Rebel Rockstar (33 page)

T
he apartment is
different from when I was last here, and I can’t tell if that’s a good thing. It feels like it’s better in a way – absence of Jason? – but like it’s missing something. I’m not used to being in this apartment in a man here, and…

River.

He would fit in perfectly, splaying himself out across the sofa and smirking as he got up to get some food, to grab me, or to just tease Dawn. To bond with us.

The room is full of everything I left here before we went on that cruise to Greece, but I’m filled with a sense of sadness and nostalgia as soon as I open the door. I’m not even inside the apartment yet. I wonder if I’d feel this way if Jason and I had come back together.

I shake my head and smile down at Dawn, motioning for her to go in first.

She’s standing beside me but she shakes her head at me, too, frantically, as she holds out a hand and demands I give the suitcase to her. Both of our stuff had been packed in it and she wanted to carry it.

“Okay, little woman,” I ruffle her hair, imitating River’s voice as best I could and imagining how parents would sometimes call their little boys little men.

Dawn smiles and grabs it from me, dragging it as best she can into the foyer. The living room is clear and otherwise empty and it leads into a clear view of the kitchen. There’s still a pot on the stove and I move over to it, praying that no one left leftover food out in the open for two weeks.

It’s squeaky clean.

Thank goodness.

A pang of guilt washes over me as I enter the kitchen, reminding me that River had teased me about his cooking skills, and had really wanted to cook for me…

And I hadn’t let him. Now he probably wouldn’t be able to.

We wouldn’t have that chance, just like we wouldn’t have many others. Why was I so preoccupied with River in my own apartment when he’d only been here once? Drunk and…

The doorbell rings.

It’s probably Sabrina.

She wanted to stop by a store on the way home and said she’d be a little late… But my heart springs with hope that it might be River, coming to the door to tell me that he still hasn’t given up on me.

I rush to the door to open it only to see the least likely face, one I haven’t thought of in… Okay, well, I thought of him earlier, but that was only because we were engaged to be married.

Jason.

In a casual suit type of thing. I don’t know what to call it.

And…

Carrying flowers.

Red roses, not white like the ones River gave me. Would have gotten for me, if it were him at the door right now instead of –

I’m already slamming the door in his face when I notice his foot in the crack of the door, keeping it open. He screams in pain – River would never have done that – just as Sabrina comes running up the stairs, a plastic bag promising magical cupcakes in her arms.

“What the hell?” Sabrina’s face doesn’t fit the pink, princessy look of the promised baked goods in her hand. “Jason? Get the hell out.”

Only his foot is in the apartment, but I’m inclined to agree with Sabrina. What the…?

Dawn’s in her room, thankfully. She doesn’t need to see this. Jason raises his hands over his head and turns to Sabrina, his back to me like I’m not a threat – because, I realize, I’m…

Not.

At least, not probably.

“I just want another chance.” He turns back to me. “I messed up, baby, fo—“

He’s interrupted by a shriek of laughter from Dawn, who apparently is not in her room.

I thanked no one for nothing.

Dammit!

I look to see what got this reaction, needing to know what made Jason’s face go from manipulative and lying to a pure “o” of shock.

Sabrina has a cupcake out, all white frosting with blue sprinkles, and it’s…

Smeared all over the back of his head.

Sabrina puts a finger out and grabs some of the frosting, bringing it to her mouth and giving it a lick. Her face breaks out in a grimace.

“You ruined it,” she moans. “God! Get out!”

With a look of pure confusion and shock, Jason leaves.

“That was really weird,” I say. I don’t know what else to say, as lame as that is. Everything is blank and somehow that’s the only thing that comes to mind.

I’m just focused on how pained I am without River. Everything’s about him. And is Sabrina talking about him or am I?

“Girl! Listen,” Sabrina taps her foot, demanding attention and I realize where Dawn got that particular trait from.

“I know you’re thinking about River. Don’t lie to me.”

I look away from her, saying nothing. She continues-

“I’m not going to grab your chin like he does, Faith. Faith Collins!” I look at her, surprised she used my full name, even though it’s something she’s done plenty of times.

“You go after River, Faith. He’s not going to give up on you. So you don’t get to give up on him either.”

I shrug, looking away from her again, the shock value gone. “I just got home. I’m tired. I don’t even know where he is – “

“He’s at that one hotel down the block from the sandwich shop,” Sabrina says, coming into the foyer and pushing me back out the door. “There’s a match in the crown room, or something. No excuses. Now I’ll watch Dawn.” She pushes me again. “Go.”

“Wait, I –“

She raises a hand. “I said no excuses. You’ll see the flyers.”

* * *

T
abloids are
what got us in this mess, but I’m grateful for them because the only reason I’m let backstage is because the bouncers recognize me. The line is a mess and people are horrible, and I’m starting to regret coming back here.

I can’t back out now.

The man nods me in and I go searching through the back. There’s chairs, people standing about, and papers, and there’s some punching bags and gloves and training equipment that I can only assume are for River. A woman in heels glares at me and is beckoning to others to throw me out when Coach Daniels gestures to me with a sweeping hand motion.

The people walking towards me stop immediately, and Coach points at me before clutching his finger into a hook to get me to come over. So I go.

“Hey, do you k—“

“I know you’re looking for River,” he says. “He’s back over there.”

He nods to an open door that’s cut off only by a curtain, and I finally hear the sounds of people stampeding and calling for fights while men hit each other in a ring. I look through it briefly, trying to see if I can make out River from this angle, but from where I’m standing, I can’t see anything.

“It doesn’t help that you’re short,” Coach Daniels says. “Wait back here and as soon as the match is over, I’ll send you right out.”

It’s only a matter of minutes. Coach nods me over saying that it’s time for me to go out, and he pulls the curtain back for me. I open it the rest of the way, peeling myself through the heavy black curtain and into the ring.

It smells worse on this side, but that’s to be expected – this is where the actual fighting is going on. I see River now, standing in the ring victorious –

With women surrounding him. He’s throwing his arms around them and presenting his cheek to them for kisses, then turning his face to the side so he gets their lips smack on the mouth. I can’t believe what I’m seeing but he’s here, it’s him, and he makes eye contact with me.

One of his arms slips out from around one of the women, and it’s almost like he’s starting to stumble towards me.

Is he drunk? How drunk is he? I turn away from him, running through the crowds because it’s easier than letting him just follow me backstage, and he’ll have to get through the ring of the swarms of people anyway…

I think I pass by Jason again, but I’m not sure.

The tears in my eyes make it hard to be sure about a lot of things.

I
’m not
sure if she’s real or if she’s just part of my imagination. I turn to kiss the blonde to the right of me pretending it’s a cheek kiss – and I’m in no mood for cheek kisses, and there’s only one girl I’d be thinking about anyway, and it’s not like I should be thinking about her right now at all…

It’s definitely Faith. Her hair, her frame, the pained look in her eyes…

I cringe, trying to pull myself away from the women I’m entangled with on stage, but it only makes it look like I’m wrapping my body around them even more.

I’m definitely drunk. Fuck.

I try to run to Faith, but my legs are wobbly beneath me and every movement I try to make cuts out and fucks up about halfway through its intent.

I collapse, my legs curling up beneath me as I watch Faith run out the door. Dimly, I think I see a familiar face trail after her, but –

I feel the burning pool in my stomach before it makes its way up to my throat. I gag, trying to calm myself, urging my body to calm down. I can’t vomit right now. I don’t care if other people see me; I just need to get to Faith.

I can’t control it though, and my throat gives way to the hot chunks spraying out through my mouth, through my nose… I gurgle, unleashing an inhuman noise I couldn’t even recognize as coming from me if I didn’t know what this looks like. I have experience dealing with being a sick drunk, but not with dealing with them –

Coach was onto something with just the water. I sense, more than see, the girls around me jumping away from me as I vomit, and I hear the ref call for Coach. He’s going to have to deal with me and my shit.

Fuck…

Faith!

* * *

“
C
ongratulations on passing
out again after your first match back,” Thomas says. He’s clearly displeased, tucking his phone back into his pocket guiltily. I wonder if I was interrupting some booty call of his, and then I remember who exactly I’d seen him tangled up with: Sabrina.

And Sabrina’s best friend, who I’d last seen…

It all floods back to me.

Last night.

I try to lean up on my elbows, but I fall back again clutching my forehead after a pounding headache. I groan. I’ve been fucked up before, but it’s never been this bad. Now isn’t the time.

“Mumbling about some girl isn’t going to get you out of this,” I hear him say.

But it’s like he’s underwater. I recognize the sounds of the words he’s saying, but it takes me too long to get the meaning that I don’t reply. My throat is dry and feels ripped, like discarded paper. I open my eyes as best I can – a slit at most – and try to figure out where I am.

There’s a couch beneath me, but it might be a bed… I don’t know. It’s reasonably comfortable and there’s many blankets. I sigh, but it turns into a lung-hocking cough.

“God, I don’t know if you’re drunk or actually getting sick,” Thomas shakes his head. He stares at me, looking like he’s considering saying something but isn’t sure what to say.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Romeo.” I could tell. “You’re at my place.”

He must see the look I feel on my face, and the way the expression stretches the skin there hurts. I grimace but he keeps talking, assuring me that it wasn’t his idea and it was all Coach Daniels – who insisted on “taking care of things with the press after you slipped and puked yourself, and took my fucking job.”

I stay still, not even nodding.

Thomas scowls at me again, telling me I’d better not consider this a bonding experience. I do, in the back of my head, just to spite him, even though this isn’t one at all. I’m not sure if I want to beg for a glass of water or a cup of orange juice or if I want to just die.

I do neither of the three.

Instead, I sleep, drowning out the sound of Thomas’s talking as the world goes black around me.

* * *

T
he morning comes
and I feel so much better. Coach Daniels is back, and he convinces me to shower before I run off to Faith, and that’s exactly where everyone knows I’m going. Apparently, after the fiasco at the match, there were some stills of Faith and me and a history of what’s been going on between us. The rumors are confirmed, except now there’s photos of me with some groupies, so I’m a cheater now, too.

Not that this is a new thing for the media to say, and not that it’s true. It’s never been and never will be. All that matters is I’m the bad boy again.

Thomas comes to tell me that there’s texts and calls and meetings to arrange, and congratulates me on somehow falling so far that my fuckups became successes. I ignore him, instead moving past him to use his shower through his protests.

I’m disgusting and can’t even find a towel, so after I shower I just grab one of the extras off the rack and wrap it around myself. Hopefully, no one’s used this to dry their hands, and hopefully Coach has some of my old clothes lying around for me to change into.

One of the two comes true, at least.

Coach brings out a bag he’d stuffed in my locker – fuck yeah for the relationship we have – and I pull it on. It’s gym shorts and a T-shirt. I don’t care what I wear as long as I get to Faith.

I ignore the sounds of the two men behind me telling me to take it easy – and one bastard’s urging for me to focus on “more important things, like my career” – and run down the stairs into the street.

My stomach tosses and tells me to slow down a little bit, but it’s not as bad as it was just a night ago and I’m at no risk of throwing up my insides. I heave, gasp, and try to make myself feel a bit better, but I don’t slow down.

I can’t slow down.

I need to explain myself.

I run up and down the street until I see the not-so familiar yellow of a taxicab I haven’t been in. It’s been ages since I’ve been in a taxi and I miss my motorcycle, how easy it would be to just jump on it right now and ignore the road rules, just drive over the sidewalk in my desperation to get to Faith.

But I don’t have it right now – it’s back at home in the garage, where I left it, lock and key even as the owners of the house change. The garage is mine. That one in particular, at least, and the lease seals it. I regret doing that now, though, and flag down the taxi, shouting, almost screaming as the taxi almost passes me by.

The taxi cab driver stops, rolling down the window to ask me where to go. His voice catches in his throat when he realizes whom he’s talking to, though: me. I don’t say anything to him, I just run to the other side of the taxi and throw open the passenger side door.

Faith’s address falls out of my mouth like wind, and I’m surprised I even remember the numbers since she never told me it. I’d seen it, though, and briefly wonder if that makes me creepy.

No.

Just dedicated.

“Get me there fast and there’s extra in it for you,” I say. The driver doesn’t say anything in return, just puts his foot on the pedal. I’m pretty sure we speed through a few red lights and break a few traffic laws as we move through the street, but it’s early enough not to matter –

All that matters is I get to Faith. The driver pulls up right next to her apartment complex, as close as he can get with the cars parked everywhere.

He doesn’t choose a parking place and just rolls up in front of the building, right over to the doors and over the big white line that says “no parking.”

I smile at that briefly, but I’m already out the door. I turn back to the cab for a second and tap on the window. He rolls it down, and I grab a piece of paper from the inside – I saw some lying around on the dash – and ask for a pen.

“Call this number,” I say, writing down the name and number of my financial advisor. “Tell them River sent you.”

He nods and pull away as I run up the stairs, my heart pounding in my ribs up to my lungs and then through my throat. I’m worried that knocking on the door and talking to Faith will kill me, my heart toppling out of my mouth with my words the minute I start trying to explain myself to her.

But when I knock on the door, it’s not Faith who answers. It’s Sabrina, and my heart drops back down to where it belongs. I sigh, but at the same time…

“Great,” I mutter, trying to sound more bitter than I am. It doesn’t matter.

Sabrina’s given me more time to compose myself by answering the door, and my girl is somewhere behind her anyway. I’m about to joke with my girl’s best friend, a girl I’m starting to consider one of my own close friends, when I realize there’s tears brimming in the corners of her eyes.

“Whoa, hey.” I wasn’t expecting this and I don’t know how to deal with it, because I don’t think Sabrina wants the type of comfort I have to offer, and Faith’s the only girl I want in my arms. “Did you get in a fight with Faith?”

She just shakes her head. “No.”

I’m confused, more than anything.

Something has to have happened. This isn’t right. This isn’t the usual playful arrogant Sabrina I’m used to. I move to get in the door but she puts both her arms out, holding them within the frame so I can’t get past her without moving her. I don’t; I don’t want to put hands on a girl, much less my girl’s best friend.

“Sabrina,” I say, as casual and careful as I can. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She just shakes her head again, tears blossoming over her eyes and streaming past her cheeks. She says nothing, and this time I move towards her, taking her arms and moving them so I can get past the door. She doesn’t fight me as I expect her to and I go to the foyer, searching for the sound of child’s laughter and my Faith alongside her.

Nothing.

They must both be sleeping still. It’s early.

Sabrina grabs my arm again, trying to stop me. I free myself from her, demanding to see Faith – asking what’s going on, why she’s so tired and if I should wake her, does she need to sleep still? I need to talk to Faith.

My Faith.

Sabrina just shakes her head again. And again, she says: “No.”

My questions go unanswered.

“Fine,” I sigh, finally, deciding that Sabrina’s just choosing to be difficult. “Then what about Dawn? Is she sleeping?”

“River,” Sabrina touches one of my arms. She can’t stop me but I decide to stop anyway. I turn and look at her as she answers me. “Dawn’s not here.”

“Okay,” I say, refusing to think what she might be trying to say to me.

“River,” Sabrina says again, slower this time. “She’s gone. They’re both gone.”

And Sabrina drags me to the couch to sit before I can fall on the ground, and she tells me everything.