by Ivy M. Jones
"I don't know what to do," he says, his eyes closed tight. He sits on the end of the bed, his elbows balanced on his thighs, his hands clasped tight. He's staring at the floor- or he would be if his eyes were open.
"You want to do the right thing by me?"
He nods but doesn't open his eyes.
"Then ask me. Ask me what I need. Do what you should have done when you were seventeen and talk to me. I would have followed you anywhere, Zach. I still will."
"Why, Sarah?" he whispers. "Why would you follow me anywhere, especially now?"
I get up from the chair, which makes a noise alerting him and he looks up, watching as I sit down beside him. The bed shifts a tiny bit.
"That's what loving you means to me. It may not be easy, or comfortable, or even smart, but I'd follow you anywhere. You're my future. I'm yours. We go together or not at all."
He pulls me into his lap, presses his lips to the top of my head and then lets out a really long breath. We sit like that for precious, eternal minutes and I feel a kind of inner peace I haven't felt since I was sixteen.
"Is it wrong that I'm kind of hoping I got you knocked up?"
"What?" I screech softly.
"I figure I've got two, maybe three more screw-ups before you ditch me for good. But if you're having my kid, that's kind of a lock. I might even be able to convince you to marry me at some point down the road."
My lungs seize and I begin to shake. I finally find enough air to speak.
"I kind of hope so, too," I admit into the silence.
Zach
"Can I bring a guest?" I ask as I finish scanning the invitation they just handed me. I start flipping it around in my fingertips.
Nicki looks up from the list on the table in front of her and shoots her gaze at Griffin, who is sitting at her right.
"I don't know. Can you?" he asked, raising a brow.
They know I moved into Nicki's, but they didn't know anything else. They don't know that I moved right back into Cy's on Tuesday because I couldn't stand being so far from Sarah.
When I asked if she was okay with that, she told me she never wanted me to move anyway. Then she smiled and thanked me for asking. She smiled for the entire afternoon, so I figure I did something right.
"Why did I agree to this?" Nicki whines to Griffin. I see her make a '+1' note next to my name on the guest list.
"Because your father casually brought up castration and this was how you changed the subject," Griffin says, wrapping his hand around her head and pulling her close so he can kiss her.
"Yes, but... Next weekend? Was I drugged when I thought that was a good idea?"
Griffin gets up from his chair and pulls her from hers. She's in his arms and he's hauling her down the hall to Justin's spare room. I can hear him reminding her that she only has to get the band's RSVPs - and none of us are going to miss it - and her aunt Elizabeth has the rest covered. Before the door slams closed to the guest room, I hear him promise he's going to give her something that will take her mind off it.
I want to have my go-to reaction, which would normally be a feeling of being vaguely disturbed while simultaneously grossed out knowing that they're about to get some strange in the same room I usually crash in when I stay with Justin. But the reaction never happens. Instead, I think of Sarah and wonder how she's feeling. If she's pregnant, would she be feeling sick yet? Tired?
Andy's explained the healing power of her little white pills and I've personally seen her plow through enough food to feed Cy and me, plus leftovers. Now I'm having a little freak out, but it's because I can picture Sarah trying to stab my hand with a fork the way Andy tried to when I first met her. And it's good. I'm looking forward to it.
In fact, I'm actually, seriously, hoping Sarah's knocked up.
The very thought of which should have my head spinning with all the other ramifications. How would I hide a pregnant Sarah?
Answer: I wouldn't even try.
But then everyone will know. They'll connect A to B and from there, it's only a matter of time until a cop shows up at my door - or worse, at a show - with a warrant for my arrest. Why am I not running like my ass is on fire?
Answer: I don't want to leave even to take out the trash. I'd be too far from Sarah.
Shouldn't I be freaking out about how it will look for Dark Fire?
Answer: I should be, but I just have this inner peace that tells me that my friends have my back.
I need privacy to make a phone call, but Justin's door is closed. I never even saw either him or Andy disappear after our band practice, but I'm going to assume they're in there. Griffin's holed up with Nicki now in the guest room, so that's out. Cy left after rehearsal, accepting his invitation from Nicki on the way out the door with a murmured, "I'm in, of course," and then he was gone.
I close the door to the room Justin has set up for band practice- it's completely soundproof, so I know I'll have privacy for my conversation. I walk to the window and call Juliana.
"Zach?" she answers. There's no frills, just down to business.
"Hey Juliana. I need you to call the lawyers for Dark Fire."
"Are you in jail?" she doesn't sound upset and I marvel at how she's calm despite my opening.
"No. Nothing like that. Something came up right before Will's wife got sick and I never got back to him about it," I say vaguely.
"You mean the warrant thing?"
She's known? I stammer for a second, then confirm. "Yeah."
"Oh. Well... I know Will was waiting to hear back from them about that, but I haven't gotten any messages yet. I'll give them a call first chance I get, alright?" I can hear her walking as she talks. "Dylan, make a note for me? Call Asplundh regarding Zach." I'm guessing she's talking to her assistant as she walks. "I'll have them call you, alright?" I have to assume she's talking to me again.
Like I'm gonna say no? "Thanks, Juliana."
I'm still standing in the music room when I look over at the keyboard. It's still set up; we tend to leave our shit as-is in here. I have a couple of keyboards: a small one in my room at Cy's for when the muse strikes, one here, and another I use for road shows. When we travel internationally, it goes too since my keyboard is responsible for most of our special affects and the wide variety of musical instruments that get added in. I can connect a computer to any of them for special affects, and when we record, sometimes we do it in here first, just to get an idea of how it will sound.
The conversation with Juliana rolls through my brain and I have to wonder what Will was discussing with Asplundh - whoeverthehell that is. A lawyer? The law firm in general?
I want to call Will and ask what he knows, but we all promised to leave him be. So instead, I call the girl I want to take as my date to Griff and Nicki's reception.
"Hi baby," Sarah answers the phone. My number is in her phone now. I even have my own ringtone. I set it myself. It's the second chorus from Chicago's Wishing You Were Here. I wanted her to know how I felt whenever I wasn't with her. She said the same was true for her, so I put the same ringtone on my phone for her.
"Hey, Sare. I was wondering what you're doing next weekend." I sit down at the keyboard and start plunking out notes.
"I get the impression I'll be going somewhere with you," she says, sounding breathless.
"I hope so. Are you okay with that?"
"Well, so long as it's not, like, the docks, you know? For a wild evening of fish shopping? Not my thing."
I laugh. She still doesn't like fish.
"They say fish isn't safe for pregnant women anyway," I point out.
She waits a beat. "I've heard."
"And I'm hoping..."
"I know." I can hear the smile in her voice.
Despite how excited I am at the prospect, we haven't had sex since that afternoon, with or without protection. I almost feel like we need to wait and see if she's pregnant, but I'm tired of being without her.
"It's a wedding reception," I explain. "For Griffin Rupert."
I chuckle. "They're sort of already married. Vegas. But I guess her dad's got a stick up his ass about this, so- wedding reception next weekend. Be my date?"
"Absolutely," she says. I can picture her face. Hopefully, she's smiling as she stares at her work computer.
"But..." Her tone is scared.
"But what, Sare?"
"Will there be media there? Anyone who might take my picture?"
I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose, but I still smile. Sarah, my love, is still trying to protect me.
"It's private. If it makes you feel better, we won't arrive together."
"I don't want to do that, though. If you think we should arrive separately, then alright. But it just feels wrong."
I switch hands with the phone and turn on the recording function of the keyboard. I make some changes- the setting for grand piano, a little bit of peddle behind it... I'm playing while I talk to her, recording the notes from the piano, not what I'm saying.
"It feels wrong to me, too. We'll go together. What about tonight?"
"Tonight?"
"Stay with me?"
"You mean in Cy's apartment?" I hear her tuck the phone under her chin and answer a question from a distance. She is at work and I recognize that she has to do her job. I would have waited to call, but I needed to hear her voice. I was wishing she was here, just like the song.
"Yeah." She wouldn't even have to do the walk of shame from our apartment to hers. She could just bring her stuff up with her.
"Like, for dinner?" I can hear the real question in her voice.
"I miss you, Sarah. Dinner, yeah, but I want you to stay with me."
I hear her sniff.
"I've been without you for too long, Sare. Come with me?" It's what she wanted me to ask her all along. I'm too far gone for her not to ask now.
"Yeah." She's laughing and sobbing quietly. "Yeah, I'll come with you."
"No matter what?" Will she stand beside me even if Dark Fire dies and - worst case scenario - I go to jail?
"Always with you," she cries. "No, I'm fine. I love this man," she says to someone I can't hear.
"I'll see you when you get home, then?"
"Yeah."
It takes forever to finally hang up. I don't want to and neither does she, but she's at work and I need to respect that. I'm still tapping away, recording as I go, when Justin comes in. Andy's behind him, a drowsy look on her face. She smiles at me and continues on past the door.
"Andy wanted a snack. I'm gonna order something. Do you want anything?" Translation: I'm ordering an entire meal for two. Would you like a single appetizer?
"Thanks man, but I have to bail soon. I have a date tonight."
"Night of Dreams?"
"I love her like you love Andy, dude."
Justin steps back, shocked, but I just smile and continue playing.
"You're recording?"
"Yeah. Remember how you dedicated Earth Angel to Andy? Think we could do something like that for Sarah?"
"We could do something like that for Sarah this weekend, man. We have a show. You could just say something vague like, 'This is for you, baby,' or something." If we end up recording it, you can put it in the insert."
I get to the end of the section I was working on and hit save on the computer.
"It would be just me. Is that okay?" I start the violins I just recorded, then I begin playing and singing and Justin's grin just gets bigger and bigger. He lets me get all the way through, then nods his head a little.
"I like it. It's all yours, buddy. Cy won't care, but I'll have to pad poor Griffin's ego," he jokes.
"He does know that he can't sing, right? And you no one can make a drum solo last three minutes..."
"I think he's in denial. But if logic doesn't work, I'll remind him that he's married to my cousin, so my limit for his bitching is now a lot lower."
I turn off the keyboard and follow Justin out of the room.
"That's last in the rotation, okay? We'll take one less request and then you can drop that on them," he says as I grab my jacket off the back of the couch.
"Justin," Andy calls from the rocker.
"Yeah?"
I'm headed to the front door when I hear Andy say, "I'm worried that when my tummy's all ginormous, I won't be able to get out of this chair. You win. Let's get that glider you saw..."
"YES!"
I don't stay. Justin just won some sort of decisive battle and I don't need to be here while they divide the spoils of war.
Counting down the hours until Sarah comes home becomes a lesson in willpower. What I want to do is call her. I want to hear her voice until I see her face come through my door. I chide myself on wanting her to behave the same way countless clingy fans have. That kind of clinging was obnoxious and completely ridiculous. Seriously? Was I going to fuck a girl and suddenly find myself head over heels with her when the only thing we had in common so far was some saliva? Being famous means people think they know you. They hear the music and think you're playing it just for them because it struck something deep inside them and they just know that if you could get to know them, you'd fall as deeply in love with them as they are with you.
What they love is the person they've imagined you to be. Never once did I meet a girl who took one look at me and offered to grab some Taco Bell, followed by slow dancing together on the dirt lot by the lake and a kiss on the cheek when I drop her off at home. Well, except for Sarah, because she actually knew me. And it's not like she knew those things about me when we first met.
No, it's, "I've loved you forever. Let me suck you off and I swear you'll feel the same way."
I shake my head at my own stupidity. I was more than willing to show those girls how wrong they were. I didn't fall in love with a single one after they got through trying to prove their claims.
I feel a bit like a douche now in retrospect, but the sad fact is, there wasn't any way to get the one girl I did love, so why not let those girls have their say, so to speak? I never treated them poorly and when it was over, their infatuations were cured.
I still feel like a dick. I wish I could back take all those easy lays now, wish I had stayed true to Sarah. I don't even care if she saw other guys since me, but I wish I could take back that first year of fame because of how cheap it makes my love look.
I'm annihilating my enemies in one-on-one, tearing through the pre-dinner crowd with my sniper rifle and a Walther PPK when there's a thump at the door. I look up at the clock and note that it's only just five, which is much too early for Sarah to be getting in. At the very least, I expected her to pack a bag when she got home, and then come up.
I open the door and it's Cy.
"Thanks man," he says, pushing through with his arms loaded with groceries. In one hand, he's gripping a six-pack of my rootbeer. I help him out, prying his fingers from the handle before he even puts down the bags.
"Here," he says, putting the bags down and lifting the other hand, which has another six-pack in it. I help him out with that one too.
"Thanks, man. What do I owe you for the groceries?" I pull out my wallet.
"You got the last load. No worries." He's not even paying attention, so I stick a couple of twenties in his wallet where he set it down on the counter.
"I saw that," he says, not turning around.
"Saw what?"
"Dude, you don't have to pay me. We split rent and groceries. I'm not going to be an ass about forty bucks..."
He's putting the groceries away now and I note that the oven is on.
"Making dinner?" I ask casually. I never got the chance to tell him that Sarah was coming over. I mentally smack my forehead. I meant to call him, but kept forgetting, trying to keep my mind off the wait for Sarah.
"Yeah. Thought I might do my part to make you look good for your girl."
I'm quiet and staring at him in confusion so he leans back against the counter and pulls a cold root bee
r from the fridge, opening it and handing it to me. He does the same for himself.
"You were just going to get takeout, weren't you?" he asks, his tone accusing.
"I was, and how did you know Sarah's coming over tonight?"
"Funny story actually," he begins, smiling. "Did you know our security desk guy is seeing her roommate?"
"Teddy, right?" He nods. "Yeah, I remember her saying something like that."
"So, I'm downstairs, about to head to the store, and Teddy's on his phone talking to Lucy, the roommate. She's asking him if he wants to hang out at her place because her roommate has a date and they can be alone."
"He had it on speakerphone?" I'm incredulous. Booty calls might be a bit short of classy, but that's no reason to advertise them.
"No, man. I just caught his side of the conversation, and then he hangs up and turns to me. 'I guess you'll be somewhere else tonight too, then,' he says."
I put my hand up. "I should have called and asked. I'm really sorry. If you don't want us here, just tell me. We can go to Nicki's. But I'm not going kick you out of your own place."
He gives me this look that I can't read. "You know this is your apartment too, right? You don't have to ask if you can bring a girl over. Not that you've ever brought a girl here before..."
He's right. I never have. I kept the year of douchery to hotels and maybe a quickie in the tour bus or wherever the girl was staying. In the years since then, my discreet liaisons all happened in high-end hotels. It's how the Service works.
But I digress.
"Dude... You're on the lease. This is your apartment." I pull a bag of pita chips from a grocery bag and put them away.
He points to where I just put them.
"You put groceries away in Justin's apartment? Griffin's?"
I blink.
"Of course not. But I'm not staying in their guest room."
"It's not a guest room, moron. It's one of two suites in a two-bedroom apartment that I got because you needed a place to live. I share this apartment with my best friend. Not a guest."