by Daisy Allen
"Jez, Jez! How are you? Have you fully recovered? Are you really in here for rehab? When are you guys going back on tour? Do you know if the tickets holders are going to get their money back?"
The questions are constant and I can barely make out the words as I try to push through them, to get to Jez.
"Jez!" I call out to him.
"Stay back! Cover your face!" I can just hear his voice over the shouting.
I try to reach him. "What the hell is going on?"
"Fuck off, guys, get lost!"
There's the sound of a loud crash as I see a camera go flying over our heads and out of the elevator. A large, muscular giant is pushing through the people in the elevator, and I feel him grab my shoulder.
"Come with me, keep your head down."
"Jez!" I say, as someone pushes him into me. His face is red with anger, and he doesn’t even look at me.
"Get her to her room, and make sure she's okay. I mean it," I hear him say and he runs off into the direction of his room.
I turn back and there are two guys pushing the photographers into the elevator, the door closing behind them.
The big guy leads me into my room and closes the door behind him, with him inside my room.
I should feel afraid of him, but I’m not. "What WAS that? Who are you?"
"I'm Mike. We've met."
"We have?" I frown. Fuck, not him, too.
"Yeah, but it's okay. it wasn't that memorable. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine!" I throw my hands up into the air and look around, trying to make sense of what just occurred.
"The nurse will be here in a minute to check you out," the giant reassured me.
"I'm fine! I need to go see Jez." I make for the door.
He takes a step to the side, blocking. It's the first move he's made that intimidates me.
"Er, ma’am. You can't, he's... he's getting checked out as well."
"’Ma’am?’ The name’s Noémie. What the fuck was that? Were they paparazzi?"
He squirms, and I know the answer.
"But why would they be taking pictures of Jez?"
Again, he doesn’t say anything, like he's been trained not to. I have no idea what's going on and it’s making me anxious.
"Mike, I really need to see him.”
"Ma'am, he'll come and see you when he can. Now, I’ll be right outside, if you need something. Those people shouldn't bother you again."
I throw my hands up in the air again, an action of complete helplessness. I have my own body guard now? Seriously, what the hell just happened?
Mike leaves the room and closes the door behind him. As promised, he sits on a chair right outside, and I can't help wondering if I’m the prisoner or the guarded.
Either way, I don't think Jez is who I think he is. Then I realize, I don't really know anything about him at all.
CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN
Jez
"Dennis!" I shout. When I get into my room, he's there with the rest of the band. "What the fuck was that?"
My manager looks about as angry as I feel, and he throws his hands up in the air as he paces in front of me, his face turning a crimson red. "Sorry, we're not sure how, but the media got wind of where you were. Luckily, Emily’s editor called her to give her a head’s up that he’d heard murmurings. So we got here as fast as we could, we came off one of the other elevators just as they were crowding around you. We've got people posted downstairs now. If they look anything like a pap they won't be allowed up.”
"Fuck me!" I say, sinking down onto my bed. It's been three months since I've had to deal with that kind of ambush. I thought I was used to it, but the quiet of the hospital must have really decreased my tolerance.
"Noém-..." I start.
"Your friend is fine,” Dennis cuts in. “Mike is with her now."
I don’t even ask how he knows who I’m talking about. I know he just knows.
"Well, make sure he doesn’t scare her. He's the size of a fucking moose."
"She’ll be fine." And I know she’s in good hands. But it’s not her physical welfare I’m worried about right at this moment. I’m more concerned how all this must look to her. Why in the world would the paparazzi being looking for me?
"I’ve gotta go see her,” I jump back onto my feet.
Dennis holds his hands out, stopping me. "No, Jez. You can't. Just, wait a minute. We’ve gotta talk."
"What about?"
"About you being ready to leave."
I’m not quite sure I hear him right. "What?"
Dennis sighs and pats my shoulder. "Look, the doc is coming up to talk to you right now, and I think he's going to tell you, you're ready to leave."
"What? What are you talking about?" I’m praying so hard right now that I’m not hallucinating.
"Marius overheard the nurses talking about your room being free soon because you’re leaving. You can probably go home in a few days, Jez. Well, not home, but leave the hospital. We can talk about where you want to get settled while you finish your recovery."
Holy fuck. "I can leave?" I wonder how many times I’ll repeat it before I believe it.
"Yeah, man. It seems like it.” Sebastian comes up and gives me a wink.
"Oh my god." I can barely process the thought. "I can leave?" I repeat. "Holy shit, I can fucking leave!" I yell, raising my arms in the arm, and getting rewarded with a searing pull somewhere in my shoulder.
"Take it easy, man. You can go home, but you're not fully healed. But the important squishy stuff, your lungs and your internals all look good."
I can't help but scoff. Important stuff? I look down at my hands, they have a long way to go yet. It seems ungrateful to tell them that to me my hands, they’re the ‘important stuff.’ But it’s still good news all the same.
"Shit." I exhale.
"You ready to go?"
"I've been ready since the first day I woke up and saw your ugly mugs looking back at me with those teary puppy dog eyes. I think I even heard Brad praying at one point. So, when do you think I’ll be able to go?"
"I’m not sure. Last time we talked to the doc, he said he’d give you a few days’ notice, remember? So, I’d say, get your shit ready, it’ll probably be a couple more days yet, but definitely by the end of the week."
"How do you feel about that?" Sebastian asks. "I mean, I know you've been here a while. Did that welcome from the poops, I mean, paps, make you happy to return to our world?"
And as soon as he asks the question, I realize, the truth is, I don't know.
I don’t know how I feel, because I don't know if I will be returning. With the way my hands are, I sure can't be performing in the near future.
As if he's hearing my thoughts, Seb reaches out and pats my on the hand.
"No rush, bud. No rush. We're not going anywhere."
And I know he’s trying to comfort me, but not for the first time, an overwhelming sense of guilt takes over.
"But that’s it, you have to! You can't just wait for me. You know...this isn't going to last forever, it took us months and years, all this time to build that wave. You guys, you're supposed to be riding it. Not be sitting in a hospital room watching soap operas with me while all our hard work goes down the drain. I mean, I heard them, the fucking paps, people want their money back cos we're cancelling tickets! That shouldn’t be happening."
"Whoa, dude, all that shit is being taken care of,” Brad reassures me.
"I…I don’t even know why we needed to cancel."
Marius frowns, looking at Brad and then back at me. "You mean, you think we should go on tour without you?"
"Well. Fuck, yes! Argh!”
"Dennis. I think the doc needs to check his brain again."
"I'm serious."
“Ugh, bloody hell. Are we really having this conversation?” Sebastian says, rolling his eyes. They are crowd around me, staring me down. "Listen up. It’s all of us or nothing. We said it when we started and we meant it."
"Maybe we we
re stupid."
"Smarter than you're being right now,” Marius mumbles under his breath.
"It's never been about the money, Jizztits. It's been about this." Seb gestures to our little group. "Always. And I don't need a big stadium to play my music. I have a fawning fan in Cadence. And I have you guys. And also, my rugged good looks, and gigantic dick. If we never go on stage again? I'm good. The reason we want you to get better so bad? It’s because playing music or not playing should be a choice you get to make, not have it made for you. So, if it's meant to be, we'll set the world on fire again. We did it before, we can do it again."
I sit back. It feels like it should be a victory; getting to go home was one of the major milestones in my recovery.
But right now, all I can think about is Noémie.
Think about how much she's helped me in the last few days. How much I've come to care for her. How much I desire her, want her.
She must be so fucking confused right now.
"I gotta go. I have to talk to her."
Again, Dennis stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, can I maybe have a chat alone with Jez for a minute?” he asks the guys.
"Ugh, I knew he was your favorite," Brad grumbles as he grabs his bags of potato chips and wanders out of the room.
"Well you didn’t think it was you, did you?” Sebastian taunts him, pushing him in the back as they leave.
Dennis closes the door behind him before coming back to stand next to me.
“Jez. How much do you know about this girl?”
I didn’t expect that question. “Why?”
“Well, you’ve been here for about three months and we’ve managed to keep it completely out of the radar. You’re friends with this woman for a few days, and suddenly, paps are swarming.” He raises his left eyebrow, as if I should be reading more into what he’s saying.
“What are you suggesting exactly, Dennis?” Already I feel the back of neck tingle in an involuntary defense of Noémie .
“I’m not suggesting anything, I’m just saying, keep on your toes. Maybe you should just lay low for a while?” Dennis has had to deliver a lot of news to us, both good and bad, in the decade he’s been managing us. And we’ve gotten into a lot of trouble that he’s had to get us out of. But rarely does he look nervous. Like he does right now.
“Is that all?” I don’t want to talk about this anymore. If there’s something to say, he should just say it. I don’t appreciate the speculation about her.
But all he says, is “Jez.”
“Thanks for the warning, Dennis, but I think I’ve been at this for long enough to know when I’m being played.”
“I don’t mean that, I just mean, look, you’re vulnerable. I honestly think we’d all feel better if you maybe waited for a while after you left here, let things die down, and then you can get in touch with her again. There’s no reason you can’t.”
“Seriously, Dennis, I’m going to have to ask you to end this discussion right here. I’m not going to talk about this for another minute longer.”
He holds his hands up in surrender, “Fine. I… just looking out for you.”
“I know you are. I know. And I appreciate it. You’ve always looked out for us. And I know you’ve had to do things above and beyond since I got in the accident. I mean, taking care of everything so I don’t have to be bothered by it. I appreciate it.”
“I know you didn’t want to deal with it.”
“And I still don’t. You just do what needs to be done. I don’t care. I just care about me getting better and that what happened, doesn’t happen again to someone else. That person should not be behind the wheel ever again.”
“Got it. We good?”
I smile at him, to relieve the tension, even though it’s still knotting my stomach. “The best. Now get out of here. I need a nap. Before I return to the real world.”
Dennis pats me on the shoulder and gives me a long look before leaving.
I wait until I see him get on the elevator before I step out into the hallway. I have to see Noémie, she must be so confused. I don’t even really know what I’m going to tell her,
Being here, in the cocoon, we’ve gotten to know each other so well in ways that don’t include knowing each other’s life stories. But I can tell you how she feels about how soap operas change actors for the same role, or whether or not cheese should ever come out of a can, and what she wants to name her second born. I know how she eats everything with a spoon, because she likes to scoop and not stab her food. I know the things that matter.
And she knows the things that matter about me.
Me being famous and part of the Rock Chamber Boys should not matter.
But it does. And I guess it’s time she learned about it, and heard it from me. I owe her that.
I nod my head to Frank, the bodyguard at my door and he waves as I step towards Noémie’s room.
Just be honest with her. But she needs to know, I tell myself.
There’s a ding of the elevator and just as I’m about to take another step toward her room. A tall, good looking guy steps off it.
A guy who looks very familiar.
A guy I never wanted to see.
A guy coming to claim his girl.
The guy from the bar.
Noémie’s boyfriend.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Noémie
“Noémie?” There’s a voice at the door and I jump up, expecting Jez. But it’s not his voice.
It’s a familiar voice, but it’s not the one I wanted to hear.
“It’s me, it’s Chris.”
It takes me a moment to place him. And then I remember. It’s Chris, the sleazy guy from Gators. What the hell is he doing here? I notice someone looming behind him. It’s Mike, doing his bodyguarding thing. I gesture that it’s okay and he goes back to his seat.
“Chris? Um, what are you doing here?” I stand up by the bed, feeling self-conscious at the near stranger here in my hospital room.
“You still don’t remember?” He says, taking a few steps closer, his strong aftershave wafting toward me. I try not to cringe. My sense of smell is so strong that it’s almost like an attack on my nose.
“Remember what?” I say, absently, while I try to find a discreet way to fan the scent away.
“Me. Us.” What is he talking about? There is no us.
“Well, I remember you from the bar, Chris. That’s all there is to remember.”
“No. Babe, no. Damn, I… I was hoping you’d remember by now. I’ve stayed away because I didn’t want to create any extra pressure on you, but I can’t stay away any longer. I needed to see you.”
I can’t help but wish he had stayed away. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I don’t know why he’s here.
"I don't remember."
"Babe. Come on, try." He comes up to me, so close I almost retch from the scent. I'm too busy trying to breathe, I almost don't notice when he grabs my hand and presses it up to his face.
"Feel my face. Don't tell me you don't recognize me." I fight not to wrench my hand away because I don't want to hurt his feelings... just in case.
"I- I do recognize you. I just don't, I don't remember us being together.”
"You kill me. You're killing me, babe." He lets go of my hand and finally steps back and sits down on the couch.
How...how can this be happening? Could I really be forgetting being involved with him?
You forgot, Jez. My brain reminds me. I did. I don't remember, Jez. And frankly, if I don't remember, Jez. I could forget anybody. I could forget me and who I am, completely. I could forget all that and still, I would remember Jez. But I don't.
Fuck.
I wander over, my eyes on him, his face, his movement, willing it to trigger something in my brain.
But there's nothing.
Well, there's disgust.
I take a breath and sink down onto the couch next to him. He looks at me, his eyes lowered, sad.
&nbs
p; "Um, Chris. Why... why don't you tell me a little about us then, maybe it will help me remember?"
"Of course, babe."
I nod, trying to smile, to encourage him. I can't imagine how hard it would be to be in love with someone and have them not remember you. Maybe Jez would know, I think, and feel instantly guilty. He's never said he loved me or that we were involved. But he's given every indication that he is now, hasn't he?
Shut up with your Jez obsession for a moment right now there's a man in front of you, telling you he is your boyfriend, give him some respect.
I notice Chris is looking at me strangely, and I wonder if he's said anything yet.
"Sorry, I’m a little tired. Can you say it again?"
"I just said that we've been together for a few months. We are really in love. We spend pretty much every night together, either at your place or mine."
"And... um, my place is?" I ask.
"Oh, you don't remember that either? You share an apartment with Paige at The Emerson. You've probably been there for three and half years. You like it there."
I nod. Because no, I didn’t forget. That’s a detail I do remember, and I was testing him. And he passed the test.
"What... what else can you tell me?”
"Well, we were planning a visit to Maine to visit your family. It's your mom's 50th next month, and we were going to go and surprise her. You haven't been home for her birthday since you moved to L.A."
How could he know that? I would only tell someone I'm close to that particular wish. To wake my mom up with a breakfast in bed on her birthday.
"How... how could you know that?" I ask him.
"Oh babe, you told me. You tell me everything. I know you. I know you, babe. And you know me." He shifts closer and I try not to grimace.
"Tell me about you,” I say, fidgeting with the arm of the couch to avoid too much eye contact while I try to figure out what’s going on.
"Well, I'm the host on a cable TV show."
That I remember. Can it really be the only thing I remember about him?
"I moved here from San Jose three years ago. I'm an only child. I have a dog. That’s what we first bonded over, because you love dogs. His name is Beto, but you call him Toto, because you hate human names for animals.”
