Edging Obsession

8

O ur tour is hectic from one city to the next. Fans hang around for hours after concerts, making it difficult to disappear into the bus or hotel. If we’re not practicing, we’re performing, and when that’s done, the guys are partying. A boatload of women and drugs are at their disposal. I’m exhausted. My bodyguards have had to deal with women waiting outside my room, attempting to sneak in or hang on me. Hendrick stayed behind to watch over Jules, and knowing he’s there instead of me is frustrating. She has sent some text messages, but that’s about it. Texting and calling aren’t my thing, so I fire off short, quick responses.

We are in Northern California. My phone pings, and it’s a message from Hendrick saying to call him ASAP. Stretched out on the hotel bed, I press send, and Hendrick picks up on the first ring.

He doesn’t waste any time. “Jules is in the hospital.”

I shoot up into a seated position. “What happened?”

“Attempted suicide.”

My legs drag the rest of my body to the edge of the bed. “She fucking, what?”

Hendrick sighs. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

“How? Why?”

“I don’t have all the facts. All I know is she slit her wrists. Since she wasn’t answering her calls, her parents went over there and found her in time.”

“What hospital?”

“Central County.”

It’s all I need to know. I call Lee to have him meet me in the band’s room. They’re all hungover, zombie walking, farting yesterday’s meals and alcohol. It wreaks of a sewer system on a muggy day, clogged with dead animal carcasses and shit. I charge toward the balcony doors, fling them open, and gasp in as much fresh air as possible. A fury over Jules’ suicide attempt flares over these degenerates. We all get along, but when they bathe in the rockstar behavior, it's like a pick to my spine. And right now, my treasure is in the hospital, and I have to confront a bunch of drunks about getting a temp.

Lee walks into the room, muttering, “For fuck’s sake,” as he scans the mess.

Standing in the balcony doorway, arms folded over my chest, I mention I’m leaving. “Jules is in the hospital, so you’ll have to get someone to fill in.”

As Lee walks toward me, he stumbles over empty alcohol bottles, kicks them aside, and says, “Wait, what? Why is she in the hospital, and why do you care?”

My eyes lock on his. “Why she’s there doesn’t concern you, and I care because we’re together.”

Callan rises from the couch, wobbling to catch his bearings. “So, you two are an item? Like a relationship?” I nod. “This changes everything, Miles. Chicks love you. I thought you were taking advantage of the opportunity to fuck her.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Nope. It’s a relationship.”

He rubs his jaw and curses. “Man, the women will go ballistic.”

Lee pipes in, “They already have. There are tons of pictures of Miles and Jules together, and lots of cringe-worthy comments about her.”

My arms drop. Is that why she attempted suicide? Were they bullying her? I’ll fucking kill everyone responsible. Jules has pumped life into me—a perfect fit. Any harm that comes to her will be dealt with by me. I’m the only one who can inflict pain on her, and that’s under her control.

Callan’s hands wave in front of my eyes. “Earth to Miles. When do you plan on leaving?”

“Today. I know it’s short notice, but there are tons of drummers waiting in the wings.” I turn to Lee. “You shouldn’t have a problem finding someone fast.”

He agrees, the band members grumble, and I assure them I’ll rejoin on the European Tour.

I pack everything from the bus and hotel since I hope to bring Jules to my house. This will allow us a month before flying to Europe. The flight is undisturbed. Andreas, one of my bodyguards, picks me up from the airport and brings me straight to the hospital. Hendrick is outside waiting.

“What are you doing out here?”

He appears exhausted. “Because they won’t let me up there. She’s on the psyche floor.”

I barge through the doors, past the main desk as a woman calls out to me, stating I can’t go anywhere without a badge.

An elevator door opens, and Hendrick and I slip in. “What floor is psyche?”

He hits the fifth floor, and I’m readying myself for anyone willing to stop me from seeing Jules. No one knows what floor we went to so there isn’t any commotion when we get off. I ask a young nurse for her room. At first, she argues I’m not allowed there, and then when she recognizes me, her eyes widen.

“Nash, right?”

“Yes.”

“Um…”

I tip my head to the side. “Please. Where’s Jules? My girl needs me.”

Her face blushes, and she whispers the room number. When I enter, an older man and woman are seated by the wall, talking softly. They stop and rise, staring at me.

The man asks, “Who are you?”

A soft smoky Miles comes from the bed. My attention shifts from them to her. Jules’ stringy curls are knotted in some areas on her head. Dark circles stain the skin under her eyes. A bandage wraps around her left wrist, and thick socks hide her delicate feet. Her legs are flush to her chest, arms hugging them close. Resting her chin on her knees, she averts her eyes, staring at the bed.

My gaze locks on Jules when I speak to no one in particular. “Can we have a minute?”

The man and woman are about to protest, but Jules’ rough voice says, “Mom, Dad, it’s fine. This is Miles.”

They give me a quick glance and hesitantly step out of the room. With my arms folded, I give her a hard stare, which she holds for a second and turns away.

“What happened, Jules?”

Rubbing her forehead on her knees, her voice brittle as a dead leaf, she asks, “Why are you here?” I repeat my question, and tears trickle down her cheeks. “You never bothered to call, text, and now you want to know what happened?” Her eyes finally meet mine.

“I don’t do phone calls or texting.”

She bobs her head with a humorless laugh and wipes her nose. “No, I guess you don’t.”

I step closer to her. “Answer me.”

“I couldn’t take it anymore.” Tears batter her. She appears to be at war with words while tending to her sobs.

I crowd her space by sitting on the bed. “What couldn’t you take anymore?”

Jules waves her other hand in the air. “Everything. Losing you. Losing my job. The online attacks.”

Her hand rests on the bed, wrist wrapped, and a brooding anger simmers in the background. “Why would you think you lost me?”

“Because you never said anything, Miles.” Tears dangle on her lashes. “You kissed me goodbye, and I only received quick responses from you.”

“I don’t do mushy shit, and you know it. The tour is hectic.” I give her calf a light squeeze to get her attention. “Why did you lose your job?”

She angles her head toward me and rests her cheek on her knees. “My boss didn’t like the article.”

“And the online attacks? What were they about?”

She picks at the sheets as she talks. “Us. How I’m not good enough for you? How I should kill myself. All kinds of nasty things.” Her finger runs along the stitching, tears continuing to flow. “We never talked about us. No calls. Quick text answers.” Jules looks at me. “You left without even telling me where we stand. Whether we’re in a relationship. And then when I tried to talk to you, it came off…dismissive.”

“From the start, we had a connection and fucked all the time. What else did you think this was?”

Her quivering lips spit out, “A good time for you while I was around.”

My jaw clenches from this talk of feelings, so I look away. “I spent all my time with you, Jules. Of course, we were more than a good time.”

Jules shakes her head and lets out a rushed sigh. “You’re a horrible communicator.” She sits forward, pushing her finger into her chest. “I didn’t know we were together. You forgot to tell me.”

“Jules.” I exhale hard and run my hand down my face. “You know how I feel about you.”

She glances at the window, her voice cracking on every word. “When it comes to sex, yes, but the rest of me…”

This conversation regarding emotions bothers me, so I change the subject. “About your job. He fired you over the article?”

A torrential downpour of sobs wracks her body, causing quakes and quick inhales. She buries her face in her hands.

“What, Jules?”

With her face still buried, she tells me about what she did to her boss. How he blackmailed her into a blowjob because she was afraid of losing her job. I walk to the far wall and drop my head down. She fucking gave someone a blowjob! My fists clench at my sides. A tidal wave of anger ripples through me and I turn to punch the wall. I leave the room, her sobs growing in volume, and I tell Hendrick to stay outside her room as I head outside of the hospital. Curses spew from me, redness floods my skin, and I throw punches in the air. Andreas comes over to me, but I growl at him.

Images flash of her lips wrapped around her boss’ dick. Him coming in her mouth. Tears seeping out of her eyes as she stares up at him. What the fuck is wrong with her? Why? Why would she even consider it? We’ve been fucking for weeks, and she does this? My feet keep moving down the sidewalk, screaming out and talking to myself. I can’t even count how many times I buried my dick inside her mouth and pussy. Fuck!

“Miles!” Hendrick catches up to me.

I spin to face him. “I told you to stay outside her room.”

“Andreas is standing guard. Talk to me.”

My arms punch downward. I roll my shoulders back and swear up a storm before relaying everything to him. Hendrick is a childhood friend. One of the few people I trust with my life.

He clears his throat. “That’s shitty man.” Hands on his waist, he turns toward the street and says, “Let’s get you somewhere before anyone notices who you are.”

We lock the doors of the tinted SUV and sit staring out the windshield. He lets me stew in my misery for a while.

“You know, before they sent her up to the psyche floor, I heard the doctor mention bipolar.”

My face turns to him in disgust. “Does having bipolar make you suck guys’ dicks?”

Hendrick looks out the windshield when he responds, “She has appeared pretty beaten over the past weeks.”

“You making excuses for her? Do you like her?”

“No! I’m trying to give you a picture of how it’s been while you were gone. What she did is shitty, but maybe it’s more complicated than it appears.”

I glance out my side window, thinking about what he said. Hendrick is always up front, and out of most people I know, he’s logical. Not hotheaded. He knows my past, and how easily I don’t give into temptation. Hendrick sees how Jules affects me. If Jules does have mental health issues, maybe it plays a role in what she did. But fuck, a blowjob? My head shakes at the thought.

My little treasure, tainted by some fucking asshole who blackmailed her. I didn’t even hear her tell the entire story. Blood was pumping so hard in my ears it prevented anything else from registering. I heard boss, blowjob, and the fury swept through.

Without saying a word, I open the car door and return to her room. From down the hall, I hear her crying, begging to be left alone. As I get closer, the doctor, a nurse, and her parents are arguing outside the door.

Before I can go in, her mother touches my arm and says, “She’s hysterical. Please, I beg you, if you’re done with her, don’t go in there. Leave now. She’s been through enough.”

My eyes roam her pained face. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“Jules told me about her boss, and I’m sure that’s why you’re angry. If you can’t get past it, I’m asking you to forget her.”

Her father comes to her side. “Miles, we appreciate you saving our daughter’s life at the club, but we need you to understand she’s in a fragile state right now. Her mental health is at risk.”

I face them and square my shoulders. “I left the tour to check on Jules, and I won’t join the band until we head to Europe in a month. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here.”

Her parents glance at one another and then at me. Reluctant, they give me the go-ahead. I close the door behind me to give us some privacy. Jules is laying on her side facing away from the door. Her agonizing cries reach my heart, and I find myself softening. I walk to the side of the bed she’s facing, but she doesn’t notice. The pillow blocks her view.

“Jules.” She stops crying as she takes a quick inhale, burying her face in the pillow. “Look at me.” Her hands sluggishly loosen the pillow, and she turns her head enough to see me from the corner of her eye. “Sit up.”

Her shaky hand covers her mouth, tears sprouting again as her words crack like a crystal wine glass. “Miles. I’m…”

Jules can’t say any more. Her suffering wins the battle. I pull her up by her shoulders until we’re at eye level. “I didn’t come back to yell at you.”

Her shoulders relax, and she raises a hand to place on my chest. Even in agony, she’s beautiful. I embrace her and she releases her grief. My ass finds the bed, and I scoot onto it, hold her to my side, and let her cry until there’s nothing more to come.

Jules’ parents enter the room, but I chin nod toward the door, and they leave. Her head rests on my shoulder, so I kiss the top of it.

After some time, she says, “Miles, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s over.” I tilt her head up so she can see me. “There will be no mention of what happened with your boss ever again. Do you hear me?” She nods. “Tell me about everything else.”

For a good half hour, Jules talks about how she got depressed because she missed me. How hard it was to get out of bed and eat. She didn’t know where we stood or if I was with other women. Jules saw pictures of women hanging on my arm, but didn’t know if feelings were mutual or not. On top of missing me, she was worried about being jobless. How would she pay the rent? And then she read the hateful things people said about her, and she broke. Jules told me desolation annihilated her insides. She felt disconnected from her actions.

I lift her bandaged left wrist. “You will never do this again. Do you understand me?” She agrees. “What does the doctor say?”

“He says I’m bipolar and I need medication and therapy.”

Her hair is knotted, so I stroke in a soothing motion. “Once you get the medication, I want you to come home with me.”

She rotates in my arms to face me. “Your home?”

“Yeah, I have a house about an hour away from your apartment. You’ll like it. It’s on a lake.” A beautiful smile snakes onto her face. “We’ll find a therapist who can come to the house.”

Jules’ finger glides along my lower lip. “What about the tour?”

“We’ll join them in Europe.”

“We?”

I kiss her nose. “Yes, we. You and me.”

Her mouth opens and then closes. Confusion etched into her face. “Why, Miles? Why would you do this for me?”

My eyebrow lifts. “Why do you think?”

She scoots higher. “I want to hear it from you.”

We stare at each other. I’m not even sure how to answer the question, so I say what I’ve told others. “Because I care about you.” An ambush of tears is about to happen. “Hey, no more tears.” I wipe away some that have escaped. “But you need to tell the doctors and your parents. I don’t have a say in your well-being.” I rest my hands on her ass. “Do you want to live with me, Jules?”

She gives a vigorous nod. “What about my apartment?”

“It will be taken care of.”

When the doctor comes in followed by her parents, he explains Jules’ bipolar diagnosis and what it entails. In talking to her, he also surmised she has hypersexuality, which means she has a heightened need for sexual gratification. It’s often in the mania state and may include decreased inhibitions or forbidden sex. People who suffer from bipolar have mania and depression. High energy, happiness, and many other feelings in the mania state, and sleepiness, loss of appetite and other symptoms when depressed. The doctor talks about medication, which might be altered, depending on how it affects Jules. A therapist will assist in the type of medication and dosage and helping her cope with life’s challenges. After the doctor leaves, Jules tells her parents she wants to stay with me. They protest, wanting her to come home with them so they can care for her. After some back and forth, and my comment about them always being welcome to stop over at any time and stay, they concede.