Collaboration (Backlash)

by Michelle Lynn

  “Negative, Ghostrider. Change of plans,” Marcus says. At my confused look, he explains, “Since our next stop is in the fuckin’ heart of Dixieland, we’re not leaving ‘til tomorrow to give Cal time to set up some extra security.” Shit, that’s where Cal’s run off to—doing extra work I created. He’ll understand though. If anyone will, it’s Cal.

  “Yeah, so we figured we’d just come here and get shitfaced since we ain’t goin’ nowhere,” says Dre, slurring more words than not. “Plus, we wanna hear all about country girl. What’s it like havin’ some white pus—“

  Without a second thought, I charge over and grab my cousin by the shirt, yanking him to his feet. “You even think about fucking finishing that question and I’ll kill you before the drugs have a chance to,” I threaten, my voice surprisingly low but murderous.

  “Woah, Trace…let’s just chill. You know Dre,” Quinton soothes, pulling on my arm. I’m not in the mood to let it go though. “He likes to hear details, no matter who it is. Like a fucking girl, if you ask me,” he jokes, but his voice is obviously strained.

  “Yeah man, why don’t we all sit and have a drink,” Xavier adds. “We don’t gotta talk about anything you don’t want to. We just miss hangin’ with you, that’s all.”

  Maybe having a drink is a good idea. Lord knows I need something to take this edge off, and I do miss spending quality time with my boys. Ever since the tour started, I feel like it’s been me and them, not us. And as much as I sometimes wonder whether any of them would be around if they didn’t make a shitload of money being a part of my crew, they’re all I’ve got. “Alright, but talkin’ about Taryn is off the table,” I state firmly so they know I mean business. I release Dre with a warning in my eyes and he wisely keeps his mouth shut. Then I accept a beer from Marcus and sit my overly edgy ass down.

  An hour or so later, we’ve moved on to liquor and I’m feeling better about things—much better. Since it’s been a little while since I’ve drunk like this, I can feel it hitting me harder and faster than usual. I’m not complaining though. It’s nice taking it easy and I even find myself spitting rhymes, making up shit as I go along that has the guys rolling around on the floor, laughing their asses off.

  I feel my own ass buzz and it takes me a minute to figure out it’s my phone. “Gonna take this, be back in a sec,” I say, my words sounding slurred, even to my own ringing ears. I close myself off in my room and open up my messages.

  Taryn: I’m assuming you made it okay?

  Me: Nah, I’m still here. You?

  Taryn: I’m good.

  Even in my drunken state, I know that her response means she’s not good. I don’t think—I just call.

  “Wassup, Peaches?” I ask when she answers the phone.

  “Do you really want to know, or should I answer with ‘no comment’?” she asks. Well damn, what did I do?

  “Am I supposed to know what the fuck that means?” I ask angrily.

  “Well, after you walked out my front door this morning, I kind of got the impression you weren’t ashamed of me…or us. Your response to the press seems to indicate otherwise,” she says, and fuck if I don’t hear the hurt in her voice.

  “My response?” I ask, gentling my voice some because this can easily be sorted out. “Taryn, I haven’t said a damn thing to anyone. Now Jay does tend to talk for me, but babe, that’s his standard answer for everything. I’ll talk to him about it, but you should know that answering any questions they throw your way never works out in this biz. Just gives them a chance to twist your words around or add somethin’ or delete somethin’. You know that as well as I do.”

  She remains silent so I continue. “But you’re gonna have to trust that the words I said to you this morning are true or this ain’t gonna work, Taryn. You can’t be questionin’ everything you hear, and I’ll try to do the same, ‘aight?”

  “Are you drunk?” she asks.

  The fuck? Here I am trying to talk her down and all she got out of what I just said was what I didn’t say? Well, fuck trying to make her feel better.

  “Look, we can talk tomorrow. The boys are here and we’re hangin’ out. We’ll talk later, ‘kay, babe?”

  There’s a pause and I’m just about to check to see if she hung up when I hear her softly say, “Okay.” I end the call, feeling like the world’s biggest dick. As much as I love talking to her though, I’m not drunk enough to know that if we keep talking, I’m going to say something stupid that I’ll regret in the morning.

  I walk back out of my room to find that our little “brother time” now includes some sisters, except these girls are definitely not blood relatives. And I might be all about Taryn, despite the little spat we just had, but I can’t deny that these girls are fucking hot. I’m no player though, so I go park my ass on the couch and pick up my drink.

  ***

  I feel like I’m having a serious case of déjà vu, except this time I know I didn’t fuck the girl. I’m fully dressed and so is she, even though I have no idea how she got in my room or ended up on my bed. Doesn’t matter though because I know I didn’t touch her, nor do I want to. All I dreamed about last night was Taryn and her perfect-ass body, and the way my body responded to hers like it’s never done with anyone else. No way would I jeopardize that for some one-fuck with some girl I don’t even know.

  I quietly crawl out of bed and grab the few things I’ll need for the remainder of the tour, throw them in a bag, and get the hell out—I’ll send somebody else in to get whoever the fuck it is that’s passed out in my bed. After walking through my disaster of a suite, filled with a whole lot of bodies I don’t recognize and a few that I do, I step outside to find Cal and some white chick in a suit, each talking to someone on their respective cell phones. Cal hangs up immediately and strides quickly over to me.

  “Do I even want to know who that is?” I ask.

  “Her name’s Adriana. The label brought her on to help out with security,” he says uncomfortably.

  “Fuck no, Cal. I don’t want no damn chick thinking she’s gonna take a bullet for my ass. Get somebody else if you have to.”

  “No can do, Ace. The bigwigs made the call and I kind of like my job, so whether we like it or not, she stays. Plus, she’s not really a bullet-catcher.”

  “What’s she do then? Just stand around talkin’ on the phone’s all it looks like,” I say.

  “Hell if I know,” he says and I can’t help but laugh. “A security liaison or some shit like that. I hear there’s some issues with a couple white supremacist groups down south so maybe it’s got somethin’ to do with that. Whatever she does, I’ll make sure she stays out of your way. Not your problem to deal with, it’s mine.”

  “Thanks, Cal, you’re the best. And I forgot to thank you for taking care of Taryn too. You went above and beyond, bro, and I appreciate it.”

  “No problem, man. I’m just happy you found somebody worth protectin’. Now let’s get on that plane ‘fore every fuckin’ paparazzo in LA’s awake, yeah?”

  “Good plan. Before we go, maybe ‘liaison lady’ can go clear out my place. Seems some visitors have overstayed their welcome.”

  Cal raises an eyebrow before repeating my words back to me, “Do I even want to know?”

  I laugh out loud, raising my hands in the air, “Dude, I don’t even know, but what I do know is that none them are with me so the sooner they’re out of there, the better. She can go do some liaison-ing with a roomful of hungover…well, whoever’s still in there. Perfect first-day job duties, dontcha think?”

  Cal laughs, bumps knuckles with me, and then heads over to the security chick. I check my phone while I wait for him to give her instructions. No messages from Taryn. Damn. I don’t remember much from our conversation last night, but think I recall her asking me if I was drunk—that can’t be good. Since my brain still isn’t fully operational, I’ll wait and call her when we get to wherever it is we’re going.

  “Time to roll on out,” Cal says, interrupting my thought
s.

  Security lady walks past us toward the door, blatantly eyeing me as she goes by, but not in the appreciative way most women do. “I’m beginning to think she might be a member of one of those white supremacist groups,” I whisper to Cal jokingly.

  I hear a gasp and turn my head just in time to catch the look of disgust on her face as she stands in the open doorway. “Good luck wakin’ their naked asses up!” I call out before she slams the door behind her.

  “Better her than me,” Cal says as we enter the elevator, laughing.

  ***

  Despite the insane amount of extra security that might make the President’s detail look small, I love being back in the South. And not just because of the Bluebell ice cream. There’s something about it here that I can’t really put into words. And words are how I make my living, so that’s saying something.

  And Quinton wasn’t lying. Tuscaloosa, Alabama is about as Deep South as you can get. It’s nice to see all of the fans here, but there are also a whole hell of a lot of white people making it clear as day that they are none too happy about my relationship with Taryn. I’d seen some stuff about it on the internet, but witnessing that level of hatred in person is totally different. I’m just thankful she’s not here to see it.

  Speaking of Taryn, between the flight and all of the hoopla surrounding our arrival, we haven’t had a chance to talk or even text. Now that I’m sitting in the limo—apparently it’s bullet-proof, but who the hell knows where they got it from—I pull out my phone. Damn, still nothing. Time to sort this shit out.

  I scroll through my contacts, pressing the number attached to her name. Voicemail. Shit. Just chill, I tell myself—it’s not like she’s some teenage girl, sitting around waiting by the damn phone for me to call. She has her own concert tonight and is more than likely in rehearsals right now. And since we’re running behind our usual schedule, that’s exactly where I’m headed. No time for the hotel beforehand, which is alright with me. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen enough hotel rooms already to last a lifetime.

  After rehearsals, Quinton corners me in the green room, and I can already tell by the look on his face that it’s not good news. “What’d I do now?” I ask.

  “Not what you did, who you did, Ace. Or who haven’t you done.”

  Normally, I would have a good laugh at who all the gossip rags have me paired off with, but I know if I’m hearing about it, so is Taryn. “Lay it on me, Q.”

  “Other than the obvious,” he says, giving me a pointed look, “which, by the way, they’ve come up with some clever shit about you two already. ‘TNT’ is my favorite…’explosive,’ ‘the dynamic duo,’ ’powder keg waiting to explode.’ Okay, maybe that one wasn’t so great. What else?”

  “Nah, nah, I’ve heard enough, get on with it.”

  “Oh no, unfortunately you haven’t. That’s just you and country. There’s the girl from last night and the secur—“

  “WHAT!?! I wasn’t with anyone last night, Q, and you know it.”

  “I know, bro, but girls and their fucking camera phone—things always look worse than they are. Taryn will get that, dude. Probably the only advantage of seein’ somebody in this business, right?”

  “You got that right. Where is she anyway?” I ask, feeling the need to talk to her now more than ever.

  Quinton taps on his phone for a minute before saying, “Seattle.”

  “Damn, could we get any further apart? Wait, don’t answer that,” I rush to say before he can get the words out. Plus, I’m not sure if I’m talking about physical distance right now or not. I can’t believe it was only yesterday morning when I woke up at her place, feeling like a billion bucks.

  I pick up my phone to try and call her again when Jay yells into the room, “You’re on in five!” Guess it’ll have to wait until later.

  ***

  “Peaches,” I say when she finally answers her phone. One nice thing about the precarious security situation right now is that I’m not required to attend any after-concert events. After a badass show and a nice, long shower, I manage to evade everyone and tuck myself into bed by midnight tonight, unheard of when I’m on the road. The loud noise on the other end of the phone line informs me that Taryn’s obviously not.

  “Hey, um, Trace…I can’t talk right now. Just got done with my show. But I do want to talk. It’s just a bad time. Later?”

  Shit, I forgot she’s still on the West Coast. “Yeah, I get it. Call me when you can. Bye, babe,” I say.

  “Okay…bye,” she says before hanging up. I throw my phone down on my bed in frustration. Something’s definitely up. I’m sure either her mom or guitar boy were eager to point out any and all stories being made up about me and have probably already given Taryn an earful by now. I could really use somebody on her team in my corner, that’s for damn sure.

  Regina. I’ll have to give her a call tomorrow. Where the fuck is she right now? I can’t keep track of everyone’s schedules…hell, I don’t even know what city I’m in most of the time. We definitely lead some messed-up lives. Before I can follow that line of thinking any further, my eyes drift close and my mind begins to shut down, both tired after a long day.

  I wake up in a cold sweat with the sheets twisted wildly around my body—another nightmare. It strikes me that the only time in recent memory I haven’t woken after a fitful sleep was the night I spent with Taryn. Fuck. I feel around for my phone, and locating it, I see that I missed one call from her and several texts.

  Taryn: Where did you go?

  Taryn: Going to sleep now…..

  There’s no way I can call her this early, especially since she’s still on Pacific Time, so I hop out of bed and throw on some workout clothes. The one nice thing about my early morning wake-ups from hell is that there’s no one in the hotel gym at this ungodly hour. And I need to expend some of this—I don’t even know what to call it—that has me so wound up. Probably sexual frustration, since now that I’ve had a taste of Taryn, my body is screaming for more. Yup, a workout and a cold shower should do the trick.

  A little later on the way to the airport, I try Taryn again. “Hello?” she asks sleepily.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?”

  “No,” she says through a yawn, and I can’t fight the smile as I picture her stretching out like a cat, “but you certainly sound awake over there.”

  “Must be nice sleeping in,” I tease. “I’ve already been to the gym and now we’re hitting the road.”

  “Wow, I’m surprised after the night you must have had,” she says, the implication clear.

  “Yeah, going to sleep at midnight really takes a lot out of you,” I deadpan. “I missed your messages because I was asleep, Taryn.”

  “Oh,” is all she says but I can tell there’s more.

  When she doesn’t say anything else, I can’t contain my frustration. “Taryn, just spit it out.”

  “It’s just, you know, pictures, rumors….” she trails off, sounding unsure.

  “Since you and I both know that’s all they are, I figured we were good. Was I wrong?”

  “No, it’s just I know you were drunk the other night, and there have been photos…”

  “Taryn, I need you to listen to me. I don’t want anyone else and I don’t plan on being with anyone else as long as we’re together. How long that is, I can’t say right now. Let’s just take this one day at a time, alright?”

  There’s a pause and I hold my breath until I hear her response. “Yeah, that sounds good. Sorry I’m being such a girl,” she says sheepishly.

  “Peaches, if you weren’t a girl, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now,” I tell her. “And I wish I were there right now to remind you exactly why I’m glad you’re a girl.”

  “Hmm…that does sound good,” she murmurs.

  Hearing her voice all low and sexy like that and picturing her lying in her bed has me rock hard. I know there’s no way in hell that phone sex could be as good as the real thing, but there’s a first time f
or everything. “Or we can talk about it right about now.”

  The limo slows and I look out the window to discover that we’ve arrived at the terminal. Damn, another time. “But since I’m about to hop aboard this plane, that’ll have to wait until later.”

  “Tease,” she says, but I can hear the smile on her face.

  “Taryn, when we get back together, there won’t be time for teasing—you can bet on that. In fact, that sweet little pussy of yours better be all wet and ready for me because, fuck foreplay, I’m going in hard and fast and deep. But we can discuss this a little later, I gotta jet. Bye, babe.” With those words to keep her company, I hang up, adjust myself, and grab my bags before sliding out of the car and heading to who knows where.

  ***

  Things couldn’t be better. Well, that’s not true—having my girl here with me every day and night would make things a hell of a lot better, but I’m not complaining. We talk as much as our schedules allow, which isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing. And though no one I know would understand if I tried to explain it to them, I feel like I’ve gotten to know her better this way. If we were together, I’d just want to fuck her senseless every second of the day, screw all conversation. And we did try the phone sex once, but as my man Marvin Gaye sang, there just “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing.” Hearing her get all hot and bothered only made me want to hop on my plane and head to wherever she’s at, but considering it was an hour before showtime—both hers and mine--that probably wouldn’t have gone over very well.

  I did, however, talk to Jay about the tour schedule and figured out that Taryn and I are both in Texas at the same time next week. I’ve got a show in Dallas the night before she’s in Houston and both of us have a travel day after that. Our managers agreed that surprising her audience with a duet of our song would be good publicity for both of us, even if it will add fuel to the fire again. And that’s only thing I worry about, ever since I caught wind that Taryn’s had some threats made against her too.