by Fiona Archer
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Rock Steady
by
Mayra Statham
Chapter One
“I don’t understand you…” I shook my head, my attention on the cell phone. I loved Chrissy, but she wasn’t getting to the damn point.
“I mean, I don’t think this is working,” she said in a weird tone, and I turned to look at her now that she had my complete attention.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I frowned.
“It means what it means. This”—she pointed between us—“isn’t working. It hasn’t for a while.”
“Are you mad about the band and us getting signed?” I asked with a scowl, and the sadness in her eyes hit my gut. Hard.
“I can’t believe you would even ask that.” She shook her head.
“Why?” I shouted, following her through the apartment. “I mean, look at you! Throwing a temper tantrum, because why? I didn’t make it home for dinner?” I was frustrated.
Chrissy and I had been together for five damn years, and she was pulling this clingy shit now? I watched as she grabbed clothes and tossed them into an overnight bag. “What the hell, Chris?”
“Home for dinner? That’s what you think this is about?” She turned around, her eyes glassy. “When have I ever been mad about you being late? Never!”
“Chris—”
“You think I’m pissed about the band? Who has been there for you and the band since day one, Jack?”
I swallowed, standing up straighter. I hated the unshed tears in her blue eyes. “Chris…” I had no words. I didn’t know what was going on. It had been a busy day of recording, photoshoots, and interviews. Then around eight tonight she’d started to text. Hounding me about when I was coming home.
“I’ve been there since day one,” she reminded me in a soft, almost defeated tone. “Me. I’ve been there for anything the four of you needed. But more than that, Jack, I’ve been there for you.”
“And I love you for that!” I shouted, hoping she would snap out of this mood and we could get to bed because I was fucking beat. It was almost midnight, and the next day was going to be just as busy.
“You love me?”
“Of course I fucking love you, Chris.” I scoffed.
“Yeah right,” she echoed, shaking her head and wiping her eyes.
“Yeah right?” I repeated, wondering what the hell was going on. Who was this woman in my room questioning how I felt about her? Jesus! I wrote songs about her. “Are you fucking serious right now?” I rested my hands atop of my head.
Things had been slightly edgy between us the last couple of months. I was busy with the band and the upcoming tour. Our album was number one on the charts. Three of our singles played non-stop on all major radio stations.
Things were busy, but she was my number one girl.
The love of my life.
“Okay.” She stopped shoving crap into her bag and turned around. Her arms crossed, she looked me in the eyes and left me dumbfounded. “You love me?”
“You know I do.”
“Okay then, what’s today?” she questioned.
“Today?” I blanked. Her face was like stone. I could tell she had been crying earlier by the way her eyes were slightly puffy. Fuck. Was it our anniversary? I knew it wasn’t Valentine’s Day since it wasn’t February. “Umm…” I cleared my throat. “Today is…”
“You have no clue.” She laughed and shook her head. “Do you know why you have no clue?”
“Chris—”
“Because you are so far up your own ass I doubt you can see past your own nose.”
“Whoa, come on Chrissy, baby—”
She put her arm out to stop me from talking. “I have been with you for five years, Jack. I’ve loved you since…” She shook her head. “I think I have loved you since our first date.” I knew what she was going to say before she said it. “The moment you snuck over the rope to get my ball out of the water for me at mini golf…” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and I knew I was in trouble.
Chris smiled. A lot.
Bright and positive, she was a radiating ball of good energy, but right now she wasn’t. She was hurting, and it was because of me. Fuck, what did I do?
“I have supported you in every way I could. You and the band, and I’m your number one fan.” Her lips twisted, and she turned, zipping up her duffel. The moment the strap went over her shoulder, I started to freak. My heart froze in my chest because I knew she was serious.
“Chris, whatever I missed today, come on, it couldn’t have been that important, right?” I took a shot in the dark, trying to move back from the shit I’d somehow stepped in, “I mean, it’s just a day, right?” I tried to lighten the mood, but the way she flinched, like I had struck her, I knew I had put my size twelve foot in my mouth. “I’m just saying.”
“You’re right. Obviously.” She laughed humorlessly and walked past me. “Today was just another day for you.”
“Babe.” I rushed over and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back to my front and resting my chin on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I was late to dinner. It was date night, right?”
“You think I’m leaving because you missed date night?” She turned her face to look at me. Those damn eyes. They were always so bright and now… now they weren’t.
Fuck. If I thought about it, they had been like that for a while.
“The photo shoot and interview ran late, and we couldn’t get the song just right in the studio. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Date nights are on Wednesdays, you know, because that’s usually your least crazy day of the week,” she reminded me.
“Okay…” I said slowly.
“It’s Sunday.”
“Okay, so it’s not date night I missed. Whatever it was, I’m sorry.” I kissed her temple and felt her relax. Or I thought she had, so I stepped back, and she turned around in my arms. Her hands came between us. She moved to cup my face like she usually did but stopped halfway and landed on my chest. I felt the lines on my forehead deepen. Why wasn’t she holding my face like she usually did?
“Take care of yourself, Jack,” she whispered, and a cold chill washed over me.
“Wait, what?” I scowled as her lips touched my scruffy cheek before pulling away and out of my arms. “Chris, baby, you can’t be serious.”
“I love you.”
Okay, I could work with that. I grabbed her hand and intertwined our fingers. “Good. I love you too.” I squeezed. “Whatever—”
“But I deserve better, Jack.” She slipped her fingers out of my grasp and walked toward the front door, my heart pounding with fear she was actually going to leave.
What the hell would I do without Chrissy? She owned me. Didn’t she know that?
“Deserve better? Better than what? Do I treat you like shit?”
“What’s today?” she asked again, her icy gaze pinning me in place, and I licked my lips.
“Again with this what’s today shit?” I asked because I was like a fucking fish out of water. “If I can’t remember, how important is it?” I clipped, but this time the pain in her eyes diminished into indifference, and she shrugged.
“You’re right.” She sighed, and a small wistful smile played over her full lips. “Do you remember our second year together? I was working at that law firm, and you guys were playing dive bars, and we lived in that really crappy apartment?”
“Yeah.” I stood still, watching her closely.
“And for my birthday you—”
“I gave you a tin of handwritten coupons and made you cupcakes from a box.” I cut her off.
We were so broke back then. Rubbing pennies together hoping they’d become nickels. I’d wanted to quit the
band and get a real job, but she hadn’t let me. She said my talent and dreams were too big to give up on.
“That was my best birthday,” she whispered, and I scowled.
“How?” I asked with confusion. “I had nothing to give you!”
“You gave me everything,” she said softly. “I was important to you then. You might love me, but I’m not a priority to you.”
“You can’t be serious, baby—”
She put her hand on my chest. “It’s okay. Your dreams are here. You’re living them, and they’re real, and you should enjoy that. I just… I need to be me too.”
“Of course you do! That’s why you were taking those baking courses,” I pointed out, wondering why she had stopped talking to me about them.
“I graduated last month,” she shared, and I froze in place. “I mentioned it to you. The school had a thing but… but you had a movie premiere, so we went to that.” Fuck. She had. She had smiled and let me shine, and I’d been a bastard not celebrating her accomplishment. “It was no big deal,” she mumbled. “It wasn’t important. But today…”
“Shit, baby! It got to you. I get it and I’m sorry. We can celebrate tomorrow, okay?” I offered, but she shook her head.
“It’s too late for us.”
“Bullshit. Chris, I fucked up okay I—”
“It’s not about me finishing those courses, and it’s not about me getting an amazing job—”
“You got a job?”
“It’s about the fact that after five years, five years, today isn’t a big deal to you.”
“Baby, it’s not our anniversary.”
“You’re right, it’s not,” she snapped, pulling the strap up her shoulder and moving to get her purse and taking our apartment key off her ring. “It’s not our anniversary or Valentine’s Day,” she mumbled. “When you figure it out, have a cupcake for me.” She slammed the key on the counter and walked out of our place, leaving me standing like an idiot.
My phone rang a moment after that, and I pressed accept before I could see who it was.
“Hey, Jack,” Jim, our bass player’s, voice called out.
“Hey, it’s not a great time,” I tried to cut him off.
“We just wanted to talk to Chris but she didn’t answer.”
“Umm, she’s not available right now,” I mumbled and he laughed.
“I bet! Look just tell Chris we all called and we love her, okay?”
“What?”
“Yeah man. I can’t believe we forgot and kept you out late. We all feel like dicks. But let her know even though I’m sure you made a big deal of today, we will do it up right next weekend. I’ll have her favorite tequila ready.”
“Not following, man.” What the hell was today and why was everyone making such a big deal about it?
“Sure, man,” he laughed, and I growled.
“I’m serious, Jim.”
The other line stayed silent for a moment. “Jack, today,” he repeated like that was supposed to make sense.
I walked to the fridge to grab a beer. I was sure once Chris cooled off she would come back, PMS was a bitch.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Today,” I repeated as I opened the fridge door.
“It’s her birthday, man,” he shared just as I looked inside and my stomach dropped to the floor as I reached in to get a bottle.
There, right next to the beer were two pink cupcakes with sprinkles.
“It’s her thirtieth birthday,” I whispered, feeling like the biggest asshole that had ever lived.
Chapter Two
I downed the third little bottle of tequila and popped open the fourth.
“Oh, it’s pink!” I sighed and my eyes started to water.
I liked pink.
Pink cupcakes.
Pink flowers.
Pink strawberry tequila.
“I should buy myself a dozen tequila rose bottles,” I mumbled with a sniff. “I’d let them know they were super appreciated.”
“Room service,” a deep voice called and knocked on the door. I moved to it and the moment I opened it I slammed it shut the second I saw him standing there with a pink birthday cake and pink heart balloons next to him.
“Damn it, Chris,” his voice rumbled and another knock sounded.
“Go away, Jack.” I crossed my arms and scowled at the door.
It had been three days since my thirtieth birthday.
A birthday he had forgotten.
“Baby, please let me in.”
“I’m not your baby.” My words felt heavy coming out of my mouth. My eyes got glassy again, and my nose stung.
Damn. Tequila and emotions didn’t mix.
“Chris, please open the door before hotel security kicks me out.” The thought made me want to laugh.
“That would be good, considering I didn’t invite you!” I giggled, thinking about the headlines the tabloids would print if word got out Mr. Smooth Rockstar was pounding on doors at a mid-level hotel.
“Please,” he asked, his voice gentler than before, and it made me rest my forehead on the cool hardness of the door. Saying please was playing dirty. He knew I couldn’t be mean if he was being nice.
Honestly, though, I wanted to let him in.
“Fine,” I muttered, unlocking and opening the door.
Our eyes met, and he opened his mouth to say something, but I walked away from him and into the room, taking a seat of the edge of the king size bed.
“Okay.” He exhaled roughly, closing the door behind him.
He looked good.
Too good.
In a red skater tee older than dirt I had bought for him when we had first started dating paired with faded Levis that fit him perfectly, he was a sight for sore eyes.
I missed him.
It was ridiculous really.
Three days since I’d walked out of our place, and here he was, and all I wanted to do was hug him.
Not that he hadn’t blown up my phone with texts, voice mails, and my email and social media inboxes. He had.
With every single syllable in each word of every message, he made me ache to pick up the phone. They had made me doubt walking out on him. They made me hope that maybe I was as important to him as he was saying in each message.
I wasn’t a complete nitwit. I knew he cared.
I just wasn’t sure if it was enough anymore, and honestly, it wasn’t his fault.
What was that saying? We attracted the love we thought we deserved. At the beginning we were both starting out, and somehow I had made my life all about him. I had fed into the narcissist he had become. Why had I let myself be with a self-obsessed man?
“You could have stayed at the Four Seasons,” he pointed out, looking around the room with a look on his face I couldn’t totally read.
“That’s what you came here for? To tell me where to stay? Don’t worry, this is temporary. Plus, I can’t afford the Four Seasons.”
“Bullshit you have my credit card.”
“Exactly, Kemosabe. YOUR credit card. I paid with mine!” I pointed to myself, way too buzzed to be having this conversation. “Anyhow, I’m looking for a place and maybe a roommate.”
“What? Roommate!” He exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Why was his nose good looking too? Ugh!
“Why do you care?”
“Babe, please come back. I fucked up, and I—”
“Get out,” I said never looking away from him and he frowned.
“What?” His scowl deepened and as much as I wanted to smooth it out, I was tired and didn’t feel like dealing with him. It could have been the strawberry flavored tequila swimming in my veins, but he was annoying me.
“Get. Out,” I repeated calmly, though my frustration was starting to grow.
Who did he think he was? Coming in here and STILL not saying happy birthday or a freaking sorry! He had said I like three times.
“Chris, we haven’t even talked.”
“Nothing to talk about.” I laughed, crawli
ng in bed and tucking myself in.
“Chrissy?”
“Two words.” I whispered. My head was starting to swim thanks to the cute mini tequila bottles, “That’s all I wanted to hear, and you haven’t said ‘em. And you know what?” I glanced over my shoulder. “There was even the option of two different phrases. But you didn’t say either.”
“I said I fucked up.”
“It’s not about you!” I scoffed, looking away, putting my arm under my pillow and let the pink tequila float me away. “It’s about us. An us you haven’t really cared about in a while unless it was convenient.”
“That’s not true,” he said with exasperation, and my lips quirked up. He was always cute when he did that.
“Hmm… whatever.” I cozied in deeper and yawned. “Five years,” I whispered, the hurt still bleeding through three days later. “I’ve given you everything these last five years, Jack. Five years. For what?” My eyes popped open and I tried to hide the surprise at him kneeling in front of me. His hands gently held my face and call me weak, but I leaned into his touch. “Five years for nothing.” My lips wobbled. He became slightly fuzzy, and it had nothing to do with the fact I wasn’t wearing my glasses.
“It’s not for nothing.”
“Hmm,” I grunted, letting my eyes close again, heavy with sleep. “Could have fooled me.” I pouted.
“You’re everything to me, Chris. Don’t you get that?”
“If that was true, you’d carve time out for me.”
“What about date nights?” he asked, and one of my eyes popped open.
“You act like date nights are such an inconvenience. That is, until we get in the room and you want me to blow you.”
“That’s not true.”
“It has been. You were late or cancelled the last six weeks,” I reminded him and decided I was done arguing.
I’d be nothing but an old memory to him one day. His popularity and fame would only grow, and I wanted that for him. But I was going to need space and time to forget his gorgeous ass. “Close the door when you leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Not until we talk.”
“Suit yourself.” I flipped my body to face the other way and automatically missed his touch, “But I can’t talk tonight.” I was being petty but didn’t care. “I’ve had too much tequila to do this with you.”