Chapter 15
The week went by slowly and each day I walked into the Heston it got harder. The hotel reminded me of Jack and what we had together. What I had lost, again. Luckily, Lyle didn’t find out what had happened backstage after the conference. Or at least he didn’t mention it to me if he had heard. He did, however, tell me that Mr. Heston’s office had called to tell him that I did a great job and that Mr. Heston was very satisfied. I really didn’t care what Mr. Heston thought, but I was grateful his call seemed to make Lyle happy, which meant he left me alone all week.
Friday night the hotel club was extra busy and the band convinced me to stay an extra hour past the end of my normal shift to keep the crowd partying. I was drained from the long week without contact from Jack, but agreed to stay anyway. I was becoming good friends with the guys in the band and we seemed to have found our stride together. The drummer, Travis, and I had even had lunch together twice, and when we were working he had established himself as my resident bodyguard.
Travis Toomey didn’t look like a typical hotel club band drummer. He had long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, a goatee, and what could only be described as dark brown almond shaped bedroom eyes. His arms were covered in tat-toos and he was physically enormous. He towered above most people with his six foot six frame and shoulders that spanned the width of two regular-sized men. When I first saw him sitting behind the drums, I remember thinking that he made the full-size drum kit look like he was playing a children’s set.
His handsome face was marred by a deep scar going the length from just beneath his eye to his chin. He looked like he just gotten out of jail and had ridden to the bar on his motorcycle to find a woman, club her over the head, and drag her out the back door un-conscious. He looked the epitome of the phrase dark and dangerous.
But the truth of the matter was that Travis rode a bicycle to work and was married to Tom, a man he had been with for more than ten years. He didn’t care what people thought and I was pretty sure he liked people to think that he was a rough and tumble badass. It worked for me because I had seemingly become a magnet for drunk single men who thought I would be sufficiently turned on by their slurring pick-up lines. Travis always kept an eye out for me and would come to my rescue by putting his arm around my shoulder and calling me babe. Every man quietly disappeared with his tail between his legs within thirty seconds of Travis’s appearance.
Travis also always walked me outside and waited until I was safely in a cab before leaving. Friday night there were extra crazies out in the city at one in the morning, so I was grateful that Travis was such a good friend. He kissed me gently on the cheek before I folded into the cab and he gave a sour warning to the driver to take good care of “his woman.”
An hour later I was drifting off to sleep when I was startled back to conscious-ness by a loud banging at my door. It wasn’t a normal knock. Before I even made it three steps from my bed, the person on the other side of the door was pounding my door again furiously. Thoughts ran through my head: there was a fire in my building, or a neighbor was being attacked and needed help.
I opened the door a crack and left the chain on for safety. I probably should have asked who it was first, but I was reacting to the anxious knocking at the door and wasn’t thinking. My pounding heart stopped dead when I saw Jack standing there, his forehead pressed into the doorjamb, which was holding him up. I wasn’t afraid of him physically, but I didn’t release the chain either.
His beautiful green eyes were bloodshot when they locked on me. “Can I come in?”
I could smell the liquor on his breath as he spoke and his words were slightly slurred. A pause and then, “Please.” I looked into his eyes and saw sad-ness and pain. I nodded my head and released the safety chain. He slowly walked in slowly, never taking his eyes off of me. We stood there for a moment, facing each other, just looking and watching each other’s reaction. His hand slowly reached for my hip and I took a step backwards. He flinched at my reaction and balled his hands into tight fists at his sides.
“Is that why you are here? A middle of the night booty call?” I was becoming more and more pissed off each second.
“No.” His voice was defensive, but he dropped his head in shame.
“So why are you here then?” His eyes lifted from the floor to find mine. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t keep away.”
Jack’s words touched me and I let my guard slip slightly. My words were no longer bitter, but I still needed to know more. “Why did you leave and not come back last weekend?”
He visibly flinched again at my question. I watched as he thought and his eyes filled with emotion. “Because I’m a f**king horrible man and you deserve better.”
For me, alcohol was my truth serum, and I hoped it was the same for Jack.
“Why are you a horrible man?” He looked tortured and conflicted and I couldn’t bear it any longer. I reached out my hand to him to provide comfort. I saw relief flood his eyes. He took my hand and held it, waiting for me to allow him something more. “I have no idea how to have a relationship.” A long pause. “I hate my father for who he is, but I’m just like him.”
I couldn’t bear anymore. I needed to take away his pain, even after all the pain he had caused me. I closed the space between us and laid my head to his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist tightly.
His arms wrapped around me, engulfing me into his pain. I listened with my ear at his chest as his racing heartbeat slowed and he clung to me tightly.
We stayed that way for a long time. My emotions were running wild, but I felt more alive than I had that whole week. I pulled back to look at his face, and I could tell he was reluctant to loosen his grip. His face was full of concern. “Would you like to stay and talk in the morning?” Jack didn’t respond with words; instead he pulled me back into his arms and wrapped me inside of his hold even tighter. I brought him to my bedroom and sat him on the edge of the bed. I reached down and removed his shoes. He watched me hesitantly, making no move to touch me. He was afraid of overstepping his place for fear I would change my mind.
“Do you want to take off your pants?”
He looked at me and shook his head no, but reached for me as he laid back on the bed. He laid on his back and positioned me with my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me so tightly I couldn’t move if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to move. I hated to admit it, but there was nowhere else I would have rather been.