Limelight (5 page)

"Ahhh," she cried out.  He fingered her a little harder.  A little faster.  He flicked her clit with his tongue at a now maddening rate.  With a wild spasm and a scream, Layla let go, losing control to a violent, breath taking, blinding orgasm.

When he took her into his arms, in his altered state, he didn't think to wonder why his wife had suddenly been able to orgasm.  And as she imagined it was Tara's arms cuddling her, she forgot all about the fact that it was only because of heroin that her husband managed to be gentle.

***

Layla had no idea how long her husband had been using heroin, but she suspected it hadn't been for long.  He was quite open among the bandmates with his cocaine use, but the heroin had been a secret.  However, heroin had the opposite effect on him than cocaine, so she began to recognize when he was high.  It also became noticeable when he wasn't high on heroin, because the withdrawal was a thousand times worse than that from cocaine.  He became viscous, unreliable to an extreme, forgetful, despondent, and physically ill. 

He remedied the situation by shooting up all the time.

Soon, the cat was out of the bag, and everyone knew he was using heroin.  As had always been the case with Seth, nobody quite knew what to do with him, so they all just did nothing.  Times the band wasn't touring, he was almost never home and she spent all her time with Tara and the other bandmates.  When they were on the road, she began partying harder feeling some sort of irrational need to match his downward spiral on some level.  Meanwhile he went God knows where and did God knows what.  The house of cards was steadily falling, but nobody addressed any of it. 

One night after a show, Victim Unknown partied together in a hotel room.  It was an unusually crowded gathering, the kind that Tara and Layla both hated, where a ton of strangers had somehow garnered invites.  The two friends kept to themselves as usual whilst the party swirled barely controlled around them.

Tara noted Layla drinking a lot more than she normally would.  Additionally, she barely said a word, and was in an uncharacteristic rotten mood.  Tara repeatedly tried to engage her best friend in conversation with little success.  A glance through the crowd revealed Seth standing against the wall speaking with an extraordinarily gorgeous blonde.  Tara watched the pair with narrow eyes. 

Layla eventually excused herself and went alone back to her own hotel room. 

Tara roosted on a chair, staring at Seth who hadn't even noticed his wife left.  He made several trips into an adjoining suite and by his both animated and charming demeanor; Tara suspected he was perhaps high on both cocaine and heroin. 

She had discussed Seth with Layla on dozens of occasions.  She sensed that Layla was aware what sort of man she'd married.  But, Layla's tendency was to defend Seth.  To be understanding to a fault, because of Seth's traumatic upbringing.  Tara couldn't stand to hurt her sweet friend.  She never revealed her true thoughts, and she never so much as hinted that Seth had come on to her.  But Tara knew the truth.  Some people handled their problems, sorted out a dark past and rose above it.  Some people rose to the occasion of stardom and success.  They used their status to improve themselves and the world.

But others…  Well, some people just weren't cut out for the limelight.

As the night wore on, she saw Seth's beautiful companion slip out of the party without saying anything to anybody, and an alarm began to sound in Tara's mind.  As she'd suspected, moments later, Seth also stole through the crowd and quietly left the room.  Tara bounced up to follow him.

She let him get a head start and then followed him.  He only went a little ways down the hall.  At the door right next to the room where his wife was probably sleeping, Seth stopped and used a key to let himself in.  Tara rushed up to the door and caught it just as it was about to swing closed, stopping it with just a sliver of an opening to press her eye against.

The woman was nude on the bed, perched on her knees with her legs spread.  She motioned for Seth, who made very short work of advancing on the woman.  He climbed on the bed behind her, put a hand on her back and pushed her head down onto the bed.  Expertly, he unbuckled his belt and unsheathed a long hard cock.  With absolutely no preamble, Seth plunged into the woman from behind.

He rocked his hips savagely, each thrust sending her roughly face first into the bed.  He grunted and growled and she cried out wantonly every time his hard hips smacked against her soft behind.  He reached down and tangled his fingers in her hair, jerking her head back.  Her eyes were closed and though she cried out, her face wore an expression of some sort of sick ecstasy.  He roared as he fucked her with reckless abandon.

Raw fury boiled up inside Tara.  She prayed Layla was deep asleep in the room next door.  On some level, Layla had to know what Seth was all about, but the thought of her actually hearing him through a hotel wall splintered Tara's heart into a million pieces.  Never one to be particularly good at controlling anger, Tara bashed her hand into the door and shoved it open.

Seth's head snapped up, but he didn't even pause in his frantic rhythm.  His sweaty face split into an ugly wicked grin.  The woman didn't even open her eyes, seemingly lost in what Seth was doing to her.

"Well hello there," Seth purred between shallow pants.  The lewd tone he used paired with his penetrating smile sickened her.  "Care to join?"

Tara gasped, realizing she'd made a mistake.  She turned and fled the room.  The sound of Seth laughing wildly chased her out and the door slammed shut behind her.

Two Months Later

"C
ome on now, sister, help me out here," Tara grunted, supporting Layla's weight almost completely.

Layla giggled and stumbled again, almost pulling Tara down. 

"Girlfriend, I can't believe you!" Tara remarked.  The elevator arrived on their floor and Tara sighed with relief that they were almost there.  Layla had been drinking at an alarming rate lately, and frankly, Tara had begun to find it unbecoming.  "You want me to take you to your room?"

The band had been out clubbing.  At one point they'd all noticed Seth was simply gone.  No one had made a specific comment on the matter, but at that point, Layla had begun pounding shots.  Finally, Tara had made the executive decision to get her drunken friend out of the public.

"Your room," Layla muttered. 

Together the two women made way to Tara's room, and once inside she deposited Layla onto the bed.  She released a frustrated sigh and straightened her clothing.  She wore a short denim skirt and a small white halter top.  Not necessarily appropriate clothing to accommodate a falling down drunken friend, and she was thankful there had been no embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions while helping Layla.

In a matter of seconds, Layla was sobbing.

Tara sat delicately down on the bed next to Layla.  A little uncomfortable with displays of vulnerability from other people, she didn't exactly know what to do.

"Hey," she said softly.  "Tippy, what's wrong?"

Layla planted her hands over her face and cried bitterly.  Her dark hair splayed prettily over the bed.  Similarly, the filmy folds of the blue sundress she wore also formed a pretty display around her slender body.  The hem rose slightly up Layla's shapely legs.  In another setting she may have seemed quite beautiful, were she not a broken, sniveling mess.

"Layla," Tara said, addressing her friend a little louder.  "Go to sleep baby girl.  You've had too much to drink."

Suddenly, Layla bolted up right on the bed, so close to Tara they were nose to nose.  Mascara streaked her freckled face, but she stopped crying.  Her level of dexterity surprised Tara.  She would've assumed she was too drunk for any sudden movements.

And then, Layla kissed her.

Tara's breath caught in her chest, taken utterly by surprise.  But the shock of Layla's plump soft lips on her own was irresistible and she fell into the kiss with a sigh.  She wound her fingers gently into Layla's hair and dove her tongue in, tasting and savoring, the taste of lemons and salt.  She kissed her hungrily until Layla whimpered.  And then the spell was broken.  Tara pulled away swiftly and leapt off the bed.

"Layla what the fuck?" Tara exclaimed.

Layla stood as well, slower, and terribly unsteady.  "Come to me, Tara," she said, beckoning.  But she stumbled right back down onto the bed.

Tara's cheeks blazed as she stared down at Layla.  "Absolutely not," she growled.

Once more, Layla fell backwards on the bed and begin to weep pitifully.

Tara's anger instantly relented, as was always the case with Layla.  She could never stay mad at her, not even for a few minutes.  "Lay, shhh," she said, returning to the bed.  She sat down next to Layla and leaned across her, propping her hand on the other side of Layla's trembling body.  "What has gotten into you?" she pleaded.  She felt perched in a very precarious position.  Many thousands of fantasies involving Layla had played in her mind.  But she would never; not ever, entertain the thought of harming such a beautiful, beloved friendship.

She had to take hold of Layla's hands and pull them back away from her face to get her to look her in the eye.  "Don't you get it?" Layla blubbered.  "I'm in LOVE with you, Tara."

Tara shut her eyes for a minute as though she'd been slapped.  Part of her wanted to flee.  But she remained there on the bed, and kept hold of Layla's hands.  "No, Lay.  You're drunk.  That's all.  Just sleep it off."

Layla hauled herself up into a seated position once more.  "I'm not saying this because I'm drunk, Tara.  The drunkenness is just giving me nerve, alright.  It's there.  This thing between us.  It's been there since the first time our eyes meant.  And damn it, you know it."  She stared at Tara with fiery eyes.

Tara studied her endlessly, forcing herself not to pull her eyes away from Layla's gaze.  "Layla, no," she replied weakly.  Even she didn't believe her own protest.

"Yes," Layla whispered.  She leaned toward Tara again, but Tara leaned away and gently pushed Layla back.

"Layla," Tara said, a tinge of heart break coloring her own tone.  She took a deep breath, suddenly fighting tears herself.  Many drunken women had come on to her in the past.  But deep down, she knew that Layla spoke the truth.  It wasn't the booze talking with her…  "No." She shook her head, closed her eyes, then again opened them to meet Layla's pitiful gaze.  "You can't have everything you want."

The look in Layla's eyes was deeply lost and one of black sorrow.  "Tara," she whispered.  "It's not that easy."

Somehow, even in what had only moments before, resembled a drunken stupor, Layla remained deeply connected to Tara.  She could read her mind.  Shaken and uncomfortable, Tara stood and began to pace.  She shot periodic looks at Layla, who never averted her eyes for even a second.

"I'm sorry, love, but just as it's not that easy for you, it's not that easy for me either."

"What do you mean?" Layla pleaded.

Tara stopped and leveled her own heartbroken eyes on Layla.  "You love me, Layla?  Then leave him.  I won't be your dirty secret.  You can't have both."

***

In late night hours, or in stolen afternoon moments, the two friends addressed what had always lingered between them.

Tara confessed her feelings for Layla and agreed she had a wish for a future.  Layla begged for Tara's trust and her love.  All Tara wanted was peace and respect.  All Layla wanted was understanding and time.  Though their lovely friendship continued, on the topic of their one secret kiss, no middle ground could be reached.

Layla could look at her husband and admit that she hated him.  But at the same time, she still couldn't quite forget the eight year old boy she'd comforted on a dismal, rainy playground.  And she could recall every bruise, every cut, and every injury that had marred his body over the years of being beaten by his father with no one in the world to save him.  There was a part of her that wondered if Seth could be saved now.  From himself.

All the same, even though she desperately wished that Seth would get help, in her heart she knew it wouldn't change things.  She understood now what it was that had prevented her from ever forming a sexual attachment to him.  And what it was that made her not really even care that he wasn't sleeping with her at all by then.  Tara opened a doorway of self-discovery within her.  Seth had been all she'd ever known, which had effectively disguised even from herself, that she wasn't attracted to men.

One boring afternoon, while waiting for a show, Layla hung out with Tara in her hotel room, applying makeup and styling hair.  They spoke of frivolous things until somehow the conversation took a serious turn.

"So, Lay…" Tara said hesitantly.  "In a way, I wasn't entirely honest when I told you I'd never been with a man."

"Oh yeah?" Layla said with an arched eyebrow.  She put down her curling iron and gave Tara her full attention.

"I uh, kind of had dead beat parents myself."

Layla's heart dropped.  Tara had refrained from revealing anything about her childhood and she didn't like where this was going.  Phil Cox flashed in Layla's mind, though she hadn't given him a thought in years.

"My father," Tara said, her voice trembling.  "He um, he was a vile man."  She seemed to want to pour out an intricate tale, but clammed up.  "We'll just leave it at that."

Layla wanted to cry and at the same time wanted to fight.  She thought again of Phil and wondered what would have become of her if he had actually been able to carry out his evil intentions that long ago night.

"I'm…  So sorry, Tara," Layla said sincerely.  She watched her friend sympathetically as some internal struggle played out on her face.  "Is that why you're-" The words popped out before she even thought about what she was saying and how she wished she could snatch them back.  Her cheeks reddened.

Tara chuckled.  "A lesbian?  No, dear.  That's not how that works."

Layla buried her face in her hands, thoroughly embarrassed.  But, she was glad to hear Tara giggle.  "Oh my God," Layla groaned.  "Bone headed shit to say to lesbians, for $500, Alex."

Again, Tara's musical laughter tinkled on the quiet air.  "Yeah, um, a lot of lesbians would get pretty hot under the collar about that assumption, not gonna lie.  But I get it.  It's hard to understand.  But we are who we are, Lay, all of us.  We are born somebody, and we don't change.  We may become different versions, better or worse.  But we don't ever truly change.  I will say though, I could see how something like that would maybe affect whether a person decided to live freely, or hide their sexuality, I guess."

Layla thought of her experience with Phil and could definitely see how that had propelled her into Seth's arms.  She'd sought protection and that became paramount before she ever had a chance to truly know herself.

The conversation returned to a lighter note and the afternoon wore on.  Tara used humor to deviate away from the serious topic she'd brought up.  And Layla indulged it to forget the reality of her own world.  But, despite beautiful wishes, sultry daydreams, and the peace of newfound self-awareness…  The truth remained that Layla was involved with an abusive, unpredictable drug addict and she worried that her extremely successful career was irrevocably intertwined with his.  Former band members who'd quit Victim Unknown had ultimately gone on to flicker out and disappear from the music scene.  She resolutely believed the band as a unit was her key to success.  And Tara's.  All of these factors created a festering pool of turmoil inside Layla. 

She desperately wanted to be with Tara.  And to give her everything she deserved.  Yet doing so could possibly destroy both their bright futures.  Neither of them knew exactly what to do.  And Layla longed for Tara's touch more every day; only to have every plea thwarted.

One night after a show in Texas, the band convened for an after show party in Seth and Layla's room.  Remarkably, Seth was present for once, and behaved like a strung out dick head to everybody there.  The rest of the band casually sipped beers and chatted whilst Seth yelled about nothing in particular and bounced around the room full of his usual extremely tense energy.  When he briefly disappeared to the bathroom and then returned brandishing a syringe and sat down on the bed to insert it into his arm, the bandmates had had enough.

Tara roosted in a corner glaring evilly at him.  The drummer and keyboardist expressed their disgust and took off.  Seth injected the drug and immediately fell peacefully backward on the bed.  In another corner of the room, Layla curled herself into the fetal position on an ottoman and watched her husband.

His eyes drifted closed and he lay quietly with a peaceful smile on his face.  After a moment of deafening silence, Tara spoke.  "Is he dead?" she spat snidely.

Layla's eyes darted over to Tara, then back to the bed.  She finally dragged herself off the ottoman and ambled to her husband's side.  She reached down hesitantly, as if about to touch something revolting, and pulled back an eyelid.  "No, just fucked up," Layla replied dejectedly.  "He'll be alright."

She returned to her seat and resumed her position curled into herself.  For a long time she brooded silently, staring at Seth.  Tara took long pulls on her beer and contemptuously watched Layla.  Not a word was spoken.

Then, Layla got up, walked slowly back to her husband, and plucked the needle out of his arm.

She stared at it for a moment, almost as though it confused her.  An inner struggle played on her tortured face.  Then she turned her elbow to expose the veins on her inner arm, and began lifting the needle toward it with a trembling hand.

Tara lurched across the room and slapped Layla's hand, sending the syringe flying.  It hit a wall and smashed, tinkling musically as it fell to the floor.  "Have you LOST your damn MIND?" Tara raged.

Seth didn't even stir.  Layla sank to the plush carpet and doubled over, weeping.  Tara stared angrily down at her, but then dropped to the floor with her friend.  She put her arms around Layla's heaving shoulders.  Meeting only slight resistance, she pulled Layla into her arms.