“Do tell, Tol, just how long have you been obsessed with me?” He smiles playfully, and I can’t help the smile that forms on my face.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not obsessed with you. It’s a cool shirt. You should really check your ego, rockstar!” Why the fuck am I flirting? I need to shut that shit down quickly, but when he throws his head back laughing, I feel a small piece of my heart click back into place.
“You’re terrible for my ego, always cutting me back down to size.” He throws me a flirty wink, and my insides liquify.
The phone rings on the wall in the kitchen, and for a second, I make no move to answer it. I like this little bubble we’re sitting in; I’m afraid that if I move I’ll pop it, and we’ll go back to the animosity. With the second ring of the phone sounding throughout the house, Andrew sits back, his face going from playful and flirty to serious; just like that, the moment has passed.
“I’ll be right back.” I say, pushing out the chair, then I walk to the phone and lift the receiver.
“Hello.” I answer, hoping it’s someone looking for my parents or Eve so I can tell them they’re not here and get back to Andrew.
“Hey Bristol.” John’s voice plays through the phone and sheer horror rips through me. Not here, not now. Andrew is literally in the other room, waiting for me to come back.
“Hi John, how are you?” I ask, my voice cracking slightly.
“I’m okay. Sorry I missed your calls, I wasn’t ready to talk yet,” he says. John, sweet John, loving John, his level of compassion is unrivaled. And I broke his heart.
“That’s okay, I understand. I just wanted to tell you how-“ I start.
“Please don’t say you’re sorry.” He spits, anger lacing his tone. “I already heard you’re headed out on tour with Rhyit and Boston.” He takes a long breath, a low chuckle leaving his mouth. “I really thought you’d change after we got married, quit that stupid band and be a wife, but I guess you’ll always be his whore. Good luck, Bristol, you’re going to need it.” I knew John would be angry; I embarrassed him in front of everyone.
“I know you’re hurt, but there’s no reason-“
“Hurt?” He says just as Andrew enters the kitchen, his low slung jeans and black T-shirt doing nothing to help this issue. Why does he always look like that? So effortlessly sexy. His pouty lips are down turned when he sees my face.
“I’m not hurt, I’m humiliated. How dare you do this to me? I hope you rot you stupid-“ the phone is ripped out of my hand before I hear the rest of his slew of insults. Andrew holds the phone to his ear, his eyes holding mine as John yells through the receiver. I had no idea he had this side of him, he was always sweet and caring to me but hearing him say he hoped I would quit playing to be a housewife tipped me over the anger scale.
“John is it?” Andrew says into the phone.
“Who the fuck is this?” I hear John say from the other end of the receiver.
“Rhyit, listen bud, you are never, and I mean fucking ever going to speak to Bristol the way you just did, you got me?” He replies through gritted teeth. “You spineless prick, you’re lucky I don’t call Larkin right now and tell him to fire you.”
“Larkin wouldn’t fire me on your authority.” He laughs, humorlessly. “You think you have that much pull, but you don’t.”
“Fuck around and find out.” Andrew sneers before placing the phone back on the wall. I can hear John talking before the resounding click of the receiver hitch.
“You didn’t have to do that.” I say meekly. “He’s just upset I ran away.”
“Don’t make excuses for him. The way he talked to you is inexcusable.” He replies, leaning back against the kitchen sink. “He’s a coward.” His eyes meet mine as I chew on my bottom lip. Embarrassment washes through me at the entire situation.
“Thanks.” I say, fisting my shirt in front of me. “When do you need to leave?” I ask, wondering how much time I have to endure his presence before I can freak out on my own. I don’t want to go on tour. I don’t want to play without Alex.
“We’re leaving tomorrow.” He replies, grabbing an apple out of the fruit basket on the counter. “You are welcome to come with Boston and me in the jet,” he says around the large chunk of apple in his mouth.
“I really don’t want to go.” I sigh. “I don’t want to play without Alex.”
“Me neither.” Andrew murmurs with a shake of his head. “I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like without him with us.”
“I don’t even like thinking about it.” I confess, my fingers finding my hair again. “I need to shower, you can stay or go, it’s your choice.” I say as I start towards the bathroom. Andrew’s hand reaches around my bicep and stops me lightly.
“Hey Tol?” Andrew’s face screws up. “I’ve gotta know, you said some shit to Alex at the gravesite, what was that about?” I inhale sharply, hoping he doesn’t notice the panic racing through me.
“Nothing. I was apologizing for not being there for him.” I lie. The lie slips out so easily, it doesn’t even feel foreign against my lips. Andrew narrows his eyes skeptically but doesn’t call me out on it.
“Okay.” He says, dropping his hand from my arm, and I miss the contact as soon as his warmth is gone. Dammit, what’s wrong with me? My head wants to hate him, my heart still has a massive hole in it, but my vagina would like to welcome him back in with a cup of tea and a back massage.
I undress quickly, the steam from the shower fogging up the mirror in front of me. Andrew isn’t the only one who fucked up, and it’s making it difficult to look at myself every single day. The warm water pelts against my skin as I enter the shower, and I stand under the steady stream letting the events of the past hour play out in my head. The tour, the studio time threat, John’s irate phone call, and Andrew’s question. I shouldn’t have said what I did to Alex, but I needed to get it out, I needed to not feel the grief and guilt that’s been building in me since I saw the news. The relief I felt after apologizing was indescribable, cathartic almost.