had been done. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t add this to the growing pile of shit I had been dealing with. I was already breaking. I wouldn’t let him shatter me.

  I ducked behind a dark corner and waited until he passed me. He had his phone to his ear as he ran by me, still calling my name. It didn’t take a genius to know he was most likely calling my phone at the same time. It was still on silent.

  I stayed pressed against the wall, my heart racing, my breathing coming in short, quick gasps. I needed to get away. I needed to get out of there and away from everything. Away from Grennan.

  I waited another few seconds to make sure I no longer heard him before I stepped out of the corner. I froze as someone stepped around the bend.

  “Jourdan?” the guy asked. Good, he wasn’t looking for me. Maybe he didn’t even see me. I’d wait and leave, so no one even knew I was here. “Jourdan?” he repeated, but this time he stepped closer, and I could see his eyes were wide with shock. I looked over my shoulder quickly, and no one was in the hallway but us. Dear Lord, he was speaking to me.

  He took another step toward me, and I stepped to the side, no longer in the shadows.

  He shook his head as if he was clearing his thoughts.

  “I’m so sorry, it’s just …” He trailed off as if finding the right words. “You looked just like her with your face half covered by the shadows.”

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Please don’t let me have another weird dream right now. I need to get away.

  “I know that’s not possible. She’s dead. But I thought I was seeing a ghost maybe. I don’t know. This is so weird. You have her eyes.” He was rambling.

  “Are you okay?” I couldn’t help but feel for him. If he was having a breakdown, I knew what that felt like.

  “I’m sorry; I’m probably freaking you out. It’s just that you looked exactly like her for a moment. But now that I see you clearly, you don’t look like her at all. But your eyes. They’re hers.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Jourdan. The singer?” he asked, and I nodded. “I used to work on her tours. She was something else.” He took on a dreamy expression like maybe he used to have a thing for her. “Not that you’re not something too,” he tacked on. “You have her eyes. I’d never seen a shade like them again until now. Green emeralds,” he said again with a faraway look.

  “I, uh, thanks, but I have to go.”

  “Oh, sure. But you should check out a picture of her. You’ll see what I mean.” He flushed with embarrassment, and I was sure he was saying it so he would look less like a creeper, but the poor guy had nothing to worry about with me. He was probably a million times more sane than I was.

  “Sure, I’ll do that. But I really have to go now.” And then I ran. I ran away from everything I thought I knew and loved. I ran from the tour I had come to enjoy, the music that flowed through me, and the man I thought was my everything. I just hoped I was running away from my insanity as well.

  Grennan

  Fucking Kathleen. Motherfucking Kathleen.

  Before Brooklyn, I was no saint. Women came, women went. Sometimes, they threw themselves at me, and sometimes, I smiled, and they came. Pun intended. And yes, I had some women I spent more time with than others, namely the ones I picked up on tour. They were slightly better than groupies but not quite dating material. We’d hook up if I was in town and then wouldn’t speak when I wasn’t. They knew the score, and mostly, they were happy with the way I worked their bodies and even happier to say they were fucking a rock star.

  Even though nothing was ever officially announced about Brook and me, mostly because I respected her privacy, it was hard not to notice I had attached myself to one girl and one girl onl
y. I knew news through the industry had traveled that I had a girlfriend, and I didn’t deny it. I didn’t encourage it per se, but I definitely didn’t hide Brooklyn.

  I had forgotten about my usual chicks the minute I laid eyes on Brook, so much so I hadn’t thought to call and tell them “thanks, but no thanks.” Looking back, I guess the knowledge I was a one-woman man had found their way to most of them. All but Kathleen apparently.

  To say I had been hurt by Brook’s reaction when I asked her to move in with me would be an understatement. I was pretty damn devastated. And considering I’m a guy with a penis, saying devastated means I was fucking crushed. I knew she might have some reservations, and I was fully prepared to dissuade those, but I wasn’t prepared for her to completely brush me off and run away as if I had killed her puppy.

  I worried that maybe there was something more to it; maybe I had approached her wrong, or maybe it had nothing to do with me. Okay, those were all hopes and wishes, but I wasn’t going to admit there was a possibility she didn’t want to take that step with me. I couldn’t find her once the shock of her running away had worn off, so I called and texted, but she never answered. I was about to cancel the show or send a search party for her, or I don’t know, something fucking drastic.

  “Relax, Gren,” Gavin told me as I paced back and forth. “She’s been off lately. And I know there are things we don’t know. We talked about this,” he reminded me. “It’s not you, I’m sure. Regardless of what’s going on with her, it’s obvious she loves you, bro. She’ll clear her head and come back.”

  I nodded, but that hadn’t made me feel all that much better.

  “I can’t perform tonight,” I told Gavin later.

  “You can’t not perform tonight,” he retorted. “Go, take a breather. Sit down and relax. We’ll call you when it’s time to go on, and the music and the crowd will take your mind off things. We’ll go search for her after the show if she’s not back yet.”

  I nodded, knowing he was right. I couldn’t do much at that point. I could cancel the show, in theory, but nothing good would come of that, and I’d be letting the guys and the fans down.

  I opened the door to the dressing room, and there she was. Not Brook. Fucking Kathleen.

  As if I needed any more shit to deal with.

  “Ah, shit,” I said out loud as I found her sitting on a chair.

  “Hey baby, been waiting for you. Thought you could use your usual pick-me-up before you went on.”

  Normally, I’d have no qualms about being a dick, but Kathleen wasn’t a bitch. She was a nice girl, and it wasn’t her fault she was there. I hadn’t told her she wouldn’t be needed … ever. “Look, Kathleen, we have to talk.”

  “Sex first, talk later,” she said as she pulled her shirt over her head.

  “No.” I said it so sternly, she actually froze, and the smile on her face slid off. I felt like an ass. Poor girl didn’t deserve me taking my frustrations out on her. “Listen, you’re great, we’ve had fun, but this”—I pointed back and forth between us—“isn’t going to happen.”

  She cocked her head to the side as if she was studying me. “You want a blowjob instead?” she asked. Damn. Either she was fucking stupid, or I wasn’t expressing myself correctly.

  “I’m with someone now, someone I love more than my own fucking life,” I spat out a little angrily as I thought about the fact that said person had all but crushed me earlier that day. “You and I are done, so put your shirt on and head on out. I’ll have someone get you a ticket for the show.”

  “Aw, baby, you’re frustrated,” she spoke as she stood and made her way toward me.

  Fuck. A clinger. And I thought this was a no-strings type of relationship. All right, dick-mode on. “Kathleen,” I said as I grabbed both her arms to keep her from stepping up to me like she was trying to do. “I tried to be nice, but you’re not fucking getting it. Get your shit and get the fuck out of here before I throw you out.”

  And then it happened. She was like fucking Houdini. One minute, she was way too close but at least we had some space, and the next, her fucking lips were on mine, and her hands were in my hair. I took a second to register what was going on, but I pushed her away when my head understood what was happening . Too late.

  I heard her gasp. Brook. I saw her eyes—shocked, hurt, broken, betrayed.

  “This isn’t what it looks like, Brook,” I told her as I tried to push Kathleen away, but the fucking bitch wasn’t taking a hint. She had no shame, trying to bring her body closer to mine as I was telling the woman who meant everything to me that it wasn’t what it seemed.

  I hadn’t even fully realized what I said until Brook gasped again, and the emotions in her eyes intensified. Shocked, hurt, broken, betrayed all merged into one overpowering emotion—destroyed.

  Brook. An endearment meant for her closest friends and family. It had taken up one of those positions in my heart. She had been my Brook from the moment I saw her, closer to me than anyone before. I knew I’d call her that one day. I figured it would be on our wedding day because, let’s face it, I would marry her. I tried with everything I had to make her know I was one hundred percent committed to her, but I knew no matter what she said on the surface, subconsciously she only felt ninety-nine percent of it. The day I made her my wife, she’d have to believe I was there completely.

  It wasn’t meant to be said like that. Definitely not at that moment. And then she ran, and I got tangled with fucking Kathleen.

  “I’ve never hit a woman, but I swear to God, Kathleen, if you don’t fucking let me go, I will hit you and I won’t regret it.” The stone cold fury in my voice woke her up. She trembled and her eyes watered as she pulled away. I didn’t care. I didn’t fucking care one bit. I ran in the direction Brook had gone. I called out to her; I called her on the phone. No luck. She had disappeared into thin air.

  Where the hell could she have gone?

  I ran all the way around the back of the arena before I hit a dead end. She had to have left somehow. I turned back and practically ran into Paul, a tech guy who worked on our tours a few years back.

  “Have you seen her?” I asked desperately.

  “You too?” he asked, surprise written across his face.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Have you seen Brook … Brooklyn?” I corrected.

  “Oh.” His face dropped. “I thought you were talking about Jourdan.”

  What the fuck? Jourdan? Paul had worked for Jourdan before she passed, but I had no clue what he was talking about then, and I didn’t have time for his games. “Paul, I don’t have time for this shit. Have you seen Brooklyn or not?”

  “Uh, yeah. I saw her a few minutes ago, but fuck, Gren, I thought she was Jourdan for a minute. Thought I was dreaming, then seeing a ghost, then maybe thought I’d died or some shit.”

  “What are you talking about? Where the hell is Brooklyn? Which way did she go?”

  “Gren, you never noticed her eyes? I never did, but fuck if they aren’t like looking at Jourdan’s. And in the right light, she looks like her. Like maybe they’re cousins.”

  “Paul, focus. Where did Brooklyn go?”

  “Oh, uh, sorry, guess I’m still spooked. Brought back a lot of memories. She ran that way.” He pointed.

  “Thanks,” I called out after I went after Brook. Brook. I needed to find her. I needed to hear what she had to say. I needed her to hear me out. I just needed her. I’d find her. I knew I would. Don’t worry, Brooklyn, I’ll find you.

  Brooklyn

  I ran from the venue. I ran like I was being chased. I was being chased. Well, I hoped I had evaded Grennan, and he was running in the other direction. I didn’t pay attention to anyone as I exited, and if they noticed me, they hadn’t called out to me either.

  Where was I going to go? I wasn’t sure where I was headed, but I knew I had to get away from Grennan. The only problem was that I had nothing with me—no ID, no money, no way of actually getting away.

  I said a sile
nt prayer as I ducked between cars toward the bus that no one would find me, especially not Grennan. I wasn’t sure if I could handle seeing him and still walk away. I also wasn’t sure I could handle listening to what he had to say and still keep the last bit of my sanity.

  I had enough things on the bus to fill several suitcases, but I only grabbed some essentials and stuffed them in a travel case. I was bouncing around the bus on borrowed time. I thought I had known him well enough, but apparently, I hadn’t. But one thing I knew was that he would search the entire arena first, thinking, or rather hoping, that I hadn’t left and just needed some time away. He’d think about the bus last, realizing I’d need to stop there before I went anywhere. And by then, it would be too late. I was counting on that knowledge to get me away from here before he found me.

  That was why what I did next was risky. So very risky. He would come to the bus, and if I was still there, I would have listened to his lies. But I had enough drama in my own head; I didn’t need to add any more.

  He was supposed to be my one constant, the one thing that could bring me back to reality every time my mind checked out. And now, he had betrayed me too.

  I had to be strong, but my journal of lyrics was calling my name. I had thought briefly about taking it with me. Every song had meant something to me, but they were reminders of my time with Grennan. And I had technically given them to the band. No matter happened between Grennan and me, I would not go back on my word, and I would not disappoint the guys. The lyrics were theirs to keep and do with as they liked.

  I should have run out of the bus, making sure Grennan wouldn’t have time to catch me, but as I stared down at the small journal on the bed, I had one final song to write. I scribbled what flowed through me quickly, then took one last look around, grabbed my small bag, and left.

  “Where to?” the taxi driver asked after I flagged one down just outside the arena.

  “Anywhere but here,” I answered.

  “That’s a tall order,” he joked, and I gave him a tight smile and a nod of appreciation. He was obviously trying to both be nice and cheer me up. “A place to stay?” he asked.