Tracks (Rock Bottom) (25 page)

Me: God, no. I’m ok.

Scott: Do you want me to send a plane for you? Do y
ou want me to come and get you?

I pause for a moment. For a split second, somewhere in the back of my mind, I think that I do want to come home. I think I do want Scott to come and get me and for things to be simple and easy. I could have study dates with Scott, do well in school, and not have to miss anyone or anything. I could even go places without being chased or harassed. I’d be away from the sex and drugs and rock-and-roll.

Me: No, no. I’m having a great time. I’ll call you on the way back to Boston. Bye.

I turn my phone off and set it beside me on the ground.

I drift in and out of sleep and take a few dips in the pool to cool off. I’m not used to such warm weather, and the pool is just cool enough.
I turn my phone on but put it on airplane mode and read a book I downloaded earlier in the year. I get about 100 pages into it until I decide the main character, dark and sexy and damaged, reminds me too much of Jeremy. When I check the time, 6:00, I realize that three hours have passed.

I turn airplane mode off on m
y phone. Three messages pop up.

Scott: I miss you, Dylan.

I delete the message immediately.

Jeremy: Dylan, I’m so sorry. I’m awake, and I want to make it up to you. Come back up, okay?

It was written only 30 minutes ago. The second one was written just a few minutes ago.

Jeremy: Just don’t leave, Dylan. I really meant what I said.

I sigh, trying to fight off the feeling of bliss at reading his last message. I stand, collect my things, and head back into the hotel and to the elevator, curious as to where we go from here.

When I step off the elevator and into the foyer,
I walk into the waiting room and see Jeremy sitting on the green couch in the middle of the room, strumming his silver guitar with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His face has a little hint of his normal, pale pink color returning and his lips have changed once again to pouty pink. He’s shaved his facial hair, and I’m both disappointed and happy. At least he looks like he did when I first met him.

He looks up at me when I walk in but continues to play.
His muscles look amazing as he strums. I throw my wallet and towel down in the foyer and put my glasses up on my head. I walk in and sit on the couch across from him, staring into his blue eyes.

The song is
slow and hard, the cords rough.

“What are you playing?” I ask,
quietly.

“A new song,” he mumbles around h
is cigarette. “Do you like it?”

I nod. He stops playing and takes a final puff of his cigarette, putting it o
ut in the ashtray on the table.

He looks up at me again and smiles. “Sexy,” he says, nodding towards my bikini.
I roll my eyes as he begins playing again.

“So that’s just it? You just think everything’s back to nor
mal again?” I say, exasperated.

“Where were you?
You didn’t bother to answer my text messages.” he asks nonchalantly, ignoring me. I know the curiosity is killing him.

“At the pool, obviousl
y,” I indicate my bathing suit.

“
Did you call him?” He stares hard into my eyes. The strumming gets harder.

I shake my h
ead. “No, I didn’t call Scott.”

Techn
ically that’s the truth, right?

His face flushes.

“You’re lying,” he growls.

I huff. “Just stop, ok
ay? Let’s just enjoy ourselves. I’m here, with you, and no one else can have me.”

He ponders that for a minute.
His face softens and he stops playing. “You still want to be here?” His voice is unsure.

I smile and rise from the couch. I walk over towards him and sit next to him. He takes his guitar off of his chest and s
ets it beside him on the floor.

“Will you get help?” I ask
after he looks back up to me, looking into his eyes.

He nods.
“Right after the tour. I promise.”

I furrow my
brows. “That’s not for months.”

He puts his arm around me. “Dylan, I’ve been drinking a lot for a long time. The detox isn
’t going to be pretty or easy.”

I nod reluctantly.
I know absolutely nothing about alcohol or detoxing. At least he’s decided to get help. Isn’t admitting you have a problem the first step?

He grabs his guitar and stand
s, extending a hand towards me. “We’re going out. And I’m showing you off.”

I put my hand in his and he pulls me up.
The idea makes me uncomfortable. Show
what
off? I’d be embarrassed to be seen with me. “Mr. Private is going to show me off?”

He laughs. He walks over to the piano,
his normal swagger almost back, and grabs a purple velvet box off the top of it. He sways his body as he walks back to me.

He holds
out the box. I give him a strange look as I take it into my hands. “Open it,” he says excitedly, eyes sparkling and smile beaming.

I push the lid open and gasp
, almost dropping the box to the floor. “Oh my God,” I sigh.

Inside the box is a necklace.
A monstrously big, beautiful necklace. The entire necklace is made of diamonds, looping all the way around to the back where the clasp sits. The diamonds form a single loop until at the front of the necklace they break off into two rows. 7 tear drop shaped emeralds, also surrounded by diamonds, hang from the diamond chain in a semi-circle. The most outward and highest ones are the smallest, and they increase in size until they reach the large middle one that hangs the lowest. In the middle of the necklace, attached to the box, hang two tear dropped shaped emerald earrings surrounded by diamonds, the same size as the middle emerald on the necklace.

I’m speechless for a moment. “Do you
like it?” Jeremy asks, quietly.

“Jeremy, I…” I love them! I want to wear them everywhere! “I can’t accept these. These must have cost a fortune.”
Literally. Emeralds have always been my favorite stone since I was a kid, probably because I liked my eyes so much back then. I know that the necklace is well over 150 carats alone. This set must have cost a half million dollars at the very least.

Jeremy shushes me and grabs the box from my hand. He removes the necklace and places it around my neck, managing to fasten it without looking.
Setting the box on the couch, he pushes me towards a mirror on the wall. He stands behind me and looks at me in it.

I look at the necklace lying delicately on my neck. “
How did you know emeralds are my favorite?”

He shrugs
, looking secretly pleased with himself. “I didn’t. I just thought these would bring out your eyes. I was right.”

My eyes dance like
the light hitting the necklace.

“When did you buy these?” He runs his hands down my bare shoulde
rs. He kisses my right shoulder lightly and tenderly.

“A few weeks ago,” he whispers. I t
remble, feeling his warm breath in my ear. “I think about you, always. Even when you’re away. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

I sigh and close my eyes as he kisses my shoulders.
It’s the sweetest, most endearing thing he’s said to me up until now. I know in my heart that he wishes it were true, but we both know there is something more important in his life than me, and it will be that way until he detoxes.

He turns me towards him and smiles, handing me the jewelry box that still contains the earrings.
“Get dressed, we’re going out.”

Standing in the bathroom, where my suitcase is still lying open from this morning, I stare blankly at myself in the mirror. I barely recognize myself. My cheeks are rosy red, my skin glowing with happiness. My eyes are sparkling like the emeralds placed around my neck. The dress I chose is jet black and super short, and it makes my eyes and the necklace stand out more. I put my hair up into a messy up-do so my earrings can hang freely from my ears. I did pretty well without Theresa for advice, if I do say so myself.

I exit the bathroom, turning off the light as I shut the door behind me. I walk into the sitting room and see Jeremy standing in front of me, dressed in a gorgeous black tuxedo. I gasp as I lo
ok at his breathtaking physique.

He stops playing with the sleeve of his jacket as he looks up at me. His eyes shine and he smiles widely, saying nothing. I look down towards my feet uncomfortably.

“Hey,” he says, walking towards me. He grabs my chin with his hand and lifts my face towards him. I stare into his aqua eyes. “You are beautiful, Dylan.”

I feel my cheeks burn as he kisses me passionately. I get distracted for a moment, but finally pull away from him, my cu
riosity getting the best of me.

I giggle. He still holds my chin. “Where are we g
oing?” I say, a little mumbled.

“The opera,” he says, releasing my face and turning from me, walking to a table where his wallet sits. He picks it up and places it inside his jacket.
I stand, confused, and try to process that. “You? At the opera?”

He turns towards me with a crooked smile. “I’m not completely uncultured. I am a
classical composer originally.”

His face is beautiful when he’s spunky. I smile back at him excitedly. He laughs under his breath. “I’ve never been. It sounds interesting.”

“You’ll love it,” he says, extending his arm out for me to grab. My eyebrows raise at his gentlemanly gesture. I grab his arm and he leads me towards the door, strutting and smiling.

When we exit the elevator into the lobby, I try to ignore the people that stop and stare towards us. A young girl runs up to Jeremy and asks him for an autograph. I release
his arm and he signs it quickly. He makes general conversation with her, and she smiles brightly at him. Before he stands, he gives her a big hug and long kiss on the cheek. She’s ecstatic, her year clearly made, and my heart warms.

Unexpectedly,
she hands the autograph book to me and asks me to sign it as well. I sign the book and hand it back to her, blushing scarlet. I look at Jeremy and he looks terribly amused, but says nothing about it.

From the lobby, we exit the hotel and head down the steps towards the black limo that’s already waiting at the bottom of the stairway. We
luckily leave with only a few sparse photographers here and there. We’re able to duck into the car and drive off relatively unnoticed.

“So, where is the Opera?” I ask, adjusting my dress as
Jeremy brushes off his blazer.

“In a center in Miami,
” he mumbles back nonchalantly.

I look at him, baf
fled. “That’s hours from here.”

Jeremy looks dead into my eyes, cocking a crooked grin. “I have a plane, my dear. We’ll get there within an hour.”

When the limo stops outside of the now familiar airport, we are able to quickly get onto the ramp and into the plane. It’s nice having a private plane, I must admit. Not having to go through endless checkpoints and baggage claims and all of that saves massive amounts of time.

Jeremy and I settle onto the couch as the stewardess hands us a glass of champagne. I smile at her and, looking at Jeremy, take a small sip. It’s good, and I can tell very expensive.

Jeremy puts the glass up to his lips and, in one gulp, swallows the entire thing. The stewardess hadn’t even had time to turn around to go back to her seat. Jeremy hands the glass back to her and asks for another.

Before he is able to look at me, I focus my eyes away from his face and towards the cabin that contains the white bed. I don’t want to fight or make him feel badly, and I figure if I’m not staring at him
, he can’t tell how upset I am.

The stewardess walks over to where the serving
closet is kept, and I hear the tinker of glass and pop of a cork. Jeremy looks in the direction I am.

“Looking at the bedroom already?” he says, amused. Obviously,
my diversion tactic had worked.

I look at him, rolling my eyes, as the stewardess hands him another glass. His eyes sparkle at me before he tilts his head back, letting the liquid drain into his mouth. He hands the stewardess the empty glass again. She looks at him, surprised,
and turns to walk to her seat.

“Another, plea
se,” he says as she walks away.

This time I can’t hide my worry and disappointment. I sigh and Jeremy
turns towards me on the couch. He gives me an apologetic look and lightly places his hand on my face.