Gauge: Rockstar Romance (The ProVokaTiv Series Book 1) (12 page)

There’s nothing like the forced isolation of a sore foot and a spoken sentiment gone awry to make for a long, agonizing evening. While the show went on, I had plenty of time to sit there and dwell on the last words that Gauge and I had spoken to each other. I met them with a variety of emotions but the one that I was primarily experiencing was that intense feeling of being utterly and completely pissed off—both at him and at me.

On average, the night time concerts had been wrapping up around 11:00 PM. By that time, interviews were complete, press opportunities done, and the option to either party or go home was all that was left. Hunter always chose the party, but more often than not, Simon and Gauge chose to head back home, wiped out and ready to get some peace and quiet.

At 11:30 I was faced with the horrifying conclusion that I didn’t know what Gauge had chosen. It sure as hell wasn’t me and it frustrated me, as well as stung worse than any scorpion could do. His action—or lack thereof—was his stinger. I sensed it was intentional and it worked; I officially felt like a piece of shit that stunk up the place; my heart, in this case.

Deciding to go and try to talk things out, I got dressed, trying to look a bit cuter and less pathetic. My foot was better, but I still couldn’t walk very well on it. I opened up the door and began to hobble down the hallway. For every normal stride my left foot took, my right foot followed along at half-speed. I had my weight on my heel, but as I looked down the long hallway it seemed more like I was staring down a Nebraskan highway.

I knew I could have called, and it was likely asinine to not do that first. Particularly after the hip cramps I experienced and my mumbled, “fucks,” from the pain. Victory was mine, though. I had reached the door. Now all I had to do was knock on it.

I heard a noise in the hallway and paused to look. It was a couple girls, definitely drunk, and weaving to the room. They’d definitely had more fun than me. I turned back to the door, no longer able to delay the inevitable. Then I heard something else. This time, it was coming from behind the thick, mahogany brown door.

Pressing my ear against the door, I heard a sweet, lighthearted giggle, followed by an “Oh my gosh, Gauge, that is soooo funny.”  He mumbled something. I was frozen, not able to knock and not able to pull my ear away. Her voice penetrated the door, and it wasn’t a shock that Gauge’s didn’t. The icing on the cake, when it turned ugly, was when I heard her say, “I’ve missed you so much!”

Me and my dumb ideas. I couldn’t believe that I’d felt guilty about what I said, thinking that I’d handled it poorly, or at minimum, I could have handled it better. I had been so stupid. Gauge had already moved on to the next thing and I was a faded memory. Thankfully, I hadn’t been relying on him bringing me anything, or else I would have been screwed.

I ran and limped back to my hotel room, suddenly feeling panicked that someone would discover what I was doing and call me out as the pathetic person I’d just been. At my door, out of breath, and with my key card in hand, I tried to slide it into the door and dropped it on the ground.

Kneeling down carefully, I picked it up and focused to make sure I didn’t miss. I wanted to get out of that hallway, which suddenly felt toxic. The only place to be safe was my room. Success!

Only after I was protected from anyone who could invade my emotions by seeing my frenzied state of mind did I vent. A string of words in no logical or cohesive order came out.

I hobbled over to the bathroom and blasted the water on, hoping a hot shower would make me feel better and clear my thoughts. It worked…kind of.

Still, I needed more. I decided to send Jessie and Trinity a message, wanting to get some strength from my besties. They could help me break it down, Trinity in a hardcore way and Jessie with her abundant sweetness. I needed a cocktail of both.

Me:
SOS…conflicted. Are you guys there?

I waited two minutes before I saw the familiar ‘…’ that showed a response was being typed.

Trinity:
Hey Brynn! What’s the SOS?  Jessie is right next to me.

Me:
Gauge. I’m not sure if I messed up or if he’s just an asshole.

Trinity:
What happened?

Me:
I said something and I think he misconstrued it. It was a legitimate point but he left and didn’t come back to visit after the concert like he said he would.

Trinity:
Did you call him to see if he was okay? J

Jessie had taken over and even in my distress it gave me a slight smile. I could just imagine her grabbing the iPhone away from Trinity to take over. This was her specialty, after all.

Me:
I walked down to his room after I didn’t hear from him. Found out why…giggles—the flirtatious kind—were coming from behind his door.

Trinity:
OMG. Who was it?

Me:
Don’t know, I hobbled my pathetic ass back to my room.

Trinity:
Maybe you misinterpreted it. J

Trinity:
Look, you had fun and it’s time to move on. Love the moment and go find yourself another rock star.

I had grown quiet in my own text conversation, now reading a comment string between Jessie and Trinity to me, duking it out for what was my best route.

Trinity:
You owe it to him to find out who it was. You could be misreading it. J

Trinity:
Please! He said he was going visit and he didn’t. Threw you to the curb. Better to know now.

Trinity:
If you really like him, and I can tell you do, you have to talk to him! J

Me:
Thanks for the input. Lots to think about. I’ll fill you in. Can’t wait until this summer is done—2 weeks left.

In the unique but tight friendship we shared, I was usually the center of the scale. Jessie was to the right and Trinity to the left, leaving me to balance it out somewhere in the middle. My heart liked the middle, but my mind was cheering for Trinity today. Sorry Jessie, you lost this battle.

Mental exhaustion had one benefit—I’d had a great night’s sleep, all things considered. I woke up feeling refreshed, determined, and completely at ease with putting my brief rendezvous with Gauge behind me. It felt right for me and gave me the clarity about my goals that I’d taken a hiatus from the past weeks.

Down in the hotel’s café, I was sitting with Simon and Hunter, having some small talk and waiting for the bus to take off to Atlanta. It was casual and it was nice. My nerves were still shredded, don’t get me wrong, but I felt confident I could handle it with a bit of dignity. Whenever I wavered on that thought, I reminded myself that there had been no talk of anything more. In this case, words mattered as much as lusty actions.

“Hey Gauge,” Hunter called out, motioning him over.

“Morning,” Gauge said, stretching and yawning.

He was tired. Hmph. I didn’t have to be in his room to know what that meant.

Then he looked at me and I did what I didn’t want to do. “Good morning, Brynn.”

“Good morning,” I replied. Then I looked down at my toast like it was interesting; anything to not look into those eyes.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t stop by last night. I got detained.”

“Obviously,” I said.

Then he looked at Simon and Hunter, his grin happy and genuine, and began to talk about the night before. “It was so great catching up with Lisa. We haven’t connected for far too long.”

“Is she still here?” Simon asked.

“No, she took off early this morning, having to drive back to LSU for classes tomorrow.”

“Darn, it would have been great to see her,” Hunter said.

“There’s no way I’d let you near her,” Gauge said to Hunter. He had a smile like he was joking, but I could tell he meant it. Fuck. He didn’t trust this Lisa, whoever she was, around Hunter.

Then I lost it. I was the pressure cooker that blew its top. I got up and shoved my chair back and said, “You’re unbelievable.”  I wanted to shout it, but the words barely came out because they were being hindered by the lump in my throat. I walked away. At that moment I vowed to stay clear of Gauge and leave him to the Lisas’ of the world and whoever else. I wasn’t going to get played like a tramp again. And I did feel like a tramp; a stamped-on, kicked-on tramp.

For the next week, I managed to revert to the journalist’s perspective and emphasize that my role was to create a story on ProVokaTiv, not be emotionally invested in any way. I did like the guys, but they were a small part of the big picture. Things were going smoothly.

There was a knock on my door and I opened it up, seeing Hunter there. “Hey, The Rift photographers are downstairs to do the photo shoot. Want to watch?”

“Oh yeah, just a minute,” I said.

I grabbed a few of my things and we began to walk down the hallway. My phone beeped and I looked down at it, seeing that it was my dad’s cell phone. “Just a minute. I’ve got to take this,” I said.

“Hey Dad, how are you?...What?”  I listened to what he was saying and I felt numb, completely taken by surprise. “Um, yeah, sure, I’ll be there.”

When I pressed to end the call I started shaking, almost hyperventilating.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked.

“My grandpa…he died,” I said. Just saying it out loud made the tears come, and I quickly spiraled out of control. The elevator door opened and I walked in, not really aware of what I was doing.

Hunter followed me and softly said, “I’m so sorry.”

I looked at him and saw a kind side of him. His filter was intact. No jokes or snark today. He held out his hand and touched my shoulder. I leaned in and let him hug me. It made me feel just a bit better.

I cried and cried and he didn’t say a word.

“You fucker!” someone shouted.

I looked up and saw Gauge standing there, his face red. What was going on?

Before I could do anything, he put his hand on Hunter’s shoulder and whipped him around, shouting, “Stay away from her!”  Then he made a fist. Faster than a .45 bullet, his punch landed squarely on Hunter’s jaw.

“Stop it!” I screamed.

Gauge froze before delivering another punch and looked at me, his rage turning to astonishment. “If that’s what you want, fine. Now I know.”

He stormed off and left me standing there. I turned to Hunter, who was staring in the mirror of the elevator at his jaw. His lip was split and he looked a mess.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” I asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

“What can I do to help?”

“You just worry about yourself, Brynn. I’ll take care of him.”

“I just don’t understand,” I said. Then I did understand. Gauge misinterpreted the hug. That was a lot of nerve, all things considered. He goes off and has some reunion with Lisa, whoever and whatever she is to him, and doesn’t think twice about it. I hug Hunter and he goes postal. I boiled, and whipped back to the topic at hand—my grandfather had died and I had to cut the last few days of my trip short to get back to Minneapolis, and then on to LA.

“Look, I’m going to go up to my room and get ready. I have to make some calls and arrangements,” I said somberly. “I’m really sorry about you getting punched. I never would have…”

“Well, he has reasons,” Hunter said. “The guy carries on a grudge, that’s for sure.”

“Shit happens. You have to move on,” I said. My words were shallow. I knew that I’d played the last week like I’d moved on, but I did miss Gauge a lot.

An hour later, I’d made a call to The Rift to fill them in and booked my flight from Indianapolis back to Minneapolis. I was leaving that night. Even though I was heading back to a sorrowful situation, I was so relieved to gain some desperately needed distance. What a twisted web I’d ensnared myself in.

There was a knock on the door. I went and peered through the peephole. Gauge was standing there. Good. In order to move on and end this summer with a bit of sanity and restore a bit of dignity, I needed to end it on good terms. That was my way, and I didn’t feel comfortable being a brooder; I wasn’t like Gauge.

“Hey,” I said. I stood to the side and Gauge walked in.

“Hunter explained everything. I’m so sorry, Brynn. I was a real ass,” he said.

“I accept your apology,” I said. He looked at me, hoping that I’d elaborate, but forgiveness was all I had to offer him at that moment.

“Um, thanks,” he said. He clapped his hands together and I watched him. He had something to say, and I wasn’t going to encourage it. The words would have to come from him willingly giving them, not from me coaxing them out. This journalist had retired from this project. “Look, this is kind of new for me. I just don’t get what happened, why you suddenly shut me out. I didn’t think you were like that.”

“Seriously?” I asked. I felt my anxiety escalating a bit but then I calmed it back down. It wasn’t worth it to get angry. “I was…thrown off…when you started talking so freely about Lisa, whoever she is. Look, it’s cool if you still have feelings for her, but you didn’t have to flaunt it.”

Gauge looked at me and said, “Lisa?”  It was a question.

“Yes, the girl in your room that night when you didn’t visit me.”

“Oh, shit. Lisa is my sister. Didn’t I tell you her name?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I suddenly felt like an idiot and realized that Jessie had been right. So much could have been avoided.

“So that’s what all this is about?”

I nodded my head and didn’t say a word. I was on misinterpretation overload. “I’m so sorry. I feel bad, now that I know.”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

“You want the truth?” I asked Gauge. He nodded yes. “Pride. That pretty much sums it up.”

“It’s tripped me up before. I get it,” he said earnestly.

“I’m glad we got to talk before I go. It makes me feel a lot better.”

“Yeah, I’m glad, too,” Gauge said. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight.”

“Are you going to be okay?  I know you’ve talked about your grandfather a lot. You really were close.”

I nodded and while one wound healed, another one opened up and I felt the tears come again. It was so crazy to face loss even when you knew it was inevitable. My grandfather had an amazing life and lived to be ninety-five. I still felt like I’d gotten ripped off from enough time with him. I’d missed his birthday party this summer and hadn’t seen him for nearly four months, having been so busy preparing to leave for my new opportunity with The Rift at the end of the previous school semester.

Gauge came up to me and hugged me softly and sweetly. I melted in his arms and they seemed to take everything away. Without saying another word, he guided me over to the bed. We laid down, wrapped in each other’s arms. My head settled on his chest and I could hear the calming rhythm of his heartbeat. It was so comforting, more comforting than any condolences would be.

When his hand covered mine, I looked down at it. I saw the evidence from Hunter’s face earlier. There was a bruise on his knuckle, and it was a little swollen.

“Are you going to be able to play for your concert tomorrow?” I asked.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but I’m guessing the photo shoot was kind of messed up, huh?”

“They worked with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The cover photo has a new twist. They have Simon between Hunter and I, looking like he’s trying to separate us, and my fist is flying forward like I’d just connected with his jaw. Staged that time, of course.”

I began laughing. “That is crazy. I’m glad it worked out. The Rift is probably ready to kick me to the curb for all the trouble I caused. This is not the way I wanted to get national attention.”

“I’d guess not,” Gauge said softly. I could hear him breathe in and slowly exhale before he continued. “Yeah, about The Rift and all that, Brynn. Do you really think that what we had started would be a disruption to your career?  I don’t want that for you.”

Having this conversation while not having to look Gauge in the eyes was easier, made me more relaxed; however, I knew that without relying on eye contact and body language, I’d never get a proper assessment of the entire situation. I lifted my head from the safety of the crook of his arm and propped myself up with my elbow, looking at him before I spoke. “I don’t know what impact it would have, if any. They’ve hinted at it, so they must assume there is a possible negative fall-out for them. I get it, it’s their new business. They’ve invested a lot.”

“But what about you?” Gauge asked.

Now I was the one breathing in, just trying to find a way to express myself that was accurate and kind, too. “When I said that the other night it didn’t come out the way I intended it, too, and yes, there was some truth in it because my career is important. I only wish I could talk as well as I could write things. They’d come out a lot better.”

“I’m straight and to the point; sometimes it frustrates me when others aren’t the same way. The abstract makes me uncomfortable.”

I nodded and put my hand on Gauge’s chest, right by his heart. Its rapid beating calmed me down. “All I know is that I’m really sorry for how that statement came out. It started this entire mess.”

“Well, what should we do?”

I was not prepared for ‘the conversation’ after everything that had taken place the last week and today. Did he really want to have that conversation now?  I just couldn’t do it.

“How about we give it a few weeks?” I offered. “After the funeral and once I’m settled in LA we can talk on the phone, maybe Skype.”

“Sure, if you think that’s what you want,” Gauge said.

“That’s what I want.”  My words came out warmly, despite them seeming rather cold, but there was too much going on and still a lot to process. I’d started to sell myself on the fact that I’d get past the commotion. That thought relaxed me and gave me strength. It would have to do because at that moment, Gauge was there as a supportive friend. I loved that. Did I really know what I wanted?  No. I knew I’d figure it out, eventually.

Our conversation switched gears and I started to share some of my favorite stories about my grandpa, which was oddly therapeutic and made me process it all more quickly. Gauge listened and laughed, and even asked questions.

“You’d be a good reporter,” I commented.

“Only if I could get straight to the chase. I’m not a fan of getting into people’s heads because let’s face it, a lot of them are fucked up, and that includes me sometimes.”

“Are you saying that I got into your head?”

“Yes.”  Simple. Direct. Non-descriptive. A perfect Gauge answer.

“Is that good or bad?”

“At first it was bad, then it was good, then it was bad, now…now, I think it’s good,” he replied.

“That’s a lot of abstract for a clear cut guy.”

“Don’t remind me, Brynn.”

“Fair enough.”

Five hours later, I was walking out of the hotel. A taxi cab was waiting for me out front. Gauge was helping me carry my things. The driver took them, placing them in the trunk, and then opened up the door so I could get in.

I turned to look at Gauge. His face had hints of analysis and relief in it, but also a glimmer of that lust that I’d grown to know so well when we’d been together for those few amazing weeks. I knew they were transformative for me, and I sensed they had been for him.

“Well, we’ll talk soon,” I said, smiling and leaning in to give him a hug.

“Sounds good. Send me a text when you land so I know you’re good.”

“Will do,” I said. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Can’t wait to read that expose, I think,” he said. His voice was quiet and his laughter soft. He was trying to part on a lighthearted term. I appreciated it.

“At least it’s about you as people, not just your music,” I said, winking at him.

“Someday our music will grow on you.”

“Maybe,” I said.
Never
, I thought.

“Good luck with everything, Brynn. Call if you need me.”

“Thanks, I will.”

Horns started honking. I turned around and saw some taxis lined up, wanting me to get out of their way so they could collect their passengers.

I squeezed Gauge’s good hand and slid into the cab, staring out at him after the door closed and until it pulled away. I felt like I was living an old Hollywood romance, one that left you wondering if they’d ever see each other again.

On the way to the airport I pulled out my phone and opened my Contacts list, going right to Bronson, Gauge. I stared down at it. It was the only way I had to have contact with him now, the guy who’d shaken things up in my life so thoroughly, and so delightfully.