Bullet

by Jamison, Jade C.

  It was harder to tell what he was playing, because it was an electric guitar unplugged, but I was still able to make out the tune. When he kept playing the same notes over and over, I figured he’d worked out what he’d wanted to, and I crawled to the end of the bed and hugged him from behind. “Morning.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “I dunno. Whatcha doin’?”

  “Woke up with a tune in my head. Had to get it down. It’ll be a song in a week or two once the guys and I have at it. Wanna hear it?”

  “Sure.” So he played for me what he had, and I’d apparently missed a good part of what he’d worked on earlier. It wasn’t as hardcore a song as they usually played, but I wasn’t going to say a word. It was still good, a lovely melody…it just didn’t sound like Last Five Seconds. But what did I know? I knew nothing of their songwriting process. For all I knew, they all started out similar to this one. I kissed his neck. “It’s really good.”

  He grinned at me. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  I felt a little sad. This was our last morning together. We were heading home later that day, and I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to go back to what I’d considered my normal life for the past several months. But, oh...maybe he was feeling it too. Maybe that’s where the song had come from. I had to try to lighten the mood. I didn’t like the funky sad feeling in my chest. I leaned over and kissed his neck. “So…if I keep this up, who do I get this morning? Clay or Jet?”

  I paused, waiting for his answer. “I don’t know, but would you like to find out?”

  And that last morning, feeling like I was in a horrible funk, I got Jet in the shower begging me to talk dirty to him, but Clay holding me close in bed, and he said, “We’re gonna keep seeing each other once we’re back in Denver, right?”

  I smiled, feeling better already. He said aloud what I’d been thinking all morning, but I guess I felt the need to play it cool anyway. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “God, I’m glad you said that.”

  But it was still hard to get out of bed that morning.

  * * *

  It was weird returning. I still had my job, but my boss wanted to lecture me for ten minutes about how the team had suffered on my behalf. My coworkers weren’t quite so dramatic and even asked if I’d had a good time. One of my coworkers said she was happy she had more hours while I was away.

  Brad called a meeting to discuss our living quarters. After being on the road for two weeks in even tighter spaces, he was over our apartment and wanted to discuss future plans.

  I think we were all a little sick of each other. I couldn’t even imagine what a real tour would do to us, although I’m sure—had we been a “real” band on a “real” tour—we would have had more days off and professional drivers plus roadies. But we were doing all the work ourselves, and Brad was often picky about who drove. He let me drive once or twice, but he tended to be pretty overprotective of that van. I didn’t blame him, really. He’d sunk a lot of money into it.

  He acted the diplomat that day, though…just another way he earned my respect. We all sat in a circle in that little living room and Brad said, “Guys, we just finished something huge. Did we make a lot of money? Hell, no. If you’re feeling like me, you’re tired and can’t even begin to settle back in. I’m sorry about that. But I hope that taste makes you hungry again. I feel like we’ve just kinda been sittin’ on our laurels the past few months.”

  I surprised myself, because at first I agreed, but then I said, “In all fairness, Brad, I haven’t stopped writing. I’m constantly coming up with new stuff.”

  “Yeah. I give you that. Hell, we’re all doing some writing. I don’t think that’s the hard part. But how many of you are contributing around here?” Ethan sat up. “I’m not talking about doing the shit on the chore chart. That just keeps you in.” Ethan’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, but he was smart enough to keep his trap shut. “I’m sayin’…how many of us—myself included—go around promoting our shows, trying to sell advance tickets? How many of you guys ever even log onto our Facebook page and post to our fans?” I knew I hadn’t done that, even though Brad had made us all admins so we could post anytime we wanted to. “Did you guys know we actually have over five hundred fans?”

  Zane said, “Fuckin’ serious?”

  “Yeah. But we can do better. Val and I are busting our asses earning extra cash for if we need it. Don’t want a job? Fine. Then represent us…on Facebook. Get a Twitter account going. Make flyers and pass them out around town. Ethan, you have that fuckin’ sick computer and software, and I’ve seen some of the shit you can do. You should be all over that. But then get the word out there. Talk us up. Find new cool merch for us to sell. That’s a steady stream of money, even when we play free gigs. But I can’t keep doing it all, guys. I book us the shows. Help me out.”

  Nick looked guilty, but both Ethan and Zane nodded. Brad continued. “I’m not saying the music’s not important, but if we don’t do this other shit, no one will care what we’re writing.”

  Zane said, “We need to record more of our stuff too.”

  “That we do, so why don’t you find a place for us to record on the cheap?”

  “On it.”

  Brad got quiet, and I could tell he had something else to say. He took a deep breath. “As for our living arrangement…I just can’t take this anymore. It’s too close, too tight. I feel like I’m constantly on top of one of you motherfuckers. I need some space. This just ain’t cuttin’ it.”

  Zane piped in again. “Agreed, man, but you know the price of rent. No fuckin’ way we’ll survive here in separate apartments.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. You guys know we’re on a month-to-month here. I found a three-bedroom apartment. It’s more than what we pay here, but I don’t give a shit. I can’t do this anymore. This place is also unfurnished, meaning we’ll have to buy our own stuff, but these bedrooms will fit twin beds. That means we’ll all have a real bed. I need that, guys. I really do.”

  Zane said, “Yeah…that’d be nice.”

  Nick, Ethan, and I nodded. Yes, I’d already had my own room, but I had to share closet and drawer space. An arrangement like this might mean my room would completely be my room. So I smiled but kept my trap shut.

  “A lot of the shit we’ll need, we’ll have to go to secondhand stores to get or buy some of that cheap-ass assembly stuff at Walmart, but I need this.” We all nodded our heads again, letting Brad know we approved. “You guys already got some money from the past two weeks, right?” He waited for us to nod again. “I socked away the rest. We actually made a lot, even after the motels, gas, and food were taken out, and I think it’ll get us started.”

  In Brad I trusted. And with good reason. The guy had a good head on his shoulders, and he was constantly thinking ahead.

  He couldn’t have anticipated that we’d go for a few months without a couch, and we’d only have one dresser for a while. But it was all okay. The new apartment not only had another bedroom, but it also had bigger spaces all the way around. It had a fridge and a stove, and we’d get everything else later. It was just in better shape from all angles, and I was glad to pay more for it, because it was worth it. But—not knowing these things at the time and hopeful anyway—we packed, excited for our new home.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  CLAYTON AND I were tentative, not knowing really how to continue our relationship now that we were back in our real lives. I lived in Denver, but Clay actually lived in Centennial. It wasn’t too far away, but I couldn’t walk there, and I still had no car. We talked on the phone but my work schedule and his life were having a hard time meshing. Half a week we’d been back, and we still hadn’t seen each other. Finally, though, it was a Thursday night and I got off earlier than I’d thought I was going to, so I thought maybe we could make it work.

  I called his phone and waited for him to pick up. When he did, he seemed distracted. “My girl. What’s up?”

  “Got of
f work early. I know we planned on hooking up Sunday, but I’m dying to see you.”

  “Oh…I, uh…I really can’t, Val. I’m sorry.”

  I felt like I was getting a blow off, but I also realized I was probably just being emotional and feeling insecure. After spending two intense, mind-blowing weeks with the man, going just four days without him was like torture. I felt like I was experiencing withdrawal symptoms, and to have to wait longer…

  Well, still…I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice. And I was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t keep that out of my voice, hard as I tried. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you Sunday then.” And I hung up the phone before the first tear really did fall. Maybe I could keep myself from crying by doing that. I heard him say my name before I was able to punch the End button, but I closed my eyes and willed the tears back.

  Rather than have a blotchy, tear-streaked face, I jumped in the shower and held my face under the warm stream. Home early or not, I decided I was just going to hit the hay. Again, the guys and I still needed some time apart, so I didn’t feel like socializing. I wouldn’t have wanted to anyway, because I was feeling sorry for myself.

  So once I toweled off and combed out my hair, I threw on a pair of panties and a t-shirt and crawled into bed. But it wasn’t five minutes later that I heard a knock on my bedroom door. “Yeah?”

  “Val?” It was Brad. “Jet’s here. Did you wanna see him?”

  My heart leapt into my throat, and I found it hard to speak. But yes. Hell, yes. I wanted to see him. And I probably looked like complete shit…a drowned rat. And after being all pathetic, I didn’t want to go psycho girl on him. So I just said, “Yeah, okay.” It was early summer, still light in my room, so I just got up and walked to the door.

  When I opened it, he was there, right there, and I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face. So I took him into my arms and just held him close. He said in my ear, “I missed you too.” I felt two tears squeeze out. I couldn’t help it. He kissed me and then he said, “Are you crying?”

  I pursed my lips together. I was not going to be pathetic. I smiled. “No.”

  He squeezed my shoulders. “I need to tell you something. Can we sit down?”

  Oh, shit. I didn’t like the sound of that. But we sat on my bed, and he took his hands in mine. “Val…there’s something I haven’t told you, something you don’t know, and I need to just tell you and get it over with. And I’m sorry I never said anything before, but fuck. I didn’t expect us to get so serious so fast.” I nodded. I hadn’t either. He held my hands and looked me in the eyes, but his expression was pained. What the hell did he have to say? He took a deep breath. “I have a daughter.” I blinked. A daughter? It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Okay, though, that was okay, right? Clay was in his late twenties by my estimation (I’d never asked), so I supposed it wasn’t too big a stretch that he could be a dad. “I have her two nights a week whenever it works in my schedule, and I’m picking her up tonight.”

  Okay, I could be cool about it. “How old is she?”

  “Five.”

  I had to be cool with it. If I wasn’t, well, then, we’d never work. So I asked, “What’s her name?”

  “Jasmine.”

  “Oh. That’s pretty.”

  “She’s a pretty little girl.” Okay. I could do this. I was doing this. We could survive this. “But there’s something else you need to know.”

  It couldn’t be worse, could it? I nodded. But I knew it would be. Why else would he save it for last? “Okay.”

  I saw him clench his jaw. “I’m married.”

  I blinked again. Surely, I hadn’t heard him right. But I searched his eyes. He was serious. I looked down at his left hand. No ring. What the hell? I felt confused. Shit. That was why he’d been avoiding me since we’d gotten back. He was hiding me from his wife. Oh, fucking hell. I could feel the blood begin to boil, and I was ready to go apeshit all over his ass.

  But he saw that in me and he said, almost in a panic, “It’s not what you think, Val.” He started talking rapidly. “We’ve been separated for three and a half years. We just never paid for the divorce. It costs a lot of money, and it’s a pain in the ass. But I’m on the up-and-up. I swear. I pay child support for Jas. We’ve worked out visitation. And my ex has had the same boyfriend for two years. It’s a marriage in name only now. I swear.” I nodded slowly, taking in the info. I believed him. Why wouldn’t I? It was just weird. And it wasn’t like I wanted to marry him. It was just a lot to take in. He kissed me on first one cheek and then the other. “Don’t cry, baby. I swear I’m telling you the truth. I can take you to meet Abby anytime you want, and she’ll verify everything I’m telling you.”

  “The wife?”

  “The ex…yes.”

  “No, I believe you. It’s just…a shock.”

  He kissed me and then pulled me close to his chest. “It’s not a secret. Most people who know me know about it, and I didn’t think to tell you. And then we got back and real life hit and…I just realized I needed to tell you now. When I heard you on the phone…” He still held me up against his chest and he was stroking my damp hair. Finally he said, “Jesus…I want to make love to you right now. This is killing me. But I gotta go pick up Jas, or Abby’ll be ragging my ass again about how irresponsible I am.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, go. You gotta go. It’s okay.”

  “You sure?”

  I nodded again, a deliberate move. I had to be cool about this, even if I decided after he left that I really wasn’t. For now, though, he needed to be a good dad for his daughter, and he couldn’t be if I was falling apart, bawling all over him.

  “Yeah, of course.” I didn’t realize how tightly I was clamping my jaw until he placed his fingers under my chin so he could coax my lips to his.

  I did my best to relax, but it was hard. “You’re not okay with this, are you?”

  “I am, Clay. I just…need some time.”

  He nodded, his eyes searching mine. “I can do that.” And his next kiss…whew. I think we both felt the passion simmering underneath, but he had to go and I needed some time. So after, I just placed my head back on his chest and held him for a little bit.

  “You need to go.”

  “Yeah.”

  I asked him to wait a second, that I wanted to walk him out. I wasn’t sure who was still home and who wasn’t, but I didn’t want Clay having to deal with Ethan. I threw on a pair of sweatpants and then grabbed his hand, walking him out.

  Zane and Ethan were in the living room watching a movie on the television we got a couple of months earlier. There was a girl next to Zane. That was interesting…and cool. But I focused on my guy, and we walked into the hallway. I didn’t want my potentially emotional goodbye broadcast to my roommates. But it was fine. He kissed me one more time and then said, “You’re okay, right?” I nodded. “Still on for Sunday?”

  “Yeah.” I made myself smile. He walked away, but I could tell it was hard for him. I didn’t know how I felt. Should he feel guilty for not telling me before? Maybe. But I couldn’t hold that against him. Our time on the road really did feel like another world, and we’d never talked too much before we’d hooked up—teasing innuendos, flirtatious back-and-forths, but never any serious talk. There was so much we didn’t know about each other. We’d just spent time letting our passions consume ourselves and now, back in the real world, I wondered how much I didn’t know…and if I could learn to live with it. Only time would tell.

  I turned around and placed my hand on the doorknob. I had a lot of thinking to do, but tonight I just wanted to sleep. So when Ethan was right there when I came through the door, I was not in the mood. He was just staring at me and standing in my way. I could go around him, but it would have made our interaction that much more overly dramatic. “What, Ethan?”

  “Seriously, Val? You’re still seeing him?”

  I let out a breath. “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone kno
ws there are people you fuck on tour, whether it’s groupies or some shit like you’re doing. But then you go back home and things go back to normal.”

  I stared at him. “If you think you and I are resuming our relationship, you’re seriously mistaken.”

  “But you’re gonna see that asshole?”

  “He’s not an asshole, Ethan.” I hadn’t planned to say more than that, but the look on Ethan’s face—the one that made me want to punch the shit out of him—spurred me on. “He’s a sweet, considerate guy, and he actually gives a shit about my feelings.”

  I saw something in Ethan’s eyes shift, as though they could grow colder while I watched. His voice was low when he said, “That why he made you cry?”

  Oh, God. He could tell I’d been crying? Well, of course, he could. I knew my face would get blotchy and red, and my eyes were probably lined in red too. Had I been crying that much? I just said, “That’s none of your business,” and pressed my hands to his chest as though to push him away. And that’s when I realized I still loved Ethan too, no matter what a shit he had been. But I made myself go to my bedroom where alone I could deal with the mess that was my life.

  * * *

  Clay and I actually survived his revelation, and he even pitched in to help us move when the time came. Our relationship cooled a little, mostly because of real life obligations. Not only was he not close by like he’d been on tour, but we both had other things going on. I didn’t know, for instance, that Clay worked in a music store three days a week. A very cool job but one that made him less available…not that I would have ever felt like he should be at my beck and call.

  But if it had been just real life pressures, our relationship would probably have weathered them. Instead, it turned out that he and I were quite different. It’s not that we didn’t try. God knows it’s not because we didn’t try, because what I appreciated most about Clay was the woman inside me he’d invited out to play. When I’d been with Ethan, much as I’d enjoyed the sex, I’d felt like it was all for him. Yes, he made sure I climaxed most of the time, but the act wasn’t focused on me (not that it always had to be). In fact, I felt like sometimes I was lucky to be in the same room. With Clay, though, he was all about me…or us, really. And he liked to play. He was fun. And it was about both of us. I even started experiencing some deeper, crazier emotions for the man, and I didn’t know how to stop feeling that way, didn’t want to…but I did eventually. The more time we spent apart combined with getting to know each other better did that. I started to feel like our passion had been like a star burning bright—hot and white—but we were now cooling, slowing down, adjusting…and on tour we’d been perfect for each other. Away…not so much.