It was pushing midnight and she had yet to call or at least text. She should have landed over two hours ago. A flight from Florida to Washington D.C. took no more than three hours. He started pacing in the tight space of the tour bus as their driver slowly moved through traffic. It was going to take at least 13 hours to drive from Miami to Nashville and at the rate the cars were moving, it was going to take triple that. With three scheduled stops –one for gas and two for the driver to actually sleep- they're supposed to be officially in Tennessee in two days, the first of September.
Her flight left at five in the afternoon; she was scheduled to land in Washington D.C. a couple of minutes before ten at night since she had a layover in Charlotte, North Carolina. The clock just struck midnight and she still didn't call. He was worried; he didn't worry, he's not a worrier.
He tried calling her cell phone but it went straight to voicemail. It either died or was on airplane mode, whichever it was, he hated it because it prevented him from getting into contact with her. He called each of her guards, but each and every call he made went straight to voicemail probably for one of the same reasons he mentioned earlier –however in this case he was leaning towards their cells being on airplane mode. He didn't know for sure, but he wouldn't be surprised if somewhere in their training manual –if they had one- that it was against the rules for all of their phones to die which cuts off all source of communication and contact with them.
Jay spent the last hour refreshing his twitter page along with the CNN app he recently downloaded on his phone, only because Erin told him it's important to stay updated on the news. For some reason he was even more thankful at having downloaded the app because for the next half an hour he was refreshing the page to make sure there was no breaking news about anything happening to her. His mind formulated the worst thought possible, the worst case scenario.
Halstead continued to pace in the dark tour bus; the only light comes from his cell phone screen and the headlights from the cars driving along the highway. He wouldn't be able to get any sleep without knowing she made it home safe and sound. Already expecting it to be a long night, he flopped down onto the bottom bunk, running his hands over his tired eyes as the sound of Ruzek's snores from the bunk above his grew louder and spread around the bus.
He tried to call her again.
He sat back in his bunk, kicking off his shoes and laying down, pulling the thin blanket over his body, "Come on Er, answer, so I can get some sleep." He tried to call again. It went straight to voicemail like the many times before. He checked social media. He checked CNN. Nothing happened; there was no breaking news in regards to her and no headlines mentioning her name.
He should be relieved. He wasn't.
Jay opened Twitter and typed out a tweet, tagging her name in the message: If anyone has seen or spoken to ErinVoight can you let her know that her boyfriend is awaiting her call. Where are you, babe?
And if he knew he would receive retweets and comments of Erin Voight sightings at the three airports she's been to today –Miami, Charlotte and recently D.C.- then he would have went the Twitter route hours ago. His followers saved the day, mentioning her in their retweets back to him; she was first seen by a few arriving to Miami's airport, then waiting at her terminal. She was seen by a number of people boarding her plane and someone even mentioned to him that she ordered a glass of wine while on her flight from Miami to Charlotte. While he didn't need that bit of added info, he would never complain about being privy to any and all sort of information related to his girlfriend. She was seen waiting in Charlotte's international airport by more of his followers than he cares to count, and one was even on a flight with her to D.C., casually mentioning to him that their one hour layover turned into a two and a half hour layover because of something involving the maintenance of the plane. Another few followers mentioned spotting her leaving the D.C. airport with her guards in tow. The retweets and comments from his other followers included declarations of love to him, a few sprinkled insults and a number of people introducing themselves as his biggest fan. He overlooked those.
His first priority was his girlfriend. And even though she hasn't called him yet, he knew she landed and made it back to the nation's capital unharmed.
Erin's phone is dead. She watched it flicker out the second she was boarding the plane from Charlotte to D.C. She could never sleep on planes so she was forced to stare out at the dark sky as her guards snored beside, behind and in front of her.
Erin just arrived back home and she's utterly exhausted. She was on tired legs as she turned the key in her lock and pushed the door open, "Home sweet home."
She dropped the handle of her suitcase in the hallway, kicked off her shoes as she walked to her bedroom, and slowly started throwing off articles of her clothing. Standing in her underclothes, she makes it precedent to plug her phone into the charger beside her bed as she ventures over to her dresser to grab a shirt –Jay's shirt- that he left here. Or that she took out of his suitcase when he packed his bag back up to fly off to Nevada.
Once her phone had enough power in it, it buzzed back to life, lighting up the screen with the Apple logo on it. She doesn't pay attention to it. Instead she ventures into her bathroom to comb her hair, wash her face and brush her teeth –a nightly routine that she's trying to get in the habit of doing more. She's human. Sometimes she forgets.
Her phone erupts with notification after notification. Her texting tone doesn't even have a chance to blare out the entire sound because it's cut off by more texts, by the sound of voicemail notifications and social media notifications. Her phone dies for a couple of hours and it seems like the world is on fire. While she had every intention of not responding to anything, at least until she's had at least eight hours of sleep, she decides to anyway because at the rate the notifications were coming in, she'll be spending all day going through them.
Missed calls from her mother, her father, her brother, Severide and Jay.
Text messages from her brother, Annie, Severide and Jay.
Social media notifications from Jay and a number of mentions from people she doesn't even know.
She goes straight to social media; the rest can wait. She clicks into Twitter, spotting Jay's tweet the second the app loads up. She chuckles before going over to the list of mentions, finding herself tracked by a number of his fans to keep him updated on her travel. She calls him.
He answers on the first ring.
"You were having me tracked by your followers," she gave a tired and exhausted laugh, "I don't know if I should be offended or flattered."
He yawns, "You should be flattered; you should definitely be flattered."
"My phone died," she admitted, turning off her bedside lamp before crawling into bed.
"I figured."
Erin places him on speaker as she hears him adjust himself in the bottom bunk of his tour bus. He sounds like he's uncomfortable; she got a brief tour of the bus, the bunks were small and the bus itself was cramped. She couldn't imagine being housed on the bus with three other guys, including the bus driver. She hears him release a sigh, "Are you squished?"
"How'd you know?"
"It's a gift," she replies, yawning into her opened hand.
"You're tired."
She nods in the darkness of her bedroom, "Yeah, traveling is exhausting but I don't think falling to sleep is going to come easy. Talk to me."
"About?" He yawns. The sound of it is contagious and causes for her to yawn again.
"Tell me about when you decided to become a musician."
From whatever city in Florida the tour bus was currently driving in all the way to downtown Washington D.C., she could practically see and feel the smile on his face. She adjusted the pillow below her head and pulled the comforter up to her shoulders as she listened, "I was young when I first got interested in music. My mom had a beautiful voice and I must have inherited that. She would sing to me and my brother all the time as kids. She was into church and she regularly sung in the choir too. She always encouraged us to express ourselves and the first time I actually picked up a microphone to sing was at her funeral."
"I bet she would have been so proud."
"That's what Kim says."
"Well Kim's a smart woman."
Jay smiles, "I wish you could have met my mom. She would have loved and adored you, almost as much as I do."
"I wish I could have met her too," she adds.
"Um, after her funeral, I started singing more to feel closer to her. I started writing music and I actually taught myself how to play the electric guitar and the piano."
"You know how to play the piano?" She interrupted.
"I had a lot of time on my hands since I was grounded majority of my adolescence."
Erin left her phone on speaker, but moved closer, bringing her mouth over the mouth piece to ensure she spoke clearly, "By your dad?" She knew the subject was sensitive for him.
"Yeah; he didn't know the first thing about raising kids so when my mom died, he used alcohol to grieve and anytime we acted out or did something wrong, he would either hit us or punish us," his voice was low; she knew he was in a bus full of his sleeping bandmates and he didn't want for any of them to wake up to see this side of him –the vulnerability he fears and tries to hide, "it was when I was in tenth grade that the band formed. I wrote the music and Will got us some gigs. We performed mainly at high school parties until we graduated and then during the day I would bust tables at some restaurant that's probably shut down now on the Southside of Chicago and then our gigs would be at night in some club or bar that decided to hire us to be the entertainment of the night when their first acts would cancel or back out at the last minute."
"If only those spots knew how big you guys would become."
He shrugs, "They milk it for what it's worth. They have posters up and include it in their ads that we performed at their spots before we were famous."
"You ever think about going back?"
"Sometimes, maybe just to see who the entertainment is of the night."
She buries her face into her pillow, shutting her eyes for a few seconds to rest before reopening them, "How'd you guys get famous?"
"Well after three record labels rejected us, I was pretty close to giving up but then I thought of my mom and I thought of how passionate she was about her talent. I felt I owed it to her to be just as passionate about mine. How does that saying go? If you don't use it, you lose it. Will got us a gig at some festival in New York; it was the first time we left the state of Illinois and actually traveled and there we were spotted and we signed on after a week or two of negotiations. And the gigs started coming in more, we noticed our fan base starting to pick up, we had our first television interview and then next thing I know I have our first album written and it's being released and then we're going on tour, getting awards, getting followers, making money, traveling and then I write a second album and now we're on a second tour and it's all happening so fast now when in the beginning it started off so slow."
She takes a deep breath as she processes every word he's just spoken, "I'm so proud of you," her voice sounds tired; it's filled with a heaviness that's a mixture of fatigue and exhaustion.
Jay doesn't respond immediately. He doesn't know how to respond. Besides his mother, Erin is the only person who tells him or has told him about how proud he makes her. It gives him a fuzzy feeling inside. It makes him miss his mother more. It makes him hate his father even more.
"How many days until we see each other again?" It's him that asks because he wants to see her, he misses her even though he saw her some hours ago.
She pulls the calendar app up on her phone and it's too late for her to count the days so she makes a guess, "I think like 43. September has 30 days. We have like two left of August and then we have to make it through an additional week and a half in October. I think its 43 days, give or take a few days."
For a few short seconds, it's silent on the phone and she thinks he fell asleep, but she knows how he sleeps –he's a snorer- and when she doesn't hear one loud breath of air, she knows he's still awake. She knows he's thinking. She knows him.
"What's on your mind this late at night?" She briefly glances down at the time on her cell; it's a little after one in the morning, "Or should I say this early in the morning?"
"How do you always know the right thing to say?"
He's referring back to her 'I'm so proud of you' comment. It meant more to him than she'll ever know. In this case, she doesn't even know it's still on his mind. Such a small statement that she's heard regularly throughout her life meant the world to a man who's heard it enough times that he literally remembers each and every time he was told it.
"What do you mean?"
"You always know what to say," he clarifies and she hears him moving around in his uncomfortable bunk; she sympathizes for his back, "It's like you say the right thing at the right time all the time. How do you do that?"
"Years of practice," she offers with a shrug, "but to be honest, I truly don't know. I can guess or throw out a theory but that's all I can offer."
"I'll take it."
"Maybe it's the combination of growing up as a politician's daughter and being a lawyer. I was taught at a young age to think before I speak because words, just like actions, have consequences and a lot of what we say and do can come back to bite us whether it's one day, two months, three years or a decade down the line our past statements and actions can make a reappearance. And when it comes to law, practicing law and being a lawyer we have to be very careful about what we say because it's documented in the courtroom and just as the Miranda rights tell a person when they're under arrest, you have the right to remain silent because what you say may be used against you. We can be our own worst enemy and I'm already my biggest critic. And I sometimes slip up and say the wrong thing; I'm not perfect at it, only human. I'm not good at many things, but public speaking, I'm well on my way of mastering it."
"I think you've mastered it."
"And I think I love you," she whispers.
"You think?"
"I know," she corrects.
"And I still can't believe it."
"Why not?"
And this brings up those emotions he felt earlier today, all the thoughts that swirled through his mind after he spoke to Rixton. It all comes back up and he's sitting on the bottom bunk on a tour bus filled with his bandmates and a bus driver who is most likely hearing his side of the conversation. It's late and he blames it on the early hours; it's close to two in the morning and by the next hour, the driver will be pulling over to a rest stop so he can get a few hours of sleep himself. He blames the urge to talk, the fact that he told her about his parents –albeit briefly, but he told her nonetheless- and he can never take it back because now she knows.
"Because you're you," he keeps referring to her as 'you're you;' he did it when he invited her to be his plus one to the awards show and now he's doing it again. He says it as if it explains everything. And he doesn't do emotions. He doesn't like being vulnerable but for some reason talking to her makes him vulnerable sometimes and he hates it. He hates commitment and relationships when they start to make him feel weak and exposed.
"You're going to have to clarify, babe."
"You're the one good with words, I'm not," he uses it as an explanation, but she simply waits for him to continue, "I just mean," he prays that no one can hear him; that all his bandmates are still asleep, "you're you," he uses it again and it still explains nothing, "and I'm me," that's a new one that he feels more comfortable explaining, "I'm an adrenaline junkie. I'm spontaneous, but not always in a good way. I'm a risk-taker. All of those reasons are why I like driving double the speed limit, why I enjoy and encourage public sex, why I didn't use a condom with you after that time in the pool without even knowing if you were on birth control, why I've used my first official pay check to go sky diving, to zip-line, and scuba dive, why I didn't show up to perform at the Independence Day concert knowing your parents would probably hate me if I bailed, why I threaten to walk out of interviews if someone ask me a question I tell them not to ask. I don't like people telling me what to do. I hate authority. I don't play it safe. I ride motorcycles without helmets. I speed without wearing a seatbelt. I've probably gotten more speeding tickets than half of the people you know combined. I have a criminal record. I have a short fuse. I have anger and a hot temper that I've –for the most part- kept at bay when you're around and I can't help but wonder how you can love someone like that, someone that is the polar opposite of you, someone that will probably never have your parents' acceptance."
This is heavy stuff and she still doesn't know exactly what he means by 'you're you,' but she drops that particular thought when she's presented with new material to respond to, "Okay," she takes a deep breath as she thinks and starts to realize that maybe she isn't as good with words as he believes because she doesn't even know where to start. She's speechless and she's thankful that he cannot see her right now because in combination with her lack of words, there's a look on her face that she fears he would have taken the wrong way if he saw her in person.
"Jay," she unplugs her phone and rolls over to her other side; "I love you because of every reason you listed on why I shouldn't love you."
"Erin…" he sighs in disbelief.
And because of that she tries a different tactic.
"You've changed my life for the better. I'm not perfect."
"You're damn close to it," he retorts, running his hand down his face.
"I've done drugs and I've indulged in underage drinking. One of my childhood friends was a teenage mom, my college best friend was a ladies man and my other college best friend was a prostitute and a drug addict," she reminds him kindly, "I play it too safe. I care about what most people think of me. Spontaneity makes me nervous; I prefer to plan things out ahead of time. I'm far from a risk-taker. But, being with you brings a side of me out that I've yearned for, you bring out the best and the fun in me whether you see it or not. Before you, I've never had sex outside of the bedroom, before you, I've never had sex without a condom, before you, I've only probably had sex in like two positions, before you, I've rarely stopped what I was doing to fly to another state days after I was invited, before you, the comments on social media would have led me to purchasing way more ice cream than is socially acceptable to binge eat through my emotions, before you, I would still be eating take out for dinner and not cooking as much at home, before you, I've never traveled as much in one year, before you, I wasn't truly living, I was just going through the day with work and then philanthropy and before you, I didn't know what it was like to be truly, whole-heartedly, passionately, emotionally, physically, devotedly, vulnerably and desperately in love with someone."
And Jay smiles because she's managed to bury the thoughts and emotions that came from having commitment issues –for how long, he didn't know, but it's tamed, hopefully forever. And his smile stretches even wider when he hears her yawn. She may be falling asleep but that didn't stop him from responding and it didn't prevent her from listening, "You always know the right thing to say. You've definitely mastered it."
-x-
It had been another week since he'd said goodbye, since they had their heart to heart, since he last saw her in person and felt the warmth of her touch. Since then, they'd both done their best to stay busy and keep their minds off the other in hopes that the time would go by faster. It didn't work. Instead it gave the opposite effect, only making them miss each other even more. With the more time that passed, the more they dated and loved each other, the harder it was going to be to tour without her, to go days without seeing, touching and speaking to her.
It's the end of the first week of September, close to trickling into the second week. They are now back on long-distance relationship status; and they both hated every ounce of it. He was now in Nashville, Tennessee. He's actually been here for around a week and with his concert happening in the next week, they were scrambling and working through their busy schedule –sound check, lighting, placement, a radio interview for a local station, a fan meet and greet to sign album covers and posters and to close it all up was their concert late into the next week.
Erin had given him a call, promising him the night before through text that she'll call the second she has a few moments of free time –but he doesn't answer. Her face fell slightly when she heard his voicemail tell her that his voicemail box was full. Stupid long distance. Stupid careers. Stupid schedules. Stupid everything. In the age of technology, why was it so hard for her to keep in contact with her boyfriend? She threw her cell phone onto the couch in her office just as the door to her office opened and her mother entered, "Whoa…am I disturbing something?"
"You are actually," Erin rose to her bare feet and walked barefoot over to her desk.
Her mother heard but she could tell her daughter needed the break whether she realized it or not.
"How are you sweetie? You look a little tired. Are you getting enough sleep? And you do look a bit thinner than usual, what are you eating? Are you actually eating?" she cooed, pulling away to look her over properly, "I should have brought food. I wasn't planning to stay long but I can always put in an order for some Thai food from the restaurant down the street."
While she appreciated her mother's love and concern, she didn't need it. She could always use more sleep but recently, with more interns working under her and having to review Landon's caseload since he's still considered a new hire, it interfered in her sleeping scheduled. On most days she got to work around eight in the morning and didn't leave until ten at night because while she managed her interns, the paralegals on the floor and her new hires, she still had to manage her own workload. She was tired, absolutely exhausted, but that's what happens when you fall behind on work to visit your boyfriend for a few days. It's been another week since she's gotten back and she still hasn't caught up on the work she's missed. And while she usually brings work with her, she hardly ever gets any of it done.
"Mom," she took a hold of her mother's hands, "that's not necessary. I actually brought my lunch; I just have to heat it up, but I'm considering using my lunch break to actually take a nap instead. I'm more tired than hungry to be honest."
"You poor thing," Camille envelopes her arms around her daughter, drawing her into a tight hug, one that practically squeezes Erin's vocal chords, "Want me to talk to your boss?"
"No, no," Erin shakes her head as she pulls herself out of her mother's arms, "absolutely not. I am not sending my mother to talk to my boss. I can handle this."
"Erin, you're tired, you're hungry and no offense darling, but when's the last time you introduced a comb to your hair?"
Her hair was in a messy bun. She washed it this morning, but she was running behind schedule and didn't have time to comb it out and dry it. It's going to be a mess to deal with later.
"Thanks mom," she sarcastically responds.
"And your nails and toes," Camille glances from her daughter's hands to her feet, "I don't think I've ever seen you without them done. The polish is coming off."
"Mom…"
"I'll treat you to a spa day," her mother interrupts.
"I don't have time. Maybe for my birthday?"
Camille waves off the suggestion, "No, that's not until April; it's September and you need it."
"Mom, I'm fineeeeeeee," Erin dragged out the last syllable.
Camille didn't look like she believed her. With the concern of a mother, she raised her hand and held it against her daughter's forehead, "I worry about you sometimes. You're running yourself ragged. Between work, volunteering, and traveling to see Jay, you're slacking when it comes to taking care of yourself. I'm worried."
"Mom, I don't need you to worry."
"Well too bad because I am," she brings her manicured nail –painted light pink- up to run along the side of her daughter's face, "You don't need to keep flying out to visit him."
"It's a relationship, mom. We make sacrifices."
"It sounds to me like you're the only one making sacrifices," she retorted, biting her lip afterwards and tilting her head as she waits to see how Erin responds.
"We both make sacrifices."
"Okay baby," Camille gently cups her daughter's face with her hands, "you've been spending a lot of money on plane tickets to visit him, you've been letting him in emotionally and I saw the tabloids when it assumed that the two of you broke up because he was spotted getting cozy with another woman and not to mention after all the hard work we put into getting his band the perfect spot at the Independence Day concert and he doesn't show…that guy has a lot of nerve."
"Mom, he wanted to earn it on his own; he didn't want me to get it for him," she defended, "and he's spent money on tickets to see me and he didn't cheat on me and we never broke up and he's been letting me in emotionally just as much."
"He could have at least had the balls to call and decline the offer," she asserted, rolling her eyes disdainfully, "I knew I should have listened to your father. He's unreliable, untrustworthy and he doesn't appreciate the hard work that we put in to doing something nice for him. I worked for weeks, along with my assistant, to get his band that spot and he declines because his feelings were hurt that his girlfriend saw his talent and networked for him to get this once in a lifetime chance. I had to do major damage control, Erin."
Erin felt too tired to argue, but when it came to her boyfriend, she had all the energy in the world to defend him, "I used my status as your daughter to get him that spot. He wanted to earn it for himself, to get it because of his own merit and celebrity status, not because of mine."
"How nice," Camille sneered.
"Mom, come on, you like him, and you know he's a good guy."
"Sweetheart," her hands are still holding her daughter's face, "while I respect the fact that he wanted to earn it on his own, you don't bail when someone does something nice for you. If he wasn't good, if he wasn't high profile and talented and of a celebrity status that is required for such an event, I wouldn't have tried so hard. This event represented me because I started it when I first became the First Lady and I hosted it every year since then and my name is all wrapped up and tied in the making and the production of it. I wouldn't have allowed someone who lacked what was needed –whether it's talent, merit and/or status- to perform in the concert just because they're sleeping with my daughter. I saw him perform in front of your father. My assistant is a huge fan, remember? And after you mentioned the idea to have him perform in the concert, I did my research and he has a major fan base and he surpassed every requirement needed and that's why I worked so hard because you were right, he deserved to perform, he is good enough and that's why I did what I needed to do to give him the perfect time slot to perform and he never showed. I had to find out his band wasn't coming from you. That's unprofessional, but you can let that boyfriend of yours know that I don't make the same mistake twice."
Camille presses a kiss against her daughter's face and finally drops her hands. She takes a step back and settles her hands against her hips in an effort to calm herself. Erin was tired and she was using every ounce of energy coffee managed to provide her on this argument. She didn't know. She screwed up. And this could have all been avoided if she minded her own business. She honestly, truly didn't know and neither did Jay.
"We didn't know."
"Of course he wouldn't," Camille shrugs; her hands still rest on her hips when she does it, "why would he? It's not like he got into contact with me to decline the invite."
"I didn't know."
"And even if you did, the two of you were fighting so I highly doubt he would have been interested in what you had to say at the time," Camille was now pacing; it seems the more she talked about it, the more upset she got, "but it appears it just takes for you to almost get hurt for him to come around so you two have that going for you."
"Mom…"
"I liked him for you. I thought he brought out a light in you that I haven't seen in a long time and that was good, but he disappointed me."
"Yeah well, he once told me that disappointments are a result of expectations and he can't measure up to those."
"He didn't even try," Camille sneered.
"Mom…"
"I mean how does he expect your father to like him when he keeps proving him right?"
"Mom…"
"And I mean right in the sense of being unreliable, untrustworthy and selfish and not to mention that unflattering tabloid about him seeking comfort elsewhere didn't help!"
"Mom…"
Camille is now rubbing her temples while her eyes are shut, "I'm a mama bear who is a tad bit protective of her cubs and I just hate the fact that I don't like him right now because it makes things difficult for you and I want to like him but I just don't, I don't! And when your father vents to me about him, I used to defend him but now I find myself venting too because he disappointed me and you made a good point about expectations but I'm human Erin and I have expectations for practically everyone in my life and the lives of my children."
"Mom!" Erin interrupts, and Camille slowly peels her eyes open, "Why are you here?"
She didn't come to talk about Jay; she didn't come to vent about him. She actually came for something completely unrelated.
"I actually came to ask for a favor," Camille drops her hands from her temples, "but you're busy so I think I'll just ask your brother."
"What's the favor?"
"Your father has to go to the UK in mid-October for a week and I already RSVP'd for a number of charity events in that same week and unlike your boyfriend I try to stick to-" she interrupts herself after her daughter shoots her a look, "okay, I'm sorry, I just wanted someone to go with him, someone that's family, but you're busy and I can just ask Justin."
"If Justin goes, dad will only see him twice, on the flight there and the flight back."
"Fair point you make but you don't need to go, you're already about to pass out."
"True," Erin grins as she takes her mother's hand, "but I can't pass up a trip to visit the UK. I couldn't go with you guys last time so I'll go this time and I could use some alone time with dad."
"I don't know how much alone time you'll get with over 20 secret service guards, not including your four, and a team of staff members with you guys from sun up to sun down."
Erin shrugs, "We'll figure it out."
"Thank you. And I promise I'll get you an unlimited amount of spa days because you deserve it."
Camille doesn't stay long after that which Erin appreciates. She actually uses the excuse of taking a short nap as a reason to get her mother out of the door. She flops down onto her sofa, staring down at her unpolished toes and the pure exhaustion that courses through her body honestly makes her want to cry.
She hears a tune from her laptop; it's facetime. And she has to force herself to her feet to walk over to answer the unexpected call from her boyfriend, "Hey," her throat is dry.
"Hey babe, so I got a speeding ticket earlier today," Jay grumbled, pulling his jeans up a little more forcefully than necessary; he had just gotten out of the shower, "and I was wondering whether or not you think I should try to fight it?"
"What were you going?"
"Don't freak out," he dryly chuckles; he knows she's going to freak out.
"What were you going?"
"Ninety in a sixty-five," he whispers as if he's ashamed but she knows this isn't the first and it won't be the last, "Don't be mad."
"I get that you love that adrenaline rush, but can't you find a safer way to get it?" She practically pleads and the tears that threatened to come from exhaustion were starting to appear, "I will never forgive you if I get a call in the middle of the night or find out from a celebrity news site or channel that you died while being a thrill-seeker."
"I'm sorry."
"I don't need you to be sorry; I need you to be careful."
"Okay, I'll try. I promise, just don't cry," He hates the sound of her voice when she's on the verge of tears; he hates the look of her crying, "just please don't cry."
"Just pay the ticket. And thank you," she sniffles, using the back of her hand to wipe her face.
"I mean I don't really have a choice. We have to pick our battles, right? We're compromising and I don't think you're asking for too much."
"Well look at you," she cracks a smile even as drowsy tears form in her eyes, "I think you're well on your way to being a man of wisdom and words."
"I have a long way to go," he chuckles.
Erin doesn't tell him about her conversation with her mother. She doesn't mention the fact that she's literally about to pass out from exhaustion. She even talks over her growling stomach. She doesn't tell him any of it but he does notice something is off.
"How many days do we have left now?" Jay carries his laptop into the bathroom, setting it down onto the counter as he stares bare chested in front of the mirror, reaching to grab his shaving cream to spray into his hand and rub it along his jawline.
She's so consumed with watching that she misses the question twice to be exact. When he ask the third time, she finally responds, "Um," she clicks over to her calendar app to scan it, "maybe like 30. Don't quote me on this."
"I never do," he chuckles.
Erin watches him shave; she watches as he glides the razor along his jawline, only to rinse and wipe the cream and hair off after it becomes too much for the razor to bear. He continues to shave, eyeing his appearance in the mirror, but focusing the conversation on her, "What's wrong, Er? And don't say nothing's wrong."
"I'm just tired and hungry."
"Since when is my girl not hungry," he throws out a joke to lighten the atmosphere but she's too tired to laugh, she's too tired to register it as a joke.
"Since I don't have enough time to actually eat," she answered his rhetorical question.
And that's when he lowers the razor, turning it off to face her, "When's the last time you've eaten? And when's the last time you've had at least eight hours of sleep?"
"A few hours ago is the answer to your first question and I honestly can't remember is the answer to your second."
"What's a few hours ago?" He's growing concerned the more he talks to her.
"…maybe when I first woke up."
"And what time was that?"
"Five…"
"In the morning?" She nods to answer his question, "and what did you eat?"
"I had some grapes."
"What else?"
"…just that."
"Have you not eaten lunch yet?"
"I'm just going to skip it to take a nap."
"And how many hours of sleep did you get last night?"
"Um," she thinks to herself but it's difficult for her brain to focus on anything right now, "I got home around 10:30 and I did some work until around two, and I woke up at five so maybe three or four hours of sleep last night."
"And the night before that?"
"…maybe two or three hours."
"Erin…" he sighs and turns to face her in the camera screen; half of his face is clean and shaven and the other half of his face is covered in shaving cream.
"I know! I know, my mother already got on me, but I'm so behind on my caseload and my clients keep calling me and my boss is up my ass right now and I'm training interns and my paralegals are slacking and the other lawyer who usually helps me out when she's finished her caseload is on maternity leave because her baby is due next week and Landon keeps stopping by because he needs help with his work and apparently since we went to school together my boss assumed I would be the best person to help him out at least until he's broken in and that's just everything involving work, I didn't even mention the volunteer work," and now her voice is wavering and she knows he hates to see and hear her cry but she's so damn tired and according to her menstrual app her cycle will be starting a little over a week from now and she just wants to sleep for the next week and quit her job and cancel all her RSVPs.
Halstead turns to face her completely; his face is covered in sympathy and compassion and he's never understood when someone would say their hearts go out to a person until this moment right now. His heart goes out to her.
"Breathe, Erin, breathe," Jay encouraged, "Stay with me here."
Erin flops down into her desk chair, closes her eyes and does as instructed. She inhales and waits for him to direct her to exhale. This occurs three times until a light knock beats against her door and she wishes her secretary didn't have the week off to attend her son's destination wedding in Jamaica because people didn't normally visit her as much with her secretary out there. She would have to give her a raise when she gets back. She didn't realize how many people she turned away on a daily basis. Besides her mother, her boss and her guards, anyone who tried to enter were immediately dismissed by her. She wanted her secretary back.
"Erin…" She slowly peels her eyes open at the sound of Landon's voice, "I need some help."
"I can't. I haven't even started reviewing this affidavit and I need to have it reviewed and edited by tomorrow morning which truly means I need to have it done by tonight because I'll be in court all day tomorrow and I need it for court. One of the interns might can help?"
"This'll only take a second," he closes the door silently behind himself, completely ignoring and overlooking her dismissal.
She shuts her eyes once again, inhaling and exhaling after a few seconds. She does it again and again and again as Landon makes himself comfortable in one of the arm chairs in front of her desk.
Erin wants to scream. And Jay senses she wants to cry too just by the waver of her lip.
"Babe," his voice catches Landon off guard, "Babe, turn the screen around, let me talk to him."
She shouldn't. She really shouldn't do it but she's too tired to object, to argue and to think about the reasons why it shouldn't be done. She turns it.
And Landon glances down at the screen, glances at her partially dressed boyfriend, her boyfriend whose hair is still wet from his shower and there's still shaving cream on his face. He lifts his razor and turns it back on, facing the mirror to resume shaving as he speaks, "I have a question," he slowly shaves the last portion of his face, "she said she can't do it yet you come inside anyway and pull up a seat. I'm just curious about which part of that you didn't understand."
"The boss said-" Landon never finishes his question because Jay interrupts.
"Which part of that didn't you understand?" he asked again, a little more forcefully.
"My boss said that if I have any questions or need any help to come to her."
"He did, Jay," Erin chimes in defeated, "I could just do this during my lunch break and forget the nap. If I do that then I might be able to finish up the affidavit after I meet with my clients to prep them for court tomorrow. I'll just review the last set of casefiles I have after the meeting," she's speaking more to herself than anyone in the room.
"No Erin, you're taking that nap because Landon here is going to leave. Isn't that right?"
Even though the laptop screen is facing Landon, she can sense that Jay is facing it, that he's looking directly at the screen to watch as the new hire swallows roughly.
"I can just leave the file on your desk and you can get to it when you can."
"No," Jay shakes his head, disapproving the idea, "you can take the file and do one of two things: figure the shit out on your own or ask someone else for help."
Landon rises to his feet, file in hand and scurries out of her office, being mindful to carefully shut the door behind him so it doesn't slam shut. Erin turns the laptop back around to face her, "Thank you."
"You have to learn to say no, Er."
Erin wipes beneath her eyes in a desperate attempt to hide her tears, "I try but my boss assigned him to me and I can't exactly say no to my boss."
"I can. I have no problem with telling your boss no."
"My mother basically wanted to do the same thing."
He shrugs, "What can we say? We hate to see our girl upset," Jay smiles kindly and lifts his laptop, carrying it back into the bedroom, "Now that he's gone take a nap and if he comes back, give me a call, okay?"
She nods and wipes her eyes with the back of her hands.
"You know I can't hang up if you're still crying," he whispered and he wanted now more than anything to be there with her.
"It's nothing a nap can't cure," she reassures and he finds himself inclined to believe her.
"…then please take one."
She nods, "You got it."
"I love you."
Erin mouths it back before hanging up the video call. To keep her word, she rises to her bare feet, walks over to the door and hits the light switch. And just as she starts getting comfy on her couch, the cell in her pocket starts to ring; I sent your guards a text. They'll be posted up outside your office door and won't be letting anyone inside. I said you needed a nap; they were inclined to agree. Call me when you wake up, -JH
It didn't require a response. She didn't need to reply. But when she sees her guards spread out in front of her glass door and the glass wall connected to it, obscuring any and everyone's view inside. She typed up a quick response before shutting her eyes.
I love you more than anything, -EV
-x-
Jay flashed a smile in the direction of a large group of women who traveled from across the country to sit front and center as his band performed. He met them half an hour before the concert after Will brought them backstage because they apparently purchased a number of backstage passes that he didn't even know they were selling. This was new; this was another way his brother was trying to make money. They made enough from their album and ticket sales; they didn't need to start selling backstage passes and signed merchandise.
The women, 24 of them to be exact, were all over them behind stage. The touching, the pulling, the groping and the yanking were annoying; they weren't zoo animals or museum artifacts. The women were amazed to be in their presence, staring, gasping and taking photos. The obnoxious volume of their talking, the laughing at things he's said that was not funny and not meant to be funny and the questioning and inputting of their opinions on his next album, on his performance wardrobe –which he doesn't even select- and on his relationship –which he had to quickly shutdown. He doesn't need anyone's opinion on that, especially strangers.
Besides the group of women –who his brother told him to smile to occasionally during the concert because it was a part of the backstage package- the concert is a success. Kim stood near the stage, a few feet in front of her seat with her phone in hand and Erin on facetime. Burgess had called her a few minutes before the start of the concert, knowing that she wanted to be here but couldn't actually physically come. She thought it was a good idea and based on the look on Erin's face the second she flipped her camera around to show the band walking onto the stage to start the first song. Erin enjoyed every second of it, watching as her man owned the stage, flirted with his fans with just the wink of his eye, a smolder, and a smirk or extending a note knowing that out of every member in the band, he was the one with the smoothest, the strongest and the most trained voice. Erin may be bias but he's the lead singer for a reason.
The second the band goes to intermission, Kim sticks her earphones into her cell. She watched the appreciative smile on Erin's face as she wiped her cheeks; her tears contradicting the reminiscent smile on her face, "Hey, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm just PMSing," she brushes it off with the wave of her hand, "and I miss him and you guys too and I wish I were there."
"Want me to take you backstage?"
Erin shakes her head, "Nah. I know he's probably busy."
"I'm taking you backstage. He's never too busy for you."
Kim rose to her feet and flipped the camera away. The screen was facing her but the lens was faced forward as she gave Erin a brief tour from her seat to the corridor that led backstage.
Erin watched from the comfort of her living room, fire burning in the fireplace, hands grasped around a warm mug of hot chocolate as she watched the image on her laptop screen buffer to find connection as Kim moved through the many passageways that led to the room where most of the backstage magic happened –wardrobe changes, hair, makeup and relaxation.
"Excuse me," the image cleared up just as Kim squeezed through an endless stream of women.
Since when were fans allowed backstage. She knew for other celebrities this is a common occurrence but she didn't think District 21 were all for it. Jay rarely spoke to fans unless it was for a possible hookup which he ceased to do since he started dating her. Kim was irritated, pushing her way through the influx of women in a small room that they're definitely violating the fire code to be inside. They had the band surrounded, the grunts, the murmurs, the complaints; the insults because she's married to the band's drummer were being slung her way.
Kim reaches the band and says nothing; she merely shoves her phone in Jay's hand and grabs Ruzek's wrist to pull him away, despite the protest from the women who paid for this experience. She didn't care. She didn't bother them before the concert. When the phone landed in his hand, he was surprised, completely caught off guard because it was handed to him faced down so he didn't expect to flip the screen and see her face.
"Hey baby," he greeted, pulling the earphones out of Kim's phone. He heard the grunts of displeasure as he rose from his seat and maneuvered himself through the crowd of women.
"Hi," she leans forward to set her lukewarm mug of hot chocolate down on the table in order to pull her laptop onto her lap, "Sorry to interrupt, I told Burgess not bring me back there."
"I'm glad she did," he dodged the women who turned to face him, who attempted to approach and touch him, "How come you didn't call me on my phone?"
"…because I wouldn't have been able to watch you perform."
He stops walking, "I'm not following."
"Say that again. I could barely hear you."
"I said, I'm not following," he raised his voice to be heard over the crowd behind him
"Kim video called me and I watched the entire first half of your concert."
The words that come out of her mouth. She had a way with words; she could make the simplest of sentences portray the deepest of meanings. He saw the disgruntled look on his brother's face as he stepped out of the room, "That's better. Now we can talk."
"I really don't want to take you away when you're working."
Jay didn't care. He waved off her concerns and brushed off her worries. He had no clue the identity of any of those women; he didn't owe them anything. He never agreed to the idea of backstage passes. And he didn't find any pleasure in dealing with groupies, especially since he couldn't and wouldn't take any of them back to the hotel with him. Rixton obviously has a different idea; he's invested, he thinks it's all a great idea and he is currently flirting his way through each female that fits in his so called qualifications.
"Days?" He whispered, leaning against the wall directly outside of the room his band and the backstage groupies are all in, "How many do we have left?"
"Let's see," she grabs her phone and quickly jumps to her calendar app; this is the most she's ever used it, "23. We're less than a month away, babe."
"…less than a month away," he repeats in a whisper.
Being two weeks into September and 23 days left until they're reunited, and having to leave for Charleston, West Virginia by early next week, he's banking on the next couple of weeks going by pretty quickly. It was going to be a five to six hour drive from Nashville to Charleston, WV and with their assigned stops, it would take a day; that day would be the day he'll have to occupy himself to ensure he didn't miss her more than usual. When he's busy, he's fine; when he's bored, he's not. He wants her.
"Actually, now that I have you for a few minutes, I want to invite you to a surprise party we're throwing for my mom," he opens his mouth to object but she cuts him off, "and before you throw out the excuse that you won't be in town, you will. Her birthday is in October and it's the day you are scheduled to arrive to D.C."
"I'm going to have to respectfully decline."
His answer was surprising. She didn't really pose the invite as a question because she didn't want to give him the option of turning it down. It was more of her telling him that he was coming with her without actually telling him that he was coming with her. She didn't want to force him, but she wanted him to go. This was her mother that they're talking about; the one person in her family –besides Justin- who accepted him.
"You can't respectfully decline, Jay."
"And why not?" He didn't like being told what to do, even by his own girlfriend.
"…um, maybe because this is my mom," she answered as if he should have already known, "and it's her birthday and it would mean so much to me if you came as my date and my boyfriend."
He stands up straight –no longer leaning against the wall, "I haven't seen your dad since his birthday and he hated me then and I'm pretty sure after bailing on the Fourth of July concert that he hates me more. And I've seen your mom once since I was a no show and it was after the whole disaster where Sorensen got hurt and she was pretty occupied with her worry for you and I could tell even then that whatever acceptance she had for me at first was gone."
"So you're just going to avoid my parents?"
Will exited the room and before he could interrupt or yank his brother back into the room, Jay held up his finger, signaling for his brother to hold on as he responded, "Erin, I don't want to argue about this with you. I'm not going."
"You don't even want to discuss it?"
"Why bother?" He shrugs, "You won't be changing my mind."
"Jay," his brother muttered, pointing at the closed door over his shoulder, "the ladies paid good money to hang with the band and that means all of its members." He held his finger up once more the second he heard Erin emit a loud groan of protest.
"You're ridiculous, you know that?" She doesn't provide him with the opportunity to speak up or even defend himself before she continues talking, "I mean, are you fucking serious right now," and that sentence by itself catches Will off guard. While Jay has heard her curse, knew that if pushed she could out curse a sailor, his bandmates, his brother and everyone else have never heard a curse word –especially the F word- muttered out of the first daughter's mouth.
Will silently stepped back into the room, probably working up some type of excuse as to why he's not dragging Jay along with him. He didn't want to get in between the couple's dispute; he could take the hint and by the sound of her voice, Erin wasn't going to let Jay off the phone and if Will tried to interrupt, he feared that her wrath would be directed at him.
"Erin, just hear me out," he started, attempting to keep his tone of voice leveled and calm, "I'm only going to be in D.C. for around a week and I really don't want to spend that time feeling uncomfortable because of your mother, defending myself and our relationship to your father and being surrounded by a bunch of uppity rich people who only pretend to give a shit about me and my opinion. I'm coming for my concert and to spend time with you."
"Every time I fly out to see you, to watch your concert, I put my feelings aside to try and be civil with your keyboard player who absolutely hates my guts," she slams her laptop down a bit harder than what was necessary, "I sacrifice my feelings because I care about you more than I dislike him. And these are my parents we're talking about Jay; they're not co-workers, friends, neighbors or acquaintances, they're my parents and you'll never be able to get in their good graces if you avoid them forever."
"I'm not avoiding them," he retorted.
"You are," she argued back, "I know what avoiding looks like and you're definitely avoiding."
Jay knew that soon he would have to hand Burgess her phone back in order to finish the second half of his concert. He didn't want to end the call with her while she's annoyed at him, but he knew that at this rate, things were looking like he would eventually have to. Erin sighed on the other end of the screen; her laptop was no longer on her lap but back on the table. In her hands was a mug of hot chocolate that was probably closer to cold than hot. She still drank it, silently slurping up the remainder of the liquid inside before clearing her throat, "Fine."
"Fine?" He repeats; he doesn't know where she's going with that. He hates that word actually because as far as he knows whenever someone uses it, things are not actually fine.
"Yeah; fine. You don't have to go. You don't have to wish my mother a happy birthday. You don't have to see or speak to my parents. It's fine. I mean because you know, why would you need to ever see my parents? Why would you need to ever get along?" He could hear the emotion in her words as her voice cracks, "It's not like they raised me or anything. It's not like they're two of the most important people in my life and I just want for the few people that I love to get along and that includes you."
He was on the verge of giving in, of throwing in the towel and accepting any and every invite she dished his way, but then she wiped her watery eyes and gave him an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry. It's that time of the month and sometimes I can be…a little emotional and I typically try to avoid phone conversations when I'm like this, but Burgess called and I really felt like I didn't have a choice because she never calls me so I figured it was important or serious and I had to answer because she was there with you and I wasn't and she promised she would keep girls away from you back when I first met her in Chicago and it doesn't look like she's doing a good job at that because those women were all over you and I'm not jealous, just emotional, and I'm taking it out on you and I really don't want to go to the party either but I have to go to at least show my face and now I'm rambling and talking nonsense and I guess I'm not that great at speaking, huh?"
"You're just as exquisite as always," he smiled and in return she gave him one. It may have been weak but knowing that he now has to be back on stage, it was worth it. He held his finger up to his brother the second Will opened the door to wave for him to enter, "You going to be alright?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Did you want me to hang up or hand the phone back to Burgess so she can show you the rest of the concert?"
"Hang up," she answered without much thought, "if I watch the rest of the concert I'll just get emotional and start crying again because I miss you."
"If it's any consolation, I miss you too."
"That is comforting to know," she wiped beneath her eyes.
"I'll be thinking about you," this earned a much larger smile and he now feels comfortable enough to hang up knowing that he last saw her with a genuine smile on her face, tears drying and red-rimmed eyes slowly turning back to their natural color.
