9. Kaye

CHAPTER 9

Kaye

S lurping is so disgusting. I’ve been listening to Sonya slurp her slushy for the last five minutes. I want to tell her to give it a rest. She won’t find a pot of gold or a rockstar at the bottom of the paper cup.

“So,” she asks, “what’s up with Striker? I tried talking to him, but he didn’t seem interested. I thought it was me, but he walked by all the girls, even the two guys there.”

I lean in, and she mirrors my movement, bringing her head closer to mine, hoping I’m about to divulge some hidden secret. “He’s probably tried.”

Sonya huffs like a spoiled child whose mother has given her a stern no. “He’s so handsome.”

“How can you tell? He wears a mask.”

Sonya smiles wistfully as her eyes dart to the window. “You can tell, you know? I mean, have you seen his fingers move on that guitar? A girl can’t help wondering what those fingers could do to her.”

I grit my teeth, annoyed at how she’s nonchalantly discussing fucking one of my best friends while she’s fucking Piper. An image of her in bed with Piper flashes into my mind, and my irritation spikes to downright anger. “Aren’t you with Piper?”

“Not really,” Sonya whispers. Her eyes widen, and she stares at me in fear. “Oh, my god. You can’t let her know I told you. That was the deal. I could stay on the tour as long as I pretended to be into her.” Sonya taps her chin before groaning and dropping her head into her hands. “She’s gonna kick me off the tour.”

“Why would she do that?”

Sonya lifts her head slightly. “She’s still Piper Pain. I’d gladly fuck her, but she only seems to want to fuck you.”

My throat goes dry. “What? How do you know?”

“The person she wanted me to lay it on thick for is you.”

“Y’all need anything else?” the server asks.

I point to her slushy. “Want another?” As annoying as her slurping is, I’ll deal with the nuisance to keep her talking.

Sonya shakes the empty cup. “Yes. Cherry, please.”

“What is Piper hoping will happen if you keep laying it on thick for me?”

Sonya shrugs. “I’m not sure. She told me to act extra clingy when you’re around.”

That’s it? That’s all the information she has for me? I bought her another drink, hoping to get more information, and now I’ll have to sit here listening to her slurp for thirty minutes.

I grab my phone and send a quick text to Marley.

Me: Call me in five minutes and go along with whatever I say.

Marley: Okay.

God bless Marley. That man is always reliable.

The server places Sonya’s slushy on the table, and Marley’s call comes through right on time.

“I’ve got to take this.”

Sonya nods.

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask.

“You told me to call, so I called,” Marley replies.

I stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“Oh, no problem. I’ll head back right away. Yes, yes. See you soon.”

“You all right, Kaye?” Marley asks.

“Yes, I’ll be there soon.” I end the phone call and look at Sonya. “I’ve gotta head back. Will you be okay?”

Sonya lifts her lanyard, which holds her backstage access. “No problem. I’ll grab a cab back.”

When I return to the hotel, I head straight to Marley’s room, praying he’s not shacked up with some girl. You’d think a man wouldn’t answer his phone while having sex, but Marley had an entire conversation with me while some girl gave him a blow job once. I never know with him. Give him his due; it’s a skill keeping your head on straight and talking business in the middle of an orgasm.

I’m relieved when he opens his hotel room fully clothed. Pushing past him, I scan the room in case a girl is lingering. “You’re alone?”

“Unfortunately.” Marley opens the mini fridge and hands me a beer.

I shake my head. “I’m good.”

Shrugging, he twists the cap off the bottle. He takes a swig and pulls a face. “You’d think a hotel that cost so much would have decent beer instead of this shit.”

He heads for the blue sofa and plops down on one side, gesturing for me to sit beside him. “Why don’t you take a load off and tell me what’s up?”

I can’t sit down. The nervous energy coursing through me needs to be expended. So I pace. One foot in front of the other, back and forth from one side of the living area to the large floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Does this have to do with Lifeless Lies?”

Marley’s question is harmless, but he may as well have shot me down dead.

“Iggy didn’t tell you?”

“Iggy doesn’t tell me anything anymore.”

“What’s going on Marley?”

Marley doesn’t answer. He stares at the stark white wall in front of him. His eyes are sad, and his expression is despondent.

Marley has always been the somber one. Occasionally, he plays the jovial, party guy role when he’s Mayhem, his on-stage persona, but he mostly lives on the fringes in solitude and sorrow.

I glance at him to see if anything is amiss. A sigh of relief escapes when I scan his arms. There’s no evidence of drug abuse or self-harm among the tattoos covering every inch of his skin.

Heavy drug use is the only thing that would break up the band at this point. Lars and Cain won’t tolerate it or be around users, as specified in their contracts.

Marley replies after what seems like an eternity. “Thought you were here to talk about your problems, not mine.”

“My problems don’t have me spiraling.”

Marley laughs. “Do I look like I’m spiraling?” He shakes his wet, shaggy hair, spraying drops of water around him. “I’ve showered, I’ve shaved, and I’ve taken my crazy pills like a good boy.”

“What did you take?” I ask, my concern for him automatically outweighing my pressing issues.

“Relax. It’s my anxiety med.”

“Should you be drinking while on that?”

Marley takes another sip of his beer and shrugs. “It’s one beer. It won’t do anything. But if you see me with a bottle of vodka, I suggest you intervene.” He places the beer bottle on the coffee table and smirks at me. “So, what’s up with you and the opener?”

I dramatically place my hand on my heart and glare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Cut the shit, Kaye. You’ve been acting weird since you heard Lifeless Lies was opening for us. Is it the new chicks? I mean, you had an issue with Billie.”

I pace again, needing to move my body so I don’t combust. “I’ve never had an issue with Billie. Cleaning up weird sex antics just pisses me off. I also love women, thank you very much. Figuratively and literally.” I point to my chest. “Lesbian, remember?”

Marley leans back on the couch and belly laughs. I glare at him, and he smiles, his blue eyes twinkling in a way I haven’t seen in weeks. “All right, Kaye, you don’t have an issue with women. But you sure as hell have issues with something, so why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

I moan in frustration as I slide into the armchair and cradle my head in my hands. “She’s my Billie.”

“What?”

“Piper Hughes, the lead singer of the opener, is my Billie. OMG, she’s Billie, and I’m Lars. I’m about to blow my world apart.” My lungs burn, begging for breath. The round gold pendant lying against my skin singes my flesh. The walls are crashing down on me, and the sky is falling on my head. Life as I know it seems to be over. Oh, God, I’m dying.

“Kaye,” Marley calls from what sounds like miles away. “Kaye, three-three-three. Name three things you see.”

“My shoes,” I gasp. “My hands and the marble floor.”

“Name three things you hear?”

My breathing is still erratic, but the belief that I’m dying is fading. “Your voice. Music coming from the bedroom. Sirens. Why are cop sirens so loud?”

“Move three body parts.”

I lift my arms and legs and flop them around. “Is four okay?” I ask, looking at Marley.

He smiles as he wipes the tears I didn’t know I’d shed from my cheeks. “Yes, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

“I don’t lose control, Marley,” I sob. “I don’t lose control.”

Marley wraps his large, tattooed arms around me and holds me as I weep. I cry for the little girl who never had love and became the woman who is now frightened by it. Love isn’t an emotion that evokes joy. Love is a vortex that spins me in circles and takes every fiber of the control I’ve salvaged.

“All I have is the band. My job. I can’t spiral out of control because it will leave me with nothing.”

Marley pats my back and places a chaste kiss on the top of my head. “You know we got you, right? You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone. I’ve got you. With or without the band.”

“What am I going to do, Marley?”

“I wish I could tell you. But when it comes to emotions and self-preservation, things become muddy.”

I wipe away my tears and glance up at him. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

Marley smiles, but there’s sadness behind it. “Nope. I think you’ve got enough on your plate. I can handle my shit. Don’t worry, I won’t give you an ulcer.”

I gaze at Marley’s face, seeing the pain he’s holding at bay. His eyes are sunken, and it’s clear that no matter how well he says he’s been doing, he’s not sleeping or taking care of himself.

“Marley, I don’t live and breathe this band simply because it’s a paycheck. The four of you are my family. I want you all to be okay because I care.”

Marley rubs the back of his neck and grimaces. “Shit’s complicated, and I don’t know what to do or how to fix it. So I do what I usually do and add fuel to an already blazing fire.”

“You can start by talking?”

“Talk to who? You? A Shrink?”

“Iggy.”

Marley’s arms falter around me, and he stiffens. “Why would I need to do that?”

I can’t help the small laugh that escapes my lips. “When did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re into Iggy.”

Marley stares at me as he fingers the loop on the right side of his bottom lip, something he does when he’s pensive or turned on. Since he’s never put the moves on me, I assume he’s contemplating my question.

He tilts his head back and sighs. “I’m so fucked, Kaye. I’m so fuckin’ fucked.”

“When did you realize you were bi?”

“I’m pan. I’ve always known. The issue isn’t my attraction to men. When did you realize you were a lesbian?”

I laugh nervously. “When Piper snuck into her brother’s bedroom, who was my boyfriend, and went down on me.”

Marley gasps. “Excuse me?”

We both burst out laughing, easing the emotional phase of a moment ago.

“Like, she went downtown with the poor fucker snoring away right beside you?”

I shrug. “Pretty much.”

Marley smirks. “She’s a shit disturber. No wonder you didn’t want her on the tour. How are you gonna handle your perfectly curated life going topsy-turvy?”

“I don’t know, Mar. I’m fuckin’ fucked.”