Crocodile Tears: A Boy Meets Girl Story

by Daya Daniels

  “I knew this shit would happen!” Barry continues to roar.

  Yandi’s brown eyes bulge out in my direction, right before she rolls them. “Where the fuck is he?”

  I shrug and move to head back to my dressing room.

  Dexter and Rose push off the wall, looking as pissed off as I felt. This was typical Cash, not showing up for rehearsal—being late for shows—pissing everyone off.

  “Has anyone seen him?”

  The three of us look at each other and shake our heads.

  “This isn’t a good look, man—especially for the fans that are hoping to see us tonight,” Dexter says.

  “Yeah, I know,” I scoff.

  “Fuck,” Dexter mumbles.

  “I guess all we can do is wait to see if he shows,” Rose says.

  “Yep. Isn’t that what we always do?” I snap, running a hand through my hair.

  “I’m sick of this fucking guy,” Rose says angrily. “He’s only getting worse. Now, he doesn’t even show up for performances. He doesn’t give a shit. This is our lives, man. This is what we love to do.”

  I only nod.

  Dexter lets out a loud breath and runs the Afro pick in his hands through his hair. “It’s only five hours until show time. Even if he gets here soon, we won’t have time to rehearse and Lord knows what state he’ll be in. Fuck. Probably drunk or high or both.”

  “You know what, after this tour is over we need to replace him,” Rose spits out.

  Dexter gives Rose the side eye. “You know we can’t do that,” he whispers.

  “Why not?” Rose hisses. “He’d replace me in a heartbeat. You know Cash has never liked me. As if me being gay is any of his fucking business. I don’t like the guy.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “Yeah, I know too,”Dexter growls. “But I don’t know, man. I don’t know what the fuck to do about this guy. I know I’m tired of his kaka and of him dragging The Vigilantes’ name in the shit. Pretty soon, we’re going to have a long line of fucked-up shows and last-minute cancellations because the lead singer is MIA. What kind of cockery is this? Really?”

  I dig the heels of my hands into my eye sockets and shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  The Vigilantes selling out the MGM Grand Garden Arena was a big fucking deal. If Cash wasn’t around for rehearsals, thinking he would be here for the show, was like expecting a receipt from a prostitute—it just didn’t happen.

  “It’s been two fucking hours!” Barry roars. “Somebody find him!”

  I narrow my eyes looking at him. He’s covered in sweat and hyperventilating. He looks like he’s about to have a coronary.

  “He’s not answering,” a woman says, passing Barry a phone that he snatches out of her hands.

  “Fuck. I will go and find him,” Yandi offers, tapping Barry on the shoulder.

  Yandi worked for me. It wasn’t technically her job to go and find Cash but she often offered to help sort out a lot of problems that involved him. He’d had so many personal assistants quit over the years, it was exhausting. People simply refused to work for him.

  I throw my hands up and make my way down the wide corridor, away from all the commotion.

  “Where is Rachel?” Barry shouts. “Maybe she knows where he is? They’re likely together.” His voice echoes when I make it to the end of the hall.

  “What the fuck is this!” Barry roars.

  Roadies rush by shifting equipment about. Everyone is running around like it’s Armageddon, which in not so many words it is—if we can’t find Cash.

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter to myself.

  I scrub my face with my hands and push open the doors to my dressing room. As soon as I step inside, my nose is assaulted by the scent of vanilla lace. It’s Liv’s favorite Victoria’s Secret body wash. The warm, cozy scent invades my senses and I’m hard...instantly. I lock the door behind me, attempting to stop the threatening headache from all the madness going on outside from fully taking over.

  A small table is in the corner with dinner already on it. I have no clue what Liv ordered. I pull off my T-shirt and undo my jeans on my way to the bathroom. I step inside the steamy room. I peek inside the shower to see Liv vigorously washing her hair. I lean against the wall watching for a moment, taking in the perfect lines of her curves—a perky round ass and firm tits. I groan watching the sight in front of me like a creepy voyeur. The soapy water cascades over her tanned golden skin, leaving it slick. She spins around and bats her peacock-blue eyes at me, giving me a smile. It’s an invitation...

  I push off my boxer briefs and step inside under the hot spray. Liv slams me with the soapy loofah and the suds go everywhere. She giggles leaning into me.

  “You think that’s funny?”

  She kisses my lips and soaps up my hair. “What are you doing back here?”

  I only groan and take the loofah from her, soaping her up, focusing more on the shape of her ass than on the words coming out of her mouth. I tap one of her cheeks and it jiggles. I bite my lip at the sight and squeeze the other. She yelps which only makes me want to do it again. I tap the perky flesh and it jiggles. Now, I’m painfully hard standing behind her.

  “Are you listening to me?” she asks, looking over her shoulder.

  I have no idea what she just said.

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened?”

  “Cash is running late.”

  “Oh.”

  She stands underneath the water rinsing the shampoo from her hair. I circle her in the cozy space and dip down and take a nipple into my mouth. She whines, placing her hands on my shoulders. I suck on the other, until she’s writhing and squirming in my grasp.

  “God, you’re beautiful, Liv.”

  Her eyes open slowly. She drags her fingertips over my lips and pushes up on the balls of her feet to kiss me hungrily. I groan into her mouth and stumble across the shower, taking her with me. We make a thud against the wet tile. Liv wraps her arms around my shoulders, when I lift her thigh slowly. She arches her back, wrapping her legs around my waist and within a split second I’m already inside of her.

  A small squeak leaves her mouth, when I drive into her wetness hard. I kiss her lips, tasting her, reveling in the feeling of how small and delicate she is in my arms. I push into her, settling into a rhythm that has her moaning my name and crying out softly against my shoulder. Her eyes open slowly but her lips remain parted, while she gasps for air. Her insides clench and tighten around me, making me crazy for the rest of her. I live to see her come undone from the things I do to her.

  “Zane,” she rasps out.

  I throw my heavy weight into each long stroke, steadying her small body against mine by holding on to the nape of her neck. Liv whimpers and her lips quiver when she looks at me.

  The hot water beats down against the shower walls. Steam mixes with my sweat, and the scent of vanilla only makes me want to explode in this woman. Liv’s wet hair is stuck to her skin and her lids are heavy. Her mouth falls open when I jerk her upwards again, desperate to be as deep inside of her as I can get. She screams and mumbles out something digging into my shoulder.

  “What?” I growl.

  I clutch Liv tighter and she feels so perfect in my arms. She moans again. I fuck her harder, listening to the beautiful sounds that spill from her mouth when she comes. I beat into her harder, forcing choked moans from her mouth while I go to town, sinking deeper inside of her tight slit that always feels like it was made just for me. I kiss her lips, taking the top one between my teeth and sucking it.

  “Liv,” I groan, when I bury my face in her neck and come.

  Liv

  I sit across from Zane while we eat dinner. His hair is still wet and mine is still damp. I observe him finish the last of the filet mignon in his plate. When he’s done, he places the silverware in the center and excuses himself from the table, grabbing his phone. He scrolls through the messages with irritation clearly etched across his face. When there’s a knock at the door, Z
ane reaches over and turns the handle.

  Tarver pokes his head in. “I’ll be ready to leave here in twenty minutes, if you folks have everything together.”

  Zane nods. “Yes, thanks,” he says with a long sigh.

  Tarver nods and slips back out.

  I finish eating and stand. “What have they decided?”

  Zane lets out another deep breath. “It’s three hours to show time. Barry’s obviously made the call to cancel tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  “This is not going to go over well. Fuck,” Zane mutters, stacking up two guitar cases. “What the fuck is going on?” he breathes out and then stands straight.

  We lock eyes. Zane smiles in a way that makes me feel completely adorable.

  “Get your things together. We’re leaving.”

  I gather up my stuff quickly and head across the room. Zane takes the duffel I’m carrying. When he opens the door, Tarver is standing outside ushering us through the wide hallways to a private exit where the SUV is parked.

  Barry is screaming at the top of his lungs into a walkie-talkie. A few men in suits linger where he stands. Zane throws his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to him. I wrap my arm around his waist enjoying his warmth. He kisses the top of my hair, then runs his fingers through it for a long while but doesn’t speak.

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Liv

  Once inside the apartment, Zane piles up a few of his guitars. I take a seat on the sofa and look around. The sun has gone down and the city is awash in colorful twinkling lights. It’s like Christmas here, every night of the week. Zane takes a seat on the sofa next to me, kicks off his boots and flexes out. He runs a hand through his hair that’s been recently trimmed.

  The drive back to the Aria was quiet. Zane stared out the window, while I spent most of my time going through the messages in my phone and staring at him. Audrey sent me a few pictures of her and Tom sitting on a beautiful beach in Saint Tropez. The next photograph was a back shot of her wearing some white Brazilian bikini number that would’ve looked better on a twenty-year-old.

  “Do you want to go to the pool upstairs?”

  “No,” I say with a smile.

  “I’ll order some food then. We can stay in and watch a movie,” he suggests.

  I only nod, grabbing the remote control and finding the Netflix icon. I scroll through what’s available and settle on a movie called John Wick, which I know Zane will love. He hangs up the phone with room service and takes a seat with a loud sigh.

  “This is a mess,” he grits out. “A cancelled show. A disappearing front man.” He sighs.

  I remain silent.

  “Did you know Rachel is fucking Barry?” he asks.

  I slowly meet his eyes and open my mouth to speak. “Yeah.”

  Zane gives me a smirk. “But you weren’t going to tell me?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, Zane. It wasn’t any of my business. I wish I hadn’t seen any of it to begin with. It’s was a horrible sight.”

  Zane laughs and shakes his head.

  I sit up straighter and look at him. “How do you know?”

  “It’s pretty obvious, Liv, I think to everyone.” He lets out a breath.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It is,” he says firmly. “Whatever. Rachel was always a recipe for drama.”

  “I don’t understand why she allows herself to be treated so badly.”

  Zane arches a brow in my direction. “So, you feel sorry for her now?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. She just seems like she’s had a rough life.”

  Zane laughs. “So, naturally she should become a whore then,” he says without emotion.

  “No.” I inhale. “I just think that maybe she should be cut some slack, is all I’m saying.”

  Zane grunts. “She likes you.”

  “Rachel?” I laugh.

  “Yeah, she said she likes you. I thought during this whole tour she would’ve given me problems, but she hasn’t.”

  I lift my brows. “Well, there you go.”

  Zane does a neck roll and stares up at the ceiling.

  “What was it like with her?” I ask curiously.

  He gives me a dead expression. “What do you mean?”

  I cock my head to the side. “You know what I mean, Zane.”

  He sighs. “We were teenagers, Liv. I don’t know. I can barely remember the details. Cash and I tag-teamed her once the first time in a drunken haze and then a few more times after that. Rachel was always getting fucked and not just by him or me or us together—by everybody. Dexter’s fucked her a few times too. It’s not like what you’re thinking of. It’s not like you and me.”

  “Oh,” I whisper, now feeling even more sorry for Rachel.

  “And.” He holds up a hand, palm facing out. “She wanted it—just to be clear—every single time and I always used a condom. I always have, Liv.”

  “Always?”

  “Yes, always. I like my dick. I’d like to hang onto it.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “But you don’t use one with me.”

  He narrows his eyes. “No. I don’t.”

  I shift and grab a thick blanket that rests over the back of the couch and snuggle into it, feeling exhausted.

  Zane shoots up from his seat at the knock on the door, when the food arrives. He rolls the trolley in. He brings the box of pizza, soda, and the cheesecake over and sets it on the coffee table.

  “This looks good.” I giggle.

  “It does,” he confirms, plopping down next to me.

  “This is nice, Liv. I like this. I can do this with you every night.”

  I give him a smile as he flicks open the box and laughs. The movie starts to play. His cellphone vibrates nonstop against the glass on the coffee table. Eventually, he shuts it off mumbling something.

  “I will have to turn this back on in a few hours, but right now, I don’t want to be disturbed,” he says with a twisted face.

  Zane takes a slice and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. We eat together in peace while watching Keanu Reeves kick some ass.

  Zane

  It was five in the morning. Liv and I’d fallen asleep on the sofa. When I awoke at some strange hour, I tucked her into bed and spent some time in the recording studio working on a few new songs. An hour ago, I decided to pack it in. I pick up my cellphone and turn it back on, only to see it fill with hundreds of messages, including missed calls. I knew the press were going crazy because of the cancelled show last night. I’d no idea just yet if Barry decided to issue a release to the public to explain why. If he didn’t do it last night, he would have to today since people would no doubt have questions.

  I stride into the kitchen and hit the Cuisinart Brew Central. I hit the remote and the stereo comes alive. My Shadow by Keane plays. I tap a few words into my phone, right before it rings. Yandi’s face shows up in front of me. I answer the call, putting the phone to my ear and pad around the kitchen preparing two cups of coffee.

  “Zane,” she quips.

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  Yandi sighs. “It’s been a shit night.”

  “I’m sure.

  “Did you find Cash?”

  “Yeah.” She sucks her teeth. “Yeah, we found him.”

  “What the fuck was his reason now? High, drunk—which was it?” I laugh.

  “Zane,” Yandi says breathlessly.

  “Yeah,” I say, spooning some sugar into a cup.

  The line goes quiet for a long while.

  “What is it?” I stand frozen. Yandi’s silence on the other end of the line makes the hairs on my arms reach for the sky. “What the fuck is it?”

  She breathes again and my heart pounds.

  “Yandi.”

  “He’s dead, Zane. Cash is dead.”

  I set the cup down on the top of the center island and exhale what feels like all the breath in my lungs. “What? What do you mean, Yandi?”

  She starts to cry. I mean really
starts to cry. I can barely hear what she’s saying. I make out the words “overdose” and “non-responsive.”

  “Barry is going to issue a press release this morning. We are working on it now.”

  “Okay,” I say softly.

  Yandi sniffles and sounds like she’s close to hyperventilating. “I will call you in an hour.”

  “Okay.”

  She hangs up. I take another deep breath and slowly place my phone back down, staring at the tile floor beneath my feet. This couldn’t be happening.

  I don’t know how long I stand there but the coffeemaker starts to beep.

  “Fuck,” I mumble to myself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  I make another loud exhale and slump against the counter. Cash was always a jackass. I didn’t know what he’d gotten himself into this time but whatever it was he didn’t make it out. I take a few steps over towards the windows and plop down in one of the sofa chairs. It’s such a beautiful day outside which only makes the news I just received that much more fucked up.

  I drop my face in my hands.

  When had all this gone so terribly wrong?

  Liv

  “Zane,” I call out, approaching cautiously.

  He lifts his head from his hands and I take in the sight of him crying.

  “Is everything okay?”

  He wipes his tears and shakes his head without speaking. I look around the apartment. It’s eerily quiet. The coffee maker is still beeping. I rush over and click it off. Zane’s phone is on the center island ringing. Unsure if I should answer the call, I only pick up the phone. I head back over to the chair he’s sitting in clearly in some sort of a daze. I place the phone down beside him. His grey eyes meet mine again and blink slowly, while more tears slip from them.

  “What happened?” I ask, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  Zane growls into his hands and shoots up from the chair. “Cash is dead.”

  What?

  He stalks by me, running his hands through his hair a few times. I spin around to watch him head down the hallway back to the recording studio. The door slams. I follow behind him and reach the door. I turn the handle and it’s locked.