“I just want to be with you,” he says. “Be happy with you and love you.”
I can’t stop myself. Slowly I put my arms around him and ease him into me, his face against my shoulder and my fingers lightly caressing the back of his neck.
“We’re OK, Neil.”
He looks up at me. “Are we? I can tell when something is going on with you. I felt it when I stepped into the room. You wanted to tell me we were over and that you were leaving.”
Oh God. Is that possible? That after a stupid comment from Delmo about Alan that I wanted to end it with Neil? Is that how I’ve been feeling all afternoon? Why I have been internally messy?
I’m not sure and that scares the hell out of me. Could I be that terrible and pathetic of a person?
Neil’s gaze is raging and intense. “Tell me the truth, Chrissie. If we don’t talk, if we’re not honest, the bullshit on the road will tear us apart. What did Vincent say to you that made you think about ending us?”
I lower my gaze. “He told me that Alan called him and wanted to know if I was OK.”
Heavy silence fills the room. I stare up at him. A visible shudder rolls down his arms.
“Are you telling me the truth, Chrissie?”
I can’t find my words, so I nod.
We stare at each other, exhausted and emotionally drained. Slowly, the tension melts out of Neil, and it is strange, very strange, but he looks almost relieved.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I push Neil off me and give him a playful kick with my leg. “Would you stop already? If this is you being contrite, you suck at it. It’s irritating.”
Neil gives me a sweet, half-pouting smile. “I’m not sure that I’m forgiven.”
I catch out of the corner of my eye Josh giving me the God, what a bitch look. I shudder internally. It’s awful how the guys know everything that happens in our life. Six hours on a bus with no privacy, and Neil being overly attentive, carrying an expression like a wounded puppy, still unsure and still worried. Josh blames me for the crap that went down last night at the hotel. He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to. I can see it in how he looks at me.
Crap, I wish Neil would go and sit at the table with Josh and ignore me like he usually does when Josh wants to work.
I lean into Neil, my lips close to his ear. “You were forgiven this morning,” I whisper with heavy meaning.
His fingers play at the buttons of my shirt. “I want to be forgiven again.”
Color rises to my cheeks because I can tell he’s thinking about how we were in bed. We should fight more often, though I don’t really want to, but Neil is very good at makeup sex.
I push at him. “Go away. It’s not happening. Not here. Haven’t you figured that one out by now?”
Neil slowly lowers his face to mine. His lips move gently at first, then the kiss deepens and deepens as his thumb teases my nipple through my shirt.
I’m breathless when he pulls back.
“No?” he cajoles.
I shake my head. “No.”
He lies back on his pillow and makes an aggravated sigh. He look at me. “Are you sure?”
I roll my eyes, but I feel laughter bubbling inside me. “Positive. Stop asking. I’m not doing it.”
He rolls off the bed, ambles down the bus, and sinks into a chair beside Josh.
Minutes later they are focused on trying to create lyrics for Josh’s new song. Neil is leaning forward in his chair, his head bobbing, his eyes closed, and there is no music except for whatever he is hearing in his head.
From horny to working in the blink of an eye. Jeez, why are musicians so weird? One minute I am everything and the next forgotten.
God, he’s impossible to live with.
I watch them for a few minutes. I grab my journal and sink lower onto the bed. I chew on the tip of my pen and stare at the blank page. Do I write about our fight? Some parts of it are still bothering me. I frown. Everything is good between us again. That ugly scene in the room shouldn’t be nipping at my subconscious still.
Maybe I’m not completely over the fight. Maybe Neil senses it and that’s why he keeps trying to make love to me. Guys think everything can be fixed by sex.
Do we have something that needs fixing? Stupid, Chrissie, stupid. You are being hyper-analytical again. Let it go. It was a fight. Nothing more. Things are good with Neil today.
The mattress moves and I lift my nose out of my journal to watch Nate Kassel stretch out on Neil’s pillow beside me.
I arch a brow. “Excuse me? Did I invite you here? Front of the bus: Markem’s. Back of the bus: Chrissie’s. Middle of the bus: dipshits’.”
Nate laughs and grabs off the blanket the journal I finally completely filled yesterday. He starts thumbing through pages.
“You write fucking incredible lyrics.”
I roll my eyes. Why does every guy think I write song lyrics in my journal?
I hold out my hand. “Did I say you could read that?” I ask.
He turns a page. “No. But I always do when you and Neil sneak off the bus to do whatever you two do. I like reading your journals. They’re kind of interesting. Sometimes a little twisted. But the words are good. And I don’t want to watch porno flicks with Les and Pat. I’d rather hang with you.”
I crinkle my nose and make a you’re disgusting face. “Thanks a lot. I really don’t need to know when they’re watch their fuck films.”
He looks at me, amused. “It’s not exactly a mystery, Chrissie. When the VCR’s running, it’s fuck film time.”
“Why are guys such pigs?”
Nate shrugs and starts rummaging through Neil’s bag. “Boredom. We’re only pigs when we’re bored.”
“Then Josh is bored 24/7.”
“Josh is not that bad. Stop giving him shit. He doesn’t hate you. He just gets easily pissed off by the wrong things because he’s so tight with Neil. Besides, who cares about Josh? The rest of us like you, Chrissie. You’re a pretty OK girl. If we had to have a band chick this tour, we’re glad it’s you.”
“Yuck. Band chick? I’m not a band chick. Don’t call me that.”
“Suit yourself. Band chick is not a pejorative.”
I relax against my pillow and watch him as he continues violating Neil’s privacy by taking the shit out of his bag. I should tell him to stop, I don’t even go through Neil’s stuff, but I don’t say anything.
It’s better to roll with this and it’s nice that Nate told me that the guys like me. They’re pretty cool guys. They give me crap, but I bet if someone disrespected me they’d defend me before I could say Hardy Boys.
It’s like having three big brothers, though Josh is more like the oppressive, disapproving uncle always in my face about something.
Nate pulls a bottle of JD out of the case. He holds it up in Neil’s direction. “Hey, man, can I drink this or do you plan to throw it at the side of the bus later?”
Nate starts to laugh, and I give him a hard smack in his chest. How the hell do they always know everything? And why do they have to be so rude and let me know it?
“Asshole,” I exclaim.
“Don’t worry. Neil didn’t even hear me.”
He unscrews the top. He takes a long swallow, offers me the bottle, and when I shake my head, he takes another gulp. He sits there for a while, staring at me, searching my face.
“What was all that shit about last night?” he asks.
I flush. “Nothing. It’s private. No big deal.” Then frustration forces me to ask. “How do you guys know everything that happens with us the second it happens?”
He takes another drink. “Nicole. She was in her room last night. Heard every word. Said Neil was throwing things. Came to my room, pounded on my door. And trust me, I didn’t want to be interrupted last night. But she ordered me to go break it up before someone sent for the cops and if Neil put so much as a finger on you, that I had better kick his ass or Vincent would. And that I should be smart and not leave it to Delmo to take care of.”