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WitFit Jan/Feb 2013

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

Word Prompt: Mantel

-PoM-

Sea-Tac International Airport loomed ahead in the distance before I even realized it; I glanced at my speedometer and cursed, and then checked my mirror to make sure I wasn't about to get carted off to jail before I could make my destination. Seemed I had a lead-foot today . . . but there was no way I was going to lose any time in picking up Edward.

After seeing him a couple of weeks ago in L.A. for such a brief time the separation since was worse than I thought possible.

Once I was parked, I picked my way through the sprawling airport and checked the boards constantly to make sure there wasn't a gate change—no way did I want to have to run to a completely different terminal.

The area where I was supposed to be was sort of dead—which I supposed was normal for this time of night. Edward had insisted on flying back separately from the other guys. He'd left immediately after their last show to get home sooner.

Keeping an eye on the arrivals, I paced the hall. I probably looked like a crazy person, and I was waiting on security to collar me, but I just didn't care.

The speaker overhead buzzed, told me that his flight had arrived, and I bounced in anticipation.

He was here. In the same state. In the same vicinity.

It was torturous watching the travelers come off the plane and into the terminal, but finally—finally!—my tall, too-thin but definitely gorgeous boyfriend made his way up the jetway.

His eyes were covered in shades, and he glanced casually around until he caught sight of me. I waved and watched a smile bloom on his face, and then took off running to meet him.

"You're here, you're here," I chanted, throwing my arms around his neck. He hugged me back, lifting me up a little and kissing me.

"You smell so good," he said. He set me back on my feet and grabbed his carry-on bag. "What's up with the sunglasses at night? You going retro on me?"

He laughed, still watching the bags, and pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. "Nah, my eyes are bothering me, so I put these on."

I smoothed a thumb under his eyes, so red-rimmed and shadowed. "Have you slept at all?"

"A little on the plane," he said as we made our way toward baggage claim. "The flight wasn't really long enough to catch any decent sleep."

Once we were standing by the carousel, he leaned down and kissed me again, and I let it go on longer than was decent.

"Mmm. I missed that."

"Me too. Finally. There's my stuff. You ready to go home?"

"Yep. Nice thing about your flight being so late is that I'm parked really close. Let's go."

He shouldered his duffel bag and grabbed his guitar case and waited for me to lead the way.

"Here, give me your other bag," I said.

It was a purely selfish move—with the amount of things he had, I wouldn't be able to hold onto him as we walked, and I really, really wanted to be able to do that. Once we were situated, he slung an arm around my shoulder and I tucked myself into his side as we walked out of the terminal.

I couldn't keep the grin off my face as we walked. The missing part of me was home.

-PoM-

"How was the show last night?"

Edward slumped in his seat further. Poor guy looked exhausted, and I pressed down on the gas pedal to get us back to his place faster. He'd moved only once since we'd been in the car, and that was to light a cigarette and roll the hand-crank window down.

"It was different. Some crowds are picky unless you've already been nominated as 'the next up and coming thing' . . . or whatever-the-fuck. The reception was mediocre at best. But we played a good show." He took a long drag of his smoke and took his time on exhaling it.

I hummed, but didn't say anything else. Truthfully, I wanted to know about how things were going. Edward had remained tight lipped on the subject, and the only info I was getting came from Rose. She thought things were shifting internally; Tyler wasn't doing good at all and she suspected, as did I, that he'd moved on from pot and acid to heroin. If that night in L.A. had been an indicator, we were right. Jasper was, of course, on the warpath.

I decided to broach the topic. Maybe now that he was home, he'd open up.

"How's Tyler doing?"

He looked out the window. "He's all right."

And that was it.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best time to bring it up. And didn't say another word. I could tell how weary he was and thought it'd be best to not press him right now.

I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye and saw that his eyes had closed, his body had relaxed. Figuring him asleep, I turned down the radio and concentrated on the drive.

Not that it helped my mind from wandering. He was so weary, and I wondered if it was just the late night or the whole situation. It had to be hard watching a friend go down a bad path. I'd just turned on to his street when his hand shifted, moving over to wrap around mine.

"I thought you'd passed out," I said.

"Nah, just thinking. We got a contract to record a full length album."

I about let go of the wheel. "You did? That's fantastic! Babe, I'm so excited! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Yeah, it's great. It's still settling in, I think. Dunno. "

"Holy shit. I knew it'd happen." I maneuvered my car into a parking spot, threw it into park. "Do you know any of the details yet? When? How? Oh my god!"

"Right now all I know is that the record company wants us to give them new material . . . and we've got about three weeks to come up with it. You know, 'start with a clean slate' or whatever it is they say."

I thought of his ever-present notebook. "Well you have tons of stuff, Edward. I can't imagine it would be too daunting."

I watched his face and tried to figure out why he seemed so . . . nonchalant about it. I personally wanted to go dance down the middle of the street.

"Yeah, but now there's pressure. Shit, I don't know." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Maybe I'm just too tired to think about it at the moment."

"Then don't. You're home. With me. Let's just go with that for now."

He let go of my hand and slid his fingers up my thigh, and I squirmed, reaching down to cover his hand with mine.

-PoM-

The scent of chicken parmesan I had prepared for him filled the apartment making it smell homey and wonderful. I buzzed around the kitchen setting plates out at the counter, and climbing up to get glasses down from the cabinet. Or, well, grabbed cups from various bars around the Seattle.

From my spot at the stove I could see him on the couch, with his legs up on the coffee table, bare-footed and freshly showered. His hair was still damp and looked dark and unruly.

I loved it longer.

"Can I get you anything?"

"A beer would be great."

The tiny moment of domestic bliss was good enough to negate the weeks spent apart. We'd been holed up in his apartment for two days, only leaving once for me to pack a bag of essentials, and when the prospect of an empty refrigerator and a half-empty bag of stale chips became too much to handle.

The idea of living together, initially something I wasn't sure of, became easier and easier to imagine all the time now.

I grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge and walked it to him. Popping the top of the can, I handed it to him and he caught my wrist and tugged me down and into his lap.

"Sit with me for a minute."

I looked back at the kitchen. "I guess it'll be okay for the moment. I don't want the food to burn."

His knees were boney, though, and digging in to my backside, I slid off his lap and folded myself under his arm. It was then that I noticed what he had sitting on the table beside him, opened up about halfway through. In a rush to get dinner started while he was in the shower, I'd neglected putting it back in to my backpack.

I admit, I tensed up a little. . . and he certainly noticed.

"What's up?"

I slid the paper off of his lap. "Something that I need to tell you."

He frowned at me. "Is it that bad?"

"Well, um, maybe? You know how much I love my internship at the paper, right?"

"Yeah." ," he said, taking a sip of his beer.

"Well . . . Peter asked me to do a review of a CD, to help get me some experience. So, I gave it a shot."

"So far, I'm not seeing any cause for alarm here, Bella. That sounds great. Why are you so worried about it? You know I always love your opinion about music. I've already told you I think you'd make a great critic."

I pulled my hair over my shoulder and started to pick at the dead ends. Anything to not have to see his face when I told him. "The CD they asked me to review is 'Cliff Jumping'."

"Huh." I couldn't gauge what was going on by his expression. His face turned a little serious and now I was nervous.

Cursing myself for being such a chicken-shit, I looked up because his one word answer was giving me nothing. His expression was neutral, somewhat serious, and I sighed.

"They published your review?"

"Yeah. It's in the newest issue."

He handed me the magazine. "Show me where it is?"

I already knew exactly which page it was on—I'd read it twice since picking it up. I flipped to the page, handed it back, and watched as he concentrated on the review. His cues were nothing much to go on: a frown, a small smile, a chuckle. Nervously I ran my pointer finger over my thumb nail, picked at my cuticles.

Eventually he closed the magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table, and I waited for his reaction.

"And I . . . what did you think?"

He looked in my direction, shook his head, and then stopped my hands from the fidgeting. "You're the most ridiculous person I know. First off, you know I always like your opinion on music. You know what you're talking about." He slid his fingers in between mine. "It's a good review. You said up-front your knowledge of the band and us guys, and it was fair. No sugar coating, which I liked. Great job, babe."

I smiled slowly. "Really?"

"Well, Jasper might be a little pissed. How did you put it? 'A beautifully gifted guitar player with self-obssessive tendencies aside, who spends his time on stage completely wrapped in his own head—and it shows in the power of the chords'." He threw back his head and laughed. "Dead on, Bella. But you know he's gonna get fucking stupid about that."

I threw up my hands. "I know! That line was maybe, possibly ruder the first time I wrote it. Will you save me if he tries to throw me in the Sound? Peter helped me rearrange some things and showed me where my 'personal feelings' were evident and we cleaned that bit up. But he did say said it was excellent start for my first try."

"You did great. And don't worry. If Jasper says anything to you, I'll lay him out for fucking with my girl."

His lips met mine, and I smiled against them. I'd worried for nothing, and I probably should know better than that by now. Edward was as supportive of me as I was him, and generally pretty laid-back, anyway.

I let him kiss me for a minute before putting my hands on his chest and stopping it before it went too far. said, "He did tell me my original copy was too gushy about the lead singer . . .though."

"Hmm." He grabbed my hand and kissed my palm. "So, you were waxing poetic about the lead singer, huh? Do I have to lay this guy out, too?And you know this singer?"

"Oh, yes, I do. Very, very well. I might be sad if his face got messed up."

"Always the way with you females, isn't it? More concerned about looks than anything else."

I laughed. "It's true. And he does have the nicest face in all the land . . ." I leaned in to kiss him again but jumped back when the buzzer on the stove went off. "Shit! The bread!"

I hopped up and nearly careened into the faux mantel; his laughter followed me as I and disappeared into the kitchen.

-PoM-

We sank back into a routine again, and it felt fantastic. Initially Edward , he slept a lot. I'd just get up and head to school or work, making sure not to disturb him on the way out. After about a week or so I'd come home and find him in the living room working on songs. That, I knew, was his happy place, and I was so glad to see him shake the dust off.

Jasper had been calling every day to see what the status was on new songs, and it was easy to see Edward was getting annoyed by that.

One day, I walked in to the apartment after grocery shopping to find Tyler and Edward camped out on the couch and working on something I'd never heard before.

"Hey, Ty!" I said as I walked into the room. I set the groceries in the kitchen and returned to the living room. "Haven't seen you in a while, how are you?"

"Hey, Bella. I'm good."

And he did look better, like he'd actually gotten some rest. Still didn't help me from watching him closely, cataloguing what I thought I knew against what I did.

The differences worried me.

He looked okay, like he had also gotten some rest but I was still worried. Without wanting to interrupt, I left them to their thing and got the groceries put away, pulled some deli meat to make lunch. The sound of them playing was a peaceful backdrop to slicing lettuce and tomatoes, and I listened with a keen ear to the new lyrics.

They were different than those on Cliff Jumping, but in a good way. More introspective, yearning.

"I'm gonna jet man." At Tyler's words I looked up, saw that he was packing his things up.

"You're leaving already? Don't let me run you out. I'm making sandwiches; I can make you one, too."

"Nah, I have to get going anyway. Gotta pick up Lauren before I head down. But thanks." He crossed to the doorway I was standing in and gave me a hug. He felt insubstantial, thinner than before and like his bones might break if I held him too tightly.

He broke away and nodded at Edward. I'll see you at the Dutchman."

"Yep. We'll be there."

He gave Edward a two finger wave and headed out the door.

"The Dutchman?"

"Yeah, we booked rehearsal space there prior to the recording date to get shit together before the recording date. We only have three weeks until we head to Milwaukee."

I stopped breathing for a second. Since when was freaking Wisconsin a part of the plan? I certainly didn't recall it being brought up in any recent conversations.

"Milwaukee?"

"Yeah. We're going to record there."

"Oh. And you didn't think it'd be worth mentioning?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I swear, I told you."

"Nope, don't recall it." I went back in to the kitchen, but I wasn't hungry any longer. I grabbed a soda instead and went to stand at the window. It was grey outside, foggy and gross and it would probably rain soon. Which somehow felt perfect.

It was stupid to be so upset; I'd known things were going to start moving fast and that I'd have to get used to the idea, but his not telling me that he was leaving, again, wasn't exactly copacetic, either.

Arms wrapped around my shoulders that in truth provided more comfort than irritation than comfort at the moment.

"Everything's been such a blur. You know it's not something I would deliberately keep from you."

I hummed. "Yeah, sure. Things like that are important, though, Edward. Same as finding out you got a record deal and waiting to tell me. There's a lot going on right now and it's starting to come hard and fast, and I'd really like to not be the last one to know."

He turned me around. "I'm sorry, really. I didn't mean to leave you in the dark. I'll try not to do that again. You know, no matter how hard it gets, you and me? We'll always be okay."

Deciding to let go of the mad because fighting with him wasn't something I particularly wanted to do, I slid my arms around his waist and prayed that we always would.

-PoM-

Sorry for my dirty laundry... errors fixed.

Sappy - Nirvana

Thank you BT!