Never Say Goodbye

by Angie Merriam

  “That’s right, Elijah. You haven’t done shit for her except worry her and hurt her. She knows things are all fucked up right now but you’re not the only one with shit going on, Elijah. She’s done with the band, for good! She wanted to tell you in person and explain why but since you’re too much of a selfish dickhead I’ll tell you now. She’s pregnant and she’s keeping it. Now you know, now go screw off! I’m done with Briston too and I’m guessing the other guys will be too if you approach them with the same fucking attitude.” He was fully screaming now.

  “She’s pregnant?” I asked in almost a whisper.

  “Yeah, but what the fuck do you care?”

  “Shit, I care,” I tried.

  “Too late. Later, Elijah.” He hung up on me this time. Things just kept getting better. My sister was pregnant and should have been happy to tell me the news but I fucked it all up. Christian was right. She was always there for me, not the other way around. She was the strong one. The rock. I was always just a broken mess and time hadn’t changed that. I pulled into the parking lot of a small private airport and grabbed my things from the trunk of the rental car.

  The pilot was near the entrance and greeted me with a smile. “Where are we headed today, Mr. Briston?” He asked cheerfully and I want nothing more than to feel my fist connect with his chubby, happy face. I held back though. It wasn’t his fault I was having a shitty ass day. Instead, I forced a smile and said, “However far you can take me, sir.”

  About an hour later, we were in the air, and I relaxed against the seat. I knew this small plane wouldn’t get me too far, but I didn’t care at that point how far we went. I’d originally planned for him to fly me to a larger airport then I was headed to L.A. to play our cancelled show but that was down the shitter. I didn’t want to perform. I didn’t want to see people. I just wanted to be alone and feel sorry for myself. Maybe try to make sense out of what the hell had just happened.

  A few hours later we landed at a small air strip in New Orleans. “I need to fuel up,” the older man said as he climbed out of the plane.

  “I’ll take this stop, sir,” I told him as I climbed out myself, grabbing my bag.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I think I’m going to stay here for a little while. Thanks for the lift, sir.” I shook the man’s hand and walked off the runway. I walked through the small airport without the slightest idea as to what I was going to do in Louisiana, but I couldn’t seem to go further. I searched for an employee who could lead me to a rental car. There was one counter and no employee in sight. I rang the bell, obnoxiously, trying to get someone’s attention. “Hello,” I called out, annoyed that I had to wait. I wanted out of that shitty airport. “Hello,” I called again just as a beautiful woman rounded the corner. “Can I help you?” she asked, not even looking at me. Her eyes focused on a large notebook, and her mouth smacked together as she chewed her gum. “Yeah, I need a rental car,” I said, trying not to sound like the dick I felt like being. She was pissing me off. She finally looked up and was on the verge of laughter when recognition flashed in her eyes.

  “You’re Elijah Briston,” she said, her mouth suddenly stopped smacking the gum.

  “Last I checked,” I replied, trying not to sound rude. She smiled coyly at me. She was flirting. Shit. I was in no mood to deal with a flirty female. I just wanted a damn car and then I wanted to drive to a seedy motel in New Orleans and drink a shit ton of booze. Alone.

  “What kind of car?” she asked, toning down the flirtation. I was trying to be nice but I was sure that my complete lack of interest was apparent.

  “Anything ma’am, any kind of car.” I offered her a small, somewhat pleading smile. Just give me a fucking car.

  “I don’t have one,” she said casually. My irritation was clear now. This day just kept getting better.

  “Shit,” I said more to myself than her. It’s not her fault the only girl I’ve ever loved just skipped town with the son I’ve never met without so much as a ‘screw you, Elijah.’ The shock hadn’t worn off yet. She remembered. She made love to me. Things were right in the world for all of five seconds, then the suicide. I knew she’d blame herself, without reason, she would. I’d planned to be there for her. Help her through it. She didn’t give me the chance. She remembered us and she still ran. Fuck her. Fuck Chinda Miller.

  “I can give you a ride into town though. I’m off now. There are tons of rental agencies in NOLA.” She smiled sweetly, no longer trying to flirt. The gum that had grated my nerves moments before seemed to have disappeared. I looked at the girl and genuine kindness there. I could look past the initial star struck flirting and accept help from a kind, beautiful, stranger. Couldn’t I?

  “Sure you don’t mind?” I asked, flashing her a rock star smile which I instantly regretted. It would send the wrong message. I didn’t even know what message I was sending. My brain was all kinds of twisted. She was a pretty girl. Not Chinda. Not beautiful, but pretty enough. She seemed to like me. My jeans were feeling tight, which meant my dick liked her. I gave myself a mental slap. What was I thinking? I wasn’t. I needed to get out of there. I needed a room and a bottle of whiskey.

  “Not at all. I live in town anyway so it’s no problem. Come on, I’m parked out back.” She grabbed her purse and led me to her car. We both got in, and I threw my one bag in the back seat. She drove a shitty Ford Fiesta, but somehow it fit her. Small and perky. She turned the key and the tuna can rattled to life. Seconds later, we were cruising down the road, the wind cutting through the windows.

  “What brings you to NOLA? On a small plane like that?” She asked as she fumbled with the radio.

  “Long story. Just need a little break I guess and what better place to blend in then a place where everyone else stands out?” It was the most honest answer I could give and one I was content with.

  “Where you stayin’?” she asked just as the radio came to life. Light rock music poured through the car, mixing with the wind, making it hard to hear.

  “Anywhere small and private. Got any recommendations?” I had to raise my voice just below a yell to answer and considered turning the music down, but she was swaying to it and seemed happy in the cacophony of noise.

  “Sure do,” she replied with a smile before focusing her eyes on the road and her voice on the song. She sang every word at the top of her lungs, off key, every song, the entire drive. Normally, I would have thought it was cute, and I kind of did, but my heart was too ripped to shreds to find anything cute. After driving for what seemed like forever lost in her music, the car finally came to a stop at a little house on a corner lot.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “My place,” she said, her voice full of confidence.

  “Look, I appreciate it but I’m not good company right now. You seem like a nice girl but I’m just not up for it.”

  “I have whiskey and a soft bed. No one will bother you here, myself included. Come on, Elijah Briston, give me something to tell my girlfriends later on.” Her voice was low and a little sexy and her eyes pleading yet honest. What the fuck? I didn’t have shit to lose at that point.

  “Alright, one night.” I got out of her car and grabbed my bag, following her to the front door in silence. The place was a reflection of her and her damned car, young, pretty, perky. Her black hair was cropped just above her shoulders and framed her pale face. Her green eyes shone from the veil of black hair, but her face glowed with youthful happiness.

  Her house was painted in bright colors, each room different, but equally cheery. Orange, yellow, bright ass blue. The furniture was mismatched and looked like it came from a second hand store, but worked with the bright fabrics she covered it with. I couldn’t help but smile in that house. It was just so fucking cheery.

  “You like color huh? Bright colors?” I said, smiling, in slight disbelief.

  “Yeah, it makes me happy,” she replied looking around her own house, clearly proud of her decorating skills.

  “Come on, y
our room is this way.” I followed her down a short hallway and into a room that assaulted me with neon green walls and zebra print blanket across the bed. She was beaming as she looked around the room.

  “This room is my latest masterpiece. You like? I think it’s somewhat masculine.” What was I supposed to say? Hell no, it makes my stomach turn. I settled for, “Yeah, it’s great. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Get settled in and I’ll make us some food and pour some drinks okay?” She turned and nearly bounced out of the room. Happy was an understatement.

  “Hey,” I called after her.

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s your name?” I couldn’t believe I’d ridden all that way with her, accepted her hospitality, and hadn’t even asked her name. Asshole, that was me.

  “Holly,” she hollered back and kept walking. Holly, the name fit her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I opened my small bag and searched for a clean shirt to wear. I ventured into the hallway in search of a bathroom. I found it a few doors down and let myself in. After taking a piss and washing my hands, I went to look for Holly. I found her in her candy apple red kitchen, singing to herself while she made some sandwiches.

  “Hey,” I said quietly. I’d had some time to think about my behavior earlier. I’d been rude. She was on the receiving end of my anger and hurt and that wasn’t fair. I didn’t even know her but I liked her. She was kind and I sensed a genuinely happy kind of person.

  “Hey, yourself. Sit, I made you a drink. Hope you don’t mind Jack and Coke. It’s sort of my favorite. Oh and ham sandwiches.” She held up the plate and smiled warmly.

  “Love both, thank you, Holly.” She sat across from me and started eating, prompting me to do the same.

  “I want to apologize for my behavior earlier. You have been very kind and I’ve been a dick. I kind of am having a rough time right now and shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” I watched her chew her sandwich then wash it down with her mixed drink before she responded.

  “No worries. I can see your hurting and need a friend. Considering you flew into NOLA on a puddle jumper with no one waiting to pick you up at our little rinky dink airport, I’d say it’s not hard to read you right now, Elijah. Lady trouble?” she asked nonchalantly before biting off another piece of her sandwich and watching me. Waiting for an answer.

  Lady problems? Huh, that was one way to put it. I knew Chinda and I were all over the tabloids. I assumed Holly would have heard something about my lady problems but she seemed unaware. “Well, actually yes. Lady problems, as you so nicely put it, seemed to have caused my entire life to come to a screeching halt. I came to New Orleans because, as I said, I can go unnoticed but honestly it wasn’t planned. When the plane landed here to refuel I decided to stay. It just seemed to make sense at the moment. The anonymity? Well, I thought of that later. It worked out though. I really just need some time to think and sulk.” I took a bite of my own sandwich and a long swig of my drink. She made stiff drinks, and I could feel the whiskey burn my throat through the Coke carbonation.

  “Well, I think you made a good choice. You are welcome to stay as long as you need and I will not tell anyone that you’re here.” She gave me a wink and a smile and in that moment, for a split second, I wished I’d never seen Chinda. I wished she’d stayed buried as a memory not a raw wound festering in my heart.

  “Hey, Elijah. Come back to Earth,” she said, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I made contact with worried eyes. “Where did you go? You can talk to me.” I looked at her and saw something there, in her trusting eyes. I just meet this girl but saw something there. Being in the profession that I’m in, trusting strangers was usually a recipe for disaster, especially women. I hadn’t met one yet that didn’t want to just get high, fuck, and walk away. Some wanted it multiple times but the end was always the same. Holly was different though. It had only been a few hours but I could tell she was a genuine person that cared about people. She may have been a little star struck at first, but she recovered nicely. I could trust her, I thought. I hoped because I was about to spill my guts to her.

  “Do you read tabloids, Holly?” I asked her pointedly. She shook her head no and I gave her a look that said, don’t fucking lie. She laughed a little. “No, I don’t read rag mags. I don’t give a shit about celebrities honestly. I was a little star struck by you because, well, you’re Elijah Briston and you’re gorgeous and I love your music but that’s all I know about you, my friend. I know your voice, your lyrics, and your pretty face.” She sat back in her chair, having finished her food, with her drink in her hand. Her face telling me, your turn buddy, checkmate!

  “Well, I thank you for the compliment and your love of Briston. On behalf of the band and me, we thank you for your loyalty.” I stood and bowed to her, making her toss her head back in laughter. “Shut up, Elijah, sit. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

  “I don’t know why I am telling you all of this. You could be the paps in disguise.” At that she shot me a look that threatened to rip my head off and shit down my neck if I compared her to the trashy paps again. I sighed deeply and in that split second decided to tell her my story.

  “You want to hear the truth? All of it?” I asked. She shook her head yes and watched me intently.

  “Well, ten years ago I was just another boy from a blue collar family. I met a girl, fell in love, and wanted my future with her. Her parents hated me though. She was from money, I was from working hands. Anyway, on our prom night we were hit by a drunk driver and she was killed. At least I thought she was dead until I saw her in the front row of one of my concerts a few weeks ago. Turns out she wasn’t killed, she had amnesia. Her fucked up parents created a new identity for her and new life essentially. She had a fiancé and a kid, which by the way is my kid. We created him prom night, our first time making love before she ‘died’.

  “Anyway, I found out about my son and went to find her. We talked, fought a little. We made love. Her memory came back, and then we found her gay fiancé dead in their movie room. Suicide. She blames herself. Thinks that if she’d just married him, their families would have never known his secret and they could have lived as friends with separate love lives. So, she took my son and ran. I have no idea where she is. I never got to meet him. To top it off, I called my sister, who is my bass player which I am sure you know, and she’s pregnant with my lead guitarist’s baby and they want to take a break from Briston. So, here I am in New Orleans in a stranger’s strangely cheerful house, spilling my guts and not knowing where to fucking go next.” I felt warm tears on my cheeks and flushed from embarrassment. Rock stars don’t cry but I seemed to be doing it a lot lately. Shit.

  I looked at her face, trying to gauge her reaction. Her face looked sad. She met my gaze with no judgment in her eyes. She stood up and walked around the table until she was standing above me. I turned to look at her, my knees touching her legs. She stared down at me and I saw tears in her own eyes. “I’m sorry, Elijah. Your story is heartbreaking. I can make you better though.” And with that she bent her head to mine, her mouth dangerously close to my own. “I’ll live. Just need to feel sorry for myself for a little while.”

  “Let me feel sorry for you,” she said, her lips grazing mine. Her hands rested on my shoulders to steady herself. This could be bad, I knew that much. I kept telling myself, You don’t know this girl, dude.

  “This is probably a bad idea. I will only break your heart, Holly,” I whispered back, but not before allowing my hands to rest on her hips, pulling her slightly closer. “We don’t even know each other.”

  “I’m not giving you my heart, just my body. You can’t break something that doesn’t belong to you. Let me help you forget her, just for a night.” Her lips touch mine again, resting there a little longer. Shit, they’re soft and inviting. She pulls away slightly. “Besides, you screw women that you barely know all the time, what makes me so different?”

  “You’re different, Holly, trust me, you’re different
,” I told her through heavy breaths before allowing one hand to leave her hips and snake around the back of her head, pulling her mouth onto mine. I kissed her slowly at first, coaxing her mouth open until I could slip my tongue in, tasting the Jack and Coke she’d just downed. She straddled my lap, sitting, spread legs on me. Her pussy was positioned so perfectly over my dick, only our clothes were in the way. Part of my brain screamed at me. You can’t do this. This is wrong. Chinda will be back. You just have to wait for her. While my body screamed to be inside this girl. My heart was breaking, my mind confused, and my body turned on.