Wasted Heart (28 page)

It didn’t escape my notice that he still can’t talk about his feelings. After his freak out moment, I felt him emotionally sever all ties to me. He just…shut off. In the past, he has said that he desperately needs to know what I’m thinking, but I need the same. I’m afraid to push him, knowing that it might be away from me. How do you fight for someone when you’re fearful of every move you make? I do something or say something wrong and then apologize, terrified that he’ll walk away, and I see how extremely agitated it makes him.

Our relationship hangs in a delicate balance. Again, I know that I can’t expect normal, but I’m not sure what to expect. That’s what earlier, with the paparazzi, was about. People try to tear us down. Maybe it’s easier to get to me than him. They tease me with questions regarding what Rhye is doing without me. Some get downright mean, insinuating he’s using drugs or sleeping with every girl he comes in contact with. I’ve been strong and held all of their accusations at bay until some pictures I saw online last week. They weren’t incriminating, but it’s not like he’s sitting at home waiting for me either.

I called Jay, and she said to be forthright and just ask him. That was my plan, but we were bombarded when we arrived at the hotel from the airport. Needless to say, I intermittently lost my ever-loving mind. I’ve always had thick-skin, and words normally don’t faze me, but I’m learning that Rhye turns my world inside out. Nothing is as it should be.

This is my reality at nineteen years of age. On one hand, I’m living this incredible life, singing and performing for a living, and on the other, I’m trying to handle an addict boyfriend who I don’t have the first clue what to do with beyond loving him. And I do, but everything feels like it’s only temporary. I imagine it’s like trying to hold a butterfly in your open palm. You want to grasp that bright, beautiful creature knowing that, any minute, it will fly away, leaving you with only the fleeting memory of the treasured seconds when it was yours.

Thinking that Rhye is waiting for me, I step outside the bedroom door and into the living area. The sound of a whistle makes me look to my left.

“You clean up nice, Syn,” Josh says from his seated position on the chair.

“Thanks,” I say, looking down at the black strapless dress and matching black heels that my personal stylist picked out for me before leaving Nashville. I also had someone come in hours ago to pin my hair up and expertly apply makeup. That was about the same time Rhye left the room saying he was hungry. I glance at Josh, saying, “You know you are more than welcome to join us tonight?”

“I’ll pass. I’m saving my energy for tomorrow night and the mass partying afterwards,” he says jokingly.

“What? You going to kick your shoes off and live it up tomorrow evening? That’s a must see,” I reply, walking over to sit across from him.

“Maybe. You never know. Hey, I do believe there is an extra glow about you tonight. You must be excited for the duet tomorrow.”

I can actually feel the heat creeping up my neck at his words. The flush covering my entire face.
“Not even close, Josh,”
I want to say, but don’t. Even after the quick flash of pain I felt today, and lingering tenderness, I still want Rhye again. Soon. Changing the subject, I ask, “Have you seen, Rhye?”

Josh shakes his head. “I thought he was with you.”

“No, he left me hours ago. I’m sure he’ll be back any minute,” I say, ignoring the tingling suspicion in the pit of my stomach, an unfortunate response to dating someone who is a recovering addict. I imagine, in most serious relationships, you would think that he’s just gone to the store and he’ll be back any minute. Instead, I’m thinking,
“Please don’t let him get into any trouble.”

The door opens, and he comes strolling in, not close to being ready for the evening. As soon as he sees me, he smiles, and my heart soars. Walking straight for me, he pulls me up and kisses me directly in front of Josh.

“You look goddamn amazing, Syn,” he says, pulling away just enough to stare into my eyes.

“Thank you,” I reply, but my heart sinks at the obvious, glassy look in his eyes. It’s definitely not alcohol, at least I don’t think it is. I turn my head to look at Josh, who seems entirely too busy with the remote control.

Kissing me once more, he pulls back. “I’ll go get my shower,” he says, walking to his room.

I watch his every move until the door shuts, and then I turn back to Josh, who is now looking at me. He shakes his head, and I know instantly that he knows something, something that he doesn’t want to tell me.

“What is it?” I ask, my voice vibrating with the tears I hold back.

“California is a whole different world than Nashville, Syn. Different set of rules that I have to play by.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know what a gateway drug is?”

“Yes, Josh,” I reply, angrily. “My school had the same ‘Just Say No’ drug program as everyone else’s, so what’s your point?”

“I just want you to understand that, in my mind, there is no little drug or big drug, but some have a different perception. When someone hires me directly, they actually sign a form stating they will take no illegal substances of any kind while I work with them. As you know, the record label hired me, and Rhye and I have a strained relationship as it is. There are days I feel like I make a difference in his life, and then there are others that he’d rather I drop off the face of the earth. I got a call a couple weeks ago from Kelly at the record label to stop the drug testing for now. I think he’s probably been smoking marijuana for the last month. No, I know he has been. I’ve smelled it on him several times, and my hands are tied, Syn.”

“Have you asked him about it?” I whisper, my body numb.

He breathes out a heavy sigh, and rubs the back of neck with his hand. “Yes, and what do you think he says? ‘It’s just goddamn pot and everybody smokes it.’ I can’t fight him on this, Syn. I don’t even know where to begin anymore.”

I sit here, emotionally lost inside and physically hurting from a sense of betrayal. After gifting him with the one thing I had left to give, he goes out to smoke pot? Of course, I know tons of great, respectable people that do, even close friends of mine in the music business, but they’re not Rhye. I can’t stomach the thought of looking into his eyes again and seeing that dark, drug-shrouded, void.

“Syn, you can’t say anything to him. He’s on edge and too volatile. You will lose him, and it will have nothing to do with whether he cares for you or not. He’s months out now, and has to find his own solid ground again. It’s part and parcel of the process of overcoming addictions.”

I speak through the clogged emotion in my throat. “So we do nothing? Say nothing?”

“For now, yes. I can tell he’s anxious about the road and how everything will work with you. He hasn’t said that to me, but I’m beginning to read his emotions. As long as either he or the record label wants me here, I won’t abandon him, Syn. I promise you. But you have to listen to what I’m saying for now.”

My head nods in automatic response. In this moment, I’m numb, gutted, and I can’t complain. This is the reality that I accepted when I fought for Rhye. It’s my reality now.

Josh and I both turn our head at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Rhye walks through in black slacks and matching button up shirt. His hair still has crystal droplets of water dotted throughout from his shower. He glances at me, and I lose my very breath. I love him, and I’ll find a way to help him. One way or another.

“I’m almost ready,” he says, looking from me to Josh.

Clearing my throat, I reply with a tight smile, “Okay.”

Nodding, he turns back to walk into the room.

“I told you loving him wouldn’t be easy,” Josh whispers, and I close my eyes.

Hours later, I stand alone in a room full of incredibly talented musicians, sipping some fruity non-alcoholic drink. I’m actually wowed by the number of famous artists and starlets that have made a point to speak to Rhye tonight. He knows pretty much everyone and treats them all like run of the mill folks, while inside, I about die every time they approach us. He only laughs at me when I gush about them after they walk away.

After an hour of mingling, he excuses himself to find a restroom, leaving me to stand like a wall-flower amongst a room of hot house roses. I bring the sweet liquid to my lips and take a small sip, sweeping the room with my eyes for Rhye. This evening is not quite the romantic soiree I was hoping for, directly because of the conversation that Josh and I had this afternoon. When Rhye was finally ready, we left, and I haven’t said anything to him about it. Not that I could. The words get lodged in my throat when I think of Josh’s warning.

When forty minutes pass and still no sign of Rhye, I start to circle the room once again, searching for him. A sense of forbidding invades my soul, making me physically nauseous. I say a silent prayer that I’m overacting. Please, dear God, let me be wrong.

“Syn.”

I turn at the sound of my name, his deep voice a surprising comfort with this uneasy feeling overwhelming me. “Tag,” I answer, giving him a quick fake grin.

“What’s wrong, girl?” he asks, stepping closer to me and reaching out to touch my arm.

I glance down at his hand, not wanting him to notice my distress.

“Him. Right? Damn, Syn. Look at me,” his voice pleads, and I raise my gaze to his.

“What do you want me to do? I can take you back to your hotel room. Whatever you need.”

“Can you help me find him?” I ask, hating to do it. It’s not fair to him, but I don’t really know anyone else to ask or what I should do. I guess I could call Josh, but then it might be too late.

I watch the hesitation in his eyes. At first, I’m sure he’s going to tell me to jump into the nearest lake, but then, he gently reaches for my elbow and steers me toward some doors in the back.

“I’m pretty sure I watched the bastard go into one of these rooms earlier. That’s when I knew you had to be here, and I went to find you,” he says, trying a door that is obviously locked.

Walking to the next one, he turns the knob, and it opens. I follow closely behind him into the room, to see people sitting on couches, laughing and talking. I notice several publically married people, with someone other than their spouse, doing more than I feel comfortable to watch. Tag stops to talk to someone, but I can’t hear what they are whispering. My eyes search each face, hoping it’s not Rhye that I find.

“C’mon,” he says harshly, reaching for my hand to tug me through to another room. This one looks much the same. Black draped material adorns the walls from ceiling to floor and matching chairs, couches, and tables are scattered around; however, this time, different drug paraphernalia covers the tabletops.

“Stupid fucker,” I hear Tag mutter beside me.

Looking up, I see him staring across the room to where Rhye stands with his bandmates, obviously arguing about something. Before he can see me, some starlet walks up to him and kisses him full on the mouth, laughing as she pulls away. He doesn’t become upset with her. He doesn’t fuss at her for taking something that is mine. No, instead, he swats her behind with a smile and goes back to saying something to Jared and Ian.

He’s killing me inside with his careless behavior. I know he isn’t intentionally hurting me; it’s just his life. I’m the invader, the clear intruder in his chaotic lifestyle. I hear Tag saying something to me, but at the same time, I hear Rhye’s voice from earlier telling me to come to him when I have concerns about him. I walk towards him, leaning down to sit my drink on a table as I go.

The closer I get, I hear Jared talking to him.

“Listen, Rhye. No drugs on tour, man. I’m not going to go through that shit again. You are either cool with that or we have a big fat fucking problem. So, which is it?”

“Jared, I just smoked some weed. Don’t fucking take it there.”

“Weed today, smack tomorrow. You are either clean or you’re not. It’s that simple, Rhye.”

Rhye starts to push Jared in the chest when he happens to see me. His eyes don’t waiver from mine, until he shakes he head and looks down. I walk until I’m in front of him; his band members stand to one side, and I’m on the other.

“Do you love me?” I ask, bending to look at his downcast face.

“Syn. Don’t. You can’t understand what it’s like. I’m trying the best I fucking can,” he says, looking guiltier by the minute.

“Have you been with another girl since you and I decided to date?”

“No,” he replies, and I nod, believing him.

“Have you done any drugs?”

“Don’t fucking go there. Not many can be perfect like you, Syn. Don’t drink, don’t smoke, what do you do girl?” he sings, making a joke of me.

“That’s not fair, Rhye. Answer my first question. Do? You? Love? Me? I have a right to know,” I command, wrapping my fingers around his forearm. I don’t care who is listening.

He leans into me, bringing his mouth to my ear. “And I said ‘I want you.’ I still do. I’m doing my fucking best here. I gave up the girls. What more can you ask for?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Did you give them up?” I ask, hurt and confused. What now, what happens? “And I can ask for more. A hell of a lot more from you. I deserve better and so do you. I’m willing to stand with you as long as you are trying to stay clean, and if you don’t feel the same way about me as I feel for you, then let me know now. Don’t pretend, Rhye.” I see the anger now. This is what Josh warned me about, but I can’t ignore what is happening. I love Rhye way too much.