The Problem With Crazy

by Lauren McKellar

  Killing Time 4 EVA was scrawled in a script font level with my shoulders. An arrow was pointing to it just underneath, where someone had scribbled Suck a dick.

  Apparently, high school graffiti and rock star graffiti were pretty much one and the same.

  “Nice job, man.”

  My eyes widened.

  That voice.

  Was it … Lee from Coal?

  “Thanks, dude.” Dave walked behind me, and I spun around, almost falling over in my enthusiasm.

  There he was: Lee Collins. He was tall, much taller than Dave, with icy blue eyes and a rough jaw of darkened stubble. His hair was a little too long, and he exuded this animal magnetism that made my heart get all thump-thump.

  “We’ve got a really good fan base at the moment,” Dave was saying, which was good as it meant I could keep staring and ignore the fact I could barely feel my knees. I was completely star-struck. Lee-freaking-Collins!

  “Yeah, seems that way.” Lee smiled this slow, sexy smile, and I swallowed.

  “We’ve just gone from strength to strength. It won’t be long before you’re opening for us, bro.” Dave gave Lee a light punch on the arm.

  Oh, God.

  Ground, please open up and swallow me.

  What had Dave just said?

  You just didn’t joke about someone like Coal being your opening act. They’d won a Grammy, for crying out loud.

  “Kate.”

  I glanced at Dave, feeling his elbow give me a sharp jab to the ribs. I widened my eyes at him. Why was he being so rude in front of Lee, who was—

  Oh. Whose hand was outstretched in my general direction.

  Like, waiting-to-shake-my-hand outstretched.

  “Hi,” I said. I think. At that point, I could have also died, I’m not really sure because I was touching Lee Collins’s hand. My knees went weak. It was lucky he was holding my hand, because if he wasn’t, I was sure it would be shaking.

  “I’m Kate.” His eyes were so blue, so deep, I felt I could stare at them forever.

  “He knows. I just introduced you.” Dave threw an arm around my shoulder.

  “Hi … again?” I tried. Well, this could be less awkward.

  “All right man. We’ll see you on the road.” Dave grabbed his guitar case and ushered me down the hall, back into the throngs of people outside the venue.

  “Maybe don’t act so obviously in love with him when we’re on tour,” Dave muttered as the blast of fresh air hit my face.

  “I was just—it was Lee from Coal, Dave,” I said. “I’m not in love with him. It was just the initial celebrity thing. You know I’ll be cool.”

  “Good.”

  We found Stacey and said our goodbyes, and I waved when one of her brothers came to pick her up. Dave signed a few more autographs, and then we walked two blocks down the street, and entered through the sliding doors of a much cleaner, brighter hotel, with white marble floors and sprawling timber ceilings.

  I heard a few hushed voices pointing Dave out and felt some glances in our direction but Dave seemed oblivious, only giving a slight nod to the hotel clerk as we walked past the check-in desk and entered the lift.

  “You’ve already checked in?” I asked, once the metal doors closed behind us.

  “Of course,” Dave replied. He flashed me a tired smile. Any tension he’d felt earlier seemed to have disappeared. My own anger at the boob signing, the star-struck moment meeting Lee—they were gone. Tonight was about us, after all. “What a night, huh?”

  “Totally,” I agreed.

  The doors opened and we walked in silence down a corridor until Dave produced a key and stuck it in a lock, pulling it out and holding the door open for me as I walked in.

  The room was beautiful. A huge king-sized bed with a white quilt lay before me, the lights of the city sparkling out the window like little twinkling stars fourteen storeys below. A bottle of champagne was chilling in a bucket at the end of the bed, and pink rose petals had been strewn everywhere, like a scene from a movie.

  “They wouldn’t light the candles for me, in case it burnt the place down while we were on stage.” Dave propped his guitar against the wall then pulled a lighter out of his pocket, darting around the room to illuminate the wicks of the clusters of red candles on the bedside tables.

  “It’s—it’s beautiful.” I breathed out, slowly. It was amazing. Dave had done all this—for me?

  “You’re beautiful.” He placed the lighter down, and came over to me once more, his hands cupping my face gently between them. His green eyes glittered darkly in the dimmed light. “I’m so excited for our tour.”

  He ducked his head, stepped into me. I brought my lips to his, and we kissed. His tongue darted inside my mouth and I felt him, warm and wet. His kisses were lazy, lolling around, but his body pressed against mine with urgency till we couldn’t get any closer. I tried to focus, to get excited by it all, and moved my hands to his waist, raising them up his body over the damp stickiness of his shirt, feeling the muscles in his back, the tone of his sides.

  Dave moved his mouth to my neck, and I inhaled sharply as he sucked against it. Soon, his hands were roaming all over me, up my back and around to the sides of my ribs.

  We stepped toward the bed, him moving backwards but never letting the gap between our bodies widen, always covering my mouth with his, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste.

  We reached the bed, and he sunk down onto it, pulling me with him. I lowered myself over his body and concentrated on keeping my weight on my hands, trying not to squash him.

  After a few minutes, Dave tried to swap our positions so he was on top. He fell to the side a little, his hand getting stuck behind my back. I giggled, and he held a single finger to my lips, a slight frown on his face. Apparently, this was not a laughing moment.

  Seconds later, it was back on. I felt him kissing my neck, sucking and pulling at it, biting my ear. It was wet, and he really was sticky after sweating it out onstage. I found myself staring at the small round lights on the ceiling, wondering if this was how it was supposed to feel, and when exactly I was supposed to take my clothes off. Would he do it, or would I? Would there be an interim time where we were both in underwear?

  And ow! I was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to grab my nipple so hard through my shirt that I wanted to yelp.

  I scrunched my eyes shut and tried to get lost in the moment again. No one’s first time was great; Stacey had warned me.

  We rolled onto our sides, and Dave’s hands worked their way down the edges of my top and lifted it up. They explored my stomach, tickling their way over my ribs, until they reached my chest, kneading through my bra and cupping my breasts.

  Dave’s earlier boob autographing flashed through my mind.

  I tried to ignore it, focussing instead on the present.

  “Oh, Kate,” Dave groaned in my ear. His hands were trying to get inside my bra now, one fiddling with the clasp, the other trying to access from underneath.

  What exactly had he written on her chest, anyway? Do you address the autograph “Dear Tits” or use the girl’s name?

  And why am I thinking about this now?

  I pushed Dave away, managing to get a tiny bit of distance between our top halves, our legs still firmly intertwined.

  “Okay?” he asked. He was already leaning back in, desperate to close the gap between us again.

  “Dave, wait.” I placed my hand on his chest. He stopped, a slight frown marring his otherwise ghostly white forehead.

  “Wait?” A dangerous edge serrated his voice.

  “I just need to ask you something, that’s all,” I said, chewing on my lip. How on earth was I going to phrase this one?

  “If it’s about protection, I brought—”

  “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just—” I paused. My pulse started to race again, and not with lust. “—just that I saw you signing some girl’s boobs earlier, and I was wondering were you attracted to her, or will you do that at all the
shows this summer, and—”

  “You’re stopping this right now because you saw me signing some girl’s boobs?” Dave’s words dripped with disdain. He untangled his legs from mine, shifted his arm away from my body. His actions hurt more than his words ever could. “You saw me doing my job, interacting with a fan, after which you all but threw yourself at Lee Collins, and—”

  “I did not throw myself at him.” My jaw dropped. “I’ve just never met someone famous before.”

  “You looked like you wanted to fuck him.”

  “I’m sorry.” I curled my legs up under me. “I didn’t want to—it was just that celebrity thing. It won’t happen again.”

  “But still, you’re going to persist, and act like me signing Tara’s boobs is a big deal?” He raised his eyebrows.

  Tara.

  He’d remembered her name.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I said. “I was just wondering, you know?”

  “What does it matter whose boobs I sign or touch during the shows if it’s you I’m sleeping with at night?” Dave sat up, fire in his eyes.

  “Whoa, calm down, babe. It was just … a …” I leaned forward and hooked my hand around Dave’s neck, pulling him closer to me. It wasn’t that big a deal.

  We kissed, and I threw myself into it. I pressed my body against his, I thought only sexy thoughts, and I sucked in my stomach and tried like hell to look hot. When I reached for the hem of his shirt, though, Dave grabbed my hand, roughly pushing it down over his crotch. He squeezed my wrist so tight it hurt.

  “Ow!” I pulled back, snatching my hand away.

  “What now?” His face was unreadable.

  “You hurt me.” I gave a half smile and shook my head. He was being so weird today. What the hell was wrong with—

  “I don’t think I can get past this.”

  I blinked. What?

  “I am so into you, Kate. I’ve stayed with you for two whole years, even though you’ve held onto your virginity like it was your last card in a high-stakes poker game, and you’re trying to stop me now? When I’ve done all this, even after everything with your dad the other day?” Dave gestured to the room around him. I took it in; the flower petals, the champagne, the sweet scent from the candles that had melded with the rose’s perfume.

  “I appreciate what you’ve done.” My voice wobbled. “And I’m not the one stopping here. I’m ready; I told you.”

  Dave slowly exhaled and bent over, resting his head in his hands between his knees.

  “You know, this isn’t easy on me.” He didn’t even look at me. His eyes were fixed firmly on his big, black boots.

  “It’s not easy for me, either.” He gave no indication that he’d heard.

  “When I told the boys and Coal about you and your dad, they—”

  “You told the band? You told Coal?” I flashed a murderous glance in his direction. I hadn’t even told Stacey, and he’d gone and shared this precious nugget of information that was less than twenty-four-hours old with his stupid band mates, and a Grammy Award winning act, all of whom I’d be spending the next two months with on the road?

  “Well, how do you think this is for me? Coping with all this, and the tour?”

  “The tour I organised?” I sprang to my feet. “Is that the tour you’re talking about?”

  “Please, don’t flatter yourself.” Dave raised his hands in exasperation. “You made a few phone calls and booked a few flights. I didn’t ask you to. In fact, the only thing I’ve been asking you to do, you keep bloody denying me.”

  His words were tiny needles, jabbed all over my body. I blinked, and focused on not crying, not losing it right here in the middle of the hotel room.

  “Then w … what am I doing here, if I’m denying you that?”

  Dave stood up and walked over to me. He placed his hands on my arms, and looked me up and down.

  “Kate.” He swallowed, staring me straight in the eyes. His voice was flat and hard. “Take off your clothes.”

  “What?”

  “Take off your clothes,” Dave repeated, never breaking his icy gaze. “Prove that you were planning on giving yourself to me tonight. Strip for me.”

  My knees trembled. Dave was my ticket out of here, the way I could avoid dealing with my intense, new family life. We were arguing now, sure, but that was kind of my fault as well as his, and we’d been dating for two years—even though I felt like he was a bit of a jerk right now, we were meant to be together.

  Weren’t we?

  Slowly, I joined my hands to his, lifting them gently off my shoulders and placing them at his sides. I was surprised I didn’t send the nervous shudders straight out from my fingers and into his.

  I raised my hands to my sides and lifted up my T-shirt, throwing it over my head and letting it land on the floor next to me. Swaying my hips to the side, I threw my hands out in a ta-da movement, like I was the host on a game show.

  “And the jeans.” Dave nodded and took a few steps back to the bed, sitting down and crossing his arms. His face was blank, and his eyebrows were raised. I’d never seen him look so unimpressed.

  I flipped the button and undid my fly, slowly pulling my skinny jeans over my thighs, my knees, my calves, and finally my ankles and feet. There was no way to do it and be sexy, so I settled for not falling over. I stepped out of my pants and stood up straight, in only my underwear.

  Dave checked his cell for messages.

  I felt sick.

  My stomach roiled.

  “Go on,” Dave instructed. “Sexier, this time.”

  I raised my hand behind my back, and started to fiddle with the bra clasp. I couldn’t get the damn thing to unhook, and tears welled in my eyes. My hands wouldn’t work, falling apart in the sort of fumbles I’d seen my dad do the other day.

  It seemed like a nightmare, like this was happening to someone else. Was this really what someone who cared about me would make me do?

  And why did I feel like he was judging every ounce of flesh on my body?

  “Anytime, now …” Dave widened his eyes impatiently. I was surprised he wasn’t tapping his foot.

  I couldn’t do it anymore. I dropped my hands to my side, my bra still very much on.

  “I told you, you were never gonna do it.” Dave stood and threw his hands in the air. He bent down to grab my shirt and threw it at me. “Get dressed.”

  “I was! Just not like this.” My voice was raw with emotion. I scrambled to get the shirt back over my head and felt my breath release once it covered my stomach.

  “There’s always gonna be something with you.” Dave stepped right in front of me. I felt the spit flying off his tongue land on my face as he spoke. “I didn’t ask to have a girlfriend with a crazy father.”

  I felt as if he’d shot a cannonball out his mouth, and it had landed, smack bang in the middle of my stomach. I clutched at my sides, fighting the urge to double over in pain.

  “He’s not crazy,” I whimpered. “And I didn’t ask for it, either.” I stood there, still as a statue while Dave walked back to the bed. He blew out the candles on either side of it, flicked on the lamp, and cleared the rose petals out of the way with one fell swoop of his arm till they were scattered all over the floor.

  How had this all gone so horribly wrong? And why did my heart feel like it was cracking in two?

  “Don’t you get it? I mean I don’t want one. I don’t want a girlfriend who might lose her freaking mind,” Dave yelled. He grabbed my jeans off the floor and threw them at me, the metal button connecting with my wrist. “Honestly, I was going to let you come on tour, but do you think I could seriously have a girlfriend with a crazy father when we make the big time? Put your clothes on. Go, get out!”

  I blinked. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening, not after two years of dating and all the work I’d completed on the tour and just—just everything. I felt a solitary tear snake its way out of my eye, over my cheekbone, and down my face, playing kamikaze off my jaw.

/>   “We’re over, Kate. O-ver.” Dave sucked the marrow out of the word. A flimsy breath shuddered up my throat. “Move.”

  His word snapped me into action. I threw one leg into my jeans, and then the other, pulling them up so hard and fast I was worried I’d push through the material. I held the sides closed and did up the fly, threw my shirt over my head, and grabbed my clutch and shoes as I ran for the exit, sobs heaving in my chest.

  I slammed the door behind me and ran for the stairs, not wanting to risk taking the lift and running into other people, people who would see the ugly mess of tears that had taken over my face.

  I charged past the receptionist who moments ago had looked so in awe of me being taken up to the room by my romantic rock star boyfriend, and ignored the now-smug shape of her upturned lips.

  When I got to my car, I turned the lock and slammed my body against the seat. I draped my arms over the steering wheel, shoulders hunched as I tried to shut out the world.

  I slumped there till the first rays of the sun crept over the horizon, and filtered through the tall brick buildings in the surrounding car parks.

  In three days, my dad had embarrassed me at school, I’d learned about his disease, discovered my chances of developing it, found out the guy I thought I loved had told his friends and a Grammy Award winning band about my potential illness, lost my boyfriend, ruined the start of my tour-organising career and said goodbye to my ticket out of this stupid town.

  There was nothing I needed saving from more than my past, my future, and myself.

  Chapter Six

  “SO, HOW come there’s no psycho couch?” It was the first question that came to mind when I stepped into the genetics counsellor’s office. It was a small room with a big, open window framed by deep-blue curtains on either side. A desk cluttered with paper, books, and a model of a brain with moving parts was in the corner, two slimline office chairs next to it.

  “Pardon me?” A woman whose name I’d learned was Leslie asked. She looked to be about Mum’s age, maybe a little older, and had blonde frizzy hair loosely pulled back into a bun. Streaks of grey ran through her locks, and tiny wrinkles gathered near her eyes. Was that a side effect of the job? Counselling people who were going through a whole lot of issues would surely bring out the greys in anyone.