Authors: Willow Aster
“I don’t know, Beckham. This is … weird. I probably shouldn’t. Things are still not resolved with us, you know…”
“I know. I know.” He rubbed his hand over his head, making his hair go every which way. “I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself get sucked in by you today, but I just can’t … stop.” He shut the door and pulled her against it. He rested his hands against the wall and pressed his body against hers. “I’ve stopped thinking rationally,” he said. “I just … as much as I try to fight it, I need you, Roxie. I need to touch you. I need to be with you. I just want you in my space, making yourself at home with my things.” His mouth was an inch from hers. “I want to eat your lips. They drive me insane. That thing you do with your hair when you get nervous and you tug on it. I can’t take it anymore. And I know, believe me, I know we have a lot of issues to deal with, but when I’m with you, it just all fades away…”
He leaned back to look in her eyes and she couldn’t take it anymore either. She wanted to stay angry at him, but she just couldn’t. She grabbed his face and brought his mouth to hers. When his tongue touched hers, she moaned and then prayed to God that Leo and Sierra hadn’t heard her. She pulled back.
“No, please don’t stop. Please,” Beckham whispered, kissing her neck.
He went back for her mouth, kissing everywhere but right on her lips. For such sweet kisses, it was so intense. Like drowning without fighting to break the surface again.
Sink, sink, sink.
Let me drown if it means this.
She lived for
more
and when his mouth teased her lips, she stopped fighting it and kissed him with every shred of attraction, anger, and lust she felt for him.
Actually, it felt like a lot more than that.
It felt like breath.
Fuel.
Home.
It took every scrap of strength Beckham possessed to leave her in his hotel room. He could still feel her lips on him. Just a taste and he was ready to move heaven and earth to get another. He couldn’t convince her to come out with him, which was disappointing, but he thought he had talked her into staying there, so he was already looking forward to that.
Beckham and Ian had a blast with Jimmy. He knew Jimmy and Ian would hit it off. The three of them were completely in sync and did a segment where they sang everything like Elton John. Everything clicked into place like it was supposed to—improvisation came so easily when he was comfortable. His band joined The Roots, and that was a kick. If every night could be exactly like this one, he wouldn’t want to leave the business.
He shut the show down and was saying good-night to Ian and his band, when he checked his messages. There was a missed call from the lab. He called the technician’s number immediately and was happy when it didn’t go to voicemail.
“Do you have the results? This is Beckham.” He loosened his tie, so he could breathe better.
“I do. The results are negative. You are
not
the father.”
Beckham leaned against the car, feeling like he was just sucker-punched. He motioned for Howie to unlock the door. As soon as he did, Beckham sat down and leaned his head between his legs.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“We’re 99.8% sure,” was the reply.
“I guess that’s pretty sure,” he said softly. “Thank you. I appreciate you letting me know.”
He ended the call and put his hands on his head. He didn’t know what to think. Part of him wanted to redo the test at least a dozen times, even though that was nonsense. The other part raged for not believing Roxie in the first place. And another, very small part of him, hated her for being right.
He wanted so badly for Leo to be his. Had he imagined everything—the similarities, the bond, the rightness of it all—just because he so desperately wanted it to be? Was he that fucking lonely?
“Drive around, Howie. I can’t go back yet,” he said.
He was so ashamed of how he’d treated her. He couldn’t believe she’d had anything to do with him after he’d been so hateful. He imagined her earlier that night, pressed up against him, as hungry for him as he was for her. At least it had seemed that way. But he didn’t know what to believe anymore.
They drove for hours. He wanted to go in every single bar they passed, but instead gripped the edge of the seat so hard it hurt.
“You ’bout ready to call it a night, Beck?” Howie asked.
Beckham hadn’t spoken in at least a half hour.
“I guess so,” he said.
He went in the back entrance of the hotel and said goodnight to Howie at his door. He walked in quietly, hoping he didn’t wake up Leo and Roxie. Everything was neat and tidy. All the mess from the ice cream had been cleared out. He peeked in the bedroom, and they weren’t there.
He cursed, frustrated that she’d left, but really it was probably for the best. There was no telling what mood he’d be in tomorrow. He needed some time before seeing her again.
The guilt that he’d stayed out so long weighed him down. How long had she waited for him? Shit. It was 3:30. He wouldn’t blame her for being mad at him. He deserved it.
He sat on the edge of the bed and dragged his hands through his hair.
This was just all so fucked up.
He didn’t leave his room or talk to anyone until it was time to start the show the next night. The sound check had been taken care of without him. Nate and Anthony both called a few times, but he didn’t talk to either one of them. He’d stared at the mini bar until 6 that morning and finally fell asleep. The only person he’d called was his sponsor, Troi. They agreed to talk a few times every day, at least until Beckham felt stronger.
He felt the hurt emanating out of Roxie as she danced that night. It was his fault and he couldn’t stop it. She’d let herself be vulnerable with him the night before and he’d crushed it. But his own pain was just under the surface too. He was riding on the edge of self-destruction and didn’t want her caught in the crossfire.
The next day was a repeat of the day before. He had an early morning talk show to do and then his show that night. He stayed in his room until it was time to perform and came back the minute it was over. He’d asked the front desk to make sure the mini bar was cleared out, so he wouldn’t have that staring him in the face when he got in that night.
He stayed up late, packing for his flight to L.A. the next morning. He should have just stayed up, because when the alarm went off at six, he’d only gotten two hours of sleep. His head pulsed with pain as he rode to the airport. They’d chartered a private flight for his crew and Roxie was the first person he saw when he got on the plane. She was sitting next to Sierra. He knew she saw him, but then she hadn’t looked at him again.
Sierra called out, “Hey, you’re the last one on … was starting to wonder if you were gonna show. Late night, little brother?”
He nodded. “Hey, Rox,” he said softly. “Where’s Leo?”
“Chloe and Leo flew out already. My parents are meeting them and they’re going home with them for a day or two.” She looked like she was going to cry and looked out the window.
“I wish I could have told him goodbye,” he said softly. And then under his breath, “I got the results back.”
“I know,” she said just as quietly.
He waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t look at him again.
“Roxie, I’m sorry.”
She nodded but kept looking out the window and didn’t say a word.
Dejected, he sat down a couple rows ahead of them and buckled his seat belt. He didn’t think he’d be able to, but he fell asleep not long into the flight and slept most of the way. Before he’d opened his eyes all the way, he stretched an arm out and bumped into someone.
“Oh, excuse me,” he said, looking to the side. “Hey…”
Coco sat facing him, holding a pillow.
“How are ya?” he asked groggily.
“Tired. S-sorry. It was noisy in the back and I … saw you sleeping up here. Thought maybe I could sneak in a nap too,” Coco said. “I’ll go back now,” she said shyly.
“Don’t worry about it. I need to get after this.” He ran a hand through his scruff and grabbed his bag. He smiled at Coco. “Go ahead and stretch out.”
She nodded, put her pillow on his side, and laid down. He got up to shave and brush his teeth before they landed. The flight attendant followed him into the bathroom. It was barely larger than most airplane bathrooms.
“Uh, what are you doing?” he asked.
“Just seeing if you need any assistance,” she said, running her fingers along the back of his neck.
“I’m good, thanks,” he said.
“I’ve heard,” she whispered seductively in his ear.
He took a step away and held up his razor. “Excuse me while I shave.”
“Just let me know if you need me. Now or anytime,” she said.
“I’ll be sure to do that,” he replied, shaking his head no to say otherwise. “Go ahead and shut the door behind you.”
“Do you mind if I just stay here and watch?” she asked.
He shrugged his shoulders and started shaving. “Knock yourself out.”
It was like he had a flashing sign pointed at him, saying,
‘Eat the apple.’
When he came out, the girl was practically on his heels. Ian flashed him a look, and then Beckham realized how suspicious things seemed. He looked at Roxie, and thankfully, she was asleep, leaning peacefully against her window. Coco wasn’t asleep, but watching him from her pillow. When she saw him looking at her, she sat up and moved her pillow, making room for him to take his seat.
“Thanks,” he said.
She didn’t answer, but her cheeks turned pink.
He could have sworn he’d never seen the girl blink.
The weather was perfection in sunny California. Seventy-two degrees and warming up later in the day. Beckham took out his sunglasses and shed his scarf and sweater. Everyone got their luggage and he noticed Roxie taking flip-flops out of her bag. He smiled in spite of himself.
Everyone was excited to be back in California and planned to either stay home or to check into the Beverly Hilton. Sierra, Brooke, and Vanessa were talking about how happy they would be to sleep in their own beds for a couple of nights.
Ian and Sparrow were going to check on the progress of their house and then come over. Beckham had invited them to stay at his place so they could get a break from their bus, and they’d agreed. He gave them the code to get inside, just in case it was late.
He looked around for Roxie. She was standing next to Brad and Shelton. Most of the tension had faded between her and the rest of the group. He guessed they’d heard about the test results too, and imagined they all felt bad about the way they’d treated her. A cab came up and she waved as Brad and Shelton got in and drove away. He moved beside her.
“I should’ve called,” he said.
She shrugged. “It’s okay. I figured you’d…” she trailed off.
“It’s not okay. I’m embarrassed, Rox. I don’t know why I latched onto the idea so hard of him being mine. I’ve just—I’ve never clicked with a kid, or even many adults, the way I have with Leo.”
She nodded. “He’s special, and so are you. It doesn’t surprise me. And I never thought I’d be telling you this, but … watching you with him … I really wish he
was
yours, Beckham.” She looked at him then and her sincerity nearly knocked him over.
“Thank you,” he said, choked up. “Roxie. I don’t even …
thank
you,” he said.
“It’s the truth.” She looked over his shoulder. “My cab should be here any minute. See you tomorrow night!” she said lightly.
“Wait. Come home with me, Roxie. Please?” He raised both hands. “We’ll just hang out. The Sterlings are staying too. It’ll be fun. I have several bedrooms you can choose from…”
“Beckham,” she sighed, “I can’t keep doing this manic thing we have going. It’s wearing me down. I know you just got caught up with things, but now that you know Leo’s not yours, you can move on from me too. We have too much baggage. Let’s just leave it at that.”
A cab pulled up. She got in and didn’t look back.
She wrapped her hands with gauze and ignored the familiar pain. She’d been experimenting with acetone and hydrogen peroxide for the last few weeks. Making ammonal wasn’t as difficult as she’d expected—she finally had the mixture of ammonium nitrate and aluminium powder down pat. The fun part was testing to see which measurements caused the best results. However, it was becoming more and more difficult to hide the burns from all her experiments.