He pulled me close again and kissed the back of my head once more. He felt so right…but it all felt so fucking wrong. I had to get up. Before I could move, though, he said, “Shit, babe. Let’s do that again.” He started kissing my shoulder—and my body wanted to obey.
“I can’t, CJ.” I started to sit up. “I have stuff to do later. We need to get this song done.”
“Something wrong?”
“No.” I sat up, full of the stupidest, craziest mix of emotions that threatened to spill out every facial orifice I had. I was happy but sad. Bittersweet. Full of love for CJ but brimming over with self-loathing at my lack of willpower. Jesus, I probably could have any man I wanted, and instead I pursued this guy who was attached to someone else and not interested in anything long-term. We’d been there before.
I heard him say, “Okay. Maybe later.”
No way. Not if I could help it. I had to protect my heart. I’d already damaged it way too much with my foolishness.
Maybe it was easy for him. Hell, I knew that, unlike me, for him it had always been easy. If he cared about me, it was a simple thing for him to turn it off and on like a light switch. On the road, I had forced myself to be that way, to take love wherever and however I could find it, but the truth was that my heart belonged to CJ, and being with other men had been a temporary measure, something to help get me through the weeks and months until I saw CJ again.
As I searched around the room for my clothes on my hands and knees with these thoughts in my head, I realized that I was already doomed. It didn’t matter that CJ had someone in his life whose status was more than a friend with benefits, nor did it matter that he’d never confessed his love for me. I loved him and needed him like a drowning soul needs air, and I was going to take it when and where I could.
I knew that now and deep down it made me feel pathetic. Used. Sad.
What was I getting out of it—getting from him—that made me decide to continue? I didn’t know. Maybe on some level it made me feel not loved but at least wanted, and it was more from CJ than I’d had in a long time.
And I continued to justify it in my head by any means possible—at least there were no kids who would get hurt. At least he and the actress hadn’t been together long. At least she had an awesome career.
None of those justifications assuaged my guilt.
I sighed silently and searched and searched, managing to find my panties, jeans, and t-shirt, but I had no idea where the bra was. I finally stood and pulled the shirt over my head and saw CJ standing nearby, zipping up his jeans. “If you see my bra, let me know.”
He grinned. “You look great without it.”
In spite of the turmoil I felt inside, I couldn’t help but return his irresistible smile. “Yeah, I’m sure I do.” I picked up a boot as CJ walked the few steps to close the gap between us.
“Let’s go stand out on the patio…smell the rain. You know, before we get back to work.” He pulled me in an embrace and gave me a light kiss. I blinked and nodded. I didn’t trust myself with many words.
We walked through the glass door near the fireplace onto a concrete patio. Where we stood was barely covered by the eaves of the house, but it was enough to protect us from the rain. It had slowed now to a gentle shower, but it smelled fresh and clean. It was cool outside—cooler than I’d expected—and with bare feet and arms, I felt the chill.
CJ was bare chested and had no shoes on his feet, but he seemed to handle the temperature fine. He pulled me close so we stood side by side and wrapped one arm over my shoulders as we looked at the hillside in front of us. “Beautiful, huh?”
“Yeah. Your house too.”
After a minute or so, he said, “Yeah, it’s okay.”
“Okay? It’s amazing.”
I felt him shrug. “Kinda lonely.”
Ah…I hadn’t thought of that. In the city in an apartment, at least, he’d been surrounded by people—all the time. Out here, he really was off by himself, away from people and civilization and, if he wanted companionship, he’d have to find it.
So was that what I was? A port in the storm? A warm body? Someone to alleviate the loneliness? All of a sudden, the one part of me that was able to cling to something—that I was special somehow or meant something to this man—gave it up and let it go. “Guess we’d better get to work.”
“What’s your hurry?”
“I need to share the completed song with the band so we can record it—we’re in the studio next week—and I talked my manager and the guys in the band into it but I still need to talk my producer into it.” Jerry Reimer was also producing the album, and he had definite opinions about all the songs, down to their arrangement on the album and even more that I had no idea about. I was sure he’d be okay with another song, as long as it didn’t mess up the way he’d planned to put it all together. Even so, I knew I’d be able to make a strong case…but I couldn’t do it if I couldn’t play the finished product.
“Oh, well, in that case…”
We went inside and I was grateful inside that CJ put his t-shirt back on. His half-nakedness was distracting and also a painful reminder of what we’d done earlier.
Once we focused on the music, I started feeling better, more like my old self and less like a slutty homewrecker. Three hours later, the song started to come together as CJ began writing bass and drum tracks and hooking it all up to his computer program so I could hear it with the rich mixed sound.
After another hour, CJ said, “Damn. I’m starving. Wanna order a pizza?”
I shrugged. “They deliver out here?”
“If you have enough money, you can get delivery anywhere.”
I took his word for it. We discussed toppings, but it was simple. We both loved pepperoni and extra cheese, and CJ placed the order before we got back to work. Our plan was to have the song as finished as it could be by the time the pizza arrived.
We were shutting everything down when the doorbell rang. There was a chime down in that room as well, so there was no problem hearing the doorbell. “Gonna get the pizza. Come on upstairs when you’re ready.” I nodded and put my guitar in its case and then began searching for my bra again. I finally spied it between two amps. I had no idea how it had gotten there, but the black fabric was hard to see against the same hue on the amps. I heard CJ call to me, so I just set it on my guitar case and dashed up the stairs.
I was feeling a lot better now and I was hungry enough to attempt eating the whole pizza on my own.
By the time I joined CJ on the upper floor, he was in the kitchen. “Wanna watch a movie or something while we eat?”
“Sure.” We took paper plates, napkins, two bottles of beer, and the pizza to the living room. It hadn’t registered the few times before that I’d walked through, but he had a big screen TV in the room.
I put two slices of pizza on both plates while CJ flipped through the channels. “Ah, Hitchcock.” We watched about half an hour of Rear Window while eating the pizza, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I was preoccupied by my mind.
As hungry as I’d thought I was, I didn’t have much of an appetite. I forced down one of the slices and drank the entire bottle of beer, and after half an hour, I announced to CJ that I was going to go.
“So soon?”
I managed half a smile. “Soon? I’ve been here all day. Got a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Okay. Let me at least walk you out.”
It felt kind of awkward with him following me downstairs to get my guitar case. I could sense that he had something else he wanted to say, and a mantra circulated over and over through my head, hoping he wouldn’t say whatever it was that was on his mind.
Because it couldn’t be good.
As we walked up the second half of the stairs, I said, “Thanks for the song, CJ. It’s gonna kick ass.”
“Yeah, it is.”
We made it to the front door without saying anything else and I once more felt uncomfortable standing there, waiting to sa
y goodbye. “Thanks again.”
I felt CJ’s hand on the one of mine that held the guitar case. “Let me carry that for you.”
I wanted to protest but instead said, “If you insist.”
He took the case from me but rather than open the front door, he placed my guitar on the floor and pulled me into his arms. “I’m glad you came today, Kyle.”
I let myself get swallowed up by his embrace but most of me wanted to cry, just let it all out. The rest of me refused to show my vulnerability, would not let him know how the day’s events had eaten me up inside. One part of me wanted to turn and run as fast as I could, but the other half of me that couldn’t live without CJ didn’t want to let go.
So when he pulled away slightly to gaze in my eyes, that part of me took over once more. And when he kissed me over and over again and I responded until we left my guitar case at the door and went to his room and made love once more, I simply gave in to my basest desires. I knew I would die without this man, or at least a part of me would. I could live the rest of my life alone yet successful or I could take as much of CJ as he would let me.
That night, long after he’d drifted off to sleep, I lay awake on one side of that mammoth king-size bed pondering my future and deciding that I was going to have to be okay with being the other woman…because, in my heart, I knew that that was all CJ was willing to give.
“Going to Hell” ~ The Pretty Reckless
Chapter Thirty-one
THE NEXT MORNING, CJ insisted upon meeting the band for our first recording session. He knew Jerry and wanted to talk with my band members (especially Wes, since CJ had been the one to arrange his audition with me). I thought he also wanted to thank them in advance for including “Bad Ass Bitch” on our upcoming album.
I could have taken credit for co-authoring the song, but I didn’t intend to. All I’d done with CJ’s song was the same thing I’d often done with Liz’s—I’d taken it and made it mine, put my mark on it, but CJ was the one who’d had the idea and brought it to fruition. I couldn’t take credit for that.
We stopped by a coffee shop on our way and got the biggest double espresso mocha lattes they had to offer and then drove into the Springs for my first day of recording the album that I somehow knew was going to make me a household name.
Stupid me. I should have had CJ drive his car too but I hadn’t, which meant I was going to have to take him home as well.
I felt so obvious walking in there, as if everyone would know what CJ and I had been doing. I was the last band member to arrive, but CJ was smooth, greeting everyone and fitting right in, offering to hang with Jerry in the booth.
It felt like a giant red A was pinned to the front of my t-shirt.
It hadn’t helped that CJ had snuck in one last lovemaking session before we left his house. I’d been able to shower, brush my teeth, eat an apple, and then fuck the shit out of him before we left. I had some eyeliner and mascara in my purse too, so I was okay for the studio.
But I felt dirty…the kind of dirty a shower wouldn’t wash off.
CJ managed to talk my bandmates into coming to his place after we were done recording for the day, in spite of the fact that the session had been grueling and tiring. We were doing one song first, which was why we were all together, and since we had scratch tracks already, Jerry was able to help us all and manipulate the songs however he needed to.
The guys were excited about the new song and we were up past midnight working through it. Still, CJ and I found the time to make love.
But once he fell asleep, I decided to leave. I was so angry with myself that I’d allowed myself to fall so completely in love with him again and for little in return. I was being a doormat again and that had to stop.
I was tired the next morning but felt better waking up in my own apartment, away from CJ’s spell. At the studio, Jerry gave us all schedules, telling us he knew for certain how he was going to work things and that he might need us at different times other than what was on the schedule. “If I need you, I’ll call you, but I don’t want you all hanging around, getting in the way, asking what I’m doing when I don’t need you.”
He wouldn’t have us Wednesday, but he planned to have the mixed (and possibly final) version of “Ecstatic” for us to listen to on Thursday. We were going to shoot that video the following week, so it had to be ready quickly. In the meantime, we’d be at a photo shoot on Wednesday, getting our album cover ready along with publicity shots.
Before that, though, Tuesday mid-morning, after I’d left his bed in the middle of the night, I got a call from CJ. Not a text, but a call. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the studio.”
“Why didn’t you get me up?”
I let out a breath and scratched my forehead. It sounded like he thought maybe I left that morning without waking him. But, no, I’d come home, slept in my own bed, showered, and changed clothes.
And spent time alone.
“I left last night.”
He was quiet for a bit. Goddamn CJ. He was so fucking hard to read and he was even more difficult to figure out when he clammed up. After what felt like too long a pause, he said, “How’s recording going today?”
“Good.”
“Now that I’m not around, you can tell me the truth. The guys like ‘Bad Ass Bitch’? You for sure putting it on the album?”
He seemed recovered from my news, but I didn’t know if that meant he was okay with it or what. So I too went with the flow. “Yeah. On both counts. It’s an amazing song, CJ.”
“You’re the reason why.”
I shrugged, even though it wasn’t for his benefit. “Not really.”
“I want to see you tonight, Kyle.”
And with those words…I was helpless, like a timid little rabbit who, instead of running for her fucking life, froze in fear, letting the chips fall wherever they would.
So it continued that way, all throughout the weeks of recording. CJ only had to say a word and there I was. We never talked about his girlfriend and I never asked. I should have, but I didn’t. I was happy when I was with him, and I started expecting for him to tell me she was out of the picture.
But he never did.
During those weeks, the band and I approved the cover and interior design for the CD. It was just me on the cover in a sexy black leather outfit with one of my guitars, and on the back it was me and the guys in a standard standoffish rock group pose. We had that part of the photo shoot at Garden of the Gods, posing in front of different rock formations and on various walking paths. Tourist season wasn’t in full gear yet and we did it during the week, so we didn’t have to deal with too many people asking questions.
We filmed the video for “Ecstatic” too. We were in an old warehouse on the top floor. The place was still used, but the videographer and his crew had gotten permission to use the upper floor, which was just used by the owners for storage. The filming crew promised to work around everything up there in exchange for cheap rent. There were boxes and it was dusty, but the crew cleaned up some and then we set up on the concrete floor. It was simple—just shots of the guys and me playing and then some shots of just me standing around singing. Without my guitar. That felt weird and strange, but that was where Mollie had been pushing me all along. I had three costume changes during the video too, one that had me in a top with a bare midriff. Mollie wanted to show off all my hard work. She said, “Sex sells,” and she was convinced I could be a hell of a salesperson.
All this excitement—finishing recording our kick ass new album, seeing the whole thing come together, filming the first video, conducting a couple of phone interviews, and preparing for our tour—and I should have been just as revved up as our first single indicated. I should have been ecstatic…but I was, instead, questioning everything about my life.
* * *
The second to last night at home before we went on tour, CJ spent the night at my house. By then, the guys knew we were together, even though he and I had never said a wor
d, had in fact gone to great pains so we looked like friends only in appearance. And, the truth was, that was all we were because CJ had long ago made it clear that he would never commit to me.
He kissed me long and hard that next morning and offered to see me off for my tour, insisted upon it, even though I told him not to worry about it. He wasn’t going to be around that night because he and his band had something going on. I missed what exactly—drinking together or something. Probably going to a “gentleman’s club.” CJ probably had told me something vague and off the scent on purpose.
But he held me close the night he was at my place and did his damnedest to make me feel loved…in spite of the fact that I had no love for myself.
That next night, though, I had a couple of drinks and allowed myself to wallow. On what should have been one of the most exciting nights ever, I was feeling sorry for myself while at the same time feeling like a worthless whore. How had I let myself stoop this low…to become a mistress to a man who treated me like shit simply because I didn’t know how to let go?
And then, taking another shot of whiskey, it dawned on me—that old lesson my dad had preached to me over and over again when I was a kid, the one I’d obeyed in every fucking instance of my life except where CJ was concerned. CJ was the used car salesman. He’d shown me his best car on the lot and I’d taken a test drive. He’d known from the get go how much I loved that goddamned car. He knew I’d pay any price he named for the car, and he’d also known I couldn’t walk away.
So now I needed to do it…because my life depended upon it.
I downed one more shot and then texted CJ. I need to talk to you. Are you around?
I sat on the couch in my tiny living room, feeling cramped in my inebriated stupor, relieved that I would be heading out on the road the next day. I needed a big change of scenery, needed to remember what my priorities were, really needed to get my head on straight and live the life that truly made me happy. I was miserable right now, in spite of the fact that I’d been intimate with CJ the past couple of months. I should have been thrilled but I was miserable, crumbling inside. I couldn’t do it to myself anymore—and I really wanted to tell CJ now, while my resolve was strong.
On the Rocks Page 19