He takes another long swallow. The tic in his cheek twitches. “I saw you two together, huddled up in one of your chats. And then you ran off stage and didn’t come back.”
Oh crap, Delmo, did you babble to Neil about Alan? I can’t tell what he knows, but I don’t like his mood and I don’t like this.
I lift my chin, a smidge haughty. “Don’t tell me what to do, Neil. And when you get things wrong, you get them wrong. I didn’t run off stage. I left because I was tired. I’ve been at every show for three months. Don’t make a big deal out of me wanting a night alone for a change.”
His eyes sharpen on my face.
“What did Vincent say to you, Chrissie? I thought we’d agreed. Whatever bullshit we hear on the road, we’d talk about it with each other. Not let it hurt us.”
I school my features into a deliberate you’re being ridiculous kind of expression. The pressure of his gaze doesn’t lift, and I look away into a vacant spot in the room.
“He didn’t say anything, Neil,” I say with gritted teeth. “He gave me his usual shit. Told me the story about Jack getting him sober. Again. Like I’m not tired of hearing about that one. And he told me he thought we had a good thing going on together. That’s all. Nothing.”
Long minutes of silence pass and it doesn’t feel like either of us has moved, but I can feel something building in Neil.
There’s a loud crash in the room. It takes a moment for my mind to catch up, and I stare in disbelief at the booze stain on the wall and the broken glass on the floor. Jesus Christ, did Neil just throw a bottle against the wall? Neil?
I stare up at him with painfully wide and disbelieving eyes. “I can’t believe you did that!”
Neil stands, his posture furious, and as close to out of control as I’ve ever seen him. “And I can’t believe you’re lying to me.”
Fear shoots through my veins. My body freezes. I stare up at him. “I’m not lying. Why would I lie about this?”
He shakes his head at me, then puts his hands over his face, his fingertips squeezing into his skull. “You fucking drive me crazy.”
A flash burn covers my skin. How could he say that to me? He drops back into the chair.
“The second things get good between us, you fuck with us,” he says, his voice nearly a ragged growl. “I should never have brought you on tour with me. It was a mistake. You don’t know how to stay out of the shit. You always fuck up everything the second it gets good.”
I don’t know what has Neil so irrational, but I am not staying here any longer.
“Then I’ll leave,” I hiss and scramble off the bed.
I start grabbing my stuff and shoving it into my duffel. I can feel Neil watching me, but he doesn’t move from the chair or try to stop me. How did everything get so wrong so quickly?
“I’m out of here,” I snap. “You won’t have to worry about me driving you crazy. Or fucking us up. Or anything about me. You have fucked us up big time all on your own, Neil.”
I jerk angrily at the zipper and close my duffel. I spring to my feet, snatching my black bag from beside the bed, and then I go to the bathroom. With a swipe I dump my things from the counter into the bag.
I go back into the room and stand in the middle, shaking, frantically searching for something to change into, then I realize I’ve packed all my clothes.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The tears start to give way and I don’t want them to. I don’t want him to see me cry. I just want to get out of here with some shred of pride intact.
I drop to my knees by my duffel, unzip it, and rummage inside for something to wear. As I dress, I catch a glimpse of Neil in the wall mirror above the desk.
My heart contracts. Totally together, always calm Neil looks in complete emotional disarray. I don’t know why. I definitely shouldn’t care. After that you drive me crazy comment only a pathetic girl would worry about what’s happening with him.
I collect my bags, do a fast glance around the room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything, and turn toward the door.
Neil looks at me. “Where are you going?”
I bite my lip. I don’t need to answer him. “The airport,” I say stiffly.
I hear a ragged exhale of breath.
“It’s the middle of the fucking night, Chrissie.”
I fumble with the chain and stupid latch thingy on the door. “What? People don’t fly at night? If there isn’t a flight home tonight I’ll sleep there until morning. I’m not staying here. Not with you.”
No response. I look over my shoulder at him. His jaw is clenched and he’s shaking his head as if to keep himself calm. He’s just going to let me walk away and despite all the rotten things he said, I hate that he’s letting me. And doubly so, I hate that icky feeling of having lived this before.
Why do all the men in my life let me go? I walk away and they let me. I start to hyperventilate. I’m thinking of Alan again and I don’t want to. About how different my life would be if he hadn’t let me walk out the door in Malibu.
I struggle not to let my emotions give way as I pull back the door. The knob is ripped from my hand with a slam of wood, I’m turned around in a dizzying spin, and Neil has me trapped between him and the exit, his hands planted on either side of me. His body is shaking.
His face hovers above me, only an inch from mine. Startled, I smell the booze on his breath. He’s been drinking tonight. Heavily. Not just the JD in the room. More.
“Don’t go, Chrissie.”
“I’m not staying.” I’m proud of how my voice sounds. Calm. In control. Rational.
He leans in to kiss me and I twist away.
“I’m not letting you go.” He eases back from me, blinking. “You’re not leaving.”
My emotions sharply adjust. Damn him. I can’t push out my words so I stay still, not backing down, but not fighting to get away.
“I’ve had a miserable night worrying about you, Chrissie. Worrying about us.”
I don’t want to. I tilt my head so I can see his face. It’s almost like he’s frightened and fear pulses through him. It feels strange. Neil feels strange, and yet I suddenly don’t know what I should do, if I should leave or stay.
“I think I should go, Neil.”
“No. Not this way. Not how we are now,” he pleads, raking a hand through his hair. “I want to know what Vincent said to you. I want to know we’re OK.”
I can barely breathe, and it is probably stupid, completely vain, but right now it feels like if I walk out that door he won’t be all right.
“It doesn’t matter what Delmo said,” I whisper. “That’s not why I want to go. You scared me tonight. I’ve never seen you like this. What is happening to you?”
His eyes widened in pain and almost tortured reluctance. “I have a lot going on. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’d never hurt you. You are everything to me, Chrissie. We matter to me. More than you will ever know,” he admits after a long while.
“Then tell me why you exploded tonight.”
“You left without a word to me. I’ve called you fifty times this afternoon. You didn’t answer the phone. You didn’t want to talk to me and I thought…” He cuts himself off, impatient and frustrated.
“I took a bath. I went to dinner. I slept. I didn’t answer the phone. It didn’t mean anything, Neil.”
“I can’t do this, I can’t make my life work without you, Chrissie. If you leave, everything falls apart.”
My scattered thoughts can’t begin to form a response to that. This is too much emotion. Too much intensity from Neil. I don’t want to fight, I don’t want to leave, and I don’t want to stay.
My legs give way and I slide down, my back against the door, until I’m sitting on the floor. He sinks down on his knees in front of me. I can see how exhausted he is. How distraught he is over everything that’s happened tonight.
“I don’t want to argue anymore,” I whisper.
“I don’t either.” He swallows.
He inhales sharply and closes his eyes. The way he looks makes me want to curl into him, hold him, even after our horrible fight and his awful words.