CHAPTER 8

They had ended Boston two performances later on the most positive of notes. Reviews kept coming in from various people, appearing on blogs and the news, making their proud smiles and inflated egos even thicker by the number.

Together, they celebrated on the last night at some bar on the edge of the city, drinking to the first week till the sun hovered above the clouds. Later they wondered how the hell the bartender, the only boss, stayed up with them all that time. At noon, they took their flight to Boston, sleeping deeply with some snoring during the three hours.

Still exhausted, the were glad to have one day off before continuing the journey of "Bombshell". Most went to sleep while some went out to lunch. When evening came, fatigue was replaced with faint energy as they finished dinner. Afterwards, sleep called to most again. Some headed to the bar to find company.

Jessica, Bobby, Dennis, Sam, and Karen entered the bar closest to the hotel where pools of light and clouds of heads swarmed the place. Anyone who entered it seemed to shed their integrity.

The group found another group that was worth a few sexually heated dances. Soon, though, they moved on to find another that pushed the barriers, but somehow Karen felt it was good. Or maybe it was the drinking from last night. Technically, the drinking from today. Right?

She couldn't think straight when some guy put his hands on her hips and pushed against her. Her head leaned on his shoulder as if to graze his neck with her lips. When the song ended, they looked at each other hungrily, but she didn't catch his name.

From afar, she spotted her director looking at her with a smile plastering his face. With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, she joined him.

"Hello, Derek," Karen took the seat beside him.

"I saw you getting all steamy and hot with those fellas," Derek quipped.

"Nice way to greet me. Yes. I thought I would have some fun? Do I detect some jealousy?"

"You should know that I don't ever get jealous. Because I always get what I want, when I want it," he answered, with the usual ambiguity that made Karen conclude that he still wasn't under the full influence of alcohol.

"I wouldn't push your luck," she said, and ordered two martinis.

"How did you know what I drank? Get a skill on reading minds?"

"Who said it was for you?" Karen looked him up and down, quietly sipping on her martinis.

"Never thought you would turn selfish," Derek mumbled.

"After a few drinks, I can even get hypocritical," she laughed.

He did too. "You did a terrific job on your first week. Great polishing on the role, day by day."

"Thank you. The book and the songs really related to her, so it was easier to get into character."

"You don't have to give me a reason for your effort."

"For once I can actually say what I think, and I the words get pushed back into my mouth. How delightful," Karen chuckled.

"Just pointing it out. Now tell me, Karen... What is love?"

"You told me you understood it."

"Yes, and I wasn't lying. I simply didn't mean the romantic kind."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright. I'll give you a list. When you love someone, you think of them a lot. Almost every thought constantly finds a way to go back to them. You feel... different around them. For example, when I first dated Dev, I would always have moist eyes when he was near, and I wouldn't even be able to look straight at him," Karen said, stopping to reminisce with a shake of the head. "You want to have them around all the time, because they bring a smile to your face. But it also kills you to see them with someone else."

"Hm..." Derek twitched. "What a burden. Thank God I never fell in love."

"You never did?" Karen seemed incredulous.

"Well, I had a thing for this girl once."

"Did you love her?"

He blinked twice. "I don't know. I think she loved me, though. Very much. She used to mumble it every morning. All I ever did was say, 'Me too'. I never actually said the three words. Then she left me for some French idiot. I guess I was kind of sad. That's when I came here, to Broadway."

"I think you were upset, since you dare call the French an 'idiot'. I think that hard heart inside you actually cared for her," Karen smiled warmly.

He downed his drink.

As the hours passed, they still sat on their stools, getting comfortable sprawled on the counter of the bar, tilting their heads to look the other in the eye to expose honesty and understanding.

"You know what I think? I think that every single person we meet in our life is there to teach us something. One of them eventually teaches us love," Karen said suddenly.

"I've yet to meet them," Derek snorted.

"Them? You're saying you might be gay?"

"Why not? I love women, sure – the curves, the attitude. In men I value the intelligence," she slapped him lightly on the shoulder for the remark. "So, who knows..." he trailed off with a mysterious shake of the head and lift of the eyebrows.

"I guess you like... adventure," Karen said, and felt the need to squeal with embarrassment immediately after. It wasn't a subject she was too keen on tackling with her director.

"Who doesn't?" he whispered in her face, the smell of whisky mixed with his cologne choking the breath out of her. She coughed.

"Do you believe in afterlife?" Karen asked after a while.

"Drastic change of subject! No, I don't think I do. I mean, of course, for people, it's easier and far more comforting to think that they'll see their loved ones again, but I've no one to greet in heaven."

Karen digested, then attempted, "Your parents?"

"My mother abandoned me, my two brothers and my father when I was three. I heard she died about twenty years later. I doubt she'd want to see me again. My father never expressed real affection towards me or my brothers. I doubt he'd care to see me at all."

Karen discerned a cringe in the flow of his features. "Oh..." was all she could give.

"I'm guessing you probably feel sorry," Derek looked at her. She gulped.

"I am," she nodded.

"It's sad. Of course it is. But I miss neither. They didn't mark me in any way that would make me miss them. That's why it's so easy for me to forget."

"Did you love them?"

"I can't say I did, no. Well, my father, I admired him deeply for some time, but that's as far as it went, I think."

"In that case, what kind of love is it that you meant that you understood?"

He thought for a moment. "Oh, that. I meant my brothers. I still talk to the both of them. Married, both successful businessmen in London. They've got this incredible bond because their situations are so similar. But I'm quite far away, so it's a little less strong with me. Still, we've got each others' tight little British asses from time to time," he emitted a chuckled which was followed by a sly grin.

Karen smiled broadly. "Wow. What a story."

"It's why I can be terribly cold sometimes," Derek admitted a little sullenly, looking down into the empty confinement of his clear glass. "You know, Karen, it's going to kill me to say this, but once the world comes crashing down me... I want you to know who I am," he said with incredible sincerity that he prolonged with his direct gaze. For a few instants, it seemed... searching. Then a strange relief resuscitated its strength. A small smile erected on her lips as she nodded lightly. He returned the gesture.

"I'd be glad if you were behind me to catch me when I fall," she murmured with a voice that crisped under her heavy drunken stupor. Still, it did not melt away the tender honesty.

Derek straightened his hand for Karen to take. She lingered her look on it, then shook it, returning her eyes to vow with his. A promise of eternity brushed both their looks, softening away the bar, the crowd, the drinks, and the useless little chatter of sex that hovered about them between short skirts and masculine fragrance.

The sole thing that was left was their gentle solace, their clasped hands, and the honour of the loyal confidence that they found in the other's soul.

After they dropped their hands, still the real world did not fade in. They were in a vortex of strong emotions that did not subside as it all went down the hole. On the contrary, it kept multiplying – hearts beat faster, eyes grew wider, stomachs felt sicker.

Then, the cruel reality to the dream, the heavy grace of the heartache, the torment of a beautiful moment, "I'd better go before I do anything foolish."

He said it with tremendous remorse seeping through his teeth, trickling down his tongue like poison with a burning that couldn't compare to that which nestled in his constricting heart. He didn't want to leave, but he knew he needed to. It was infallible. He could not do otherwise without sending himself straight into the pit of hell. And then he wondered if he did actually believe in God, because such torture seemed too human to him to simply be a fact of nature. Maybe God was in fact walking down a street on some abandoned road, laughing cruelly into his white beard while he made him want something he could clearly never touch the depth of. On top of that, he made him think that he was at arm's reach, that he was close. It was a horrible kind of torture, crushing his lungs as though he were inhaling smoke, tearing his heart as though it was a sheet of paper.

Derek vanished into the night of a new city, meaning – hoping – to lose himself in a dark street where some gang would beat the guts out of him. Like that he would never find the courage to approach her ever again.

A/N : Quite a short chapter. Will upload a new one tonight/tomorrow!