It was never for us
Because we know the truth
I can never love anyone
The way I love you
Take my hand, you never have to feel…
Left away…
Oh, babe, left away…
Nash then stood up as the band kept playing. He slid the acoustic around to his back and grabbed the mic with both hands. This was supposed to be the spot where another guitar solo happened.
But not this version.
Nash shut his eyes and screamed the words in a way I had never heard him do before.
And his screaming was singing with a roughness that overpowered the four guitars and made everyone stop dead in their tracks.
It was never for us
Because we know the truth
I can never love anyone
The way I love you
Take my hand, you never have to feel…
Left away…
Oh, babe, left away…
When he got to left away, he let the note carry as he moved back from the mic and let Jay take over.
Nash turned and moved the barstool out of the way and walked out of sight, the guitar hanging from his back.
I touched my cheeks and let out a gasp.
I couldn’t believe it.
I was crying.
Nash made me cry.
And not in the way I would have thought.
And it wasn’t just a tear or two.
I was on the verge of a full blown ugly cry session.
I turned and ran through the side stage darkness. Amazing how I had it all mastered by now. Running to the backstage area of a Filthy Line concert. Running for the backdoor. Knowing there would be a car waiting for me because Toby arranged for one each night.
The tears kept flowing.
And just as the door to the arena started to shut, Nash was back at the mic, singing the chorus again.
It was never for us
Because we know the truth
I can never love anyone
The way I love you
Take my hand, you never have to feel…
Left away…
Oh, babe, left away…
I had my phone in my hands and stood on the balcony wondering who to text. Who to call. What to do. But there was nothing to do. Nobody to text or call. It really didn’t matter. That was the craziest part. It was just old stuff kicked up thanks to that stupid song. Eve would wring my neck. Zoe and the others wouldn’t get it.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal at all. I just didn’t expect the band to play that song. And the way they played it…
I hurried to the desk and took out a notebook and started to write.
Everything poured from me. First was a raw review of the song. The show. The tour. And then came something like a confession. I changed a few names but just started to write. Letting it all out. Which felt good. I hadn’t had much time to write since I came on the road with Filthy Line. Somewhere in my heart, I thought I would have been huddled up in a hotel room writing all day and all night.
But nope.
I was immersed in the band.
The life.
The road.
Everything.
But it would end soon.
No more cities and shows.
I wrote until my hand throbbed in pain. Then I shut the notebook and packed it away. Most of what I wrote would never be used for anything. Much like the million other notebooks I had.
I walked back toward the balcony when I heard the knock at the door.
“No,” I whispered.
“Liv, you in there?” Nash’s voice asked.
I froze in place.
No. Go the fuck away, Nash. This isn’t a game anymore. And if it is or was or whatever, you win then. Fine. Whatever. I don’t care.
“Liv,” his voice said again.
I remained still.
This was one part of the game I could win.
Because he…
I heard the lock make a popping sound.
I spun around and Nash was entering my room.
He looked right at me. “Liar.”
“How?”
He showed me a keycard and smirked. “I get whatever I want, babe.”
“Get out,” I said. “Right now. Get the fuck out.”
I walked out onto the balcony, knowing damn well he wasn’t going to leave.
Nash came out on the balcony and leaned over the railing next to me. He lit up a joint and my nose curled at the smell of the smoke.
“So, you enjoy this?” I asked. “Drinking whiskey like it’s water. Shoving shit up your nose. Smoking that crap.”
“Why were you crying, babe?”
My entire body iced up.
I didn’t answer him.
Nash laughed and turned, leaning against the railing.
We were pretty high up in the hotel and the drop made me nervous.
He didn’t care.
He didn’t care about anything.
“You were crying at the show,” he said. “I can’t stop picturing it.”
“You’re high right now, Nash. And drunk. And your breath probably smells like a woman.”
He looked at me. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
“Maybe it has to do with everything,” I said.
“Does that mean you were crying over me?”
“You wish.”
“So, it was the song then,” Nash said.
“Please, just go.”
Nash leaned toward me and whispered, “Take my hand, you never have to feel… Left away… Oh, babe, left away…”
Now any other person would lose their mind in a good way. I mean, the hottest and baddest lead singer ever… from Filthy Line… standing in my hotel room, on my balcony, whispering lyrics into my ear…
I walked away.
Nash came after me, grabbing at my arm.
I spun around and swung my hand, slapping him across the face.
The slap echoed through the room.
My hand stung.
Nash simply lifted the joint to his lips and took another deep hit.
He exhaled the thick smoke into my hotel room and reached for my face.
His thumb stroked my cheek and he winked.
My heart felt ripped into two.
On the verge of crying yet again.
And Nash simply just walked out of the room.
Leaving me with the smell of his smoke.
The sound of his voice in my head.
And I had no fucking clue what was going on with my heart.
I barely slept.
I reminded myself there was one more show on the road and then we were going back. And then it would be over. There was a homecoming kind of show and then the band was staying put. I’d still have to spin any stories Nash decided to make but at least we would be home. There was a sense of comfort there. Protection in a way too.
I splashed cold water on my face to wake myself up enough to walk and get coffee.
When I opened my door, I stepped out and froze.
There was Nash.
Sleeping outside my room.
Sitting in the hall, his back against the wall, head cocked to the side.
Passed out cold.
I swung my right foot and kicked him.
“Wake up, Nash,” I yelled.
He jolted to life and reached between his legs and grabbed his dick.
He looked around the hallway, down at his hand, then up at me.
“Nice,” I said. “Making sure it’s still there?”
Nash yawned. “No, babe. I’m just used to someone being there. Have to be careful, you know?”