by J. L. Brooks
I poured another glass of wine and laughed at the disaster my life had become. Knowing that the pressure of failing to produce a manuscript was the real source of my despair, Hunter in the mix just added to it. Closing my eyes with fingers on the volume knob of the speakers, I twisted it to the right until the windows threatened to bust. Clumps of shredded newspaper flew in every direction from my fingertips as I whirled through the room in circles, imagining dancing under a full moon in the desert or in a forest of cherry blossom trees in spring. A stack of plates in a box made my hands itch with the desire to be destructive. Always wondering what it would be like to throw one against the ground to watch it break, just because, I chose to sate the curiosity. One was not enough, and soon the floor was covered in shards of white porcelain. I didn’t need them anyway.
I thought that losing everything would be more depressing, yet I felt surprisingly free. Nowhere to be, nothing to do, no more deadlines, expectations or disappointments. This wasn’t a tragedy, it was a celebration. At least I could convince myself in this moment that that is what was happening. I was teetering precariously close to a breakdown, if not yet fully submerged. Why do crazy people laugh? I thought for a moment I understood, and that couldn’t be good. Holding a pillow to my chest, I swayed back and forth in the annihilated room. I needed to sleep, yet every time I closed my eyes, he was there. The hallucinations began to manifest when I could see him standing in my doorway with a sorrowful face.
Without a word, the blurry image of Hunter approached slowly and pulled me into his arms, then moved back and forth to the music. Lowering his mouth next to my ear, he softly sang the lyrics, sedating me with a soothing tone. As the song ended, he guided me towards the bed and peeled back the covers, encouraging me to crawl in and scoot towards the middle. Sliding in behind me and pulling me close, I was still unsure if I was dreaming or awake. Whatever this place was, I savored every second before slipping into the darkness.
Vivid images of Hunter in my apartment startled me from my dreams. Looking around, there was no evidence of the wreckage I was sure had ensued. There were no broken plates or piles of packaging materials strewn across the floor. Only a few random boxes placed throughout the room indicated that I still had packing to do. Turning over, my arms landed against the undisputable hardness of another human being.
It wasn’t a dream. He was here and sleeping soundly next to me. This seemed wrong on so many levels, but I could not bear myself to wake him. Lowering myself onto the pillow, I took the opportunity to reconnect myself with the force from my past that was somehow determined to become a part of my present. Wanting to run my hands along the five o’clock shadow forming on his jaw and feel the sharp bristle against my palm, I resisted the urge and only used my eyes to take him in. He was still so very handsome, it almost pained me to keep looking. Knowing that I had once brushed my lips across his long eyelashes and tasted the soft skin on his collarbone filled me with longing. Strong graceful fingers used to create brilliant melodies were gently resting on the pillow next to his face. Fingers he loved to bury deep inside of me to draw a song out only for him as my body shook violently.
“If it makes you feel better, I watched you sleep, too.”
Hunter cracked a smile without opening his eyes. I was unsure how long he had been awake and suddenly felt self-conscious.
“How long have you been here?” I asked curiously.
He opened his eyes and immediately appeared concerned. Reaching out to hold the side of my face and guide the pad of his thumb across my cheeks, he was quiet for a moment.
“For a while. You needed to sleep, so I cleaned up for you. I’m kind of scared to leave you alone now. I heard you resigned. I was at the airport when Dinah called me, freaking out. She said you weren’t answering your phone, and Mr. Nunnery was on her ass about the email.”
Shaking my head, I became livid. There was no boundary she wasn’t willing to cross.
“I told you I would be fine. You didn’t have to come here. I’m not your problem. How did you find me anyway, much less get into my apartment?”
Hunter moved swiftly, trapping me beneath him. I knew it was an act of aggression, not of sexual intent, yet it did not stop the blood from heating in my veins as my imagination chose to think of other things he could be doing.
“Eli told me where you lived and kept a spare key. Your neighbors were about to call the cops with all the noise you were making. I promised them I would take care of it. I know you’re in trouble. I can help you. I want to help you.”
Snarling, I tried to fight my way out of his arms.
“What do you know about my troubles? You haven’t talked to me in almost twenty years. You don’t know shit.”
Refusing to let go, his knees pinned my legs in place, restraining me even more and inciting my fury.
“I know Dinah cares about you and doesn’t want to lose you as a client.”
My eyes widened with his comment; he really had no idea what was going on and that he had unwittingly stumbled upon a war zone.
“That woman is a cunt who also knows nothing about me. She came in here two days ago and found a picture of us in a box I had sitting out and pitched the idea behind my back, which I just found out about last night. Look around, it’s not happening, I won’t do it.”
Feeding off of my anger, the vein in his forehead began to throb as his face grew red.
“Are you truly that stubborn? You would rather lose everything instead?”
I could feel myself wanting to cry at the question, yet refused to. This was about self-preservation, not financial security. Turning my head, I stared out the window and focused on the sounds coming from the street below to try and calm down. After a few deep breaths, my temper tantrum finally passed.
“Hunter, let me ask you something. Can you force yourself to write music and know it’s good? Feel in your very bones that it’s the best that is in you and nothing less? Or do you have no issue releasing subpar material simply for a paycheck?”
Rolling off me, he rubbed his face briskly before folding his arms behind his head.
“I’m at the point right now I could remix your voice mail message and make six figures. I know this will not last, so I am taking it for everything its worth. I can always write what I love later, but this is what the market demands. Do I love producing music? Not always. Is it good? Yeah. Performing in front of crowds is still the only thing that makes it all worth it. I do what I want out there. Right now, I am just feeding the machine so one day I can get out and never have to worry again. I get that you think you are selling your soul, but it’s not true. You have a talent that not many people have. I manipulate sounds while you reshape words. You and I are very similar; we just work in different mediums.”
I flipped onto my stomach and propped my chin in my hands. I knew he was right. I just didn’t know how to bring myself to take his advice.
“If you couldn’t tell, I take everything personally. I have a hard time being objective. I’ve fought my way to be where I am by going against the grain and being different. I don’t know how to be any other way.”
Hunter laughed and sat up against the headboard.
“Of course not. You wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s not you, Lila. But first, if we are going to be all kumbaya and shit, can I at least have a real hug? You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”
“You’re in my bed. Isn’t that better than a hug? I’m sure that was something neither of us thought would happen again. I would think that trumps a basic hug.”
His laughter stopped slightly as he peeled back the sheets.
“If it were under different circumstances—absolutely, but neither one of us is naked, so I will take what I can get. Now get your ass up here.”
Crawling onto his chest and resting my head, I felt his heart beating against my temple while I lay draped across his body. Holding me, his hand skimmed along my shoulders, outlining the wings with his fingertips.
&nb
sp; “I’m glad you don’t cover these. I knew the moment I walked into the ballroom it was you. Now tell me why you are packing to leave. Just because you left the company doesn’t mean you have to get out of New York.”
Breathing out deeply, I turned my head up to answer him.
“I’m going home, Hunter.”
As much as I tried to keep it hidden, there was no denying the defeat in my voice.
“Back to Cleveland?” he asked disbelievingly.
“Yes, back to Ohio. I am staying with my parents for a little while. I’ll go back to school, find a job, something.”
If I thought that merely seeing Hunter and being in the same room with him wasn’t bad enough, knowing I was going back to a city that worshipped him was worse. Not only was he often in the local papers, holidays became opportunities for the family to boast of all he was accomplishing. Although he never obtained the success Hunter had, my brother Elijah was somewhat of a mentor to him long ago, and they would tag team the turntables at parties. For a short period Eli owned a little record shop, and Hunter would come in when I was helping. However, I had just broken up with a mutual friend and was considered off limits.
It didn’t stop me from being attracted to him and later flat out obsessing about him every waking minute. Never quite able to figure out what drew me to him so recklessly, I put myself in a position of becoming a social pariah. It was much worse for him, and yet he too persisted past the whispering voices and outright confrontations. Our tumultuous beginning made that first kiss so remarkable that I have spent years chasing that feeling, never to experience it again. There were no scandalous late night trysts. He told my mother he loved me months before ever laying a hand on my body. I could swear electricity poured from his fingertips with every touch. Even now as I lay next to him, my brain sounded every warning to run for my life.
However, my heart kept me perfectly still. I dared not move away from him, knowing all too well the fleeting moments one can call rapture.
Needing to use the bathroom, I finally slid out of the bed, pausing on the edge in thought.
“If you don’t mind, please send Dinah a message and tell her to go fuck herself. I no longer have a phone or I would do it.”
After closing the door, I looked in the mirror and realized my reflection was shit. No amount of vitamin D could remedy this atrocity. At a minimum, a hot shower would be a good start. Turning the faucet to near scalding, I scrubbed, shaved and lathered myself to squeaky-clean perfection. In my absence, Hunter had found his way over to the sofa and was pilfering through the shoebox I had left on the table. He smiled broadly with every new discovery, the objects evoking a much different emotion in him than in me.
“You kept all of this? I guess you always were sentimental. It’s cool, though. We had some good times.”
Taking a few random pieces in my hands, the memories opened from the deepest places in vibrant colors and tangible sensations, each one unique and distinctive. I could run my fingers across the plastic badges and feel the bass resonate in my bones. Closing my eyes, I was right back to dancing before a wall of speakers. Dark and sensual, each place he played felt dynamic. Hunter gave the crowd everything he had, and when we were alone he channeled it into me. “Good times” did not adequately express what I took away from the experience. Knowing if he kept digging he would find the letter, I took the treasures from his hands and emptied a few things onto the table before moving the box out of the way.
“I should probably get rid of it. Silly really. Take what you want, if you want anything.”
He looked over the items and picked up a postcard from the bottom of the pile. Slapping the card back and forth in his hand, his knee started to bounce nervously.
“This was the best, right here.”
Turning the postcard over, it was a picture of the Chicago skyline and Navy Pier. I couldn’t help but smile. Away from everyone and everything, we were finally allowed to be together. The Windy City was our little bubble, and for a few days life was perfect.
“I agree. I’ll keep that one, unless you want it. But you can probably pick another up tomorrow since you will be there.”
Hunter gave me a look of surprise.
“How did you know I will be in Chicago? Are you stalking me?”
Nodding in agreement, I started moving about, packing more things into a box on my desk.
“Isn’t that my job as an ex-girlfriend? I think I have your toothbrush next to my shrine of all things Hunter Michaels.”
His smile broadened and I could see the inner narcissist starting to show.
“You want to see it? It’s in the bathroom between the sink and the tub. Make sure to put the lid back down when you’re finished checking it out.”
Hearing me joke, albeit at his expense, began to put him at ease. The things that made me so angry for so long suddenly did not seem very important. I knew he wasn’t staying, but acknowledging he still cared began a slow burn in a cold situation, giving me a sliver of hope that someday things would be right with the world again.
Walking up beside me, Hunter placed the postcard on the desk and grabbed my hips, pulling me closer.
“Come with me, Lila. Just for a few days. I think you need it.”
He must have been crazy to think I could just uproot my life and take off for a few days with him. Yet the truth was quite the opposite. I was the delusional one. I had no life, not anymore. Caught in limbo, the request could have not come at a more opportune time. I must have been staring at the wall too long as the sharp jab in my ribs caused me to cry out and smack Hunter in return.
“What the fuck was that for?”
“Stop thinking about it and pack your shit.”
“I didn’t say I was coming!”
Backing me against the desk, his eyes flashed with excitement and a devious smirk. “Well, if you recall, I know exactly how to make you come.”
His nearness caused warmth to rush over my entire body. I did my best to ignore his innuendo and could only imagine what would take place if I accepted his offer. Knowing I really didn’t have a choice, my pride forced me to act resistant. I might have been falling apart, but I was far from compliant. Trying desperately to remind myself of every reason why this was a bad idea, my heart laughed hysterically at my vain attempts to control anything. Perhaps that was the entire point.
“I will only accompany you if you promise me one thing.”
Looking a bit nervous, Hunter tilted his head and waited for my request.
“Do not bring up the book again.”
Meeting my gaze, he nodded in agreement. Once that was settled, I cracked a smile and packed my suitcase. The moving company would charge extra for doing more work, but in this case I was happy to fork over the funds.
The moment the door closed to my loft, the world began to spin in a new direction. As we got in the car and began to drive, everything around me seemed to distort around the edges, resting just outside of my focus. Words would form but fail to leave my mouth, as saying them would shatter whatever spell we were under, so I remained quiet and just took everything in. Pulling up to a small airfield in New Jersey, Hunter grabbed my hand and excitedly led me into a plane hangar.
“You are fucking kidding me! You own a plane?”
My jaw dropped as Hunter shook hands with the pilot of the small jet and laughed.
“Yes I do, but not this one. I have a Cessna Cub; this here is a Citation Sovereign. It’s just a charter.”
“What’s the difference?” I wasn’t a pilot, and it was an honest question.
Jogging back towards me, he smiled and pointed across the hanger at a different plane. “Mine is not as big, but it looks similar to that one.”
I started to giggle as my mind went into the gutter. Realizing I was being ornery, he held back his own laugh while describing the differences between prop planes and jets.
Fascinated by his love of flight, I couldn’t help but ask if I could see it someday.
�
��Would you trust me to fly you somewhere?” he responded, sounding hopeful.
Without hesitation I felt myself light up. Whether or not the plans actually came to pass, it was something to hold onto just in case.
Having this adventure with Hunter seemed surreal. The people we had become, yet still so at ease with one another. I was curious as to why he was so keen on doing the book and seeing how everything truly played out, what he was told and how he felt about the project. More so, what he was expecting me to write. I wanted to see his life, not just read it on the Internet. I wanted to be a part of one of the holiday stories, not just hear about them. If I was being completely honest, most of my thoughts were not honorable. Having the imagination of a writer had already been put to good use the moment we boarded the private jet.
It seemed such a shame to let a perfect opportunity go to waste. Unfortunately, this was real life and not one of my stories. The thought surfaced that this might all be for show, and my heart began to sink. Whispering to myself, I made a silent plea. “Wake up, Lila.”
This was my favorite part of flying. The moment when you are taxiing speedily down the runway and the plane separates itself from the ground. The way your stomach drops towards your pelvis, pressing you into the seat. It is both frightening and exhilarating, being at the mercy of gravity in a small aircraft. The feeling intensified as I held the armrest and closed my eyes—it was beautiful.