I didn’t know where Sophie went.
“They should be ready in a few minutes. Did I see Sophie come in with you?” Maysie asked, looking around for her.
I glanced into the living room and saw Vivian and Cole cuddled up on the couch while he played a video game, but there was no Sophie. She must have gone up to my room instead of hanging out with everyone.
“Yeah, I guess she went upstairs,” I said apologetically.
“Oh, does she not want anything to eat?” Maysie asked, frowning.
“I don’t know. I’ll go see,” I told her, annoyed that Sophie, once again, had separated herself from my friends.
I headed up the stairs to my bedroom. I found Sophie watching TV on my bed.
“What are you doing up here?” I asked irritated.
“I want to spend some time with
just
you,” she commented. She patted the bed beside her, but I didn’t move.
“Maysie’s making food. It would be nice if you came down and hung out for a while,” I said sharply.
“Why? So I can feel like an outsider all night? No thank you,” she snapped, turning off the television.
I rubbed at my temple. “You’re not an outsider, Sophie. We’ve been together for long enough now that you’re as much a part of the group as anyone.”
Lies.
And Sophie knew it.
“Am I?” she demanded, her voice relaying her skepticism.
She got to her feet and walked across the room. She wrapped her arms around my waist and lifted up on her tiptoes so she could kiss me. Her lips were dry and warm. And when she parted them for my tongue I tasted the mint of her gum. But I wanted to taste strawberries.
Why was I thinking about strawberries?
Sophie tried to deepen the kiss, but I gently pulled away. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs.”
I wish I could ignore the hurt in her eyes.
Or the guilt I felt for putting it there.
I
was drunk.
Actually, I had moved past drunk about three drunks ago.
Whatever.
“Fucking hell!” I threw the remote control on the floor and knocked back the rest of my beer.
“You betcha! I’m the king and you know it!” Cole slurred, pumping his fist triumphantly. Asshole.
Vivian was curled into his side, fast asleep. Jordan and Maysie had left two hours ago. And Sophie had gone up to my room in a snit when I told her I wanted to hang out for a while longer. She had spent the entire evening texting so I wasn’t in a rush to follow her up there.
“Man, I’m horny, we need to go,” Cole announced, shaking Vivian awake.
“What the hell?” she groaned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
“I want to go home and fuck,” Cole growled, kissing her roughly.
“Uh, I’m still here,” I called out when he started to put his hand down Vivian’s pants.
“Come on, Cole. Let’s go back to my place. Gracie’s asleep by now,” Vivian murmured against his mouth, pushing on his shoulders so she could get up.
Vivian stumbled to her feet, not because she had been drinking, she was stone cold sober, but because Cole was still trying to unbutton her pants.
“See ya later, Mitch,” she said, smacking her boyfriend’s hands away. “Stop it, Cole! Not until we get home!”
Cole muttered something unintelligible as he wobbled on his feet. “I’m gonna eat some pussy tonight!” he sang at the top of his lungs and I threw the remote at him.
“Shut up, man. I don’t need to hear about it.”
Cole threw it back and gave me a sloppy smile. “You could go eat some pussy too. Don’t you have Tits up there in your bed?”
Yeah, I didn’t think Tits, I mean Sophie’s, pussy was on the menu tonight.
“Come on, baby,” Vivian cooed, supporting Cole as they walked to the front door. “Bye, Mitch!” she shouted.
The door slammed behind them and I was left alone. Garrett was in Boston until Monday so it was just me and Soph in the house. That should have been the cue for rabid monkey sex on every available surface.
If we were like normal couples we wouldn’t have been able to keep our hands off each other.
But we weren’t a normal couple apparently.
I tried to watch some TV, but I couldn’t get into anything. I was hoping for some Fresh Prince of Bel Air re-runs but I was out of luck. I thought about watching some porn so I could at least rub one out, but that sounded depressing.
I drank another beer but that just made me feel like I was going to puke.
I grabbed Garrett’s guitar and plugged it in. Maybe playing music would help me get rid of this restless energy.
I strummed a few songs, but couldn’t find my groove.
The notes all fell flat.
So I sat, staring at the wall, thinking shit that I shouldn’t be thinking, trying to sober up.
I thought about the band. I thought about what the hell I was going to do once that train derailed.
I thought about the woman asleep in my bed that I really wished wasn’t there.
And I thought about Gracie.
Of course I thought about Gracie.
Seeing her earlier today had been…
nice.
Almost casual.
Something like normal.
I had been angry with her for so long. My ego had taken a beating. My heart had been smashed.
But I wasn’t feeling angry right now. I wasn’t feeling heartache or bitterness.
I just wanted to hear her voice. Which was stupid.
Don’t do it. Just don’t! Go for a walk. Or make an omelet. Do not, I repeat do not, drunk dial her!
I picked up my phone.
This is your last chance, man. Retreat! Retreat!
I dialed her fucking number anyway.
I’ll just blame it on the alcohol. It made it easy to make bad decisions and think about consequences later.
“Hello?” Her voice was rough and heavy with sleep.
“Hey,” I said softly. Was I slurring? I didn’t think so. I felt a lot more sober than I had an hour or so ago. But I was still just drunk enough not to care about how wrong this was.
“Mitch?” I could hear the rustling of fabric and knew she was moving around in her bed. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Two maybe?”
“Why are you calling? Is something wrong?” Gracie sounded more alert.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I just thought you could use some Chunky Monkey.” It was lame. Really lame. She’d see right through me.
“Chunky Monkey?” Gracie sounded confused. “Hang on a sec, it sounds like Viv just got home.”
More rustling of fabric and I imagined her in her bed and knew that she was only wearing panties and a tank top. It’s all she ever wore to sleep. My mouth went uncomfortably dry and I had to readjust myself in my boxers.
“Damn, are you psychic?” she whispered a minute later. And then I could hear it. The familiar sounds of Cole and Vivian screwing each other’s brains out.
I laughed. “They left here about fifteen minutes ago and Cole already had it whipped out. So I figured you were about to get an earful.”
“This sounds like it’s going to be a gold medal performance. Here, have a listen.” She must have put the phone to the wall adjoining Vivian’s bedroom because all I could hear were Vivian’s hyena shrieks and Cole’s grunts.
“Enough! Spare my ears!” I begged once she pulled the phone away.
“Well, are you going to rescue me?” she asked lightly and my belly clenched.
I remembered that Sophie was upstairs. In my bed.
While I was talking to Gracie on the damn phone.
When I didn’t answer, Gracie giggled stiffly. “No worries. You’ll just be forced to keep me company. If I have to suffer through the rough and wild sex show, so do you. It was a deal we made years ago, remember?”
“I remember. But I think that promise was made under duress, if I recall,” I chuckled.
Just last week I had told her that I needed my distance. That it was the only way I could co-exist with her in the same town.
Maybe it was the alcohol that made the walls come down so easily.
Maybe I was just sick of being mad at her for things that I couldn’t change.
Because she had been my friend first.
She had broken my heart much later.
“Okay, I had withheld your Twizzlers. That was pretty harsh of me,” Gracie agreed. There was a crash on the other end of the phone. “Crap, I think they broke a window,” she whispered.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked.
“I don’t know. They’re still going at it. Sheesh, they’re stamina is enviable,” she said, sounding impressed.
“It’s all that Viagra Cole takes,” I deadpanned.
Gracie gasped. “No! Really? Vivian never said anything!”
I busted out laughing. “I’m kidding. That’s all him, lucky bastard.”
The laughter dwindled away into silence. Heavy, heavy silence.
“So why aren’t you sleeping? You’re not that much of a night owl,” Gracie observed. I sighed and leaned back on the couch, covering my eyes with my arm. My head was starting to pound and I didn’t feel so hot now that the booze was working its way out of my system.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I told her.
“Like what?”
You.
I thought it but I didn’t say it, thank god. I guess I still had some sort of a filter.
“Is it the band?” she asked and I found my way out. I could tell her something that was sort of true. Because yeah, that was on my mind too.
“I think Generation Rejects are done. And I’m kind of glad,” I admitted quietly. Only to her. It was easy to give her my confidences. My secrets.
“Why? You love music,” she said, sounding surprised.
I dropped my arm to my side and stared up at the cracked tile in Garrett’s ceiling. Was it moving? I closed my eyes, feeling the room start to spin.
“I do. I really do, G, but I miss playing just for me. Not for a label or so an album will sell. I can’t find the passion for it anymore and that scares me.” Why was I telling her this? We were way past that point in our relationship where I could give her my truths.
But I wanted her to have them. I needed her to have them.
They were tiny parts of me I could give her without crumpling.
“Then you have to find your heart in it again,” she said softly. “You have to rediscover that place where you can enjoy playing. Where it’s only for you. And if that means taking a step back and doing something else in the meantime, then do it. You’re a smart guy. There’s more out there for you than just being Generation Rejects’ bassist.”
I held onto her voice like a lifeline. Everything around me was wobbly. My heartbeat was too fast but she was keeping me still.
“What if there isn’t? What if I’m washed up at twenty-five?”
Gracie laughed. “Don’t be silly, Mitch.” God, I loved it when she said my name. “You need to stop being so pessimistic. I think it might be the beer talking.”
“Hey! I’m not drunk!” I denied.
“And I’m the Queen of England,” she stated drolly.
“Well, howdy, your majesty,” I threw back at her.
“Seriously Mitch, if this falls apart and the band is no more, you’ll find something else. You’ll land on your feet. I promise you.”
She sounded so confident. So damn
sure.
Why couldn’t I feel that?
“What am I going to do, Gracie?” I asked, my voice hushed as I gripped the phone so tightly against my ear, it made my hand ache. “What else am I even good at?”
“You’ll figure it out,” she said.
“And what if I can’t find it?” I sounded panicked. I couldn’t help it. I was ripping myself open for her to see.
Could she see how much I loved her?
Where the fuck had that come from?
It came from the deepest parts of me. Where she would always stay.
Damn, drunk Mitch was a total cheese ball.
“I’ll help you find it,” she swore and I let out a noisy breath.
“You promise?”
“I promise,” she replied.
“I’ve missed talking to you like this.” Deep breath. Don’t say it.
“Actually I miss everything about you.” Of course I said it. Stupid mouth to brain malfunction.
“I miss you too,” she murmured and I felt like I was falling off a really steep cliff. Gracie could make me feel so out of control.
And then I crashed to Earth.
There was a creak on the stairs and I looked up to see Sophie standing at the landing. “Who are you talking to? It’s late. You need to get some sleep,” she called down.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I told her. Sophie stared at me for a moment longer and then turned and went back to my bedroom.
Gracie was quiet on the other end and I wondered if she had hung up.
“You still there?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’m here,” she said after a beat. “It sounds like you’re being summoned.” Her voice was tight, her earlier warmth gone.