1988
“That Stacy Henry your mother introduced me to.” Chris tied the laces of his rental skates. “Can I… fuck her?” He whispered the last words.
Translation—can she be a one night stand. I shook my head. Speaking Chris wasn’t easy, but after so many years, I was fluent.
Stacy was the daughter of one of my mother’s bookclub friends. Twenty-seven, single, and worked at the convenience store her parents owned. The sweet little thing weighed less than a hundred pounds, had the face of a china doll and ebony color hair to contrast her ivory skin. Pretty, but fragile. Not someone who would fit the fast and hard style of Chris Decker, and definitely a girl who was searching for Mr. Right. A real nice boy who would settle down. Chris would never be her Mr. Right.
“But that petite girl has a nice rack,” he grinned.
“What’s a rack?” Claire, my niece, asked. I slammed a hand on my forehead.
“Remind me to keep my children away from you,” I scolded him. “At least until they’re teenagers.”
“Probably a wise decision, Gabe, I’ll teach them about life when they’re old enough to understand.” Chris’s attention turned to Claire and he pointed at the blade of the skates. “This is a nice rack, sweetheart.”
“No.” Claire shook her head, her eyes narrowing on him. “That’s a blade.”
“Ah, I didn’t know.” He shrugged. “Thank you for correcting me.”
Elated, Claire took his hand and guided him to the ice. I followed behind them laughing at the smart, yet stupid way he handled his slip-up with my niece. At least he wasn’t crude with her and told her without filters that he meant Stacy’s breasts.
Chris and Claire walked around the pond a couple of times before Claire became irritated and told him to skate; that he had to glide through the ice and showed him how. Her attention to Chris disappeared and she joined her cousins.
“She’s cute,” Chris told me. “Makes me want to have one for like five seconds.”
Chris began to skate all by himself, and we joined the family. My nieces and nephews were being silly and began to play tag. Claire, of course, thought it was funny to tag the adults and who better than Chris to be her victim, as he didn’t skate as fast as the rest of us.
Of course, the moment she touched him, he lost his footing and I barely made it to catch him before he hit the ice.
“You okay?” I supported his weight as he tried to balance himself. His pale face and worried eyes scared me some. “I can help you to the bench.”
“No, I’m good.” He dusted off his arms. “I won’t break, dude.” He pushed me lightly and said, “By the way, you’re it.”
Chris sped away following Claire who laughed and pointed at me after Chris high-fived her. Damn they got me.
After an hour on the ice, we headed back home. None of the kids wanted to leave because Chris had been fun to play with. He promised to go again the day after Christmas, to which Mom said that he was on his own—unless I decided to join them. Which, of course, I would. I didn’t have much time with my family and when I came home to visit, I liked to spend every minute with all of them.
“What are you doing, Gabe? I’m making hot cocoa for everyone,” Mom said as we arrived and I headed to the kitchen to prepare some coffee.
“Yes, but I doubt Chris would like that.” I grabbed the filters for the coffee maker. “Plus, if you want him to last until after midnight mass, this is your best bet, Mom.”
Mom frowned as I continued with the task of taking a mug, filling it with some milk and a couple of spoonfuls of sugar, and then poured the coffee once it was ready.
“Janine, would you mind if I steal a cup of coffee?” Chris asked pointing at the pot.
“Wouldn’t you like some hot chocolate, son?” she responded with a question in that sweet mothering voice.
“No, thank you. I don’t like chocolate, Janine,” I handed him the mug with the coffee I finished preparing for him, and he took a few sips. “Heaven. Thanks, dude. I’m heading back with Claire. She’s teaching me how to play Candyland.”
Mom smiled at him and looked at Dad, who frowned at me.
“Who doesn’t like chocolate?” he sounded indignant. “At least he’s good with the kids. He’s going to stay away from that Henry girl, isn’t he?”
“James, don’t be like that,” Mom prompted him. “He’s a nice boy. You shouldn’t believe everything those television people say about rock stars.”
Yes he should and you too, Mom. I almost said.
“Mom, it’ll be best if he stays away from Stacy.” I stayed one hundred percent behind Dad. “Chris isn’t moving here and Stacy isn’t a city girl.”
Dad gave me a light smile that Mom couldn’t see as she continued preparing the hot chocolate.
“How about you, Gabe?” Mom was about to give me the usual lecture. “When are you going to settle down with a nice girl?”
“Soon, Mom,” I lied.
So far, the department of nice girls in LA was empty, they had a waiting list and I decided not to put down my name on it. I hadn’t met anyone worth more than a one night stand. No, I still haven’t even fucked anyone since the tour. Damn, I needed to put myself back out in the market. At least get laid while I waited for the famous nice girl Mom swore would come around.
“One of these days I’ll surprise you,” I continued. “Maybe you’ll hear about it from the news before I tell you that I’ve found a nice girl.”
Satisfied, she smiled as she placed three small marshmallows and chocolate chips in the hot cocoas for the children.
“Someday soon you’ll bring your children home for the holidays, and we’ll take them to the pond,” she handed me a mug and smiled at me.
I wasn’t against the idea, but the word soon didn’t fit my plans or my life.
1988
After a long first day of shooting Journey’s End, I walked towards my car when I spotted Abby standing next to the parking lot gate and checking her watch.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I scanned her from head to toe.
The tight tank top she wore left nothing to the imagination. Her snug jeans made my cock push against the crotch of my own slacks. I wouldn’t mind taking her home for the night, or having a quick encounter with her in the back of the car.
“Yes,” she responded. “I let my sister borrow my car and she is late—as usual.” She blew out some air and checked her watch again.
“I can give you a ride if you want.” This time I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Yes, I’ll take you up on your offer.” I jerked my head back and suppressed the smile that her answer brought to my face.
We climbed in my car and instead of asking where to, I changed my tune, “I’m heading for dinner, join me.”
“I’d like that,” she looked out the window.
I drove my new red convertible BMW toward one of the hamburger joints Chris and I used to frequent. She ordered only a shake while I ordered the usual; a double patty with tomato, pickles, and onion with a side of fries.
“This is different,” she commented as the waitress left, her delicate eyebrows arched above her beautiful green eyes. “I like it.”
“Peaceful, since they don’t expect anyone famous,” my gaze rested on her, enjoying her soft features.
Without hesitation, I grabbed her hand and caressed the knuckles of her fingers with my thumb. Her face turned a beautiful pink and a faint giggle escaped her throat.
Maybe I could see myself with her, I thought.
I could give her a try or at least ride her along for the next eight weeks of filming.
“What are you thinking?” her lips extended into a bright smile. “You’re too serious Gabe, I hope you’re not regretting the invitation.”
“No, I’m pleased with my decision.”
&nbs
p; I scarfed the hamburger down and within ten minutes, we left the place. One thing I lost while hanging out with Chris had been the finesse to court women.
Abby gave me directions to her place and when we arrived, I walked her to the door. Instead of giving her a tender kiss and thanking her for the lovely ten minutes, I rammed her against the door and took over her lips. My tongue didn’t wait; it pushed over her lips demanding entrance and within seconds, she succumbed to the forceful domination.
“I want inside you,” I broke the kiss and murmured in her ear.
Yes, I lost all my diplomacy on that dreadful tour.
A gasp was her only response. She opened the door and as I shut it, I began to undress her.
“I like it hard,” she said between shallow breaths. Instead of heading to her room, I pushed her onto the couch.
I fondled her swollen nipples that hardened with my touch while Abby undid my pants and swiped them down as she kneeled.
“No, baby, don’t do that,” I lifted her chin as she tried to suck my dick. “If you do, I’ll come within seconds. You can blow me another day.”
She licked her lips twice and in exchange for the offer of the BJ, I went down on her. My tongue and my teeth worked fast as she rammed her clit against my face. I fucked her with three of my fingers while inserting my thumb through her back entrance. As I continued sucking her clit, nibbling and feasting on it, I heard her screams and in seconds, her pussy began to spasm around my fingers. Fuck, I was ready to be inside her.
I couldn’t wait, my cock was ready. I placed the condom on and thrust into her without mercy. In and out while placing two fingers through her other entrance. Damn, I missed that part of fucking, having another cock in that hole rubbing against mine while sending the woman to oblivion. It took me longer than usual to come and my orgasm didn’t have the same intensity it used to.
“That was… ” Abby was out of words when she came back from the blissful place I had sent her to.
“I know, babe.” I kissed her mouth hard. “Stick around for more.”
She didn’t move as I dressed, I kissed her one more time and left her house.
By the third week of shooting the movie, Abby and I were inseparable. However, our relationship involved Abby, the paparazzi, and me. No matter where we went—drinking coffee, hitting the gym, having dinner, going to the movies—real movies—premieres, shows—they would snap a picture.
Are they engaged? Is she pregnant?
Our lives became a circus; we couldn’t breathe without it being published. We lived in a prison for more than four months.
The romance burnt out within the first month, as I had to fight cameras, headlines, and stalkers.
Between filming, editing, promoting, and interviews about the movie and our nominations, we didn’t talk much about our relationship. I stayed at her place some days, but there were nights neither one had the energy to leave their own home.
“Are you drinking?” Chris asked me one night.
“No, Father,” I responded.
“Don’t get smart with me, you know why I’m asking,” he continued. “You sound worn down, that’s a reason to start. Soon you’ll opt to celebrate by drinking out of the bottle because it’s easier to deal with everything that is going on or ignore it.”
“I drink mostly water, Christian, you know that.”
It was a habit I developed while I toured with him. Everyone around him drank while he kept nursing a glass of water all night.
Two perhaps.
I joined him as a sign of solidarity, and I continued the habit to this day.
“I heard Terminal on the radio,” I burted. The best way to change subjects, talk about him. Well, the new band that he signed with under our label. “They’re good.”
“See, I knew you’d dig the Grunge shit,” he said with an easy voice. “All that indie and alternative stuff is more up your ally. I have three more bands I’m working with, and I know you’re going to dig them too. Plus, I’m recording a solo album.”
“Who did you steal shit from to write about?” He snorted as I inquired about the obvious. He must have met a chick who was crying for the ex, fucked her and got her story. “You know, Chris, if things go belly down with Abby, you can fuck her and extract all her heartbreaking shit.”
“Things are bad with the future Mrs. Colthurst?”
The mere thought of Abby being Mrs. Colthurst didn’t feel natural.
“Not bad, they just aren’t going,” I confessed. “Yes, we fuck and do all that dating shit, but there are times I want her to shut the fuck up. ‘Is this dress too long? Am I too fat?’… I think she’s sick, she barely eats and has lost ten pounds. She’s thirty-four and is constantly obsessed with this shit about plastic surgery and losing her place in Hollywood if she lets herself go. I don’t get it.”
“Dude, we talked about this before, I’m not a chick.” He shared a hollow laugh. “You’ll figure it out; love is not always what you think. Your match might be someone else’s and well, life is a bit fucked up sometimes. If things work out, why tamper with them?”
“That sounds poetic but it worries me,” I’ve never heard him talk serious about these things. “Did someone break Christian Decker’s heart?”
“No.” It sounded like an honest answer. “I guess I grew up. I’m a college boy now, remember?”
“Abby and I can’t talk the way you and I do. It’s fucked up, as Abby is the only person I see often and she’s supposed to be my… I’m not sure what, but we can’t talk about anything other than showbiz.”
“Try harder and stop complaining,” his voice came out dead, the flatness made my stomach roil. “I have homework and a test tomorrow. I’ll call you later; let me know how the new audition went.”
“Everything okay, Chris?”
“Yes, Gabriel, goodbye.”
The entire night I tossed and turned thinking about my future with Abby, trying to figure out how to make our relationship grow into what I wanted. On paper, we were perfect, but when we were in the same room, we never seem as we belonged together. Chris suggested to try and make it work, but how? Then there was him.
What the hell was his deal?
I had trouble dealing with the terrifying fear of losing my best friend.
2015
“Chris,” I call out before he leaves the room. “You owe me a favor.”
“Do I now?” His back stiffens and he doesn’t move.
The pit of my stomach is uneasy.
My heart beats fast, the same way his drums do when he’s filled with rage and trying to calm down.
I order myself to take control before I end up in the hospital again due to another panic attack.
“Yes, you told me years ago that if I ever needed something, anything, you’d do it.”
He pivots and leans against the frame door crossing his arms.
“I did, college boy, what do you want?” His green eyes darken the same way Ainse’s do when she’s between pissed and sad. “Use it wisely, because this might be the last favor I’ll ever do for you.”
“One more chance, babe.”
1989
Christian and I stopped calling each other daily like we used to do. He was busy with school, and I had work to do and… Abby.
My intimate relationship with his voicemail was better than my relationship with my girlfriend.
The usual messages I left were simple, “It’s me, checking in to make sure that you’re breathing, and reporting that my life is as shitty as usual.”
One night I changed my tune, “Chris, man, it’s been almost a month. I’m worried about you. I think your answering machine and I are about to go steady.” I sighed. “Give me a sign that you’re alive before I call the SWAT team to rescue you.”
The next night he called.
“Gabe, you s
ound needy, bro,” he chuckled. “Everything alright?”
“Of course, I haven’t heard from you.” Fuck, now I sounded needy. “Over the weekend when I talked to Mom, she asked about you and this time I drew a blank. How are things?”
“Everything working as expected.” His distant tone stirred an uneasy feeling in the pit of my gut. “Work, school whipping my ass, and my music. I barely sleep and have a load of work. Will that get you off my back?”
I didn’t understand his dry attitude and before I got angry and made things between us worse, I said goodbye and hung up.
The sour taste and shitty feeling our last called produced remained next to me like a shadow, but I ignored it and tried to continue working things out with Abby. I could barely stand the woman, but I tried to make it work. Until I couldn’t anymore and called it off when I realized how little she meant to me.
I hadn’t talked to Chris in a couple of months; before he decided to drop off the planet, he had been my person.
That person I spoke with before heading to bed. The first one I greeted in the morning, and the one I called when shit went down or good things happened.
Abby, on the other hand, was the person I avoided the more she talked. If I couldn’t have a relationship as close to the one I had with my best friend, I didn’t see the point of being with her.
“You can’t do this to me, Gabe,” she whined. “I’m too old to start all over again. They think we’re it. We have to keep this up, at least until we have a few children.”
Not impressed by her reaction, or lack of it, I left her home and headed back to my place. I didn’t give a shit about the next woman that came along.
It was hard to find that person who’d measure up to the relationship I had with my best friend. The one I hadn’t spoken to in a long time. To my surprise, as I drove, I heard his voice on the radio…
My best friend,
The one I want to wake up with,
The last call I want to make,
The one person I trust with all.
Love is not always what you think,
You don’t choose, it chooses you.
Unlike Any Other (Unexpected #1) Page 15