13. Madness

CHAPTER 13

MADNESS

MUSE

It’s closing night in Toronto and the after party is insane, as expected. The DJ has the dance floor packed, and the bartenders are staying busy. People who aren’t dancing or drinking have found dark corners to make out in. I’ve run into a few people I’ve met before on a film set or at other functions, but most of these people I don’t know. That doesn’t stop me from dancing, drinking, mingling, and drinking some more. I continue to remind myself to play it cool around the big names, kind around the lesser known, and gracious when possible. Doing that has gotten me where I am today.

Given my hectic schedule and lack of sleep, I fly right past tipsy and into drunk as fuck. My buddy Steve calls this ‘fun times Chase,’ but Jamie calls it ‘dumb Chase that thinks with his dick.’ I call it not giving a fuck about anything anymore. I tip back my drink, but it’s empty, so I head for the bar again. This time, I’ve got the drunk confidence to head for the cute chick pouring drinks instead of the dude.

“What’ll it be, Mr. Cooper?” the knockout of a redhead says to me in a cute French accent. She leans over, licking her pouty lips and pushing her tits together.

“Oh, I’ve got some ideas, but how about another drink first? G&T.”

“Really? I would have guessed you were a whiskey man.”

“It’s what I want, but my trainer would absolutely murder me if I slam those back tonight.” I lean over the bar and read her name tag in the dim lights. “Chloe. How’s your night going so far?”

“Fine, but it could get so much better.” She slides me the drink, her fingers brushing over mine, holding them there a second longer than she needs to as the electricity crackles. “I’ve got some ideas for a new workout you could try. I could show you while I’m on break?” She winks and turns away. She sticks her ass out when she bends over to reach for her bag, damn near flashing me. I don’t think she’s wearing anything under that skirt.

Chloe gets to a hallway and turns back around, holds up a pack of cigarettes, and nods to a back door. I finish my drink and slip away from the bar, glancing around before I follow her down the hallway and out an emergency door that she’s propped open.

“You want a smoke?” she asks, holding the pack out to me. She’s got gorgeous green eyes, like emeralds, but it’s that mouth that has my undivided attention.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Good, neither do I.” She tosses the pack over her shoulder and I’ve got her pinned against the wall in an instant. Our mouths crash together, and the moan she gives me hits all the right notes. My knee slides between her legs as I grab a handful of her ass and squeeze hard. Fuck, she’s beautiful.

She giggles, popping open the buttons on her top. I latch onto her tit in seconds, swirling the piercing with my tongue. She’s rubbing her cunt against me to get herself off as her long leg wraps around me. She’s soaking my pants with her bare pussy, so I let go of her. I smirk when my fingers find more piercings. There’s at least two piercings down there, and I wanna play with them. My brain buzzes from the alcohol and the world spins out of control, so I close my eyes and let my body take over as she fucks my hand.

She unzips my pants and shoves her hand in. The gasp she lets out boosts my confidence, but that could be the booze.

“You’re a big boy, aren’t you?”

“Think you can take it, baby?”

I let out a low, deep moan when her fingers wrap around my cock, releasing me from the boxers. “I wanna take every inch of this cock, Daddy. Please?”

I curl my fingers inside her as my mind slips a million miles away from this small alleyway, letting my body do its thing. It’s hard to pretend there’s a connection in meaningless sex, so I’ve learned how to take my mind out of it and not overthink everything. She’s clenching around my fingers, begging for my cock, and I’m wondering what time I need to wake up to catch my early morning flight.

“Oh god, harder, Daddy! Don’t stop!” She comes apart before I’ve even got my dick in her. She’s still grinding her clit against my palm, working herself through the orgasm when I freeze.

Renate.

“Shit!” I mumble, the fog leaving my brain. I haven’t seen Ren in two weeks, and the last time we talked, she’d told me to go out and screw other people. I’m doing what she wants—railing the hell out of this pretty bartender against the wall. To get Ren out of my mind and replace her with someone whose name I won’t remember in a week?

The air thickens and I can’t breathe. I need to run. I need to get the fuck out of here.

“Everything okay, baby? I have a condom.”

“I, uhm, I can’t do this.” I gulp for air, stepping away from her and shoving my dick back into my pants. “I want to, you’re fucking beautiful, but, I kind of… there’s this girl back home, and we’re… friends, but I—shit. I’m so sorry. I’m…drunk. I’m sorry!”

“Don’t sweat it, baby. Chase Cooper just got me off in a back alley. That’s a win in my book.” She laughs, picking up the pack of smokes and tucking them into her back pocket. “Good luck with the girl back home. Although, I doubt you need it. You know where to find me if you change your mind and need someone to take care of that.” She glances down at my pants and winks. Heat climbs my neck when she gives me a kiss on the cheek and walks back inside.

I find the nearest bathroom, wash my hands, and splash ice cold water on my face. My stomach clenches as I stare into the mirror. Asshole . I pull out my phone and text Cynthia, telling her I’m going back to the hotel. This pit in the bottom of my stomach and the need to throw up won’t leave, even though I didn’t go through with fucking the bartender. If Ren and I are only fooling around, why does this guilt weigh on me? If we’re nothing more than friends, why does what I did with the bartender feel like cheating? Why can’t I get Ren out of my mind?

“Chase?”

I glance up as I’m leaving the bathroom and Cynthia stands there in a sparkling gold gown with her hair still pinned up in a neat bun. It gives her the appearance of being in her late thirties, not her mid-sixties. I rub my temples as she walks toward me, trying in vain to straighten out my shirt and get me to focus on her.

“You’ve got the look of someone suffering from an existential crisis.” She teases. “Did you get stuck in another conversation with Julio Alvez?”

“I fucked up.” I hand my phone to her, showing her a long text thread between Ren and I. Nothing dirty, just innocent conversation and flirting.

“I don’t get it? It sounds like you two are hitting it off. What did you fuck up?”

“See the tall redhead behind the bar?” Cyn glances around me and nods. “I almost fucked her out in the alley a few minutes ago.”

“Not the smartest move, but not the worst.” Cyn knows about my exes, the therapy, my brain constantly trying to implode on me. She’s even seen me break down a few times and had to cover for me. “You know what the problem is, right?”

“I…I like Ren? I like her and yet I’m out here getting drunk and?—”

“No, sweetie, you don’t like her. You’re trying to sabotage what you have because it scares you, doesn’t it?” My head drops to my chest and I nod. “I could have told you that before you had me get 40-something smart boards, babe.”

“What do I do?”

“Go back to the room and call her. There’s only a three-hour time difference tonight. I’ll order a pizza to help you sober up while you talk to her.”

I purse my lips and nod. Why does everyone else in my life see what I need or what I should do, and I never do? The entire world has read a page ahead of me in the script and I can’t seem to catch up, no matter how fast I read. I’m not an idiot, even though I’m being one right now. I’m a chronic over-thinker with severe anxiety, which means I can’t see the obvious answers sometimes.

I take my phone back and head for the elevator. I’ve been keeping myself off the playing field and out of reach for so long now, I’ve forgotten how all of this works when the feelings hit. I need to tell her how? she makes me feel. I need her to know that friends with benefits won’t be enough, but I’m worried she’ll run away.

* * *

I’m on my fifth read-through of a contract Cynthia dropped off in the hopes it would put me to sleep. I toss the thing next to me in the bed and sigh as I rub my face. I’m still in my dress slacks and shirt while Pongo and I lay in the bed and he watches a documentary about sharks since I can’t find Dev’s game. I’ve eaten almost a whole damn pizza in my attempt to avoid making this phone call. Steve would have me downstairs in the gym for the next five days because of that.

Out of excuses, I pick up the stupid phone and scroll to her name.

It rings. It rings again. I’m about to hang up when she picks up, and the entire world stops spinning. I can breathe again.

“Hey!” She sounds bubbly and with that one word, my entire body relaxes. “ What are you doing up? ”

Thinking of you. Trying to figure out how to make this real. Wishing you were here.

“I, uhm, couldn’t sleep.” Not a total lie, but not what I wanted to say. My brain goes blank, and nothing I rehearsed comes out of my mouth. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I just finished grading the last paper before heading off to bed. I’ve been waiting to see if this hot guy I met calls me tonight.”

There’s a pang of jealousy before I ask, “To avoid putting my foot in my mouth and sound like a self-centered, arrogant ass clown, would the hot guy?—”

“Yes, Chase. It’s you.” She giggles, but stops when I don’t react. “Hey, are you okay? You sound, I dunno, off.”

“No,” I admit, thinking back to the bartender, whose name I’ve already forgotten.

“Chase, what happened?”

I want to apologize to her, and tell her about the bartender. I want to ask her to reconsider our situation. I need to tell her I didn’t mean to fall for her like this. I want to ask her if she misses me the way I’m missing her.

“Uhm, it’s nothing. Tired, I’m sure. Tell me about your day.”

Why am I acting like this? I want a connection again, but I’m fucking scared. I want mundane conversations about buying groceries and ordering Chinese food. I’m tired of worrying that every woman I meet will leave me. I’m tired of being alone. I’m damaged goods, but Ren doesn’t see me like that or as a meal ticket. She makes me feel all the things I’ve kept buried away for four years—or maybe my whole life.

“It was…a day. You don’t want to hear about that, Chase. It’s boring. Not like you and your awards and flashy clothes. I saw you the other day. The interview where you had on the shirt with sunflowers?”

I picked that shirt out for her, thinking she’d never notice. It’s crazy how much Ren cares about me and my life. Ren understands I’m different and instead of running away, she still answers her phone and listens to my schedule. I couldn’t do that with Cassie. I couldn’t tell her how often I lose my shit, because Cassie didn’t understand me. She came from a close knit family that didn’t believe in sharing feelings. She never tried to understand my life or my struggles. I didn’t realize that until Ren.

“Yeah?” A cold, wet nose nudges my hand. “I almost threw up at that interview. That guy has a huge following over here, and I felt like a nobody.”

“Oh, Puppy. You’re not a nobody.” Her soft voice comforts me from thousands of miles away, and she doesn’t know how much I needed to hear it.

“Cyn says I might be up for an award tomorrow night. I don’t get why. I mean, I’m just a dumb action movie guy. Some of these people have made some incredible movies. They’re art. Beautiful and moving films that make you feel alive, or angry, or sad. I don’t belong here.”

“Chase, you belong. I’ve seen you move entire audiences to tears with an expression on your face and not a single word from your mouth. Stop listening to that voice in your head. You’re not a dumb action guy. Your IMDB page will show you that. I bet your movie will wow the shit out of those people tomorrow and if they don’t give you the award, well, fuck them. I’ll give you an award when you get home.”

It’s like someone has held up a mirror and they’re forcing me to see this for what it could be and not what we’re trying to force it to be. “Ren…I wish you were here.”

“No, you don’t. I bet you’ve been up every night with some beautiful Canadian girl riding your cock like a moose or whatever. That’s why you can’t sleep.”

“No. Almost, but no.”

“Well, get that pretty face out there and get yourself someone. Have fun!” There’s something off in her voice. It could be my imagination, me dreaming up what I want to hear. Or it’s hesitation.

“I tried, you know? At the bar tonight, during the industry afterparty. I met a bartended, we flirted for a bit, and I followed her outside. We were?—”

“Chase—”

“I couldn’t do it, Ren!” I yell into the phone. She doesn’t respond, so I keep going. “I kissed her and I swear to god I had every intention of banging her. I wanted to prove something to myself and I failed. I wanted to prove that I could forget about you like you want me to. That we could go on being friends with benefits. But I don’t want that and I don’t want her.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” I’m off the bed and pacing now, Pongo trying to keep up with me. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I can’t hold it in anymore. “I get it. We’re different in so many ways, but that doesn’t have to mean we can’t try, does it? If you break it all down to just you and I, does anything else matter?”

“We talked about this, Chase.”

“No. No, we didn’t. Not really.” I didn’t want to do this over the phone. I didn’t even know I wanted to do this. “Renate, I…I’m so sorry. I want more.”

The line goes silent and I pull the phone away, checking to make sure the call didn’t disconnect. A shaky breath from her breaks both the silence and my heart simultaneously. I poured out part of my heart, a part I didn’t think even existed anymore, and now I’m holding my breath waiting to see if she shatters it again or takes a chance on those broken, fucked up pieces.

Before she can answer, there’s a knock on the door. I turn toward it and stare. I want an answer, but she needs time. “Uhm, R-Ren, I need to go. I’m…I won’t call again if that’s what you want. I’ll leave you alone and let you go on with your life. It’s up to you and I’ll respect whatever your decision is. No matter how much it hurts.”

I hang up the phone and turn it off before tossing it on the bed. Pongo follows me to the door, nudging me, but I’m ignoring him. I shouldn’t.

“Chase? Honey, what’s the matter?” Cynthia sounds like she’s underwater and I’m drowning. I can’t breathe.

When I look up at her again, I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and she’s draping a cold cloth over the back of my neck. It’s a trick she learned a few years ago when I had a freakout before an event.

“Hey, breathe and focus. You had another panic attack, a nasty one. I almost called the Doc.” She’s seen some of my worst, some I don’t even remember. “How long do you think you’ve been sitting here?”

“Uhm, a few minutes maybe?” I pat Pongo’s head, assuring him I’m okay.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been sitting there for almost thirty minutes. Do you want me to call Dr. Clay or would it be better to talk to me?”

I lean forward, feeling sick to my stomach, and put my face in my hands before I tell Cynthia everything I told Ren.