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Why did I agree to this?
Maybe because I hoped I would feel different when I got out here. Because I’m desperate to move forward. To change. To become what Atonement needs.
Really, I think it’s because I’d do anything for Hail, even if it means a night of suffering from fallout to allow him the time to warm up properly.
My feelings for Hail go deeper than anything I’ve ever felt. And with Lex gone, my sick brain wants to latch onto him like a parasite.
My time ends quicker than expected, and I’m left a hollowed shell as I move off the stage with stiff, robotic limbs. Writing songs has always been cathartic, but sharing them with hundreds, nothousands,of strangers? A blade to my skin, slicing over and over again.
And the fact that this is the first real show I’ve put on, at least to an attentive crowd, since Lex’s death? One that isn’t more interested in Selma’s cocktails than what I have to offer on a tiny stage in a dingy, underground bar?
I don’t register Hail’s words in my ear as he embraces me. Too much blood is whooshing through my head. I barely feel his lips on my jaw. Brushing past him, I shove through the exit door at the back of the venue. He starts after me, but I hear Sondra yelling for him to get his ass on stage.
Cool night air hits my clammy skin. The back door slams behind me, and I’m left alone as I should be, no matter the nagging voice in my head warning me that I should be back inside working. I’m failing Liam.
Immediately, I throw up stomach acid in the alley. How long has it been since I’ve eaten? I can’t even remember. Most of the time, I don’t even feel hungry, though I know I should be.
I slump down against the brick exterior, head hung between my bent legs, until Atonement finishes shredding their fans. Hail busts out of the door, panting and high on adrenaline. He’s coated in a delicious sheen of sweat, beaming with that megawatt smile of his.
Malek and Griff spill out, followed by Liam, who pops a leg against the building and lights up a blunt.
“That was fucking insane!” Malek exclaims, clapping me on the shoulder. “Oh shit, did you just puke?”
“Isn’t the adrenaline great?” Griff beams. “Z, you can never leave us.”
Griff orders one of our hired security guards to drive us somewhere in the SUV, rallying everyone’s votes in favour of pizza and beer. I remain frozen, crouched on the ground, fingers digging into my scalp, when the SUV pulls up to the curb.
Hail squats down in front of me. He hooks an arm around my neck and pulls my forehead against his chest. “You crushed it. I knew you could do it.”
He and Malek haul me up onto my feet and help me into the vehicle, but my skin and bones are too heavy, and their voices are nothing but a warble in my ears. I feel like I’m stuck between dimensions, not fully present in either place. I know for a fact I’m overstimulated, so much so that I can’t even voice the fact that I no longer want to be in public. Or process sound. Or feel my body.
We end up at a corner restaurant downtown with an impressive bar. It’s packed with young, beautiful people, noise spilling out into the busy streets.
As soon as we enter, I fight to swallow, my throat tightening as my gaze runs over the glittering bottles along the back wall before I even digest the volume of people packed into the tight space.
Our security guy cuts us a direct path to a half-moon booth in the back. I’m the first to scoot in, eager to distance myself from the bar. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Atonement occasionally ventures out for some fun. They’re all still young. They’re famous. And they’re untethered from responsibility outside of performing.
Hail leans in toward my ear. “Need a Coke or water, sunshine?”
Still feeling disconnected from my body, I have to work overtime to shake my head. Did I leave part of my soul on that stage tonight? Do I need to go collect it? Shouldn’t I feel fucking worthless for partaking in the very thing I swore to never do again after Lex’s lungs filled with water?
He couldn’t fucking breathe. So why do I deserve to?
I keep my eyes anchored to Hail as he strides up to the bar with his bandmates. A group of young people recognise them, aggressively slapping arms and tossing grins their way. Two well-dressed women with tattoo sleeves ask Hail for a picture.
Here I am, tucked in a cheap booth by myself, smelling like a fucking dumpster mixed with vomit, and rapidly spinning down into another destructive mood. And there are the fans, smiles a mile wide and eager to please. Capable of making Hail happy.
They’re all bombarded with more pictures and requests for autographs while the bartender fetches drinks. Hail’s melting them with his dimpled smile, southern charm at its finest.
This is so fucking wrong. Me being here iswrong. I don’t belong in his life. I’m not a member of Atonement. With the way things are developing tonight, I don’t think I ever could be.
Swallowing down another surge of acid from my stomach, I mentally tally up the distance back to the hotel. We were maybe in the car for fifteen minutes, but it was stop and go traffic.
I slide out of the booth and cut through the tables, head lowered. Liam’s eyes are the only ones that catch mine as I slip out, permitting Hail the freedom to choose someone else. Anyone else.
Just not me.
Twenty-Two
