by T Gephart
Joey had already shown his appreciation, not so subtly hinting that he would happily take her off my hands. Max had more class so he wouldn’t say anything but the fucker wasn’t blind. Angie would be Angie but eventually she’d come around too. What was there not to like? She was a fireball wrapped up in a sexy package and in the space of a few short weeks had knocked me on my ass.
She didn’t answer, her silence disagreeing as she snuggled closer to my body, her inability to see what a catch she was, unable to make sense in my head.
“You know what, let’s go anyway.” My need to prove her wrong higher than my need to stay in bed and cuddle. “Let’s get you cleaned up and go meet them. Obviously you aren’t taking my word for it. Best you see it first-hand.” My arms and legs untangled from her as I lifted myself off the bed.
“You want to go? Now?” She resisted as I yanked on her arm, trying to pull her off the mattress with me.
“Yep, no more thinking about it. Shower, change and out the door. We can grab some dinner on the way.”
“Rus—” I didn’t wait for the excuse.
“Don’t think about it, you’re giving that shit too much power. Just walk to the edge of that cliff and take a leap. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
Not sure if it was her loser mother, the loser ex-boyfriend or something else—but her perception of herself was seriously messed up. Stuck in a world where she didn’t think she was good enough and believed she somehow deserved—and worse than that, expected—bad shit to happen.
While she wasn’t totally on board, she didn’t fight me either. My offer to shower with her met with a smile that told me she knew it wasn’t only hair washing I had on my mind. And being that we weren’t in a hurry I made sure we were both good and clean before getting our clothes on.
Her earlier choice of outfit abandoned as she grabbed a pair of jeans and top. Much better.
“You ready?” I grabbed my phone, my keys and her hand and opened the front door.
“Sure, but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”
As his old 1960’s something Camaro sped down the road, my brain slowly flicked into focus, the residual high taking longer to fade. He was right. He was always right. I gave the opinions of others way too much power.
Controlling people’s thoughts was a super power I’d never possess, sad I know. Even trying to change their perceptions was a fruitless exercise, so I needed to stop. Take responsibility, and own it. Own who I was without the thousand apologies. I was good enough.
All of this had been a catalyst, like being shot out of a cannon. It was crazy but I had needed to hit my bottom. To reach absolute saturation of shit before I could finally wake up. I had been a doormat. I had allowed people to treat me a certain way, excused their behavior. It was a pattern and one I desperately needed—and for the first time wanted—to break.
“You nervous?” Rusty turned his head as the car pulled up at the front of the bar. My restless knee bouncing on the seat a dead giveaway.
“Yep, but I’ll be fine.” No point lying, we both knew I wasn’t doing great.
“Own it, Alison. Don’t let anyone tell you, you aren’t good enough. They do and you push your shoulders back and flip them the bird.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition, his hand just stopping short of opening the driver’s side door.
“Consider it owned.” I smiled back, hoping my resolve would kick in.
He had jumped out of the car and was at the passenger side door before I’d had a chance to even climb out, his arm slipping around my waist the minute my feet hit the gravel.
His hands on me sent waves of excitement through me. My nerves tried to not short circuit as we walked into the crowded bar. The same bar where we had our very first conversation, and the one I had waltzed into and made out with him shamelessly. The bar definitely had history.
Pushing through the throng of people was difficult, it seemed like we had to stop every two steps for people to say hello to Rusty, their interest in me ranging from none at all to friendly hellos. To my surprise no one cowered away in gasped shock, Rusty’s hand on mine earning not even so much as a stare. Hmmm.
“Crazy bar girl.” The guy who had been having sex in the bathroom called out as soon as he saw us. His beer lifted almost as high as his smug grin. Ugh, I dug deep hoping to find a pocket of bravado still left in me so I wouldn’t have to hide behind my boyfriend. Gah, it was still weird saying it.
“Hi, rocker dude with questionable judgment.” My mouth shot out before my brain had registered, Rusty giving me a squeeze of encouragement as we got closer.
“Wow, she’s got your number.” The other rocker dude shoved original rocker dude’s shoulder. “I’m Max, nice to finally meet you.”
“Oh, yeah?” It hadn’t meant to sound like a question but my surprise overrode my mouth. “I’m Alison.” I held out my hand awkwardly wondering if handshaking was no longer cool. There really wasn’t an acceptable alternative, hugging was definitely not happening.
“I know.” Max winked, thankfully returning my handshake so my hand wasn’t sticking out there like a loser. He was a good guy I’d decided. I wouldn’t plot his demise, at least not today.
“Angie and Jase will be here soon.” Original rocker dude waved over the bartender. I struggled to recall his name. “Just a heads up.”
“Thanks, Joe.” Rusty pulled me closer to his side thankfully saying the rocker dude’s name so I wouldn’t look lame by asking. Joey, my recall making the connection thanks to the prompt. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.
I’m not sure if it was his faith in me or my commitment to change which made me relax, but like a strange and wonderful miracle it all made sense. There was a reason I had sought him out in the first place. That when my life was crumbling and I was drowning in misery, the road had led to him. My subconscious putting me on the path I knew would shatter the walls I’d spent years building up. And I wasn’t going to disappoint either of us.
“So, Alison.” Max rolled the bottle of beer slowly in his hand. “Heard you had some fun this afternoon.” He and Rusty having some eyeball, non-verbal exchange. Tales of my adventurous afternoon obviously had been recounted.
That was exactly the kind of confrontation that in the past would have sent me running. Flimsy excuses about needing a bathroom would have been made and possibly a few “I’m sorrys” would have been thrown in. Anything that would have secured my exit and driven the attention away from me would have been my strategy, but instead of going down my well-worn path I tried something new. I didn’t run, I didn’t make excuses and I didn’t apologize. It felt incredibly liberating as I shucked my previous MO.
“Yeah, I got white trash wasted on some special brownies.” A voice I barely recognized as my own spilled out of my mouth. “I heard it was your brother’s; kudos to his dealer.” A newfound freedom exploded within me, no idea where any of it had come from.
“You made pot brownies?” Joey asked, obviously not having heard about my wayward afternoon where I got high in my underwear. It had all been pretty impressive, I’m sure he was sad to have missed it.
It was a shame for him really, because it sounded like I was a riot high. Pity only snippets of it actually stayed with me. Other than the incredible sex, which was out of this world amazing.
Instead of stopping my out of control mouth that was currently operating without my usual hesitations, I just shrugged and kept going. “Yeah, I had to improvise. I know brownies are a bit of a throwback, I would have preferred to make fudge. Possibly macaroons? You can connect with your inner Jim Morrison and still be classy.” Who the hell was I right now?
“Whoa, you need to ditch your boyfriend and come hang with me. Your talents would be more appreciated.” Joey’s eyes widened, obviously appreciating my culinary skills or the fact my mouth was spewing out whatever popped into my head.
“Ah thanks, but I’m not your type. You like strippers and I can’t dance, so we’d have never worked out.”
Whoever was talking wasn’t Alison Williams. She looked like me and sounded like me, but it was surely someone else. Maybe a random bored spirit that was tired of circling purgatory jumped in and possessed me, but whatever the reason, I liked it. The freedom of saying whatever I wanted dizzying me in exhilaration.
“That’s my girl.” Rusty nuzzled my neck in appreciation, kissing me right there for everyone to see. I liked it. Both my loose mouth and his public display of affection. We made such a great team.
“Your girl is awesome.” Max nodded, handing me a beer. “You don’t have a sister do you?”
“Nope, just me.” I accepted the beer I hadn’t ordered and lifted it to my lips. “Thanks for the drink.”
Wonders would never cease. Here I was having a conversation with people I didn’t know and there was no need for a paper bag or drugs. I could actually do this, who knew. Celebrations were definitely on the cards.
“You’re welcome.” Max shot me a wink, his smile widening.
“Dude, I know you aren’t hitting on my girlfriend right in front of me. ’Cause if you are, you should just save your time, she’s pretty taken with me.” Rusty gave Max a friendly tap on the arm.
“If he gets to flirt with her, I do too.” Joey added into the mix. “Guitarists have big egos but not much else, everyone knows the drummer is the star of the band.” His brow rose in suggestion.
“Don’t mind Joey, babe, he is obviously high as well.” Rusty mock whispered in my ear earning him a finger from the drummer in question.
Ah, it was all just going so well. My fears slowly dissolving with a pfft, what were we worried about, the conversation as easy as the view. Not that I’d ever consider defecting, but every one of those Black Addiction boys were attractive—all that good looking had to be dangerous on stage. I was definitely going to see them play.
But like all tests—ones we give ourselves or prescribed by others— inevitably a wave of panic rolls in. Like sitting in an exam and not noticing you forgot to fill out a page until the last dying ten minutes. That was exactly the feeling that washed over me as I saw a very pregnant, heavily-tattooed badass who I’d already met—Angie. And here we go.
Round two.
“Hello, Angie.” My hand shot out offering her the handshake I’d denied her when we first met, my smile hopefully not looking as fake as it felt.
“Hello, Alison.” She reached for my hand, her smile just as manufactured as mine. Oh, goodie. We were going to be such good friends. Not.
“Well I’m glad everyone could make it.” Rusty’s hand returned to my waist in a show of affection. “I know it’s all about me showing off and you’re all awesome to humor me. This is my girl Alison and she has excellent taste in men.”
Angie looked at the arm he had around me and gave him a not so subtle glare. She was going to be a harder nut to crack.
“Hi, I’m Jason.” The guy who had his arms solidly locked around Angie volunteered. “I’m the husband.” His muscular arms just as inked as his wife’s.
“Don’t let him fool you, Ali.” Rusty brought me in closer, giving me a kiss on the neck. “He’s the keyboard player for Power Station. It would be good if you can pretend they’re a big deal, even if you don’t know who they are. They aren’t as humble as us.”
The introduction wasn’t necessary. Unless you’d been living on Mars for the last ten years, everyone knew who Power Station were. Especially if you had a New York zip code, the local guys who were catapulted into international rock stardom were a household name. And while Rusty had mentioned they’d toured with them previously, I hadn’t realized they were all good friends. It was sort of weird seeing a celebrity up close. I am fairly sure Rusty never mentioned Angie was married to one of them.
“I know who Power Station are.” I smiled, trying to not to sound like a moron in front of the famous guy. “I saw you guys play at a club a few years ago, some kind of surprise performance. It was great.”
“I said acknowledge them, I didn’t mean inflate his already huge ego. You’ll give me a complex.” Rusty squeezed me tighter, his grin hinting he wasn’t serious.
“Well, thanks. I’m glad you had a good time and in case you didn’t already know, Rusty couldn’t get a complex if he tried.” Jason’s conversation continued despite his wife not looking impressed. “And it’s good to finally meet you too. Rusty likes to talk, I wasn’t sure you were real.”
Everyone laughed except for Angie. Her steely disposition not changing since she’d walked in. To be honest, I didn’t understand the girl/guy best friend dynamic. Not saying that it wasn’t possible to have a platonic meaningful relationship with a member of the opposite sex, but in my experience it just didn’t work out that way. And even though Rusty assured me nothing had ever happened between them, I wasn’t crazy about another girl being that close to a guy who I had just started dating. My feelings had already started to develop into something other than just lust. I really, really liked him.
“Angie, can I get you something to drink? A juice or something?” While I was sure I was fighting a losing battle, I tried again to be polite. Ordinarily I would have happily let it go, allowed the two of us to continue to give each other the evil eye, but if she was important to Rusty then we’d somehow have to find a way to be in the same room together. I could be the bigger person. Hopefully my effort wouldn’t be tossed back at me.
“Sure, let’s go to the bar.” Angie agreed with very little enthusiasm. She might not have been happy about it, but perhaps a middle ground could be reached. If only because we both cared for the same guy.
There were a lot of things I didn’t want to do tonight, heading to the bar with a girl who clearly couldn’t stand me was on that list. Maybe that had been her plan, expecting me to say no. But failure wasn’t an option, so the bar was where I was heading.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Rusty grabbed my arm before I could leave.
See, this is where Rusty was different, why my heart just grew a little bigger every day I was around him. Most guys would have either ignored the tension, played it off like two emotional women or been excited by the prospect of a catfight. Rusty wasn’t interested in doing any of those things. He was smart enough to know that while I’d been owning it like a champ tonight, I might still need some reassurance.
“No, it’s okay, we’re just going to go the bar. We won’t be long.”
He hesitated but he let me go, but not before giving Angie a firm no bullshit look—another silent conversation being exchanged.
The drink was an excuse. She knew it and I knew it, so we didn’t bother with the pretense. Angie followed me as I led the way, passing the bar completely as we walked to a quiet corner on the other side.
“I know you don’t like me and that’s okay, but I really like Rusty and I think we owe it to him to be civil when we’re together.”
I’m not sure what I was hoping to achieve, but the guy who had brought me to meet his friends meant more to me than any other guy I’d ever been with. For a reason I couldn’t quite understand, he wanted me to be a part of his life. A life that included all these extra people and I wasn’t going to be pushed out.
“Is that what you think, that I don’t like you?” Angie’s face softened for the first time since I’d met her. “Alison, I don’t know you, how can I have any feelings about you?” She held her hand up to stop me before I could argue. “But he’s known you for five minutes and you’ve moved in? You can’t blame me for being cautious. That guy right there is one of the best guys I know. He got me through a lot of shit, so I know that when it comes to being a hero, he is more than qualified. I just don’t want him taken advantage of.”
“I’m not taking advantage of him, I would never do that. I know you don’t know me and my word means nothing, but I’m not that kind of girl.”
From the outside in, it looked bad. Girl meets guy, girl has nothing, girl moves in with guy. The word gold digger wasn’t thrown around but I coul
d read the subtext. Rusty Crawford wasn’t flashing a Rolex and a Benz but he wasn’t hurting either. The house he lived in was mortgage-free, his prized vintage Camaro needed no payments and his band had signed a lucrative deal that would probably make them a lot of money. I, on the other hand, had no car, no job, no savings and not a lot to offer. On paper we made no sense but in some crazy way in the real world we did.
“I care about him, Angie. Not because of what he has, but how he makes me feel.”
“Just don’t hurt him, okay?” Her arctic chill thawed a little more. “I know he seems tough but he has a huge heart, which can mean an epic heartbreak.”
“If anyone’s heart is going to be broken, trust me it will be mine. I would sooner die than hurt him and I mean that.”
My honesty had been more than I’d wanted to give. Admitting to her how much he meant to me before I’d even admitted it to Rusty felt wrong, all those feelings of vulnerability swirling around for the world to see. We had just started something amazing and the last thing I wanted to think about was it possibly ending. Another wake-up call thanks to my stupid mouth, highlighting that maybe being with Rusty wouldn’t last forever.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered her voice so soft I’d barely heard it over the noise of the bar. And if it hadn’t been for the tears welling in her eyes, I’d have probably just assumed I’d imagined it.
“For what?”
She took a long deep breath, the air slowly passing through her lips as her shoulders slumped. “I was the girl people made assumptions about, the girl they whispered in the corner about, and up until recently I’d never had female friends. I was a bitch to you and you didn’t deserve that.”
As much as I wanted to dislike her, I couldn’t. We were as different as we were the same. Sure, I wasn’t sporting tattoos and piercings nor could I sing in key but neither of us had been prom queen. And maybe she had some of her own insecurities just like I did. In the end we both cared for the same man.