Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story) (43 page)

             
“No. He’s picking up some coke.”

             
When Bob stopped by, Mathew cut us some lines on a mirror, and rolled a bill, which we all passed around to snort. Bob didn’t hang, which I was happy about.

             
“You two have a good night,” Bob said standing.

             
Mathew walked with him to the door, handing him a packet. I thought about the box Mathew had picked up and then about the cocaine. I felt a sense of fear tear through me. When he turned from the door he grinned at me.

             
“Mathew, are you dealing?” I asked, afraid to know.

             
“No,” he answered, looking me in the eye.

             
I stared at him.

             
“I’m not,” he repeated.

             
It seemed strange to me that Bob would come get some of Mathew’s own stash.
How much could he have?
I thought about the Park City days, the dealers I knew in town, how coke was pretty much available with a phone call.
Why would he call Bob unless it was to tell him he had picked up coke? Let it go, Morgan, trust him.

             
“Come here, you,” he said, pulling me from the couch towards the bed.

             
He made love to me slowly, lovingly, making me forget my fear. I curled around his side afterwards, wanting to stay close to him. He mindlessly wrapped one of my curls around his finger, let it go, and did it again.

             
“Morgan, why did you go with Kevin that day?” he asked.

             
We both knew what day he was asking about. I pictured the day, out by the O’Conner’s pool; he’d been seeing Kim. I remembered walking in the dark to Kevin’s house, and the drive home. Remembered finding blood in my underwear when I undressed for bed.

             
“You mean, why did I give it up to Kevin that day?”

             
“I guess that’s what I mean,” he said.

             
“You know the answer.”

             
“I do?”

             
“Oh, come on,” I said sarcastically.

“I can guess
. I originally thought you did it because you really liked him. But when Kevin asked me why you wouldn’t see him again, I couldn’t answer. I was surprised you wouldn’t see him,” Mathew said.

I recalled the kiss in the bathroom, and my anger.

              “Why did you follow me to the bathroom and kiss me like you did?”

             
“Because I wanted you bad that day, I didn’t want Kevin to be having a good time with you,” he said.

“As I recall
, there was an obstacle named Kim. And back then, when did you ever want me bad?” I asked.

             
“Probably more times than you knew.”

             
“What?” I asked, lifting my head to look at him. “You are so full of shit. You know why I ‘gave it up' to Kevin? Because you wouldn’t take it. I wanted you to be the one. I thought I was pretty clear. Did you not ever get that?”

I
was a bit miffed, now that he’d brought it up, recalling my hurt feelings. Recalling the desperation I could feel, almost to the extreme of panic.

             
“I got it, but I felt like I would be taking advantage,” he defended.

             
“Advantage? Taking advantage?” I laughed. “You’re hysterical. You sexually teased me for years and actually doing it would have been taking advantage?”

             
He looked at me and gently rubbed my back.

             
“I didn’t want to lead you on. I didn’t want to feel responsible to you.”

             
“Lead me on? Responsible? What the hell does that mean?” I asked, baffled.

             
“I thought if I took your virginity you would expect me to be your boyfriend. I didn’t think I was capable of that.”

             
Gayle’s words resounded in my head, the ones I had spoken, the not making sense part, so it made sense.

             
“Mathew, so much of what happened confused me. You still confuse me,” I said.

“It’s history
,” he said, kissing me.

I
decided, despite my fears, I would tell him that I would move.

Chapter
48

My last night in town
, we were getting ready to go meet the band at a club close by.

             
“Which one,” I asked, holding up two different panties.

             
“I like the pink-and-blue,” he said.

             
I slipped them on along with the matching bra.

             
“I’m ready,” I said.

             
Mathew laughed.

“It’s a little too skimpy
, kid.”

             
I laughed pulling jeans and a low cut blouse from my suitcase, he watched intently as I put my clothes on.

             
“I like you naked best,” he said.

             
“Well I like the shirt,” I said, moving to him, feeling his chest, admiring the jeans and the blue-on-blue paisley shirt he had on. “You always find the wildest clothes.”

It was actually s
ubtle for him, but I loved how it set off his blue eyes, tan face, and blond hair.

             
"I may just have to keep you here," I said, running my hands down his sides feeling horny.

             
“I told them we would come,” he said.

             
I’d heard him talk to Jack on the phone. He’d been a little more eager than I’d hoped, about going out to party.

             
“I know. I’m kidding.”

             
“Little pick-me-up before we go?” he asked.

             
“Bring it on,” I answered.

             
He handed me the coke vial. I wondered if the special occasion deal was getting to be an every occasion deal.

The club was full when we got there, a fairly long line outside. People our age and younger dressed to the nines, ready to party.

“Busy place
,” I said.

             
Mathew took my hand and walked to the front of the line, straight up to the bouncer.

             
“Hey, Matt,” he said, pulling the rope aside and letting us in.

“That’s fucked up
,” someone yelled from the front of the line.

Mathew
wound his way through the crowd and found the boys in the back of the club.

             
“Glad you made it,” Jack said.

             
“Told you I would. If Morgan had her way, I’d be tied to the bedpost right now.”

             
My chest got hot and I could feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment.

             
“Shut up,” I said, slapping his arm.

             
“Nothing wrong with that,” Jack said.

“Sit down
,” Emily patted the chair next to her.

“Hey
, guys,” Mathew, shouted over the music to everyone else at the table.

I noticed Sean was back on with his girlfriend.
His eyes sultry and sexy, his arm wrapped around her.
Oh, and that day
, I chuckled inside.

             
“I’ll get us a drink. Chardonnay?” he asked.

             
“Please.”

             
I watched him make his way towards the bar. Mathew stopped along the way, greeting people he knew. Many of them girls being overly friendly, pressing into him, touching, one even kissing him. I chatted with Emily.

             
“Have you two been having a good time?” she asked.

             
“So good,” I said loudly.

             
I was thinking about our time together, how intense, loving, and hot it could be, and yet when we got in a crowd the dynamics seemed to shift. A shift I didn’t exactly like. Mathew returned with drinks.

             
“Here, kid,” he said as he handed me my wine.

             
Mathew spoke to the guys a few minutes and then excused himself to go to the restroom. When he reappeared, he was again delayed by people along the way; many of them girls. Emily saw I was watching.

             
“Mathew, he always likes a crowd,” she said with a smirk.

             
“You mean the girls,” I called.

             
Yes he did,
I thought,
the crowd and the girls, the center of attention, the leader of the band.
Emily had been around the band for years and knew more than I cared to know I was sure
.
When he came back, he brought another glass of wine with him. We all sort of shout-talked, and then he was off again, working the crowd.

“Where is the restroom?”
I asked, leaning over to Emily.

She pointed across the room.

“
The hall just below that neon sign.”

             
I wound my way through the crowd to the hall she’d pointed to. I walked down it, people passing me the other direction as I made my way. His back was to me, and I could see the blonde's face that he was talking to. He had his hand on the wall, facing her, almost blocking her path. I walked by and turned around, he had the lazy sexy grin on face. My heart froze as I stared at him. He dropped his arm slowly and his grin faded. I shoved through the door into the bathroom and could feel the blood drain from my face. When I came out, she was gone and Mathew was waiting.

             
“Having a good time?” he asked, putting his arm around me, like nothing had happened.

I looked at his beautiful face
, and it hit me like a freight train. I finally recognized what had been holding me back. The little piece I hadn’t been able to put my finger on. I could deal with his insecurities. I was pretty confident I could handle the alcohol and drug issues. What I couldn’t handle was the girl thing. I realized in that instant that it would never change. It would never be him and me alone.

             
I couldn’t shut us off from the world forever, and in the world there would always be girls coming onto him. He liked it. We might work for a while, maybe even a long while, but at some point he would stray. I’d watched it over the years with his other girlfriends. He had even cheated on several of those girlfriends with me. I saw in that one exchange it was a matter of time for me. If I gave my whole heart, I knew I couldn’t bear it. It would tear me apart, tear
us
apart. I leaned in and kissed him.

“I love you
,” I said.

We stayed for a few more drinks and then went back
to the hotel. When we got in the room, he took me in his arms and I let him. We made love, even as my heart was breaking on the inside, shattering into little pieces.

“Morgan
, what’s wrong?”

             
I tried to hold them in, but couldn’t. The tears came.

             
“I can’t move here, Mathew. I just can’t,” I said, almost in a whisper. “As much as I want to love you and see if it would work, I can’t.”

             
He pushed back from me and stared into my eyes, confusion written all over his face.

“You told me you loved me tonight
,” he said.

             
“I do love you, but I don’t think it’s mutual. I’m safe for you, Mathew. When things go wrong or you want ‘comfortable’, you come to me. You have for years. Things have gone incredibly wrong lately, and safe feels good for you right now.”

“That’s not true
, Morgan. I want you.
Us
,” he said.

             
He didn’t think any of my reasons were valid. I didn’t mention the girl issue; he would deny it. I wanted to hear
I love you too,
but it never came. If it had, he might have been able to change my mind. He needed me, he wanted me, he never said anything about loving me. He wanted to “try and make it work”. At this stage, I needed more than that. In the end, I felt it was too big a leap of faith to give up everything for him, to only try. Tears leaked from my eyes as I fell asleep in his arms. When I woke the next morning, he wasn’t in the bed. I sat up abruptly. He was lying on the sofa in his jeans, no shirt, his hair untidy, looking as sexy as ever.

“What are you doing?”
I asked confused.

             
“Watching you sleep,” he answered.

             
I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it back.

             
“I must look like hell,” I said, remembering the tears.

             
“You look beautiful,” he said, coming to me.

             
He sat down on the edge of the bed and cupped my face with his hand. It was warm and I wanted to drown in it, wished I could, wished for all it was worth I hadn’t seen him look at the blonde with that grin.

             
“Stay one more night with me. Please?” he begged.

             
I pulled the cottony sheets tight around my neck.

             
“Fuck, Mathew,” I said, the tears starting again.

             
He bent down and hugged me to him hard. He let me cry for a long time, and then he called the front desk. I changed my flight to Monday afternoon. We stayed in bed all day, he ordered room service, but I couldn’t eat. When we made love, I fought the tears.

“You’re the only person
who knows who I am, and who I’m not. You accept me that way,” he said.

             
“I know I have,” I said reticently.

He was looking for a change of heart
. The guilt flooded through me, and I questioned my decision yet again. I did accept him for what he was, and that was part of the problem. He would assume I would get over it, whatever it might be, and would always take him back. My thoughts and heart were at odds: my thoughts logical, my heart wanting him to convince me otherwise.

             
“What about
love
, Mathew? There’s nothing about
love
.”

             
He kissed me instead of answering me. I waited.

              “That comes with time,” he finally said.

             
It wasn’t the answer I needed. Apparently he didn’t think twelve years was enough time. I had to stick to my decision. I figured he wouldn’t keep in touch. He’d always been terrible at it, and it tore at my heart. For the first time, he had not gotten what he wanted from me. He wasn’t happy about it. When he dropped me at the airport it was stiff and awkward.

He shut me out quickly, which hurt me badly. I was surprised he didn’t at least try and convince me. I had loved him. Did love him, but I felt it wasn’t enough. My love alone couldn’t save us. “You’re complex” I could hear him say. Maybe I was. Maybe I over-thought things, worried too much about making the right choice, but I couldn’t help it. The last part of the summer, friends of mine were taking a road trip to San Francisco and asked me to come. I felt like I should leave Mathew alone, but when they decided to stay in San Jose for a night, I broke down. I called him from a pay phone in Bakersfield and told him I would be in town for the night.

“We
're staying at the Motel 6 close to downtown,” I said.

“You have your own room?”

I could see his face, his lips, his eyes, his grin. The way he could look at me that made me crazy.

             
“Yes,” I said hoarsely, feeling the butterflies in my stomach.

             
“I’ll change my plans. Call me when you get in.”

             
“I will,” I said.

             
“You’ve certainly moved up in your choice of hotels,” he teased.

I couldn’t wait to see him
. Here I had been the one to say no, and yet I longed for him, still. I called him the minute I walked into my room.

             
“I’ll see you in about twenty minutes,” he said.

             
The four of us went to dinner at a Chinese restaurant. We drank beer and ate too much food. We got back to the motel early, and my friends excused themselves to their room. I felt awkward when the two of us were alone, almost shy, like I didn’t know what to say or how to start. He looked the same, beautiful.

             
“Come here, kid,” he said, as he sat down on the bed. “I’ve missed you.”

             
“Me too,” I said, moving to stand in front of him.

             
He put his hands on my hips and lifted his face towards mine. I bent down and kissed him. He pulled me onto the bed and wrapped his arms around me. I lay on my side with my head on his arm. I wanted to cry, and laugh, and change my mind all at the same time. He tenderly stroked my arm as I listened to his heartbeat.