by S. L. Scott
“Normally,” I repeat in disgust. “I read the article. She was the one with Kaz and Derrick who got him out of the rest of the interview. He didn’t really know who she was when I was there and suddenly it’s like they’re old friends.”
“I… I’m not quite sure what to say. But I talked to Tommy on the way over and Johnny was never alone with her. Derrick was still there when he checked on him. He said Johnny was flipping out because he couldn’t get a hold of you.” She grabs my phone from the other side of me and says, “I think you should call him.”
“I don’t want to. I can’t…” I turn away from her and wipe at my eyes.
“You owe him that much. Just like he owes you his side of things.”
“Everybody owes everybody something,” I remark disgruntled. With a huff I take the phone from her and call him.
He answers on the first ring. My name rushes from his mouth panicked, “Holliday? What’s going on? Are you okay? I almost called the police.”
“Dalton…” I say between quiet sobs that have risen at the sound of his voice. “Is she still there with you?”
“Who’s she?”
“Ashley?”
He sighs. “Fuck. Is that what earlier was about?”
“I don’t like her, Dalton. I don’t want her around you anymore.”
“She was here to discuss Derrick’s acoustic.”
“She got you from the bar. I read that. I read the interview. You sent me a text that you fucked up, then I hear her calling your name at three in the morning from your suite,” I say.
“This has been twisted. Nothing happened. I swear to you.”
“Then why did you text me that?”
“Because I fucked up the interview, I said things I shouldn’t have. I drank too much. He kept asking about us. It was setting me off.”
“You scared the shit out of me and broke my heart at the same time. I’ve been puking I was so sick over the thought of you cheating on me and worse, leaving me.”
“I’m sorry.” With the phone to my ear, I look back at Rochelle. She gives a faint smile, but I drop my gaze to the duvet and start crying again. He says, “Talk to me, Baby.”
“I feel so stupid.”
“We’re in a tough situation. You got jealous just like I got jealous of that model. It puts a strain on our relationship, but I don’t want that. I don’t want you upset or jealous. You can trust me. I promise you.”
“Dalton?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t tell you to fire her, but I don’t want you near her. I don’t want you hanging out with her. She’s trying to come between us.”
“You’re thinking too much into this. She’s the Equipments Manager. That’s it.”
“Please. For us.”
“She’s nothing to me, Holliday.”
“You’re not going to fire her, are you?”
My eyes meet Rochelle and she shakes her head and whispers, “He can’t. It’s not that easy.”
With a heavy sigh, he repeats, “She’s nothing to me.”
He’s not frivolous with his emotions. He doesn’t love easily. The text… I think he was searching for reassurance that he didn’t fuck everything up. For him, for us, I need to push down my feelings regarding her and deal with the fact that she’s not going anywhere anytime soon. I take a deep breath and exhale. “The interview is fine. It’s not what the band wants to hear, but you didn’t disrespect them. If they bring it up, talk to them like you’re talking to me. Be honest with them.”
“Dex is gonna be angry. Tommy is going to be furious with me.”
“Let them. Hear them out, but let them. Just don’t make any rash decisions. All right?”
“All right.”
I hear him yawn on the other end of the line. Thinking of his schedule today, I glance at the hour again and say, “Get some sleep. You need it for the show tonight and I need it.”
“I’ll call you later.” We hang up without goodbyes, sick of that word anyway. Our business may be left unfinished, but we’re both too tired to continue the fight.
When I fall back on the pillow, I peek over at Rochelle. She has the I-told-you-so expression all over her face, but she doesn’t say it. But I don’t mind if she does. “Go ahead,” I say.
Snuggling down next to me, she says, “I don’t need to. I’m just glad you guys were able to talk.”
“Me too.”
“My whole life has consisted of me taking chances. Why change now?” ~ Johnny Outlaw
I find my solace at the beach. Sitting down in the sand, I kick off my flip flops and dig my toes in, covering them. The waves crash gently along the shoreline, the tide low. Wrapping my arms around my knees I rest my chin on top of one of them and stare out into the distance. My dark sunglasses hide my puffy eyes. This morning was a shitstorm waiting to happen.
My jealousy.
Dalton’s jealousy.
It’s explosive and I’m surprised it hasn’t collided before. Distance creates insecurities that didn’t exist before.
I hate that.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
It’s the voice that feeds my soul. The voice that sings my life’s melody. The man that makes everyday worth living. I turn around and find Dalton standing there in all his handsome glory. There is nothing ordinary about this man. Nothing that blends in. No one that compares. He makes my heart race and my blood flow. He’s my everything.
“Wanderlust?” I ask, my heart fluttering.
“Nope.” He smiles and it’s one of my favorites—the one that I go to bed with when his mind is quiet and his heart is full. It’s also the one I wake up to—content, peaceful, full of love.
“In the neighborhood?”
“Nowhere near.” He squats down next to me, looking ahead.
I smile because how can I not? He’s here. For me. “Just a coincidence?”
“Completely on purpose.” He takes my hand and helps me to my feet. With his arms wrapped around my waist, he says, “Hate to be a dick…”
I burst out laughing and drop my head to his chest. “I’m sorry for assum—”
“No sorries, remember?” He holds me tightly to him.
“I don’t want us to be jealous. I don’t want us to lose trust.”
Stroking my cheek, he says, “We’re better than that.”
Leaning back, I look into his eyes. “Are you gonna just stand here all day or are you gonna kiss me?”
“I’m thinking kiss.”
I lift up and close my eyes, waiting for the moment my lips get to touch his again… and wait… and wait. When I open my eyes, he’s grinning. “Well kiss me all right already,” I say with a slight pout.
He cups my face and comes in really close. With his lips just about touching mine, he whispers, “I’m not gonna rush it. I’m going to savor the taste of you.”
My lids drop closed in an instant, my anticipation built, but this time I don’t have to wait. This time, the fullness of his lips press pillow soft at first, then with pressure intensifies as our lips part and our tongues meet again. This time, the world swirls around us, the waves beating heavy in the background to the song our connection creates. When we part, I suck in a staggered breath of air and slowly open my eyes in awe that he can still sweep me off my feet so easily.
“Fuck!” I wince from his curse. Dalton grabs my hand and starts pulling me to the sidewalk. “Walk faster. We’ve been spotted.”
“Where?” I ask, looking around.
“Two lenses near the ice cream cart and one on the beach to the right. Don’t give them anything.”
I look down while fighting the urge to seek them out, to spy on them like they’re spying on us. Once we reach the sidewalk, we walk twice as fast. “Are we going to my place?”
“No. We’re getting in the car and going home.” His voice is as tight as his hand’s grip.
“What if we didn’t?”
He glances over at me. “What do you mean?”
&n
bsp; “What if we didn’t run? What if we went about our day? What if we lived our lives?”
“I don’t want to see my life play out in the media.”
“I don’t want to always hide.”
Stopping suddenly, I halt abruptly at his side. My eyes go up to meet his. That line between his eyebrows is present as he looks at me perplexed. “So you want them to take photos of us, put captions under them that have no basis in reality, and watch as they rake in money from selling their stories to the public?”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I,” I say, then let out a heavy sigh. “I just want to live our life and not always be on the run from the paparazzi.”
He rubs over his jaw. As if too exasperated to argue, he says, “Fine. What do you want to do?”
“I want to walk down the beach with you.”
The intensity disappears from his face and a small, fractured smile appears, and we start walking. “I guess when it comes to stalkers my instinct is get out of danger. But we can do that. We should. It’s beautiful out.”
“It is, even more so with you here. How are you even here?”
He chuckles. “Travel day. Show’s tomorrow.” Stopping at the edge of the water, he peeks over at me and says, “I wish I could give you what you deserve.”
Stepping closer just to be near him, I ask, “What do I deserve that I don’t have already?”
“A life full of walks on the beach.”
Leaning my head on his shoulder, his arm comes around my back holding me close. “You’ve given me more. You’ve given me you.”
“Do you want to come to dinner with us?” I call from the closet.
“Nah, you should go,” Dalton replies.
I peek out at him lying on the bed. “I’d like you there. You can leave for your flight straight from the restaurant.”
Relenting, he says, “Let’s go be seen.”
Laughing, I clarify, “It’s not about being seen. It’s about not having to hide all the time.”
“I get it. I don’t think it will end the way you want, but for you, I’ll do this. I’ll give it a fair shake.”
“Thank you,” I reply, going back into the closet.
His warm body cradles around mine and I smile.
He asks, “How long ‘til we leave?”
“Thirty.”
“I should really go shower, but being in here kind of makes me wanna fuck.”
“Is it the shoes or the clothes that turn you on so much?”
“It’s you, Baby. No doubt. Always you.”
Giggling I say, “I thought I did a pretty thorough job earlier.”
“It’s the last time we’re together for a week.”
Turning around, I start to push him back into the bedroom. “You’re insatiable! Now go shower so I can show off my hot husband tonight.”
“I don’t need to shower for you to do that.”
“No, you don’t. But it would be nice since this is a business dinner.”
He walks into the bathroom, but yells, “Do you always have so many business dinners?”
“I have a lot when we’re launching new campaigns and products. Most of the time it’s lunches or meetings at offices.”
I hear the shower start. “What’s tonight’s meeting about?”
“A video game based on the Limelight fruit.”
“Cool.”
Thirty minutes later, he loads his duffle bag into the trunk and we leave for the meeting.
We park the car once we arrive and walk into the darkly lit Italian restaurant. “Hughes, party of four,” I tell the hostess when she asks to check us in.
“Right this way,” she says, and leads us through the main dining room to a smaller one with only four tables in it. We’re seated in the corner and given menus while we wait for the other two guests.
We’re not left waiting long. The marketing manager for the video game company, Laurie, introduces me to the Director of Programming, Nelson. I introduce Dalton and he says, “I’m just Mr. Hughes tonight.”
That garners a good laugh and makes me feel good to have his support. Over dinner they present their ideas and Nelson explains how it will work with the game play and the visuals. Enthusiastically, I say, “It sounds amazing. I’ve had the app for almost a year now and it’s sold incredibly. What do you project for sales based on your current marketing plan?”
Laurie says, “I think we can hit eight million copies in the first year with the right pricing, retail backing, smart marketing, and a great game plan in place.”
“From here, if I decide to move forward, the next step is ironing out the contract details.”
“Yes,” she says.
“You have both put a lot of work into this and brought it to life, making it easy to imagine. I think I’d like to move forward. It sounds fun, and fun fits the brand.”
She exclaims, “Fantastic!”
Dalton touches my leg.
“I’m excited,” I say, looking at him.
“I need to leave,” he says. Standing up, he adds, “My apologies for ducking out, but I have a flight to catch.”
After the goodbyes, I walk outside with him. I lean against the car as he grabs his bag out. “Don’t look like that,” he says.
“Like what?”
“Like the sun won’t shine again.”
“It doesn’t shine the same when you’re gone.”
“It’s all clouds and rain in my world too, but it doesn’t change the facts.”
“Let me just pout a minute more. Okay?”
Chuckling, he leans against the car, trapping me between his arms. “You look so damn cute like that, I’m inclined to let you.”
Toying with his jacket, I bat my eyelashes. “You know what would make me smile?”
He looks up from his watch. “We don’t have enough time for me to go down on you right now.”
I hit his arm. “Noooo! I didn’t mean that, though yes, that would make me smile. I meant a kiss on my lips… on my upper lips.”
“I like that you have to clarify.”
“I only have to clarify because of your gutter-mind.”
“Eh, why bother hiding it.”
“Yeah, don’t ever hide those thoughts. Maybe we can Skype and act out those thoughts.”
“Now that sounds like a plan.”
I grab him by the jacket and pull him as close as I can get him. I kiss him, then say, “You need to go or you’ll miss your flight. We’ll finish this later.”
He kisses me again. When our bodies part, I leave my eyes closed a moment longer not wanting to watch him walk away from me again. When I reopen them, I think he feels the same. His eyes slowly open and a small wicked grin sneaks onto his lips. I ask, “What?”
“I haven’t told you how proud I am of you.”
I squeeze his hand, in awe of his sweetness. “For what?”
Eyeing me then looking down shyly, he says, “For everything. I think you’re a brilliant woman and you don’t take my shit.”
“You mean I keep you in line.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I want you to know I respect you. You hold us together while running this growing empire. It’s impressive. You’re amazing.”
I tear up. “Really?”
“Look, I know I get all the glory, but you’re damn fantastic all on your own.”
Smiling ear-to-ear, I reply, “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Dalton doesn’t do sappy long when he does do it, so to end his torture, he turns his back to me and walks over to the waiting cab he arranged before dinner.
Still leaning against the car, I continue watching until the car turns out of the lot and I’m left alone again. As I walk inside, my heart hurts and I wonder how many more goodbyes I’m going to have to survive over the next year. My heart is breaking little by little with each one and I worry that one day there will be nothing left of it.
I return to finish the dinner meeting before going home and falling asleep on his side of the bed.
>
Dalton was right.
The iPad was set down on the desk in front of me with the headline “Holliday Hughes and Johnny Outlaw on the Rocks.”
I sigh, hating that his point was proven and so fast.
Tracy says from behind me, “We can spin this into a positive for the underwear campaign.”
Spinning around in my chair, my face contorts in horror. “What? No. I don’t want people to think my marriage is on the rocks.”
“Business aside, why do you care what people think?”
Her question makes me stumble over the thoughts rambling through my mind. “I, uh… I don’t care, but I care if it’s wrong.”
“Look Holli, as your friend, I know this is hard to deal with. I feel bad. I know you and Dalton are great together, but you know what they say, ‘No press is bad press.’ So maybe you can use this in some way. ”
“I don’t want to use my marriage like that. I don’t want to see my relationship as trashy fodder at the checkout stand.”
With her hands up in the surrender, she says, “Take a breath. You don’t have to. I was just playing devil’s advocate. That’s all.”
“I didn’t even want to be in this campaign and now it seems that’s all everyone is focused on. Don’t forget I’m an actual person, not just an underwear salesman.”
She picks the iPad back up and starts to leave the office. I shouldn’t have griped at her. “I’m sorry. I’m snippy. I don’t mean to be. I appreciate you looking at the situation from all angles. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m here if you need to talk. Oh, and Gracie called. Can you meet tomorrow at six to go over the photos? She suggested The Polo Lounge.”
I nod before getting back to work.
Lying in bed later that night, I scroll the sites looking for tidbits on Dalton. I’m not sure what I’m looking for exactly—incriminating evidence, support of his love for me, or just to see what my husband is up to in life since I don’t know firsthand. But no matter what, I feel dirty doing this, stalkerish, and shut the laptop down.
I’m going to have to go back to what I used to do and ignore the media when it comes to him, the band, and myself. I have to trust in us and trusting in us means, I wait for him to tell me directly.