Play (Stage Dive 2)

Nothing.

Though, this was exactly why getting overly attached to people wasn’t smart. If there was a chance their absence would make things heartrending, walk away. No one should have the power to make you want to throw some manic-depressive episode and swallow a truckload of gin (my mom’s favorite method for dealing with such disappointments). I guess you needed to learn these lessons over sometimes. Well, I had it now. All good.

***

Mal didn’t come home Sunday night. Not that my apartment was home, but you know what I mean.

Despite the drinks poured into me, I didn’t get much sleep.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

By the time I fired off the fifth text for the day, lunchtime had come and gone.

Anne: I can drop your stuff at David & Ev’s if you want. Just let me know.

Like the previous ones, this text garnered no response. Zip. Nada. Nothing. I couldn’t help myself. I had to try again.

Anne: I hope we can still be friends.

The minute I sent it regret swamped me. It was such a dumb-ass standard boring thing to say. Why didn’t smartphones come with an “undo” button? Now that would be an app worth having. I should’ve tried to be more original. Maybe if I’d been funny about it, thrown in something witty about his drum kit or something, he’d respond. But again I got nothing.

“Still texting him?” asked Reece from where he was busy reshuffling books in the action/adventure section.

“Mm-hmm.”

“No response yet?”

“No.”

Worst Monday ever. I’d managed to talk Reece into letting me tidy up out back all morning, thus eliminating any need for conversation. With only two, maybe three, hours of sleep under my belt, I wasn’t human. Not really. I was a nasty, bitchy, ball of heartache. Had Ainslie soothed Mal’s man pain? Images of them entangled filled my head. I’d seen almost all of his body, so the details were vivid.

Yes, my delicate little feelings had been well and truly hurt. Thank God Mal left when he did. Any more time together and I’d have become completely devastated when he went on tour.

Still nothing from my cell. I checked it twice just to be sure.

He was right on with the Fatal Attraction. So far I’d only stalked him via text, though. Lucky he’d kept his dick in his pants. His mere presence had inspired me enough. The thought that I might lose him entirely made me want to both burst into tears and break shit (preferably over his head). Anger and sadness owned me.

How many days had it been since I met him? Not many.

“Fucking ridiculous.”

“What did you say?” asked Reece, casting a nervous eye toward the hipster couple browsing in home renovation.

Crap. “Nothing. Nothing. Sorry.”

Reece approached the counter. I kept pounding on the computer keyboard regardless, pretending to process invoices. Maybe if I ignored him he’d go away. A couple of days, and I’d be fine again. Today, however, I kind of needed some space. I didn’t want to hear the details about whoever my boss banged over the weekend. Please understand, I wasn’t jealous, for once. Or was it twice, now? My crush on Reece had mysteriously (or not so mysteriously) disappeared. Mal Ericson fever was a potent thing.

“You’re really upset about this guy, aren’t you?” he asked, sounding like the concept defied logic.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Reece.”

“Listen.” He sighed, bracing his hands on the counter. “How about I take you out tonight for a few drinks? There’s a new bar down in Chinatown. We can check it out.”

“That’s really great of you. But how about another night?”

“You got plans?”

“Sort of.” Because sitting alone brooding while wearing one of Mal’s T-shirts constituted plans.

Reece rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand, his brows drawing downward. “Anne, realistically, you had to know this was coming. He’s Malcolm Ericson. The guy’s a living legend.”

“Yeah, I know.” My shoulders caved in on me. In standard measurement, I stood about two-feet tall. I couldn’t have felt any smaller.

“Guys like that don’t have a reputation for stable relationships.”

“I, ah … I get that. I do.”

“Hey, you’re great. It’s his loss.”

“Thanks.”

Ugh. The pity in Reece’s eyes … kill me now. A bottle of tequila was now included in tonight’s plans. Rock on. This was why I never much bothered with dating, this whole moment right here. Penises were out and self-love was back in. Not that it had ever really left.

I needed to put my life back into context. Mal was the one being a jerk. I’d done nothing wrong. Except for having no idea how to handle a difficult situation, of course.

“Guess we should get back to work.” I wasn’t really achieving much, but still, a token effort should be made what with him paying me and all.

Reece crossed and uncrossed his arms, watching me. “Listen, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I’ll close up.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, dimples popping. “God knows I owe you some hours. You’ve never even taken a sick day.”

“Thanks, Reece.”

***

My big old claw foot tub was the best place in whole wide world. Nothing could compare. Life seemed so much better from within its warm, soapy watery confines. If I ever had to move, it’s what I’d miss the most. I’d been in there, soaking, for a good solid half hour. Frankly, I had no plans to ever get out. I was perfectly content to laze around, staring at the tiles on the wall and thinking of nothing.

Raging, great open seas full of nothing.

Right up until the front door crashed open. I bolted upright, adrenaline pumping through me.

“What the f**k?”

“Anne?” Mal yelled.

Then the bathroom door crashed open too. I grabbed the white towel hanging off the rail overhead, holding it against my chest. Straightaway, the material started soaking up water.

“Anne.” Mal stomped in, electric with rage. It spiked out his hair and darkened his eyes. The bathroom door slammed shut behind him.

“Mal?”

“What is this?” he growled, shoving his cell in my face.

“Um, your phone? What the hell are you doing in here?”

“The f**king texts you’ve been sending me, I mean.”

“What?” I stared at him, flabbergasted. “Get out.”

“No.”