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WitFit Jan/Feb 2013

90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll

Word Prompts: Beguile, belittle, bewilder

-PoM-

"Are we ever going to get there?"

The person in the seat next to me looked my way, staring pointedly at my bouncing kneecap.

"Sweetie, don't give yourself a heart attack," she said. We've got twelve planes ahead of us. This isn't going to be quick."

I tried to stop the nervous jiggling of my foot because it made our seats bounce. "It's just that I've got somewhere to be tonight and it's kind of important."

"Me too, but you trying to shake the plane into the air isn't going to get us there any faster."

Relieved that at least she didn't seem aggravated—because that wouldn't make for a good flight—I looked out of the window again. Like my willing the plane to move would even work. "Sorry, I'll try to stop."

Currently I was sitting on a plane, still on the tarmac, and in Salt Lake . . . two hours after I was supposed to be in the air. My flight had been delayed twice before I could even board, and now our flight was one of many in line to be de-iced. My fingers twitched toward my bag constantly for a cigarette only to draw short when I realized, yet again, that the other passengers probably wouldn't like that.

Because getting kicked off of the plane entirely certainly wouldn't get me to Portland any faster.

Eventually we were cleared for takeoff, and I stewed the entire flight because it would be midnight before I got to the hotel now and the show I'd promised to be at would be over and done with. And Edward, whom I hadn't spoken to for more than a handful of minutes after telling him I was going on my assignment, would undoubtedly be pissed.

By the time my flight landed I was past frustrated and simply on the verge of tears. Even though I'd enjoyed the show I was sent to see, today had been nothing but long delays and missed connections—and all I really wanted was to just get to Edward.

-PoM-

When the cab dropped me off at the front of the hotel, the cute jeans and shirt I'd changed in to at the airport in Salt Lake looked like I'd lived in them for days and my hair was a mess. I stood in front of the doors, my appearance reflected back at me through the gleaming glass, and wondered if the employees of this rather nice establishment would kick me out for looking like a homeless person.

"Fuck it." I lifted my bag over my shoulder and opened the door. The lobby was busy but not terribly so, and a little bar off to the side had sounds of raucous laughter and classic rock hits spilling out of the open door.

I glanced at my watch, saw it was just after midnight. Well, score one for me on getting something right today. The show probably had just finished but it would be stupid to try and head over to the club now that it was so late. Deciding to wait for the guys and Rose to show up, I headed for the bar.

The inside was dark, smoky, and rather full. I glanced toward the bar and saw a single empty chair with what I hoped would be a decent view of the lobby. Ready for a drink after an excruciating day, I started over and then stopped in my tracks.

The head of hair sitting at a seat five down from the open one was easily recognizable: too long, not combed, all fiery autumn and streaks of sunshine. Edward sat at the bar with his head bent low over a glass of amber colored liquid, and to his right sat a blonde I recognized, too.

Tanya.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, my brain whispered at me to just save face and run. I batted that train of thought away, fury bubbling up because Oh no you don't.

The bar was crowded enough that I was able to walk right up behind them unnoticed; was able to hear that they were deep in conversation; was able to see her lean her head in close to him while his words spilled out.

". . . really fucking miss him. Everything has gone to fucking hell since he died, and I'm sick of it all. Jasper's lost his focus and can't get shit done. Rose keeps playing the 'I told you so' card." His voice took on a high pitch, mocking, and the slurred words and tilting of his of his head closer to his glass were a dead giveaway that he was beyond obliterated. "The suits at the label are a bunch of assholes. And Ty's gone and I can't talk to anyone about it. I just . . . I wish he was still around. "

He couldn't talk to anyone besides Tanya?

"You poor thing," she cooed. "What about your girl. Isn't her name like, Belinda or something? She seems like one of those types that just loves to listen to other people's problems."

I dropped my bag, hands balling in to fists.

He hunched lower over his glass, shoulders tensing. "Bella. she's always gone . . ."

Smooth as could be, Tanya, turned her head in his direction; a beguiling imitation of the most understanding listener save for the smug smile she wore. She leaned in to him further, moving to place her hand on his leg.

Before she could even get close to touching him, I spoke up. "Edward."

His head jerked up and he turned, squinting at me and trying to focus. His eyes were glassy, face splotchy and devoid of emotion. He was so obviously wasted, and that she'd try to play her stupid games when he was so out of it had me seeing red.

"So you decided to show up,'" said Tanya, sitting back in her seat.

"For whatever reason, you seem to think this is your business—" I gestured between Edward and myself— "and it's not. I think it's time for you to move along."

She shrugged, taking a slow sip of her drink and faced toward the front. The bartender had moved down to the other end and it was then I noticed the bar had a mirror behind the bottles . . . and I was clearly visible in it.

So, she'd known I was there. Nice.

"Hey, I was just here talking to an old friend who needed someone to lend an ear."

"How gracious of you to take out time from your busy backstage activities."

"I don't know who you think you are, but I'm not going to stand here and let you belittle me . . ."

I inserted myself into the space between their seats, and looked over my shoulder at her, eyes narrowed because I was done being baited. "Oh, I know who you are. Seen it too many times to count. You're just an opportunist, nothing more. And, like I said, it's time for you to go."

Edward, eyes glazed over, went to grab my hips and I heard her chair scratch when she grabbed her bag and left. I took her seat.

"How long you been here?" he said, slurring.

"Long enough."

Anger gave way to hurt, and it cascaded like a waterfall inside my chest. I'd rushed around like crazy to get here as soon as I could—for him—and instead found him turning to someone else because he couldn't talk to me about what was going on? And I was always gone?

That was such bull. I wasn't Tanya; my life wasn't focused on the next guy who could pay my way while I traipsed behind him to the next concert stop. I had my own dreams and aspirations just like Edward had his—and it wasn't fair to ask that I give mine up completely to focus solely on his.

I'd seen it too often growing up with a mother who dated guy after guy, changing herself to fit their tastes until she was no longer recognizable as her own person. And I didn't want to be defined by my relationship with someone.

I wanted my relationship with Edward to be a partnership.

He turned away from me then, concentrating on his drink. "How was your trip? Get the big scoop, Miss Rock Journalist?"

"Don't start. You're not going to pick a fight with me in public just because you're in a bad mood and drunk. If anyone should be mad, it's me. You should be talking to me, not her. I am your girlfriend and I've tried to be here for you in any way I could, aching because I've been doing the best I can to help you get through this. And you've done nothing but push me away every single time."

"Fuck, I was just talking to her. She showed up and started talking to me."

I leaned closer and looked him straight in the eye. "I don't give a fuck about her. She's not the problem."

The man next to us—obviously clued in to what was going on—cleared his throat and stood up, muttering something about not being able to get a drink in peace.

Edward, still quiet, picked up his glass and finished half of it in one gulp.

"I can't do this alone, Edward. We have to do this together or it won't work."

I watched as he raised a finger to the bartender for another drink. My shoulders stiffened when the bartender put another glass of whiskey in front of Edward. "You want a drink?" he asked me.

"No thank you."

Edward gave me a sidelong glance and picked up the stir stick, tossed it in front of him, and raised the glass to his lips.

"And that won't help either."

He sighed. "My friend died, okay? He got into a place he couldn't pull out of and he fucking died. And I didn't do shit to save him. And then you're always gone and up to your own thing, and so to take my mind off it, I have a drink every now and then."

My voice lost some of the harshness. "So talk to me about it instead of shutting me out. How about finding the guy I fell in love with for me? Nice guy, fought like hell for me about a year ago, treated me nicely. I know he's in there somewhere."

Saying the words conjured up all sorts of memories that broke my heart, and I looked down to hide the tears forming in my eyes. Because the guy next to me, the surly, brooding asshole? He wasn't the one who owned my soul. But I'd also heard the words he confided to Tanya because, apparently, he didn't feel like he could talk to me anymore.

And that just plain hurt because all I'd been trying to do for weeks was to get him to talk to me.

After a few minutes of tense silence, I realized that waiting for him to answer was fruitless. He was in a mood and drunk to boot, and the words on the tip of my tongue were ones I didn't want to put out there right now. So I picked up my bag and rose from my seat, pausing to see if he was going to come, too.

He hunched back over his drink, lifted his eyes to the television set in the corner.

"Okay, fine," I mumbled, tears choking my voice.

I was a couple of steps away from him when he finally spoke. "I fucking knew it."

I stopped walking and turned back. "What?"

"Figured you'd run away when shit got to be too much."

The nasty words settled deep, just as he probably knew they would.

But they also set loose a maelstrom of checked emotion. I stepped back toward him and spoke in a low tone laced with venom.

"How dare you. I'm here right now because, no matter that it was a fucking hassle to do and I had a really shitty day, I wanted to be here for you tonight. Just because my job doesn't make me famous doesn't mean that it's not as important as yours. You're pissed that I missed a show? Well, I'm sorry. Remind me about that next time something in my life comes up and you're not there for it."

He said nothing, just looked at me, so I continued. "I love you more than any other person in the world, so forgive me for not wanting to sit by and watch you destroy yourself, and also not wanting to sit back and take it when you treat me like I don't give a shit. I know what I want and it happens to be you. I don't, however, want some petulant, cliché 'rockstar' who lashes out when he doesn't get his way or hides his pain behind a freaking bottle."

"I don't—"

"Nope, you poked at me until I exploded, so I'm having my say now. Where has the guy that Ty looked up to gone? You need to take a long hard look at yourself, Edward, and see through all of the bullshit to what's really going on inside of you. Because, me? I'm not the scared, young girl you met in Phoenix. I've grown up a lot and started to understand what I do and do not want out of life. And, by the way? I'm not the one running here—you are."

And that was it. Any longer and I would dissolve in to tears, and I didn't want to do that. Not here and certainly not now.

I'd already made a fool out of myself in front of an audience once tonight.

Along the way out I bumped in to Jasper, who stared at me in bewilderment. I started to brush past him but he took a hold of my arm to keep me from storming out of the hotel.

"Bella, Bella. Stop." He pulled me into a corner of the lobby and stepped back, taking in my tear-streaked face. What's going on? What happened to you?"

"You need to go take care of Edward. I'm going home."

-PoM-

Song – Once – Pearl Jam