Back Stage

by T Gephart

  “My mother’s been gone for a long time, so I must have missed out on all those words of wisdom.” He took a sip of his beer before placing it on the bar.

  Awesome. Hey foot, meet mouth. Get acquainted, it’s going to be a long night I feel.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have a mom either.” I fumbled my apology, the over share of me having lost my mom not intentional.

  “Well I guess we have something in common then.” He moved his hand to where my fingers were and gently rubbed them. It felt wrong but I didn’t move my hand.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I’d stopped laughing, my eyes following his thumb moving over my knuckles.

  Crap. He was hitting on me. Well, that was just great.

  “So seeing as I don’t think you are going to get anymore service here, you want to come up to my room?” He edged in closer, that nice cologne he was wearing tickling my nose. “I have a full stocked mini bar and a credit card that is begging to get maxed out.”

  The last time I’d had sex, was with Jason. Actually, that wasn’t sex; we’d made love. Because I’d loved him. The fact he didn’t love me back didn’t change what it had been. But that was over. Done. Finished. Kaput. And I was single, and free to have sex with whomever I pleased. But no one pleased me enough to want to. I mean, I wasn’t pleased enough to try. I mean, I wasn’t having sex because I still wanted Jason and was in love with him. Ah. Fuck. I hope I wasn’t saying any of this out loud.

  My eyes glanced up; the two-headed beautiful man with his astonishing four eyes was still waiting patiently for my response. The one that wasn’t about a drink, but about whether or not I was willing to get naked and have sex. Because that’s what he was asking me, right?

  “Sure.” The word left my mouth before I’d even really decided. “Why the hell not.” My backup statement concurred with my first. It’s not like I needed to be holding out for anyone. Besides, casual hook-ups are the thing right now. Sex and no commitment, why not. Surely that’s what Jason has been doing, returning to his old habits.

  “But I won’t drink bourbon. Anything but that.” I shook my head at the thought.

  That’s what he drank and if I was going to do this then anything that reminded me of him was out. God, I hoped I didn’t cry. That wouldn’t be cool and not very sexy either. The first time would be the hardest and then I would see that I was okay, so it was better to get it over with.

  “No bourbon. I think we can work with that.” The man I was about to have a drink with, aka have sex with, stood up and threw some money on the bar.

  “Hey Angie, I was about ready to send out a search party.” Rusty circled his arms around my body and pulled me off my barstool. His warm smile almost made me want to cry. It seemed to be my usual response lately. I was so leaky it was pathetic.

  “Rusty! Oh I missed you.” I swayed on my feet as I hugged him back fiercely. “Hey, meet my friend.” Ummm what did he say his name was? Did I even ask him his name? Shit, was I about to sleep with some guy whose name I didn’t even know?

  “Sorry, what was your name?” I asked my friend the question I probably should have opened with.

  “Jason.” He nodded, adding a wink and a smile.

  I’m sorry, excuse me? Jason? There’s like five billion—okay, maybe not that many—names in the world and he has to have that one. Fuck you! I’m not sure to who that fuck you was directed at, but someone sure as hell deserved it.

  “Wow, really?” I tried not to cringe, his nod confirming his name. “Well that’s unfortunate. Anyway, Jason, this is my bestest friend in the whole wide world, Rusty.” I wasn’t sure if that came out exactly right. I didn’t mean to say the unfortunate part. I had nothing against the name. Or maybe I did. Not that it was the name’s fault. Oh for god’s sake. His name was Jason? Who does that?

  “Okay baby, let’s get you up to bed.” Rusty pulled me close to his body, my feet stumbling unsteadily under my weight. Standing up was hard work.

  “He your boyfriend?” Jason—not the Power Station one, the bar one—tipped his head to the man who was currently keeping me vertical. Rusty, my knight in shining armor.

  “Who Rusty?” I laughed. I didn’t mean to but it was just that so many people assumed. Hell even Jason—the Power Station one, not the bar one—had.

  “No. We tried to have sex once, it didn’t work out.” My mouth once again spewed things it hadn’t meant to say.

  “And on that note, you’ve had enough.” Rusty, wrapped both his arms around me, caging me in. Oh, look. I’m in a Rusty cage. I laughed out loud at my private joke.

  “Oh come on, Rusty, don’t be such a buzz kill.” I wriggled unsuccessfully trying to free myself. “Jason is going to take me to his room where we are going to drink everything in his mini bar. Except the bourbon.”

  Because he likes bourbon and I refuse to even touch anything that he likes. I reminded myself, in case I’d forgotten.

  “Who is he?” Jason asked, my private reminder having not been so private.

  “Nobody. I mean literally nobody.” I meant to say it confidently but it came out as a whisper. Maybe because I wasn’t convinced he was a nobody, maybe because I knew I was lying.

  “Hey Jason.” Rusty scooped me into his arms and lifted me off the floor. “Thanks for looking after my girl, but I’ve got it from here.”

  And before my brain registered what was happening we were out of the bar and into the elevator. I didn’t even say goodbye. Goodbyes and Jasons didn’t have a good track record it seemed.

  “Rus, put me down.” My legs kicked in his arms as he held me close to his chest. The elevator had already started to move.

  He didn’t answer, instead waiting until the door slid open on the floor where our rooms were situated.

  “Rusty.” I protested again.

  Nope, still nothing.

  With what I can only describe as an amazing amount of skill, Rusty was able to wiggle his key out of his pocket and pressed it against the lock. The amazing skill did not extend to being able to holding me and open the door, which meant he had to put me down.

  “No. I don’t want to go to bed. I’m not a fucking child.” I stomped my foot exactly like the child that I was not.

  “Then stop acting like one.” With a flick of the wrist, the door was open and Rusty had pushed me into his hotel room. “What the hell are you doing, Angie, this isn’t you.”

  “What?” I asked naïvely pretending I didn’t know what he was talking about. Duh. Like I didn’t know.

  He tossed his keycard onto the coffee table, leaning against the back of the couch. “You mean to tell me that you weren’t about to go to some strange man’s room for sex?”

  “So what if I was? Maybe I just wanted to have sex. You have sex with lots of girls you don’t know. I don’t fucking judge you, all high and mighty.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was mad that he was right or mad at myself for actually considering it.

  “I’m not judging you.” His voice didn’t rise, nor did eyes move from mine. “I would never judge you, but don’t tell me this is about sex. It’s about him.”

  “Not everything is about Jason. The band one, not the bar one. Sometimes it’s just about sex.” My voice yelled where his hadn’t.

  I wasn’t convincing, tears threatening to spill at any moment at just the mention of his name.

  “Fine, then you can wait until you are sober and then you can have sex with as many random guys as you like,” he yelled back.

  “I’m not that drunk.” More yelling, this time, me.

  “Yes you are, you can barely stand.” Yelling again, Rusty’s turn.

  “I don’t want to wait until I’m sober. I want to have sex now, damn it.” My voice was raised, as was my temper. Are you seeing a pattern yet?

  “Fine, then have sex with me.”

  Oh I must be loaded because I could have sworn that Rusty just asked me to have sex with him. And that would be ridiculous.

  I burst into hysterical laughter
, taking a minute to catch my breath. “Oh my God, Rusty. I’m dying here.” Well at least we weren’t yelling anymore.

  “I’m serious. You want to be on top or the bottom?” He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, the fabric slipping off his shoulders and onto the floor. His toned chest displaying his crazy detailed dragon tattoo that flexed as he went to unbutton his jeans.

  Holy shit, he was serious. He was actually, serious.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  “Why? It’s just sex, right?” He kicked off his boots, cool, calm and collected. “No big deal. You want sex so let’s just fuck, take care of that urge for you.”

  He moved closer pushing aside my hair and looked me in eyes.

  “No.” I pulled away, my world feeling like it had been turned on its head.

  “Why, no, Angie?” He didn’t yell this time, pulling me into his arms and kissed my hair. “Didn’t you just finish telling me how much you wanted it?”

  “We can’t have sex because it would be … a mistake,” I answered, knowing that everything we had, would change. I’d already lost one man I loved, I couldn’t lose a second. Not my best friend.

  “Yeah it would.” He nodded, his hands holding me still as I started to shake. “It would be a huge mistake, and still not as big as the one you would make if you went and fucked that other guy.”

  The point.

  And there it was. And there I was. Completely unraveled. And the only one who hadn’t seen it had been me.

  “I’m a mess, Rus.”

  I tried not to cry. I mean really tried, but I couldn’t stop. The pain, the hurt—I’d lost Jason, twice. And this time, it was so much worse.

  “Yeah you are.” Rusty, slowly rocked me. My fat ugly tears falling over his beautiful ripped chest. And yet, there wasn’t one thing that was sexual about it. “Lucky for you I like my friends messy.” He laughed. “It makes me feel more normal.”

  “Thank you.” The palms of my hands wiped away my tears. The stain of mascara smudges all over my skin, both under my eyes and on my hands. Lucky I wasn’t trying to be seductive because my latest effort would have most definitely failed.

  “You know, usually the girl thanks me after the sex but sure.” He shrugged, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

  “We’re not having sex.” I shook my head. Rusty still standing there with his jeans unbuttoned, wearing no shirt wasn’t going to convince me otherwise. As fine as the man was, what we had was better.

  “Fine.” His arms fell dramatically to his side as he sighed. “Let’s be boring and not fuck.” He flashed his amazing smile, the one that usually sent the panty population into overdrive. Well, all except for the ones I was currently wearing.

  “I’m probably going to need some coffee. And an exorcist.” My reflection stared back at me from the obnoxious mirror across the room. What I saw—wasn’t pretty.

  “Coffee I can do.” Another hug. Another kiss. “The other part—I think we just get you showered and into bed and see where we land in the morning.”

  Biggest clusterfuck of all time.

  Of all the dumbest, most monumentally stupidest shit I’d ever done, this has to take the cake. And what made it even worse was I saw it coming a mile away and still, it didn’t stop me.

  Angie was right. I was an asshole.

  She loved me.

  Those words confused me so much I couldn’t breathe. I’d heard them before, and the last time, they didn’t bring good things.

  I couldn’t expect her to understand. There were the things she was asking of me that I wasn’t able to give. Not because I didn’t want, but because I couldn’t. And if I pretended, it would have just made it worse—for me and for her.

  In the crystal ball department I had come up empty. And who knows what forever even fucking meant. Did she want a promise? Say I’d never leave, that she’d do the same? Like words actually meant something. My actions were stronger than any words I’d ever spoke, and it hadn’t been enough. She owned me, I wasn’t going anywhere but she had to push.

  It was always going to end up the same way. Both of us were delusional if we’d thought there’d be any other outcome. She deserved better. And not because I didn’t love her—yeah, there was that word I’d promised I’d never fucking say—but because I was too fucked up to give her what she needed.

  Well done, Jason. The minute you meet a girl worth a damn, you fucking run like a pussy. Because that’s what I was doing. I let her walk out the door. I didn’t stop her.

  Table for miserable asshole, party of one? Yep. I had the standing reservation.

  Every time there was a knock at the door I wanted it to be her. I wanted it all—her rage, her fury, her fists flying at my face. Except, the knock—and her rage—didn’t come.

  Her nightly dedications to me had stopped. Finished. No more. Nothing about what a cock I was. No odes to my death. No tributes to my demise. Just nothing. Radio fucking silence. That, ladies and gentleman, was the worst kind of hell. Because I knew—I’d broken her.

  I’d done that. Me. Well done, motherfucker, you are a real champion.

  I saw her even though she didn’t see me. My messed up stalker routine not taking a breather even though we were done. Just hoping to catch a glimpse of her here or there when she didn’t know I was watching. That light in her eyes? Gone. The firecracker attitude? Gone. And there wasn’t a second out of every fucking day after it that I didn’t fucking hate myself more. Dan was right. I was the gift that kept on giving.

  “Hey, asswipe.” Speak of the devil. “You want to get in on a game? Troy’s shuffling the deck.”

  My zero fucks policy had extended to my door. Which had meant it was open. Which allowed the cocksucker to come in. Mental note, close the fucking door.

  “Nope. I have this thing going on where I’m busy being a miserable fuck. It’s taking up all of my time.” My arms stretched out behind my head. My mind firmly cemented on hanging out in my hotel room, on my couch. Preferably, alone. “Thanks for the offer though.”

  It was nice to be asked, even if he knew the answer. Same answer as it had been the last night, and the night before that. The whole sharing is caring rule didn’t apply to me. I wasn’t sharing jack.

  “Hey look at this way, at least she is no longer telling most of the continental United States what a dick you are.” He parked his ass on the sofa beside me, his eyes scooting around looking to see if there was a bottle. There wasn’t. The drinking myself into a stupor had already gotten old. Besides, getting on stage with a hangover wasn’t giving me a case of the warm and fuzzies. Neither was acting like an obnoxious dick. Other than what I already was. You could only fight nature so much.

  “I know you are trying to help.” My thanks-but-no-thanks coming thick and fast. “But you’re not. So don’t.”

  “Okay, okay.” He raised his hands, hopefully throwing in the towel on operation cheer up Jase. “I’m not Troy, and I don’t always know the right thing to say. But misunderstandings happen. You fuck up, you say sorry and you move on. That’s the way it works. You obviously give a shit about this girl, because I don’t notice dick usually and even I could see that.”

  Of all the fucking times for Dan to be perceptive, now was not that time. It just added another layer to the shit that was already piled on there. Hey, we all noticed you loved her, yet you still let her go. Bravo. Dick.

  “Is there a point somewhere in there, or you just trying to contribute to my misery?”

  Not that it mattered. The misery was pretty maxed out, so an extra helping here or there wasn’t going to make a difference. Still, I hoped leaving was going to be featuring on his agenda soon. Misery most definitely did not love company, and who ever coined that phrase needed to go eat a big bag of dicks.

  “What I’m saying is.” I prepared myself for the awesome that was Dan logic. That was sarcasm in case you didn’t know. “If you care about her just go back and get her. You’ll work it out.”

  Sure, because shi
t is just that easy. Sorry wasn’t a fucking cure-all and exactly what had changed in the last few days? I had no more to offer her than I did before I ended us. A heart to heart over a box of Kleenex wasn’t going to cut it.

  “There are some things that can’t be worked out, Dan. But thanks.”

  I admired his commitment. The bastard had shown real growth of late. A world away from the selfish, arrogant dude he used to be.

  “So you’re just going to sit here and be fucking miserable?” Dan’s session offering pearls of wisdom was obviously not over. “Newsflash, it doesn’t work out, asshole. When Ash left me, I tried to convince myself I’d just find someone else. But there wasn’t anyone else. She was it. Troy—he came to the same fucking conclusion. His girl didn’t even ditch him; he just had his head too far up his ass that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. James and Hannah, they broke up and guess what, they got back together. Alex and Lexi, same fucking thing. Those two were more dramatic about it because let’s face it—they are both fucking drama queens, but in the end, there was no keeping them apart.”

  No words. Which is exactly what you have to say when Dan starts making sense. My silence gave Dan the floor once more, to wow me again with his astounding attempt at being friend of the year.

  “I’m not going to put words in your mouth, but it looks to me like you might love this girl and if you don’t go after her, you’re going to regret it.”

  “I already regret it.” My clipped response shot out of my mouth like a bullet out of a gun. Regret rocked the number two position on my list when it came to Angie. Right after how much I fucking loved her.

  Well … Fuck.

  “So why are you sitting here talking to me?” He punched me in the arm, the leather of the couch creaking under his ass as he moved. “She’s in the same fucking building and I’ve seen her, she looks like shit. That’s not me being a douchebag about it because it’s Angie, I mean she looks sad. She’s miserable without you too.”

  But she’d be more miserable with me. “I can’t go get her back.”