by A. P. Jensen
“Johnny, let me go!” she yelled.
Johnny sat on the couch and cradled her on his lap. She stared up at him through a film of tears and heard his voice speaking softly to her. She shook her head as her chest quaked with the need to rage, to scream, to cry.
“Let me go,” she pleaded, voice cracking.
He buried his face in her hair. “I never could.”
She shoved at him, but he grabbed her hands and tucked them up against his chest. She was awash in pain. She wanted to grieve in private, but he wouldn’t allow it. Ever since the plane crash, she became encased in a cocoon of misery, denial and heartache. She mourned her family everyday, but never put them to rest. She clutched at Johnny, crying for the family she loved more than herself, that she sacrificed Johnny for and lost in a split second. She went from being one of five kids with two parents to an orphan. She had no other living relatives, which left the door open to psychos like Barry who sensed her weakness and pounced.
Johnny settled them on the couch and rocked her while she grieved. When the storm passed, Demi was exhausted. Johnny brought her something to eat so she could take more pain killers. He fed her like a little child and she was in too much pain to care that she probably looked like a nightmare. She settled on the couch and heard her phone ring and then Johnny’s voice.
“She’s okay, Regan. No, I got it.” A pause and then, “I can cook!”
Demi’s mouth twitched as she buried her face against a pillow. Johnny walked away and continued to argue with Regan in a hissed whisper. She was about to drift off when her feet were lifted. She cracked open one eye as Johnny placed her feet on his lap. He turned on the TV and began to knead the soles of her feet.
Demi fell asleep less than a minute later.
***
Demi jolted to a sitting position on the couch, her hands pressed against her chest. She was covered in cold sweat and her mouth opened to scream before she got a hold of herself. She was in Johnny’s house, not Barry’s penthouse in New York. She had a vivid nightmare of Barry screaming he loved her as he shot down the plane carrying her family. Demi ran her hands over her face and took a deep, bracing breath and looked around.
It was late afternoon and the front door was open. Demi stared, struck with panic and then leapt from the couch to close it. In the entrance, she paused. Johnny and about ten boys played basketball in the street. One boy hung from Johnny’s back and two were wrapped around his legs. This didn’t deter Johnny from lining up his shot and making it. The resulting groans were drowned out by Johnny’s cheering. The nightmare about Barry disappeared as neighbors cheered from their porches and called out advice.
A couple strolled down the street, pushing a stroller. The woman looked up and noticed Demi standing there and rushed over. It wasn’t until she came closer that Demi realized it was Regan.
“You okay?” Regan asked, giving her a gentle hug.
“Yes, I… I just woke up and the door was open.”
“This is one of Johnny’s rituals. The mothers love him since he keeps the kids busy,” Regan said with a smile and then sobered. “I want you to take at least three days, maybe more. I can run things at Ever After for now.”
“But—”
“No, take time. You’ve probably been in work mode for years. Even when you arrived, I made you work the next day.” Regan shook her head. “Take time off and just relax.”
“But I can—”
“Demi.” Regan held up a hand and Demi stopped talking. “If you don’t take it easy, I’m going to tell Johnny to get creative with you.”
Demi gave her a long look and then shrugged. “I guess I can take a couple of days. I feel like I could sleep for a month.”
“I know the feeling. If you need to talk, call me.” She started to walk away and called back, “Oh, and my mom stuffed the freezer with meals. Just heat them up. Directions are written on the foil.”
Brooks waved at Demi and she waved back and headed into the kitchen. She was hungry and she really needed a bath. Sure enough, she found six pans and wondered when Valerie found the time to do this. She definitely had to remember to thank Regan’s mom. She pulled out a chicken casserole, turned on the oven, set the timer and slowly made her way upstairs. She took a long shower and was in front of the mirror brushing her hair when the door opened. She let out an outraged squawk as Johnny came in, covered in a sweat soaked shirt. The towel wasn’t quite big enough to wrap around her body so she had the edges tucked under her armpit and a sliver of her bare hip peeked out.
“Johnny!” she yelled and brandished her hairbrush like a knife. “Get out!”
“You’re okay? I’m supposed to be around when you shower just in case you fall or get dizzy.”
“I’m fine,” she said shortly, feeling exposed and very self conscious. “Let me get dressed.”
Johnny seemed to realize that she was only wearing a towel and it was a bit too small for her body. She saw his lips twitch and glared. Johnny dropped a quick kiss on her lips and backed out, closing the door behind him. She stared at the closed door and brushed her finger over her tingling lips and locked the door before she dressed in a baby blue nightgown and robe. When she opened the door, Johnny was there, waiting.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“A little achy,” she admitted. The cuts on her arms and legs stung in the shower and she had a pounding headache, but she would deal.
“Let’s get you downstairs,” he said and led her out onto the landing and then down the staircase. He settled her on the couch and handed her the remote. “The casserole will be done in fifteen minutes. I’m going to take a shower and then we’ll eat.”
She stared up at him and then nodded. She watched him jog upstairs and turned on the TV and stared blindly at it while she tried to figure out how she ended up with Johnny as a roommate/nurse. She was always so busy trying to put everything in its place, with fixing things and now… There was nothing to fix, nowhere to be except right here with Johnny. Her mind skimmed over the events with Barry and she tensed. How could she not have realized he was such a creep? She found herself looking down at her cuts and jolted when Johnny jumped the last five stairs.
“Okay?” he asked, looking at her carefully.
“Yup.”
Apparently, she wasn’t convincing because he shook his head and walked to the kitchen as the bell went off.
“Babe, that’s an irritating habit,” he said.
“What is?”
“Saying you’re fine when you aren’t.”
She heard the sound of cabinets opening and closing.
“Who the hell would be okay after you lost your family, business and asshole lover all within a year? Not me.”
Johnny reappeared with heaping plates of casserole, set them on the couch and went back for drinks. When she tried to help, he clucked his tongue. Johnny was full of energy while she felt sluggish and achy, so she let him do all the work.
Johnny settled on the couch facing her instead of the TV. He cocked his head to the side.
“What’s bothering you?” he asked.
She shifted uncomfortably and was about to say ‘nothing’ when Johnny shook his head.
“Nope.”
“Nope what?”
“You don’t get to put up shields after what happened. You’re going to confide in me.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Because that’s what friends do.”
Be friends with her ex who was now a world renown rock star? She mentally shrugged. Why not? What did she have to lose? She sagged back into the couch and watched the steam seep from their food.
“Regan stopped by and told me I need to relax for a couple of days,” she said.
“Smart,” Johnny commented.
Her instinct was to stop talking, but the look in Johnny’s eyes said he would keep at her until she spilled.
“I can’t remember the last time I watched TV or did something that didn’t have to do with Ashton
Hotels.” She paused and flexed her sore hands. “The concert was the start of that and then I came here and it’s been a whirlwind. There’s you, Regan, Ever After and now Barry…” She bit her lip and sighed. “I keep waiting for a new normal and I don’t know what that looks like.”
“You chose to leave New York and wanted to live in a small town, have a simple life,” Johnny said carefully and she nodded. He gestured around the sparsely furnished house. “This can be your new normal.”
She raised a brow. “This is only temporary.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” When he opened his mouth, she held up her hand. “You’re going to tour again, you have appearances to make and albums to write. You won’t always be here and I’m not trying to be an ass, but you may get bored with this.”
“This, what?”
She gestured between them. “Me, the town, this house… You used to live large and—”
“So did you, but you want this, just like me.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she subsided and went for the food. Johnny didn’t pressure her as she began to eat. She wanted to get something in her stomach so she could take the pills. The casserole was great and she closed her eyes and cuddled into the couch.
“You still like to bake and cook?” Johnny asked.
“Haven’t done it in a long time. Maybe when I get my own place I’ll start again.”
“You can do that here.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I will.”
She turned to the TV because she didn’t want to talk anymore. Johnny followed her lead and they watched 50 First Dates with Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler. As the pills began to take effect, Demi’s eyes drooped and she made herself comfortable. The conch was massive enough for three adults to lay out and not touch one another, but once again Johnny pulled her feet onto his lap. She fell asleep to the sound of his laughter and Drew Barrymore’s lisp.
***
Demi woke in the wee hours of the morning. She lay in the dark for a few seconds and grimaced. She needed another dose of pills. She looked along the couch, half convinced that Johnny would be splayed out nearby, but he wasn’t there. She cocked her head as she registered the faint sound of a vaguely familiar song being played on a guitar. She rose and walked to the open doors of the recording studio.
Johnny sat on the couch, eyes closed as he played the guitar. She watched him for several minutes, mesmerized by the pleasing melody, his hands plucking the strings and the tranquility on Johnny’s face. She backed away soundlessly on bare feet and went to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb him. Catching him like this reminded her of the teenage Johnny, the one who wanted to share his music with the world. He truly loved what he did for a living. She kicked back the pills and leapt when Johnny spoke from behind her.
“Did I wake you?”
Demi was glad she swallowed the pills as she turned with a stifled scream. “Don’t sneak up on me!”
Johnny tried to hide his grin. “Sorry. Did I play too loud?”
“No, I needed more pills,” she said and they stared at one another in the dim light. She cleared her throat. “What was that song?”
“An old song of mine that I never put on a record.” He cocked his head to the side. “Still tired?”
“A little.”
He reached for her hand and pulled her towards the recording studio. “I used to sing you to sleep.”
She blocked those memories from her mind long ago and now they flooded back. She sat on the plush couch and tugged on her robe. “What are you doing up?”
He shrugged. “I never sleep much and right now there’s a dozen melodies playing in my mind.”
When Johnny got bit by the lyrical bug, he adopted hermit-like tendencies. It had to be even worse now. “I don’t want to disturb you.”
“You aren’t.”
Johnny moved to the piano in the corner of the room. The recording studio was filled with all kinds of instruments and Demi had no doubt that Johnny could play each one. She stretched out on the couch as Johnny began to play another familiar song. Memories of everything she and Johnny had once been played like a home video in her mind. Johnny’s thirst for life and music drew Demi to him like a moth to a flame. She didn’t have a chance where Johnny was concerned. She’d never met anyone like him. He let emotion lead and that scared her.
Demi’s eyes opened as he began to sing. His eyes were closed and his voice was soft and haunting. Goosebumps rose all over her body and she shivered as his lyrics filled her with happiness, pain and sadness.
Want to make my own way
Won’t take the path most traveled
I won’t become who they expect me to be
Destiny beckons and I answer
What lies on the other side?
Demi couldn’t move her eyes off of him. Johnny wrote this song before he went on the road. It had been hard on both of them, but she didn’t want to hold him back. She had to complete her senior year and Johnny wanted to make a name for himself. Neither planned what would happen after he ‘made it.’ She tried to imagine what would have happened if she didn’t break up with him and stood by his side. She couldn’t picture it.
Johnny’s eyes opened halfway through the song and she lost her breath. When he finished, the last notes from the piano lingered in the air.
“Beautiful,” she said and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
Johnny opened his mouth to say something, hesitated and shook his head. “Try to sleep.”
She cuddled into the couch, watching him play the piano. He didn’t sing, as if he knew his voice would compel her to stay awake. Several days ago she paid a ludicrous amount for his concert and now she was getting her own private show filled with his ballads. She didn’t want to think too deeply on it. She just wanted to bask in the moment and just be.
Chapter Seven
The next two days passed by in a blur of sleep and music. Johnny and Demi didn’t leave the recording studio. They slept and ate there and Demi recouped as Johnny wrote music and played song after song for her. At times, they lay on the couch, leaning against one another as they listened to his playlist, which was filled with everything from Dean Martin to Kenny G to Britney Spears.
Demi went through a multitude of emotions as they steeped themselves in music, which seemed to speak for both of them. Demi mourned the loss of her family and Johnny held her as she cried. He fed her, tended her wounds and entertained her. She felt coddled and safe. Johnny was affectionate, sensitive and seemed to know what she wanted before she did. The outside world ceased to exist. Demi let go of her old life, her old hurts and vowed to live. That meant letting go of Barry and her past with Johnny. She lived her life so cautiously and look where that got her. She would do what felt right, what felt good. There was no past or future, just the present. She’d been so focused on keeping Johnny at bay and now… Now, she would take what he offered. Hopefully, she was strong enough to move on when the time came. The shield she held between them was gone. She couldn’t push away the man who held her while she grieved. She was his for the taking.
Johnny grew up in an abusive household fueled by drugs and alcohol. His parents were selfish and careless and constantly in the tabloids. The man Johnny became was like neither of his parents. Among other things, Johnny was patient, caring and protective. He didn’t let her handle the tumult of emotions alone. It so reminded her of her family not allowing the others to be alone, even for a moment. She didn’t rebuff him. She welcomed him, warm and strong by her side.
On the third day, she lounged on the couch and watched Johnny play his guitar, Baby. Music was a part of him. She’d known he was as different from the others in music class as a man was from a boy. He was fascinated with lyrics and chords. He was a creator and music was as necessary to him as her family had been to her.
She felt a lot better and stopped taking the pain killers. Johnny leaned over his guitar to make notes on a piece of paper in his childish han
dwriting.
“I’m proud of you,” she said quietly.
Johnny stilled and his eyes flicked to her. “Proud of me?”
“Your songs…” She shook her head. “You don’t hold anything back. That’s why people can relate and they respond to you. You worked your butt off to be where you are today. That’s something no one can take away from you.” He was a man that his parents should be proud of. They would never tell him so, but she could.
Johnny had a strange look on his face that she couldn’t decipher.
She shrugged. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Thanks.”
She watched him make more notes on the paper and bit her lip before she asked, “You ever see your parents?”
Johnny didn’t even look up as he said, “At parties every now and then.”
She hesitated and then, “Have they changed?”
“No. My parents don’t give a crap about me, you know that.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Have you been happy, Johnny?” she asked.
She saw his face splashed on magazines and screens in Times Square. She couldn’t avoid hearing his voice on the radio or commercials. Johnny Bentley was an international rock star and had a reputation to match. Three wives, countless girlfriends and a fan base that ate up all of his crazy antics. The man sitting across from her was subdued and not at all like his public persona. Which man was the real Johnny?
“No, I haven’t,” Johnny said, surprising her with his candid answer.
“You haven’t?”
“I’ve been sated, satisfied, restless. That’s about the range of emotions I’ve had for the past decade.” He shook his head and played a chord on the guitar. “I made my own family. That’s why I bought the house.”
Demi nodded.
“Want to go out?” Johnny asked abruptly, setting the guitar aside.
