Hey Girl (Turn it Up #9)

Chapter 23

23

CHRIS

I now owe officer Juan front-row seats to every show we do here at home. I mean, they really did show up with orders to cease and desist or some shit, but they weren’t going to arrest me until I asked them a favor.

As they drive off, I turn to Rebecca. She’s a sight for sore eyes with her newly washed hair, her glasses in place over her hazel eyes that are soft and clear. They aren’t quite joining in with the faint smile that her glossy lips are offering me but I’ll take it.

“Hi,” she greets as I stand here anxiously waiting for something to happen that will tell me where we go from here. “Are you okay?” Her chin dips, as she regards me with concern.

“Yeah, totally fine,” I wave in the direction the cop car drove off. “Donut withdrawals will make you do crazy shit.”

The tiny laugh that bubbles out of her gives me life, yet her eyes look so sad, and an unfamiliar sinking feeling takes over my stomach. What is that? Did my breakfast burrito solidify and turn into a brick?

“Do you want to come inside?” She tilts her head, and though after camping out here for - what day is it? - you’d think I would jump at the chance. But the foreboding burrito feeling in my stomach tells me I’m not going to want to settle in. I’ve never had one of these conversations before—at least I’ve never been on this side of it. I get the feeling I’m going to want the sunshine and fresh air to digest this. The impending dumping, not the burrito.

“Uh, the… porch is fine,” I nervously wave at the porch swing, as I follow her up the steps.

She wraps her long cardigan around herself as she turns to sit on the swing and I carefully sit beside her. Together, we find a slow soothing pace that I don’t think either of us knows if it’s one or both of us gently pushing us back and forth.

I don’t like the way I’m feeling right now. My heart is pounding, but not in the exciting way I usually thrive on. I feel sick to my stomach but not in the way I get from an extreme rollercoaster in Dubai.

I should be happy to see Rebecca so calm. But in this moment, I’d give anything to have her freak out while I be the one to settle her. It’s my new favorite way to channel my own energy, bringing us both down together. Seeing her already there tells me… she doesn’t need me. Not right now. A few short weeks ago, I never would’ve thought I’d crave that to anchor me.

Rebecca draws in a deep breath before letting it out in a long puff. “Chris, I’m going to need some time. To myself.”

“So we’re breaking up?”

She shakes her head. “I just need some time to think and get myself back to a state of control. I can’t do that if I keep barreling forward with all these new parts of my life, I - I …” her speech starts to sputter out and though she’s tearing me apart with what she’s insinuating, I can’t help but instinctually place a hand on her back. I feel her tense muscles relax beneath my hand before she tries again. “I just need to hit the pause button. I need to put the pieces back together. This whole thing with Ta-ta-Tati…the bitch, set me back so badly. I need to get back to my baseline, and then… and then we’ll see.

I want to jump off this swing and throw a toddler tantrum all over her porch and demand she be with me so that I don’t have to sit here and die a slow miserable death from heartbreak but for some reason, I’m able to fast forward in my head, to her scurrying back in her house and slamming the door in response and so I keep myself reigned in. Huh… wonder when I learned to do that.

I don’t know what else to do to keep my shit together except tighten up every muscle in my body and stay as quiet as possible. I might pass out.

“How much time?” I ask carefully. “And we’ll see what?”

“I - I’m not sure. Just however long it takes to feel like I’m on stable ground again. And we’ll see if I can handle being in a relationship that’s so public, I guess.” She gives an uneasy shrug, tucking into herself slightly.

“So you’re … not coming to the UK, then?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

She gets a troubled look on her beautiful little face before finally shaking her head.

I want to rage all over this porch or throw her over my shoulder and race her back to my lair and keep her locked up in my studio where we continue to stay in our safe little sound-proof bubble, having hot, drum-banging sex and she allows me to use her ass as a set of spare bongos. And yet, I force myself to keep my ass rooted to the swing. That’s not going to make her keep loving me. Besides, she’ll probably find a smart way to escape and then she’ll pack up and move to a monastery where I’ll never find her and the nuns will smite me for even trying.

I hate this, but I know that if I push back, she’ll retreat again, and this time even farther and for longer.

I take a few breaths, timing out each one to a steady beat in my head before finally saying, “Okay,” with a nod, and finally meet her eyes. “Okay, you take some time.”

She presses her lips together as her eyes well up behind her lenses. “Thank you,” she whispers before leaning in to wrap her arms around my neck while I allow mine to go around her lithe little body. I let out a breath as my insides get colder.

After planting a kiss on her cheek, I force myself to stand. As much as I don’t want to be more than two feet away from her, I need to get away before I crumble like a stale graham cracker. Gross. But when I reach the top of the porch steps, I have to turn and ask. “So um…you’ll…?”

“Yes,” she nods from the swing. “I’ll let you know.”

“Promise?”

Her face melts into a heartbreakingly sweet expression before she stands and strides quickly over to me. Taking my face in her hands, her eyes find mine. “I promise,” she vows before planting a sweet kiss on my lips that I return, before she releases me a few seconds later, I clamor down the steps and to my vehicle, trying to figure out what to do with myself now.

I barely remember the drive back to my house, and once I’m there, I pace the kitchen. I open and close every cupboard and fridge door, not knowing what I want or what I’m looking for.

I’ve never felt the need to move so badly in my life. I’ve been accused of never wanting to sit still, but before now, the restlessness never had anything to do with trying to outrun some cold and sinking feeling plaguing my insides.

Finally settling on a few BLASTs and a bottle of vodka, I load them up in my arms and head on down to my drum booth.

Once I’m perched on my stool, I fiddle with my equipment and my phone, trying to put together a playlist for some angry fucking drum pounding. It takes a while, as I don’t usually go for that kind of vibe.

Finding a good mix of legendary classics and obscene death metal, I start pounding out the beats with everything I’ve got, doing the best I can not to think… or feel.

For once, I don’t want to take in the whole world, or vice versa. Despite being in the car on an overcast day, my eyes hide behind a set of shades. I keep the rest of me stock still and silent. Josh grabs my chin, lifting my head, only to scoff angrily when I let it flop back down.

“What the fuck?!” He belts out, blowing out a frustrated breath as he turns to look out the window.

“Just leave him be,” Matt chides from the other side of the limo where one of his hands rests on Melanie’s leg. I can’t see her face, as I’m hell bent on keeping my gaze downcast, but I can imagine it’s one of deep sympathy.

“I’m freaking out, man!” Josh bursts out and I can see him wildly gesturing at me in my peripheral. “He won’t keep his head up. Can you imagine him on stage like this? Our stock will plummet!”

“We have a six-hour flight and then a rest day when we get to Dublin. Plenty of time for him to process and regroup.”

I hear a pause from Josh, followed by “I don’t know man. In all our years, this is a first, this took him down hard.”

“I know,” Matt sighs before I hear him address me. “Chris man… we’ve all been there. Okay well, except for Josh. But we pushed through and did our jobs. We kept playing. I know you can do it.”

I feel the car come to a stop. I’m guessing we’ve reached the tarmac.

Everyone else exits the car while I take a moment for myself, trying to muster up the gumption to make the walk from the limo to the band’s private jet. With just me and our beloved driver in the car, I finally speak, my voice ominous and low.

“Wes, my new theme music, if you please.”

The familiar opening chords start to fill the interior of the car but I already know it’s the wrong one. “The Adam Sandler version,” I correct him, and I hear a sigh followed by the music switching over. Love Stinks starts playing and Wes is kind enough to crank it louder as I get out of the car and march slowly and deliberately towards the plane.

Maybe Matt is right. I just need to take some time to feel my feelings. If I just welcome the grieving process and get through it, the sooner I can get back to my crazy self.

For once in my life, I’m lying still and it’s not because I’ve passed out from caffeine withdrawal. I’m alone in the dark with Madonna my only company as the soothing poppy notes of Crazy for You swirl around the hotel room.

I can’t stop thinking about Rebecca. At first it was just a fascination; a curiosity. But then talking to her a few times, it was like I… got to know her. Weird. And now, I’m overcome with some kind of feeling. It’s a strange, foreign feeling that I’ve never had before. It’s not the adrenalizing feeling I usually seek although I do get a sense of exhilaration from it. It’s just kind of subtle and muted. It feels good and comforting but at the same time, scary as fuck. It’s an unknown feeling that I don’t know what the fuck to do with. I’m so confused!

I squeeze tighter to the only thing that’s bringing me comfort right now and start tearfully singing along with the lyrics, and allowing myself to just feel my feelings when the door slams open and the lights flick on.

“Chris?” Josh calls as he strides into the room with Jack and Matt trailing behind him. “What the fuck? Are you alright, man?”

“Uh…,” is the only response I can formulate to this ambush, as I look between them all from my reclined position on the bed.

“We’ve been worried sick man,” Jack adds, coming around beside Josh. “You weren’t at the afterparty, and none of the security team had taken you to any other clubs.”

“Yeah, can you imagine how flipped out we were when we found out you were alone in your room?” Josh questions. “Are you sick? What’s wrong?”

“And what the fuck?!” Matt chimes in, looking me up and down before advancing on me and ripping the stuffed unicorn out of my grasp. “Where did you find this? I bought this for Luna!”

Honestly, I think I’m more in the need of unicorn cuddles than his nine-year-old niece, but fine…

I mean, how do you guys even do it?” I ask philosophically as I dig into the pint of Ben and Jerrys I have clutched to my chest. “Love is the worst thing that can happen to a man,” I wail around another bite. “You all are insane masochists,” I accuse, panning my spoon around the room until it lands on Josh. “Oh except you, Josh. You’re the smart one not falling for a woman who unwittingly puts a spell on you that makes you want to rip your own heart out of your chest, hand it to her and watch as she throws it on the floor and tap dances on it!”

“It’s like he’s going through the five stages of grief, but in totally random-ass order,” Josh shakes his head.

I feel my face crumple in an effort to fight off a sob as I continue my tirade. “Even if she is the best human you’ve ever met.”

Shaking my head, I compose myself and blink back tears glistening in my gorgeous green eyes as my tone turns to snide. “Especially you, Matt,” I snarl spitefully, shoving another bite of comfort in my mouth. “Melanie put your heart through a meat grinder, and you went back for more!

Now I’m being an asshole. I think they call that the anger stage. Because in all honesty, Melanie is the most selfless person on the planet and she had reasons that none of us could fathom at the time.

“That’s it,” Matt says with finality, his ever present papa bear, domineering tone, determined to penetrate my forcefield.

The Mint Chocolate Cookie is ripped from my grasp.

No!

“Get up!” He growls like a crazed crocodile and it actually frightens me a little as I allow myself to be plucked by the scruff of the neck and yanked out of the indent I’ve successfully left in the couch.

Next thing I know I’m being frog-marched over to the opposite end of the suite and into the immaculate bathroom.

Oooh, this place has a jetted tub? How have I not put on some Enya and lit some candles and had a good manly cry while soaking in lavender scented -

“Look!” Matt snarls again, zapping me out of another sad, pitiful trance.

My eyeballs take a moment to get in sync with each other but I finally glance up to the large mirror positioned over the massive vanity. “Is this the man Rebecca fell in love with?” He barks like a drill sergeant and I jump a little as I regard my reflection.

Okay, so I’ve got a few… days growth on my face. But I could make that work. I haven’t tried the lumbersexual look yet. Of course, I could sell it better if there weren’t random drops of green, mint-flavored goo clinging to the scruff… and smeared at the corner of my mouth… and more drops of it on my Love is Like A Rollercoaster…When it’s over you Throw Up T-shirt.

Okay, and my eyes are a little bloodshot.

“Your hair,” Matt grinds out, his voice still ominously low, “looks like you put your dick in an electrical socket.”

“Hey, it’s only sticking up in three directions, thank you,” I cough at him before he gives me a shake and makes me look at the mirror again.

“IS THIS the man Rebecca fell in love with?!” he bellows again.

“SIR, NO SIR!” I shout back. Where the fuck did that come from? I was raised by hippies.

It’s just… he’s right. I look nothing like the version of myself that pestered and charmed my way into Rebeccas life.

“For the last fucking time,” Matts voice seems to calm, albeit minorly. “She didn’t end things, she just needs time. And if that time doesn’t help, it still doesn’t change the fact that she. Fucking. Loves you. That’s something to be pretty damn ecstatic about.”

I nod at my reflection, considering this.

“And look man,” he releases his grip on me and I roll my shoulders. “I don’t know if she’s going to stay or not, but this,”—he gestures up and down my person—“is not what’s going to do it. She’s not coming back to this.”

“You’re right,” I give another firm nod.

“To be honest,” his voice lightens with a lift of his shoulder. “I’m pretty optimistic. I mean, you kicked down her front door and barged into her life and she fucking fell for your crazy ass instead of calling a SWAT team. I say you’ve got one hell of a chance here. Imagine what she will do when you just simply leave the door open and give her a little time and breathing room?”

“I guess?” I scrunch one side of my face. I’ve never been so scared of hurt and disappointment.

“But if and when that happens,” Matt continues his lovely little pep talk. “You can’t be waiting for her like this -”

“Would you stop with the this?!” I explode, turning and smacking his gesturing hand away.

“Fine!” He holds his hands up. “But do you get what I’m saying?”

“Yes!” I fire back.

“Are you ready to come back?” He challenges.

“Yes!”

“Good! Guys, now!” He yells over his shoulder and in the time it takes me to raise a curious eyebrow, he’s grabbed hold of me in a full-on tackle and is Marshawn Lynching me towards the tub.

“What?!” I scream out as Josh and Jack come barreling through the door and each grab onto some part of body and join in the bulldozing efforts towards the tub.

I’m deposited in the white ceramic jacuzzi tub and held down while someone flips on the cold water. “Unhand me, you sons of bitches!” I thrash.

The cold water rises around my ass and my poor balls shrivel up and try to retreat somewhere up in my colon. It oddly jolts me awake and I feel a surge of adrenaline.

Why hello, my old friend…

I fight back harder, though I’m not sure why. I always enjoyed throwing myself in the cold ocean, or Lake Huron, depending on where I’m at. It’s a feeling that’s pleasantly familiar.

“Scissors!” I hear Matt demand like a surgeon, and what the fuck does he want with scissors?

Oh dear heavens, they are cutting my shirt off.

“Nooo!” I protest. “This shirt is awesome!”

“Sorry bud,” Jack croons from somewhere on my left. “Your breakup era is over. Foam and razor!” He shouts, as if he too, is a surgeon. Or a very enthusiastic barber.

I feel mountain spring scented foam being slapped on my cheeks.

“God, it’s like baptizing a cat,” Josh mutters.

Cat.

“I miss Iggy,” I sputter, when my mouth meets the surface again before it’s abruptly put under again.

“No Chris!” Matt scolds. “You miss no one! No one but your OLD SELF! You hear me?”

“Yes sir,” I croak out.

“Dammit Matt, I have to reapply the foam now,” Jack gripes before I feel someone else start to massage shampoo into my hair.

Hey, that’s kind of nice. Luxurious.

“Josh, is that you? You have a very soothing touch - ahh!”

Blububububublbublub…

“Would you quit dunking him? I’ll never get him shaved!”

“Can I get a bikini wax after this?” I choke out.

“Dudes! He’s coming back! Quit dunking him!”

“More!” I demand.

“Okay fine, dunk him again!”

Blububublublbublublbub!

The razor comes somersaulting into the water.

“Fuck it. You guys fucking shave him then.”

“No, I want a bikini wax, Jack-Ass!” I call out to Jacks retreating form.

“Jack! He’s ready!” Matt calls out over his shoulder again, and within thirty seconds a familiar, cold, cylindrical object is in my hand.

Could it be?

I hold the red can in front of my face while my eyes focus. “Chugga Chugga Cherry Train? “You found it?” I look up at Jack.

“Shut up and drink it.”

“Do I dare?” I look between all three who have paused their grooming assault. “Are you guys sure? After this, there’s no turning back.”

“We’re sure.”

“We need you back, you crazy fuck.”

“Rebecca needs you too.”

That does it.

Cheers.

Rebecca

Things have been quiet both at home and work. No paparazzi anywhere, no coworkers pummeling me with questions. My life has turned back to the peacefully organized and quiet routine that had me sturdy. I’ve regained control of my speech, body, and routine, and everything is calm, the way I like it.

It’s also boring as fuck.

I’m still creative with my work, but there’s no inspiration behind it.

I’m productive, yet I get excited about absolutely nothing.

I’ve stayed off the internet, which has been good for my mental health. It helps not to see if people are talking about me. Then again, I really miss handing trolls their asses on Reddit. And I want to see Chris. I’m heartbroken, if I’m being honest with myself. I want him back. I’ve wanted him back since the moment he stepped off my porch but I tried to tell myself it was in the name of getting my life back; my mental health.

It’s crazy. I was getting along just fine without him before I met him, yet now that he’s not with me, there’s a humongous hole in life that I can’t even try to fill with anything.

Fuck it.

I open my laptop.

If I can get back to baseline from the ground zero I was at after Tatiana pulled her shit, I can come back from whatever I run into on the internet to get a quick Chris fix. Especially if I head straight for Mayzie’s blog, sure to be a safe space. I bring up the page and scroll through the last few entries to the start of the UK tour and I can’t help but notice a few video still frames along the way.

Hey guys!

This tour of the UK warrants a special treat, I think. So I thought I’d post a short little video clip every day that we’re here.

Smiling to myself, I click on the first video, which seems to be a montage of their Dublin show. I get a small dose of endorphins from the flashing lights and the crashing beats, as it takes me back to being backstage at the St. Michelle. There’s a quick flash of Chris, and I feel my heart rate spike. It’s so quick I can’t gauge his facial expression. I can only see his biceps flexing hard as he brings his sticks crashing down. When the clip finishes, I chance a look at a couple of the comments.

Is Rebecca on that tour with you guys? I hope she and Chris are doing okay after that Tatiana garbage.

While my stomach drops at the T-word, I get a slight flutter at the rest of the comment. It’s a thrill to see someone wanting to know about Chris and me, that maybe they’re rooting for us like they do Jack and Mayzie. Trying not to get too carried away by that idea, I scroll up to the next entry.

In the next video, there’re more shots of Chris. My heart both soars and sinks when I see him being his lunatic self behind the kit; sticking his tongue out. He’s happy, doing what he loves. But I’m hit with the prospect that maybe Maybe I didn’t leave behind the same void in his life as he did mine. It makes sense. He’s stronger than I am and can shake off relationships better than I can.

But wait… what’s that?

I play the clip back and hit pause. There’s a back view of Chris as he’s walking out to take his place on stage, wearing a bright pink t-shirt and the black lettering across the shoulders jumps out at me.

Hey Girl, it reads.

I squint to read the smaller words below it.

Hey girl, You turn me on with those sexy specs.

I giggle at the take on those Ryan Gosling memes I like… and the song Chris wrote me.

Did he…? Sexy specs—did he wear that for me?

Don’t get your hopes up Rebecca, you’re just heartsick right now. Even so, I take a look at the comments below this one.

That shirt is sooo a tribute to Rebecca!

That traitorous butterfly beats its wings in my ribcage again when I realize I’m not the only one who noticed. And despite myself, I let myself fall down the rabbit hole, just a little bit.

The next video shows all the guys but with another shot of Chris, in another black and pink t-shirt but clearly not the same one. It’s a Hey Girl shirt, but a different saying. And so is the video after that.

Hey girl, we don’t have to talk to have a good time.

Hey girl, loving you is a better rush than bungee jumping.

Hey girl, WANNA BANG on my kit?

Okay, that one has to be about me, and the next one shows him pointing at the camera with his drumstick with a wink. Pointing at each other is our thing.

Oh my God, he still loves me. He’s thinking about me! Just like I’m thinking about him! Because I love him too.

I miss him so much! I miss the excitement and the bliss that came with being with him. I want that back in my life. I want to trip all over my words from passion and exhilaration. I want to feel ecstatic and terrified at the same time, because it feels alive! Chris makes me feel alive! That’s the life I want! I want him!

And I can’t wait! I want to go be with him now and tell him I’m a moron for needing time away from him. I’m a stupid numbskull idiot and I’ll never leave his side again - except for some tours, maybe, but in those cases I’ll send him naughty photos, Titiana be damned.

Reaching for my phone, I fire off a quick text to Mayzie before dialing one of my new favorite numbers.

“Enrique!” I squeak when he picks up. “Buff and fluff time!”

“Oh my God, I’m so happy!”