Defining Us: The Calvin & Eric Story (69 Bottles) (10 page)

“Then tell him on break.”
 

I shake my head. “Too much, we have to be back together again too soon after.”
 

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Is this something that’s going to break up the band?” Her voice is hard, but she isn’t angry, she needs answers.
 

I stand up and she backs away from me. “God, I hope not. I don’t understand why things would be any different after I tell him. He’s either going to accept it or he’s not. If he accepts it, the dynamic between him and I changes. If he doesn’t accept it, things go back to exactly the way they were before. We’re friends and nothing more.” Though I say the words, I don’t feel their conviction and Addison can sense that.
 

“Then the sooner you tell him, the better. Let him decide for himself.”
 

I nod and sit back down. I’d gotten up for a reason, but now it’s pointless.
 

Addison drops the subject when Kyle comes on board, followed quickly by Talon and a very stoic looking Dex.
 

I quickly pack up my guitar and put it into the bench seat cubby and climb into my bunk. Dex and Raine moved back into the private room, so Mouse, Victoria and I share the three racks. I slide into the bottom one, pulling the curtain closed and putting my headphones in.
 

I know the moment Eric comes on board because my body comes alive. My hair stands on end, and for the first time, desire courses through my veins without revulsion to chase it away. Hope blossoms as I hash out a plan.

CALVIN hasn’t said much to me since Orlando. The Miami show went great, surprising considering I felt so disconnected from Calvin while on stage.

I noticed a change in him when we got off the bus at the Miami hotel. He was different, but it wasn’t something I could put my thumb on. When we got to our PR event that night, it was like nothing had transpired between us in Orlando. In fact, it was just like it had always been between us and with the band. Once I caught on to his demeanor, it made it easier for me to slip right back into my own little bubble of being the band’s bassist. We were right back to the way things have always been. The next morning brings us to an appearance at a radio station before our flight home. Everything goes as expected, except for whenever I steal a glance at Calvin and he catches me. Today I get a small smile in return. That’s new, and it just adds to my confusion and frustration with him. When I catch him glancing at me, I find it harder than I thought to return the sentiment.

By the time we are on board of our plane to Los Angeles, there’s not a lot of conversation going on and the silence is a bit uncomfortable. Eventually, I doze off.

“We’re landing.” Calvin’s voice wakes me. He moved to sit next to me. Odd.
 

“Yeah, already?” I say sleepily.
 

“Yup, almost home.” His voice is lighter than it has been. I sit up, stretching and running a hand through my hair before fixing the ponytail.
 

A full five minutes passes before either one of us manages to say anything. It’s him who breaks the silence. “What are you doing tonight?” he asks.
 

“Uh, unpacking, doing laundry, enjoying my own shower for an hour.”
 

“So in other words, nothing?”
 

I roll my head in his direction. “What do you need, Mouse?”
 

I see him stiffen briefly. “Don’t call me that.”
 

I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t like your nickname anymore?”
 

“Not when you say it.”
 

“Ever?” He just shrugs and I roll my eyes. “Again with the vague explanations. You know, Mouse,” I say with a sneer, “I’m getting really tired of all this beating around the bush.”
 

“Good, be at my house at seven,” he says and stands up, moving across the aisle next to Talon, Kyle and Addison, leaving no room for me and no chance for me to question him.
 

What the fuck? Seriously, what the fuck does he want from me? I roll my eyes and let it go as we’re dropping onto the runway at the airport.
 

We deplane and start to load up our luggage. I finally manage to get close enough to Calvin that I grab him by the arm and push him away from the guys. “What the hell? Let me go, Eric.”

“Not until you give me a goddamn explanation,” I say through gritted teeth.
 

“I’m fucking trying, now let me go.”
 

“What the hell does that mean?”
 

“It means that if you want your goddamn answers, then you’ll be at my house at seven. Now, let me go.” He growls the last command and I release him. I’m so stunned by the fact that he is finally going to give me the answers that I need that I just stand there as he skirts around me and goes back to helping load up the cars.
 

“Yo, Peacock!” Talon yells and I slowly snap out of my little moment of shock.
 

“What?” I shout as I turn around only to see that the ground is no longer covered with bags.
 

“Let’s go, yo,” Kyle says and we all climb into the SUV.
 

We spend the next thirty minutes bullshitting, laughing and enjoying the freedom of not being on tour. I’m eternally grateful that I live closest to the airport and I’m the first person to be dropped off. But I can’t escape the SUV before Mouse reminds me of our seven o’clock rendezvous at his place. “Yeah, alright,” I mutter as I climb out, telling the guys and Addison goodbye while Mills and Beck pull my stuff from the truck. Mouse never got out of the car.
 

There is nothing like coming home after having been gone for nine freaking weeks and I’m thankful for the maid service I paid for when I step inside a nice, clean, fresh smelling apartment. Aside from it being cleaned while I was away, everything is as I left it. Stepping inside, I realize just how happy I am to be home as I drop everything in the middle of the living room. My happiness about being home is thwarted when I open the fridge and realize that I need to go grocery shopping at some point. I go to the pantry, only to realize it isn’t much better off, mostly box meals and macaroni and cheese. I grab a warm Mountain Dew and I roll my eyes at myself.
 

Fuckin’ a
, the least I could have done was have something decent to eat when I got home. But whatever, I look at the clock, it’s three-thirty, the countdown in my head slowly starts as I drag my luggage to my room, throw my suitcases on the bed before unzipping them and tossing clothes into piles for the laundry.
 

As the time draws closer to six, when I need to be walking out the door to make sure I make it to Calvin’s in time, I start to get a nervous excited feeling coursing through me. That feeling leads to all kinds of speculation about what he wants to talk to me about. Maybe he is finally going to tell me the truth. Tell me why he can’t or doesn’t want to be with me. Maybe this is what I need to hear to let him go or maybe it is what I need to pull him in closer to me. Either way, it’s about time he tells me.
 

At six, I grab my keys and head for the door. I’m not dressed in anything fancy and my hair is pulled back, looking more like a kid’s paint plate than a rainbow, but it is what it is. I’ve been looking forward to a solid week where I didn’t have to do my hair and I have no intention of changing that now. I’ve got my usual black jeans on with a t-shirt. I grab my jacket off the hook and I close and lock the door. I stand there for a moment debating on whether or not I am really ready to do this. Can I really let this man go? I know I might have to. I think his heart isn’t in this like mine is, so maybe it is best if we just leave things as they were before New York.
 

Until all this drama with him, I didn’t regret coming out, but now that it is leading to this with Calvin, I kind of wish I hadn’t done it. Part of me hoped that he was more confident in who he was and that he was just waiting for me to find the confidence in myself, but I see and know now that wasn’t the case.
 

I climb into my car and drive away, headed toward Calvin’s house and toward my fate with him.
 

Standing at his door, I can hear soft music coming from inside. He lives in an affluent apartment building near downtown Los Angeles. He’s always been a big city type of person and I prefer the quiet of the ‘burbs, though those don’t really exist in L.A., despite their best efforts. I hesitate, second guessing myself about why I’m here. Why am I giving into him like this? Curiosity wins, and I knock.
 

“It’s open.” I hear him shout from within the apartment and I slowly turn the doorknob.
 

“Cal?”
 

“Be out in a minute, make yourself comfortable,” he shouts from somewhere in the apartment. Though the building screams ‘loads of money’, his apartment is rather modest, with furniture that belongs in a catalog. I thought my tastes were over the top, but he’s putting me to shame with his black leather sofas, larger than life flat screen hanging on the wall, below that an entertainment center that is stuffed with different gaming devices, DVD players and the like. On top of the stand are stacks of movies and games, most of which I recognize from stuff he had on the bus.
 

Though we never played it much, we have two different consoles on the bus, it killed time.
 

The living room leads into a small dining room and I’m surprised to see that the table is set with two place settings, silverware, the whole nine yards. That’s when the scent of something Italian and delicious reaches me. It smells wonderful. Beyond the table is a counter that separates the dining room from the kitchen and sitting on top of that are several lowball glasses and what appear to be two or three different scotches or whiskeys. “Help yourself,” Calvin says as he comes up behind me. “Trust me, you’re going to want a few of those tonight.”
 

“What you got?” I say with confusion coloring my voice.

“Scotch, whiskey, vodka?”
 

“Scotch. Why the dinner?”
 

“You haven't eaten, have you?”
 

I shake my head and our eyes meet. “I don’t have anything in the house,” I mumble.
 

“I figured. Come sit, it’s ready,” he tells me as he hands me a lowball of scotch.
 

I take a seat facing the kitchen as I watch him work. He pulls something from the oven and then sets it on the counter. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
 

He snorts a laugh, “I would hold judgment on that until you’ve tried it.”
 

“Well, it smells delicious.”
 

Our eyes meet and he mumbles a sheepish, “thanks.” He drops his eyes from mine and finishes whatever it is that he was doing before I stole his attention. “It’s just lasagna.”
 

My stomach rumbles and I hear him laugh as he grabs a plate and brings it over, it’s piled with garlic bread. “It’s store bought bread, so don’t get too excited.” He smiles sweetly at me before returning to the kitchen to bring over the pan he’s just cut up. “We haven't had a home cooked meal in weeks, I thought this would be a good ice breaker,” he says solemnly as he sets the bubbling pan on the hot pads between us.
 

“It smells wonderful.”
 

He smiles as he takes his seat. “You said that already. Here,” he reaches his hand out, “hand me your plate.”
 

I do and watch as he scoops a good size piece onto my plate before handing it back to me. “You really didn’t have to do all this,” I tell him honestly.
 

He looks at me while he picks up his own plate. “Yeah, I did. I owe you an explanation and it’s not going to be a pretty one. I figured I’d feed you and get you drunk before I tell you everything.”
 

“Everything,” I breathe.
 

Our eyes meet, sincerity radiates from him in waves. “Everything,” he whispers.