Rocked in the Dark

by Clara Bayard

  “Come back to apologize?”

  I replied through gritted teeth. “No. Do you have a phone on you?”

  “Why?”

  “Mine is dead and I need to call someone to let me out of here.”

  “What?”

  I gaped at him. “The lights are out.”

  “Obviously,” he said evenly.

  “The door is locked, too. I don’t want to spend another second in this theater.” I left off the ‘with you’ part, but it was strongly implied in my tone.

  Rick shrugged. “My phone’s in my hotel room. Don’t bring it to rehearsals.”

  “Great.”

  “Relax, Jules. I’m sure they’ll come unlock it soon.”

  “Ugh. Do not call me Jules. I hate that.” That wasn’t true. It was a nickname I actually liked. But not coming from him.

  “Fine, Your Royal Highness, Princess Julia.”

  “Dick,” I muttered before leaving the room again.”

  “Hey,” he called out. “Where are you going?”

  “Up front so I can be by the door when it opens.”

  I heard some clanging and then he was right behind me. “I’ll join you.”

  “How wonderful for me,” I said.

  Seeing was still a problem until we got onto the stage, but I pretty much knew my way by then. Rick seemed to have no issues navigating the crowded corridors, even burdened down with the two six-packs of beer and plate of food he carried.

  Once we climbed down the stairs to the theater floor, I sped up, making my way up the aisle and away from him. I tried the door again, to no avail.

  Rick, in the meantime, had plopped himself down in a seat nearby and started drinking again.

  “Are you being calm about this just to piss me off?”

  He laughed. “No, but it’s an added bonus. Why are you so jumpy about this?”

  “I just don’t like being trapped, okay? Any normal person would be bothered by this situation.”

  “Okay, whatever.” He held up a beer. “Why don’t you have a drink and chill out.”

  The only reason I could think to refuse was because he offered. Not wanting to be that contrary, I nodded and walked over to grab the still ice-cold bottle. I perched on a seat across the aisle from him and took a sip. The beer soothed the parched throat I hadn’t even noticed and in spite of myself, I did start to relax. Enough to declare a silent truce with Rick as long as we were stuck together.

  “So, have you been to Vegas before?”

  He grunted, but didn’t say anything.

  “Uh, excited to get back on the road?”

  Nothing at all this time. I waited a while, got halfway through my beer before trying again.

  “Are you really going to sit there and not say anything?”

  Silence again.

  “Ugh, fine. I try to be polite and you can’t even manage that. You’re such a jerk.”

  Finally, he spoke. “Keep calling me names, sweetheart. I’ll start to think you like me.”

  “How could anyone like you?”

  Rick laughed. It was a low rumbling sound, resonant and full of derision. “Fair enough. I’m not the kind of guy to blow smoke up anyone’s ass. I don’t care if no one likes me. That’s the different between us.”

  “What the fuck are you even talking about?” I was on my feet in a flash. “You don’t even know me.”

  He scoffed. “Of course I do. Everyone knows you, Julia. Little Miss Perfect gone bad. You were America’s sweetheart and then your career ended. You were a has-been in your training bra.”

  What stung the most is he was right. That’s who I was for a long time. But not anymore.

  “Knowing about my past isn’t knowing anything about me, Rick. You don’t know shit.”

  Now he stood too.

  “I know you’re a joke. A gimmick for the label to sell tickets. A fucking sideshow act. And you’re too stupid to even see it. Stomping around here in your ‘fuck me’ shoes and perfect hair like you’re hot stuff. Like this is your tour. But it ain’t. Any one of a hundred rude little has-beens would have been able to fill your place.”

  “Bullshit. I worked hard to get here.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. We saw some of your little web videos. Cute stuff.”

  “Oh, I get it,” I said, blood pumping and voice getting louder and louder. “ You’re pissed because you don’t think I deserve to be here. Because I used to be famous. Well what the fuck did you do to earn this? Tap out a beat behind the real stars of your band?”

  “Don’t you fucking say a word about my band,” he snarled, getting up in my face again.

  “Hit a little close to home, Ricky?”

  “No.”

  “I think I did. Well let me tell you something. If you lived my life you’d have given up a long time ago. I fought my way back from nothing. Made a new career for myself. Me. No band members to stand behind or next to. No label babysitting me every step of the way. I wrote and sang and fought and earned this. And no one, especially a bitchy bully like you is going to get in my way.”

  “What did you just call me?”

  “A bully. A semi-talented asshole who lucked out. Everyone knows Joe and Dex are the core of Dream Defiled. You’re just the big mean guy in the back. Without them you’d be nowhere. And considering that festering pile of shit you call a personality, you’re lucky they haven’t dropped you yet.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No. You know what? Every person I talked to about working with you guys warned me about you.” I thought about Becca and the hint of pain in her eyes when she mentioned him. “How cruel you are. And you save the worst for women, don’t you? Be mean to girls who are no match for you. I bet you’d never talk to a man that way. No, you’re a scared little boy, not a man. But that shit isn’t going to fly with me. You may scare some girls, but not me.”

  “So you’re a tough one, huh? Big, bad Julia?”

  “Damn right. So watch your mouth around me.”

  He crowded into me, red faced enough that I could see it in the dark, chest heaving with anger. I could smell the scent of beer on his breath when he opened his mouth to speak.

  “No one talks to me like that.”

  “I do, Ricky. I do. What are you going to do about it?”

  The world stopped as we stood there glaring at each other. His eyes bored deep down into me. I was shaking with rage. The lights could have gone on, door opened, a troupe of singing acrobats could have circled us and I wouldn’t have noticed.

  All that existed was Rick and the boiling soup of emotions he elicited from me.

  “What do you think I’m gonna do?”

  “How do I know? I’ve never heard one nice thing about you. For all I know you’re a psychopath.”

  “I’m not.” His words came in short, sharply punctuated exhalations.

  “Then what are you?”

  “A man who will only take so much.”

  “Take so much before what? You gonna throw me over your knee and spank me for talking back?”

  “You’d probably love that.”

  “Try it, asshole. Put one finger on me and see what happens.”

  He just stared for a moment, but I watched his gaze slide lower, away from my eyes down to my mouth.

  My tongue darted out to lick my dry lips and then the whole world went insane.

  Rick grabbed my arms and pulled me against his body, mouth crushing mine in a kiss that was more like combat than anything else. His tongue drove inside my mouth furiously, while his fingers dug into my skin hard enough to bruise.

  In the back of my head a voice was screaming to hit him, make him stop. I hated him. The very idea of kissing him was revolting. Actually doing it was…fucking amazing. Like, light-headed, can’t breathe, and never want it to stop amazing. He was rough and fast and hard and holy cow. Every inch of my body came alive, humming and twisting. I found myself grasping at him blindly, clinging to the cotton-covered steel of his arms and back.
r />   I am neither a blushing virgin nor a delicate flower, but I was overwhelmed and weak in the knees within seconds. This kiss was more intense than anything I could ever remember experiencing. Any concerns and doubts evaporated. All thought ceased.

  The only thing I knew was pleasure. His hands skimming my hips and pulling me closer to the hard line of his body. The ripple of muscles under his skin as I ran them up under the back of his shirt. Things deep within my body coiling tighter and tighter.

  And then, when I was dizzy with desire and lack of air, he stopped. Released me and took one step backwards.

  Rick’s eyes were hooded and bright, his jaw clenching and unclenching over and over again.

  I raised a finger to my lips, as if testing to see if it was all real.

  “What the fuck was that?” he asked, staring at me.

  I just shook my head, unable to speak and unsure what I would even say.

  “Say something,” he ordered, voice hoarse.

  “What?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Now you want to be nice? Too late.”

  I frowned.

  “Good god, don’t do that.”

  “Huh?”

  “That look on your face. Like you can barely stand to be in the same room as me.”

  I raised my hands. “Well…”

  “Stop it. I can’t take it.” His hands fisted by his sides and I could see the flush in his cheeks spread down his neck to disappear under his t-shirt.

  Having no idea what he meant, all I could do was ask, “Why?”

  He groaned. “It’s so incredibly sexy.”

  I smiled, surprised. “You’re nuts.”

  “Apparently.” He turned his head as if trying to make sense of it all, and something about the line of his neck or his profile or his lips or his hands or any of the million things I’d suddenly discovered about him took me over again.

  This time I was the one who pounced. Practically climbed him like a tree, throwing my whole body at him without thought or care. We crashed together again and it was even better this time. His teeth scraped over my swelling lips. Pain and pleasure. My skin heated where his fingers curled around the back of my neck. He stepped backward and slid down the back of the row of seats so we were in a tangle of limbs and breathless desire on the floor.

  Nothing as specific as thoughts were going on in my brain for the next few minutes. I was awash in confusion and arousal, just being there, doing that. Rick’s fingers danced nimbly over my skin. In constant motion, stopping nowhere, he just touched me. Everywhere.

  In return, I bit down on his lower lip, tasting and tugging. My hips ground against him, pushing closer and closer. Heat from our bodies and the frantic rub of fabric against fabric left me sweating and panting. Desperate and yet strangely unhurried, we grappled. There was no romance, but so much passion.

  His teeth closed around the delicate skin of my neck and he bit down. Hard enough to make me squirm, but not from pain, exactly. It was heady torture – exquisite and beyond understanding.

  My whole body was starting to tremble when a loud sound dragged our attention away from each other and over to the source of the noise – the door. It hung open a crack and the equally shocked and horrified look on Becca’s face was like being doused with gallons of ice water. I sprung up and backed away from Rick. Like I could pretend something – anything – else was going on.

  “The door wouldn’t open,” I muttered lamely.

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat and looked everywhere but at us.

  It was an impulse I could understand. My eyes managed to avoid any part of the room remotely close to Rick, though my skin was still humming from his touch.

  “Well, um…” Becca stopped and looked blank for a moment. “Oh, right. The lights thing. They’re going to do some work. Problems all down the Strip apparently, and this section of the hotel isn’t completely wired into the system yet. So…we have the rest of the day off.”

  “Oh.” I stared at her. “I guess I’ll go, then. Thanks for uh…letting me out.”

  “Sure.”

  It’s possible there had been more awkward moments in my life, but I sure as hell couldn’t think of any.

  I walked past her and out the door without sparing a glance for the man I’d just been mauling. On shaky legs I wandered around until I found my way to the elevator and went upstairs.

  Once inside my room I went over to the mirror and gasped at what I saw. As if the mussed hair, limps plumped and red, and somewhat rumpled clothes weren’t bad enough, there was the beginning of what could only be a massive hickey on my neck. Evidence. Lasting proof that I’d lost my mind and…ugh, I couldn’t even think the words for what I’d done. And got caught doing on the first damn day of rehearsals.

  Kill me now.

  FOUR

  By the next morning I’d devised a brilliant strategy to make up for the day before. I stayed in my hotel room with the door locked, room phone and cell phone off, and the “do not disturb” sign on the door. Aside from the nice room service guy who brought me coffee and croissants, I didn’t see anyone at all.

  None of this is to suggest I enjoyed the time alone. The person I really wanted to avoid was myself, a feat I couldn’t accomplish without a probably deadly amount of drugs. And that was not going to be my legacy. The stories would say things like, “Found dead from an apparent overdose on the eve of her comeback.”

  Nope.

  So, I did what I do. I worked. Mastered a tricky section of a new arrangement for “This Waking” and reviewed a dozen tapes of backing bands. All of them were fine, of course. They always are. Some random team at the record label probably narrowed the list down from hundreds without a second thought to the things that would matter to me. But they could play and memorize my songs in time for the tour. That’s what the suits cared about.

  I narrowed the options down to three. They had female singers who could harmonize with my voice well, and enough variety in their tapes that I knew they’d be able to handle the range of songs on my album and the few I was still working on.

  My album.

  That felt good to think about. Finally, after all these years, I was doing it. I thought back to one of the worst days of my life, and how, in a terrible way, it had led to me finding my real dream and following it.

  There were tears in my eyes but I barely noticed. “Where is she?”

  “Jules, calm down. You need to calm down.”

  “No!” I screamed and smacked the glass partition, making it shake. The dozen other people in the waiting room stared. “Tell me where she is.”

  My mother sighed and tried to put her arm around me. I slapped it away.

  “Don’t touch me. Don’t you fucking touch me.”

  “Lower your voice and watch your language, young lady.”

  “Go to hell. Tell me right now or I’ll find her myself.”

  She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “She’s upstairs. But Jules, you can’t go up there. You’re not allowed.”

  “You just don’t want me to see her. You’re happy about this. This is what you want.”

  “Honey, please. I know you’re upset. But there’s no reason to be cruel.”

  “I’m not cruel. This is cruel. She needs me. She loves me.” I twisted the bottom of my ponytail around my finger and kicked at the floor. “Please,” I said, lowering my voice, finally. “Please just tell me where to go.”

  She sighed again and looked at me for a long time. “She’s in intensive care. And you’re fourteen and not a family member. They won’t let you go up there.”

  I sobbed. “I am her family. She’s my family. Mama, please…”

  It was calling her “Mama” that did it, I’m sure. She put a hand lightly on my shoulder and looked deep into my eyes.

  “Stay here for a minute and keep quiet, okay? I’ll see what I can do.”

  I nodded and sniffed. My head was stuffy like I had a cold or something.

  She wal
ked over to the counter, bent over and spoke to the woman there. She was short and round, pleasant looking in the pink scrubs. They conferred for what felt like a million years and then my mother turned to look at me. She beckoned me over with one long, manicured fingernail. Red as blood, I thought.

  “Honey,” the woman behind the counter said, “I’m gonna do this for you, but you gotta be quick, okay?”

  “I promise. Thank you.”

  She smiled a little and handed me a slip of paper. “Take this pass up to the third floor. She’s in bed twelve.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ve got maybe ten minutes. If someone stops you, turn around and come back down. Don’t make a fuss, okay? I’ll get in trouble.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She smiled again. “You’re a sweet girl. No matter what all those papers say, I knew you would be. Me and my girls have seen every episode of King of Hearts. That man who plays your daddy is so handsome. Anyway, we love the show.”

  “Thanks,” I said, but I was already gone.

  As soon as I could, I ran to the elevator and punched the button for the third floor. I left my mother and everyone else behind. Nothing mattered but getting to Jessica.

  But when I got upstairs and found her room, I slowed down. I was scared. All by myself surrounded by loud machines and that horrible antiseptic smell.

  I pushed through. For her.

  Opening the curtain that partially hid her bed, I held my breath, praying it wouldn’t be scary or gross. It wasn’t. Which, in a way, was worse.

  Jessica was just there. In bed like she was napping, except for the tubes and wires that snaked from under the sheet to the machines crowding the tiny space.

  “Jess?” I whispered.

  Her eyes opened slowly. The tube up her nose shifted as she smiled. “Hey, kiddo.”

  “Don’t call me ‘kiddo’” I said reflexively. It was our thing. A little private joke from the first day we met. I’d been such a little brat to her. But she’d just laughed it off and promised we’d be the best of friends soon. She was right about that. And so much else.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Awesome. Hand me my shoes and we can go dancing.”

  I could feel the tears dripping down my face as I went over and perched on the edge of the bed. “Is this okay?”