Standing up, I headed over to the windows and started to pace. Walking back and forth like a tiger at the zoo.
What the fuck was going on here? I tried to tell myself that this was no big deal. So I liked a girl? BFD.
But it felt like a Big Fucking Deal. And I knew why. If I were honest about it, if I took a good, long look at myself in the proverbial mirror, I’d have to admit I was nothing more than a big, overgrown kid. I’d been riding out the longest adolescence in history. I’d been 17 for a good, long time now, 17 over and over again, not giving a fuck, holding up my middle fingers. Partying and breaking shit and screwing around with girls who passed in and out of my life like ships in a harbor.
So this big boy, mature moment? It was hitting me like a growing pain. I remembered those happening to me, when I was around 10 or maybe 12 years old. I used to wake up in the middle of the night with my legs hurting like hell. Of course that had coincided nicely with my parents divorcing and my mother sinking into a deep muck of depression. She hadn’t exactly bounded to my bedside to ask what was the matter.
But that was beside the point. The point was, I was having an emotional growing pain. How pathetic.
I took a sip of my drink. And thought about Justin Bieber.
I remembered a few years back the Biebs had been caught smuggling a monkey into Germany. He’d brought the monkey along with him from the U.S. and figured he could just land in a foreign country with it, no problem, no paperwork. He was Justin Frickin’ Bieber. That didn’t go over so well with the German officials. No monkey, even for JB.
The gossip sites had been all over it, calling him everything from a diva to insane. They’d compared him to Michael Jackson with his chimp Bubbles and wondered how anyone could get so detached from reality.
Me? I understood completely. When everyone told you yes you got to forgetting that anyone could ever tell you no. I’d had a nice, long stretch of yes. Seven years of it. I got comfortable with yes. It surrounded me like a thick down comforter, numbing my perceptions, drowning out anything but that constant, thick drone of praise. I started forgetting what anything else ever felt like. No became a thing of the past, a foreign concept. And who liked hearing no, anyway? No one, that’s who.
But now, here I stood in my mountain cabin in the middle of the night with that down comforter stripped right off of me. Bare-chested and freaking out, my heart racing, sweat forming on my brow, I stood neck-deep in reality. The thing was, I knew I might be facing a no.
If I put myself on the line, let Ana know everything I was feeling, what I thought of her and how she made me want to take chances and be a better man and see if I could be the one for her, it was a huge risk. I might pour my heart out, leave it right there on the coffee table. And there was a chance that she would listen to it all and then say no.
Bloody hell. I’d only lived in England a couple of years, but I felt it gave me the license to use some of their better swears. Bollocks, bugger, cock-up, I’d pull them all out when necessary. Now was the time.
Pulling at my hair, I felt that urge again to pick up the phone and talk to someone about all this. But who would I call? And why hadn’t it ever occurred to me before that I had no one to talk to? I guessed I’d always been so surrounded by superficial fluff I’d never noticed the lack of substance.
It would be nice to be able to pick up the phone and call a parent. But even if my father hadn’t passed away this past summer, I couldn’t have called him. He’d thought I was a grade-A fuckup until the day he died. The more famous I got, the more it just made him shake his head and wonder what the world was coming to. Sometimes I had to agree.
My mom had cleaned up her act post-breakdown. She hadn’t touched a drink since. She also hadn’t touched any of us. She’d remarried and tidied her life up so much it was like she’d moved completely on, surrounded by her champion roses and purebred dogs at her estate in southern Connecticut. I couldn’t imagine anything she’d enjoy less than an early morning phone call from her embarrassingly outrageous son wanting to discuss his love life.
And how about my older brother, Colton? It was anybody’s guess what was going on in that guy’s head. He was a freaking locked book, a stone-cold serious corporate raider. I could barely remember a time when we even spoken more than a few words to each other. It would have to have been when we were kids, but I didn’t really have any memories of Colton acting like a kid. Then once our parents split, he’d headed off to boarding school, too, but unlike me he hadn’t gotten kicked out. He’d gone on to Princeton and Harvard and taken over stewardship of our family fortune, whatever that meant. The few women I’d seen him with over the years were freaking terrifying. Ice cold, calculating bitches, it seemed like Colton kept it all-business inside and outside the bedroom, relationships just another merger or acquisition. No, I couldn’t call him about Ana.
Gram. I guessed I could call her. She’d always take my call. She’d been the most parental figure in my life. But you didn’t exactly call your 83-year-old grandmother in the middle of the night in a panic because you realized you’d fallen in love.
Actually, I realized Gram would probably be up. She’d most likely be back in England by now and it would be middle of the day. She’d always be happy to hear from me, and too well-bred to sound overly surprised.
But to Gram, my problem would have a simple solution. I should be honest and forthright and true. She’d set a straight path for me, as she always did, down which I’d live up to my true potential and all that. But, honestly, I didn’t even always know what she meant when she said things like that. And right now, I didn’t know if I could handle her certainty. Talking to her might really send me over the edge. And she wouldn’t want to hear my hemming and hawing. She didn’t suffer fools gladly.
Fuck, I needed to do something. This whole in-my-head silence-after-the-storm thing really wasn’t working for me. Turning to walk into the kitchen to fix myself another drink, I stopped. There was the piano, over by the windows. Looking at it, I drew a full breath for the first time since I’d risen out of bed.
Music, my lifeline. Of course, I could turn to it. I didn’t have anyone to call, but I could make some music. Sitting at the bench, I instantly felt like myself again. There, I didn’t need to figure shit out or make decisions, I just played.
When Ana came to me, a blanket wrapped around her, her hair in a glorious tussle, I had no idea what time it was.
“Have you been up all night?” Her voice sounded morning-scratchy and she yawned.
Huh. I looked up for what must have been the first time in a few hours. Out the windows, the first rays of sunrise were peaking over the horizon. How about that?
“Come back to bed.” She smiled at me, still clasping the blanket around her with one hand but with the other she reached for me. “Come back with me.”
Mmm. Looking up at her, I suddenly realized how tired I felt, heavy in my bones.
“Yeah.” I nodded, still not standing up. That sounded good. Coming closer, she took my hand in hers. Her skin felt so soft, so soothing against mine.
“Come to bed.” She smiled at me.
“Yeah.” I followed her into the bedroom and together we got under the covers. Her body felt so good against mine, so supple and soft. She smelled so good and I nuzzled into her as I closed my eyes. Her fingers drifted through my hair, smoothing it, calming the unruly locks I’d been pulling on hours ago. This felt much better.
“Go to sleep,” she murmured, her fingers whispering along my hair, my forehead. This was right. This was good. I think I groaned in pleasure as I sank into a deep, dreamless slumber.
A few hours later, the next sound I heard was a lot less soothing.
“What was that?” Ana sat up, alarmed, next to me in the bed. Voices rang out from the main room of the cabin.
“Helloooo!” one of them called out.
Now my groan was one of frustration. Sinking my head back into the pillow, I brought my hand up over my eyes. I knew that voice. It wasn’t
a voice I wanted in my cabin. But, then, it wasn’t my cabin. It was the band’s cabin. And now that the storm had stopped, the roads had apparently cleared enough for the band to come join us.
“Who’s that?” Ana asked me, startled. “Is someone here?”
Laughter rang out from the other side of our bedroom door. “It’s the guys,” I reluctantly confirmed. I could hear Johnny and Connor messing around, and some higher-pitched whoops as well. Groupies, celebrating their windfall, up in a swank cabin with rock stars. Great. Just great.
“Wow, I hadn’t realized the roads were that clear.” Ana sounded about as happy about our unexpected company as I was. Our private world wasn’t so private anymore. Fuck.
I rubbed my eyes, wishing it was just a bad dream. Sighing deeply, I rolled to my side and pulled Ana back down to me. I didn’t want anything to change.
“Ashie!” Connor’s voice rang out. “Come out, come out wherever you are, Ashie!”
“Fuck.” I groaned again. “I’d better go out there.” I didn’t want them coming into the bedroom. Ana wasn’t wearing anything. Damn it, now she’d have to start wearing clothes again. That was a crime.
Reluctantly, I gave her a kiss on her cheek and climbed out of bed.
“There he is!” Connor boomed out as I emerged. “Ooh, who you got in there?” I shut the door behind me, but he tried to peek around to catch a glimpse. “Is it the librarian? Bet you’ve had fun with her up here, mate. Snowed in.” He licked his lips and waggled his eyebrows.
“Yeah, yeah.” I rubbed my hand across my face, hating the way he made the last few days sound. All right, yes, we’d done a whole lot of exactly what Connor had in mind. But it had been more than that, in a way I was sure he wouldn’t understand.
“Hope you don’t mind us joining you.” Johnny walked in carrying a bunch of bags, flanked with even more women. How many groupies had they carted up here? He set down the bags and came to stand next to me, in a quieter voice adding, “Connor said you wouldn’t mind. It’s cool, then?”
“Yeah, sure. Of course. It’s your cabin, too.” We had purchased it as a band, no rules, no sharing schedule with time divided into one guy’s weekend then another’s. We were a band, a team, best mates, acting as one. It had never been a problem before.
Now it was. First things first. I needed some hot coffee.
“Coffee?” Johnny asked, heading into the kitchen.
“You’re a good man,” I called after him. He really was. And now he was making coffee, so I loved him.
The afternoon passed exactly as I expected. Connor cranked shit up, the music, the drinking. The hot tub got put to good use. He had some excellent coke, he informed me, and though I declined the girls he had with him were more than happy to join in.
Ana emerged after a bit, looking pale and shy and almost spooked by the intrusion. She started off making small talk. I could see her visibly cringe from Connor when he tried to say hello, but with Johnny she was more relaxed.
It went downhill from there. As the afternoon stretched on, she grew more and more quiet. She progressed steadily from shaken to disconcerted to downright upset. I’d wrap an arm around her, give her a kiss, but it didn’t help. It was like she was slipping away from me even as I held onto her.
“You need to loosen up!” One of the groupie girls elbowed Ana, her teasing tone laced with venom. They clearly eyed her as competition, seeming none too pleased she’d gotten first dibs on me. As the sun disappeared behind the hills, so, too, did the groupie’s clothing. It came off, piece by piece, until one only wore a bra, another went topless, and another strutted around in just a G-string thong.
The less clothes the groupies wore, the more Ana put on. The wilder and crazier they got, cranking up the music and starting to dance and makeout with each other, the more Ana huddled into a giant ski sweater and nursed a hot cocoa. It was as if they were challenging her to a game of chicken, and Ana’s response was to refuse to play at all.
I have to admit, I wasn’t handling it well. The natural groove for me to fall into was to join in the fun. That wasn’t going to happen, and not just because I didn’t want to hurt Ana. I didn’t want to join in the fun because it didn’t seem like it would be fun.
At a loss, I did what dumb-ass guys do at dumb-ass parties. I sat on the couch with a beer in my hand and a dumb-ass smile on my face. Connor heckled me like he was president of a fraternity and I was a freshman pledge. When one of the groupies started giving me a lap dance, I shifted her off of me and apologized that I had to use the bathroom.
When I came out, I found Ana furiously making pasta. She looked more boiling hot with anger than the water bubbling away in the pot.
“Are you hungry?” I gestured lamely to the giant pot. More of a cauldron, really. She stirred her brew, not answering. “Are you making that for all of us? You don’t have to do that, you know.” It looked like she had enough pasta in there to feed an army.
She dumped a pile of salt into her palm and threw it into the pot. Angry salt.
“It’s not like you have to make everyone dinner,” I tried again, reaching out to attempt to twine my fingers through hers.
She pulled away to stir, like she needed two hands to do it. She was stirring pretty vigorously. “I’m hungry,” she finally said. “It would be childish to not make enough for everyone. It’s not like I’m doing anything fancy.”
“OK.” I stepped back, holding up my hands as if an officer had pulled me over to the side of the road and told me to step out of the car.
“How did you like your lap dance?” The look she gave me made me wish I was being pulled over by a police officer. Or getting some serious dental work done. Anything would be better than facing angry Ana.
“I wouldn’t say I liked it.” I brought my hand to the back of my neck, which was feeling pretty clammy. I glanced at the clock over the stove. Seven o’clock. The night would eventually end at some point. And then, tomorrow, we could get out of there.
“What do you say we get out of here early tomorrow morning?” I asked her.
She nodded, staring at the pasta. But then, finally, she looked up at me. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I’d like that.”
I saw my opening and I took it. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I tilted my head down so I could nuzzle her hair.
“Ana, I’m sorry they all came up here. We all own the cabin together so it’s their place, too.”
She nodded again, still somewhat stiff in my arms, but she didn’t pull away. I kissed her cheek, her jaw, her throat and she actually started to lean into me.
“We can take off early tomorrow,” I murmured. “We can head to S.F. I don’t even feel like I’ve shown you my place yet.”
“No,” she agreed. “Connor was there the last time.” And then she pulled away.
Shit, somehow I’d managed to say the wrong thing. I’d reminded her of that afternoon when Connor had made a pass at her in my hallway. Damn it, the two of them were like oil and water. I’d have to figure that out. Some way the two of them needed to co-exist. But right now I had to admit, I felt exactly like Ana. I wanted to get away from it all, Connor included.
I drifted between rooms, lamely failing in different ways at each and every interaction. Ana sat down and ate some pasta, her fork making angry scraping noises against the plate. No one else said they were hungry and she ended up dumping the remaining gooey lot of it into the trash bin.
At eight thirty, Ana declared she was going to bed.
“No shit?” Connor looked at her, wide-eyed, like he’d never heard of such a thing. “What time is it?”
“We’re going to head out early tomorrow.” I shrugged, trying to take the spotlight off of Ana.
As I went in to check on her a few minutes later and steal a goodnight kiss, I heard Connor’s teasing at my back. “She got you on a curfew, Ashie? What happens if you’re a bad boy? Do you get an overdue fine?”
I laughed it off, but my fists were clenched by my side.
“I’m fine.”
I sighed. This wasn’t going well, but I didn’t see any way to make it right until we could leave the next day. We weren’t all going to party hard all night together like one, big happy family. And they weren’t leaving. So, bedtime it was. Honestly, I wanted to join her.
Out in the other room came a deafeningly loud crash. I winced. “Better go see what that was all about.”
She nodded, looking tense.
“I’m sorry.” I looked down at her lamely, my apology like a thin, flimsy blanket that didn’t quite cover the extremities. I didn’t know when everything had gotten so complicated. It was like I’d been on autopilot for years and now I found myself at the wheel, unable to figure out how to drive the goddamned bus.
She nodded again and closed her eyes. Out in the other room there was another crash and a great boom of laughter.
I padded out in my bare feet and sure enough, Connor was trying to swing on the giant antler chandelier. Was I the only one who saw that ending in an emergency room? I suddenly felt like the parent walking into a party filled with crazy teenagers. And I kept right on feeling like a freaking chaperone, sitting with them all but wondering who might O.D. and who might not be 18 years old yet. Partying was a lot different when you weren’t drunk or having sex or both.
After a few more drinks, I found myself relaxing. How did the saying go? If you couldn’t beat them, join them? I wasn’t exactly joining. I wasn’t having a go at the chandelier, for example. But I felt a hell of a lot less stressed out as things got a bit more blurry. The more fuzz, the more I got to asking myself what was the big deal? So my band mates were up here having a good time with some good-time girls. What was the harm in that? It wasn’t like they were out stealing purses from grannies or abusing puppies. They were good guys, once you got to know them.
And Connor was a fucking riot. Once he got to doing impressions of some of the more stuck-up celebrity twits we knew and did not love, he had us all rolling. Too bad he wasn’t a transvestite. He could do a mean impression of a pissed off, bitchy lady demanding better service in a restaurant. Which was something we’d seen an Oscar-winning actress do back at a restaurant in L.A. a couple of months ago.
Undone, Volume 3 Page 12