Be With You

by Candy J. Starr

  "It's okay, I can handle him," she'd say, laughing at my concern.

  I'd suspected he'd been the main one supplying her but I hadn't been able to prove it until Devon told me he'd been at the house that day.

  He'd disappeared after Julie's death. Oh, I'd gone looking for him, the night of the funeral. That night when even the skies opened up and seemed to cry for her. I'd stalked through the streets and all the dirty clubs but he'd been nowhere. I'd have killed him that night if I'd found him. I'd have killed Devon too.

  All the raw pain I'd felt, the loss and the horror, it hadn't gone away. It hadn't healed, it had just scabbed over with the festering going on beneath. It was as strong now as it'd ever been and I put that pain into every punch.

  I swung again and massive arms held me back. I kept fighting as they pulled me off the fucker, struggling to get free so I could keep smashing him up. Why were they stopping me? Why was that pile of dog shit allowed to exist in the world when my sister was dead?

  Since I could no longer punch him, I spat in his face. What had been his face and was now a bloody pulp. Still, I didn't feel satisfied. When I was released, I spun around to see who'd been holding me. I'd settle them and then finish that turd off. But Devon grabbed my arm.

  "Let's get the fuck out of here," he said, running toward the street. "Before they call the cops."

  I took off after him. We ran and ran until we were well clear of that alleyway. In fact, I had no idea where the hell we were. In the middle of a city with its generic city-ness. We sprawled on a bench near a fountain in a tiny park between office buildings, both panting and unable to run another step.

  "We should've finished him. We should've stomped that fucker into the ground." It hurt my lungs to talk but I couldn't hold the words in. Every single breath stung.

  "Yeah, mate, we shoulda but what would that have done? You'd end up with the rap for murder and doing time. We did enough. We ruined his face."

  "Ha, did you see it before we started? We probably improved his looks."

  "We did enough."

  If I looked half as bad as Devon did, we'd have been a frightful pair.

  "But I'd have the satisfaction of finishing him. He ruined my life. He ruined yours. Julie would still be with us if it wasn't for him." Even as I said it, I wondered. If it hadn't been him, it'd have been someone else.

  "They'll know it's us that did it. There's no hiding that. We could still end up in the big house. Hell, Tex, it's okay for you with that ugly face but I'm the pretty one. I'll end up being someone's bitch."

  "You might enjoy it." I punched him on the arm then winced. I'd not felt anything when I'd been punching that shit but, with the fury wearing off, my hands throbbed with pain. I clenched my fist a few times to make sure I hadn't broken anything. I could move my fingers but the skin was raw.

  "We have to call Hannah and tell her."

  Devon gave me a look of pure fear.

  "You call her,” I said.

  "No way, man. You do it. She likes you better than me."

  "I don't have my phone with me." I patted my pockets to prove it. "Do you really think she likes me better? She's always on my case."

  "See, so she'll expect if from you." Devon got out his phone and handed it to me. "Don't be piss weak. Just tell her."

  I found her number then looked at Devon. "It's late. Maybe we should tell her in the morning..."

  "Piss weak. Anyway, how do we get back to the hotel? I have no idea where it is. I don't know the name. Do you? And you're covered in blood. You'll freak people out if anyone sees you like that. You can’t walk through a fancy hotel lobby."

  I looked down at myself, blood staining my top. The metallic smell of it making me retch. I stripped my shirt off and walked over to the fountain to wash it. My fists were covered with blood too. I splashed water over my face then wrung out my shirt and put it back on.

  "You still have to call her."

  I sighed and picked the phone back up then scrolled through the contacts for her number. I wasn't sure what to say or how to make her understand. This hadn't been a drunken brawl, it'd been revenge. Pure, blood-driven revenge.

  The phone rang a few times. "See, she's asleep. She's not going to pick up."

  "Hello?"

  Damn, I was about to hang up.

  "It's Tex. There's been a bit of an incident."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - RUBY

  Nobody had told me to move out of the apartment. Nobody had told me anything at all. I thought I'd get some kind of official notice saying my employment was terminated but that hadn't happened. But then my phone battery had gone flat and I'd not opened my email program. Still, if they really wanted me out, they'd be banging on my door.

  I didn't have the energy to even think about what to do with my life once that happened. I'd have to apply for jobs and go to interviews. That was an insurmountable obstacle. Firstly, it'd mean showering and brushing my hair and putting on clothes.

  I hadn't turned on the TV in the apartment at all while I'd been working. I'd been far too busy and wrapped up in work. But, now I had nothing but free time and I wanted to escape from reality for a while, so turned it on to see what I could watch. It was some kind of magically awesome TV. Not just a TV but a smart TV. Why had no one told me about smart TVs?

  Then I discovered this thing called Netflix. That changed my life.

  Because I'd moved around so much as a kid, living in foreign countries and remote areas, I'd always had big gaps in my knowledge. Someone would make some kind of popular culture joke and I'd just be blank. But Netflix was like going to this whole university of everything I'd ever missed out on and I was all set to be an honour student.. The real world vanished and it became just me and my TV friends.

  In between shows, I'd get online with my friend, CJ, and discuss what I'd been watching.

  "Why did you never tell me about Buffy the Vampire Slayer?" I asked her. “It’s the most awesome show ever.”

  "Have you started watching it?"

  "Started? I've finished. Four days and nights of pure drama watching." At least, I thought it was around four days. Things like days and weeks had lost all meaning for me. Day and night were abstract concepts that had no connection to my life. I measured time in episodes and seasons.

  "Wow, that's hardcore!"

  Then CJ gave me a list of other shows to watch. I could do this forever. Well, until I got kicked out of the apartment anyway. There was no room for my own emotions when I had to worry about apocalypses and defeating evil.

  I didn't open the curtains. I didn't want to let any light from the outside world in. I didn't change out of my PJs. Showering? Who needs that when you don't have contact with anyone else?

  I put every annoying thing, every thought and worry into a big box -- all the issues with Tex, the job worries, the "what am I going to do with my future" concerns – and locked it away safe in the back of my mind where it couldn't reach me. All that stuff sucked the life out of me anyway.

  Every job I'd ever had had ended up in disaster. I didn't even want to think about the Tex situation. Those thoughts of texting him or phoning him or contacting him had to be pushed down. That was high on the list of things I didn't want to think about. What would I say to him anyway? That I'd gotten sacked from my job. I'd failed at life. I couldn't go running back into his arms and his house after our fight. It'd never work.

  I didn't want a job. I didn't need Tex. All I needed was the remote control and a never ending supply of dramas. The hardest part of my life was whether I wanted to start on Gossip Girl or Downton Abbey.

  The whole world was opening up to me in an easily digested drama form. There was always one more episode, one more season. I could lay in the comfort of my own bed, remote control in hand, and keep all the bad stuff out.

  Of course, I had to eat sometime. You can't live on just drama alone. If I went to the cafe downstairs, I would have to get dressed and clean myself up. That seemed like far too much effort. So, I just
shopped online, ordering up big on chocolate bars and Pop-Tarts. They required minimal time away from the TV. Especially when I moved the toaster to the bedside table. I was a genius at multitasking.

  The worst of it was that the pop tart crumbs got in my bed. I could've shaken the sheets to get rid of them but even that seemed like too much effort.

  I think some chocolate had fallen on the sheets too and melted. I had a big smear of it across my belly. I'd worry about that though when I finished watching season three of The Vampire Diaries. I couldn't leave that wacky Damon Salvatore in mid-season.

  Before I could finish the episode, someone knocked on my door. Since I'd told the concierge to let the delivery guy up without calling me, I figured it was my pop tart supply. I had several new flavours that I wanted to try. Why didn't someone invent a system for the guy to leave the food somewhere for me to collect? They had these crazy ideas about you having to be at home to sign for things and that meant human contact. I guess it was worth it for the sweet, sugary pay off though, even if I had to wait to see how that sexual tension was resolved.

  When I opened the door, it wasn't the delivery guy. It was Sheryl. How the hell had she gotten past security? Crap, I’d forgotten our weekly appointment.

  "Ruby, what is going on with you?" she said. "You look awful."

  Wow, that was a reassuring greeting. Obviously, she'd never known the pleasure of a serious Netflix binge. I wondered if there was some way I could get rid of her before the hour was up so I could get back to my stories. She'd want me to talk about my feelings but the only feelings I had were why didn't Elena just go for Damon and ditch that loser, Stefan, altogether. I could talk about those feelings for the whole hour, no worries.

  "Everything is fine. In fact, I think I'm cured. Totally sane." I held on to the door frame so she couldn't get in.

  "Ruby, you look like you haven't showered in a week." She pushed her way into the room.

  It was probably longer than that but I wasn't going to argue. I liked the comfort of my own body smell. Water was horrible stuff.

  "You jump in the shower and I'll help you clean up around here."

  "Nooooooo!" I rushed to stop her. I had those pop tart boxes arranged around my bed in a special order. In descending order of deliciousness. If she touched them, she'd destroy the whole system.

  "Okay, I'll leave them alone but we need to open up some windows. Let the light in. Maybe get a cross breeze."

  "Light is evil. It makes everything bad."

  "Don't be silly. Now go jump in the shower."

  Sheryl sounded less like a professional and more like my mother. I did not want to jump in the shower. I didn't want light and I didn't want a cross breeze. More than anything, I didn't want Sheryl making me open up that box of bad things that I'd buried away. I wanted to stomp my foot and tell her to get the hell out of my apartment with her good intentions. They call it a comfort zone for a reason -- because it's comfortable.

  But I lacked the energy to argue with her. It'd be easier to play along and make her happy and then, when she'd left, I could get back into my cocoon. I wondered if it'd be rude to turn the TV back on while she was talking.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - TEX

  Another city, another festival appearance. Nothing ever changed. The minutes dragged and I counted off the days until the month was up and I could get back home. I was starting to hate the music because it was just an obstacle that came between me and Ruby.

  Devon dropped by my room to see if I wanted to go sightseeing before we headed to the festival ground. But I knew, with Devon, "sightseeing" meant finding the nearest bar and drinking until it was time to play. The temptation was strong but I preferred staying in my hotel room. After we'd beaten up that guy, I wanted to keep a low profile.

  "Let's just hang out here," I said. "Maybe we could watch something on the TV. Order room service. Live it up a bit."

  Devon gave me a salute and left. He acted like we were best mates since the fight and he really hadn't been irritating me as much lately. Brownie was a whole other story. Normally the peacemaker in the band, he'd given me the cold shoulder for the whole tour. No matter what, I would not apologise for what I’d said to his missus. She’d been way out of line and she should be the one apologising. Hell, if I'd known the money was such a big deal, I'd have paid them out of my own pocket but buggered if I'd do that now. Not after what she'd said to Ruby.

  It wasn't like him to hold a grudge. I'd known him most of our lives and he would always say what was on his mind. If he wanted to keep to himself though, he was welcome to it.

  I flicked through the channels on the TV. I couldn't even remember which city we were in.

  I'd gone through all those little bottles of booze they give you in the bar fridge until there was just the brandy left. Screw it, even that was tasting good.

  I hated to admit it but I was lonely. Sometimes I messaged Ruby but I didn't want to overdo it. I didn't want her to know I thought about her every moment of the day. She was still mad at me, I could tell, but what could I do when I was so far away?

  I could ring room service, maybe get a burger or something, but I ended up napping until it was time to leave. Some guy had joined us as tour manager so that Hannah could fly home. I hadn't spoken to him much but he came banging on my door when it was time to leave.

  Devon grinned at me as I got into the van. I knew that look. It meant he'd found some groupie and got his rocks off before he'd left the hotel. He'd probably have another one after the show too. The amount of whoring he did was excessive. Not that I was one to judge his morals, and it sure as hell wasn't interfering with his playing, I just hoped he was taking the proper precautions.

  He'd not been like that before. Well, maybe right at the start when we were kids without enough sense to know better. Once he started going out with Julie, all his womanising stopped. I'd have knocked his block off if it hadn’t, but even then, I think he was more scared of her than me.

  Brownie sat in the back corner of the bus, texting on his phone. The way he'd been on this tour, you'd think he was married to that bloody phone.

  He looked up. "Ruby says she's going to pay back the money we lost on the missing appearance. Does she have any idea how much that will be?"

  "She doesn't have to do that," I said. "If the money's an issue, you should've discussed it with me or with Hannah, kept it within the band."

  Devon's gaze shot from Brownie to me as though trying to figure out what was going on.

  "I can't tell Lizzie what to say. She's a free person."

  I shot him a look to let him know he should stop talking.

  "What happened wasn't Ruby's fault. I made the decision to cancel, not her. She wanted me to play but I couldn't leave her alone. If you or Lizzie have any issues, bring them to me. Your missus made a dick of herself, at Hannah's wedding of all places."

  Even though I'd been friends with Brownie since the beginning, that woman was poisoning him. She'd changed too. She'd seemed okay before. Now she was turning into one of those chicks who went nuts when they were getting married. What do they call them? Bridezillas?

  "Whatever." He shrugged. He didn't sound angry, just tired.

  I didn't think about it again. Not during the show, that's for sure. So, what Brownie said when we got off stage came as a bombshell.

  "I'm quitting the band. I'll fly home tomorrow." He calmly gathered up his stuff from our area, putting on his jacket, then taking a sip of water.

  The whole time, my mouth hung open. I had a thousand questions but couldn't even speak. Were my ears functioning properly? I looked to Devon for confirmation.

  "What did you say?" Devon asked.

  "I'm leaving the band. It's over."

  "What? Now? In the middle of the tour? We have two side shows to play this week?" Devon blocked Brownie's way. "You aren't leaving here without an explanation."

  "I'm too old. Too beyond all this. All I ever wanted to do was that one last gig and get enough money
together for the house. After we played that first festival, I'd have been happy to quit. I didn't want to make this my career. Never did."

  "So, what about the rest of the week? Surely you can hang on for the next two weeks. Then you can quit all you like." Devon shook with emotion. "Two weeks, mate, it's not that big a sacrifice."

  "If you want to leave, leave," I said.

  What else could I do? Brownie wasn't the type of guy who did things impulsively. He'd obviously thought this through. He must have had a lot more on his mind than I'd realised. Weird that he'd decided to quit now though. But I wasn't going to beg him to stay.

  Devon shot me a pleading look.

  "Don't do it, Brownie. You'll regret it. You'll regret it big time. You're throwing everything away. Christ, we’re going to be known as the flakiest band in history. It's not fair to leave in the middle of things like this."

  But Brownie walked off without answering.

  "Make sure you tell Hannah I had nothing to do with this," Devon yelled after him. "I'm on her shit list already."

  Devon and I looked at each other without talking. The backstage room seemed empty without Brownie.

  "His missus is going to kill him when she finds out," Devon said. "She's turned into a right bitch, that one. Some people can't handle money. It goes to their heads and does stupid things to them."

  "You reckon she doesn't know?"

  "Bet ya that's half the reason he's quit. Sick of her nagging on him to earn the big bucks. He was a poor bricklayer when she met him but she's got the taste for the fancy life. Have you seen those designer clothes she's been wearing lately? Head to toe outfits screaming 'look at how much money I have'."

  That made sense but I wondered if I had something to do with it. This whole tour had been a mess. I'd had my head up my own arse, thinking about how this tour hurt me, never once even thinking about Brownie. He always seemed so constant, just good old Brownie, doing his thing without a fuss. He wasn't one to talk about his feelings but something had definitely been brewing beneath the surface. I was the most shithouse friend ever. I could've asked him what was wrong or taken him out for a drink, just the two of us. I'd gotten shitty about him being on his phone all the time without ever asking why.