Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Pressley
There I stood in the hallway, listening to Bowie chastise himself to his beloved cactus.
Do I make myself known and address it, or do I wait for him to come to me?
I’d felt guilty for doing so, but given he wasn’t one to open up, it was hard not to wait it out and learn as much as I could about the man I’d fallen for.
But, having never been good at lying…
“I brought you a robe.” Bowie jumped, and the whiteboard went flying. I picked it up and handed him the garment.
“H-how long have you been there?”
“The whole time. I heard you throwing up and got concerned. What made you think you couldn’t tell me any of that?
Have I been that big of an ass? You need to call me out on that shit when I am.
” I’d been alone so long it was easy to forget to remember others’ thoughts and feelings, though I tried my best.
“Fuck.” Bowie ran his hands through his matted locks. “It’s not like that, but we just got started, and I was afraid.” He drew in a deep breath and released it, grounding himself. “I didn’t want to scare you off with how much of a fucking mess I really am.”
“But Bowie, isn’t that what partners are for?
To help each other in a time of need, be the shoulder to cry on and the ear to bend.
I’ve never told another outside of my family I loved them because I never did, until you.
And just for the record, my parents are very down-to-earth and can’t wait to meet you.
My dad is gonna give you the I was in a garage band in high school story I’ve heard a million times. ”
That got the smile back on his handsome face.
“Now, as far as the kinks go, I’m all ears, baby. Bring. It. On.” I reached across the table and covered his hand with mine. “But all jokes aside, Bowie, PTSD is serious.”
“How’d you know?”
“Thrashing around doesn’t happen wordlessly. You screamed aloud to let you go and look at all the blood. Then you asked if it was yours.”
“Fuck.”
“This is just food for thought, but Easton has a therapist he not only uses, but so do others in the Masterson band family. I won’t tell you who because that’s privileged information aside from Easton.
He’s very open about his battles and has told us he’s available anytime to talk to any of you about why he sees her regularly and promises any conversation with her is strictly confidential.
I can give you her number, or you are free to reach out to Easton yourself. ”
“Won’t Diamond get mad?”
“Diamond, for the record, is a big teddy bear. The only way he’ll get mad is if he finds out Easton could’ve helped you and instead shit barrels so far out of control it takes an act of all of us to get it reeled in and off the internet.
And he should know, Easton is forever issuing threats to social media outlets to remove Diamond’s naked ass and junk from their websites. ”
“No shit?”
“No shit. Diamond’s a little proud, understandably so, but yeah.”
“Poor Easton.”
“Ha-ha, yes, and now they have twins to contend with. I can only imagine what kind of havoc they’ll raise as they age.
” Even thinking about it sent my heart racing.
“But seriously, let me give you his number. Call or not, it’s up to you, and remember no matter what, I’m here for you too. However you need me to be, Bowie.”
Did he believe me?
Time would tell, but my actions had to match my words and leave no doubt how much I loved him.
“Now the question remains, do we stay up and have breakfast? Have breakfast and go back to bed, or just go back to bed?”
“I’m kinda amped right now and jotted down some lyrics. How about breakfast outside?”
I glanced out at the rain. “Thankfully that glass-top table on the porch is a propane fire pit, plus there are a couple propane heaters out there I could fire up if need be.”
“Perfect.” He hopped up and kissed me. “I’ll grab my notebook so you can have your whiteboard back.” And he was off. That went better than expected, though I believed the nightmares were the real reason Bowie hadn’t opted for more sleep.
He whizzed back by me, notebook in hand and still in the robe, which I secretly loved, and straight outside. I fixed Bowie and me a cup of coffee and took him his, then got to work making breakfast. Tony appeared as soon as the scent of bacon wafted through the house.
“Smells great.”
“Yes, it does. You hungry?”
“I could eat.” Tony got busy making his morning cup. “You know, you can’t let him get away with that shit. You have to call him out on it.”
Crap, had he heard our entire conversation?
“Such as?”
“Like you just did. Otherwise, he’ll revert back into his shell and never come out. You’ve got him further out than any of us have.”
Fuck, it just dawned on me. “You’re in love with him.”
Tony smirked over his cup. “I’ll always love Bowie. He’s my best friend, but he wasn’t meant for me, and I’ve accepted that.” He paused and took a sip. “He was meant for you. Don’t let him get out of going to therapy. Every time I’ve mentioned it, I get yelled at. With you, he actually listened.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Push, but don’t push. That’ll start with texting him Easton’s number, then the proverbial ball will be in his court. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, just take good care of him. He’s worth holding on to, and the happiest I’ve seen him since the accident is when he’s onstage or with you.
” And on that note, he left to join his friend out on the patio.
Meanwhile, my thoughts ran wild, retracing our interactions for anything I’d missed, such as what triggered this morning’s nightmare.
Cognizant, I’d be moving forward, but where to draw the line between that and pushing too far would be the key.
“Dude, I totally wanna perform this song.” Korn’s Here to Stay played through Tony’s phone speaker. “Think we can learn it in time for Rocktoberfest?” he asked Bowie.
“We can, but we have a killer set already lined up. But man, it’s not a concert without Korn dropping in.”
“Breakfast is served.” I handed them each a plate. “I’ll be right back.” There was no going back to sleep for them. Already amped up and working on songs, the adrenaline had taken over.
Just as I refilled my coffee and grabbed a plate, my phone vibrated.
Easton: Good morning, Pressley. I hope I didn’t wake you.
Me: Not at all. Everything good?
Easton: Yes, thanks for asking. I had a contact in Oregon reach out. They had a couple openings for shows and wanted to know if I had a band to fill the spots with. Both great venues, so I snagged the spots for Imminent. Perfect stops along the way to Rocktoberfest.
Me: Which places?
Easton: The Star Theater in Portland, then WOW Hall in Eugene. Nothing huge and multiband, but great practice stops along the way. I’ll send the schedule over via email to the group.
Me: Excellent. I’ll let the guys know. Hey, I wanted to give you a heads up that I’ll be giving Bowie your number. I don’t want to disclose too much and lose his trust, but I’ll use the acronym PTSD.
Easton: Understood. I look forward to hearing from him, and thank you for watching out for your band. Given our last conversation about him, I know he’s more than that to you, and in case I haven’t said it, you’re doing a great job, and we’re thrilled to have you on board.
Me: Thanks, that means a lot.
Easton: No need to thank you. Keep up the good work and enjoy your Sunday.
Me: You too.
Before I headed outside, I texted Easton’s number to Bowie. He and Tony were engaged in conversation when I joined them, and I didn’t want to interrupt, so I ate while they finished up.
“Your phone already blowing up?” Bowie asked.
“Something like that. Easton is sending an email to the group, but he booked Imminent a couple of shows in Oregon on the way to Black Rock City.” Their eyes widened as they stared at each other. “Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s all good,” Bowie said, but his tone said otherwise.
“Dude, it was inevitable.” Tony shook his head. “There’s no way to never not play in Oregon again. They’ve got a great grunge and metal scene. You know that firsthand.”
“True. Did he say what venues or cities?” Bowie asked.
I pulled my phone out and reread the message. “The Star Theater in Portland and WOW Hall in Eugene. I’ve never been to either, have you guys?”
“Um, yeah, but as an audience member. Tony and I are from Eugene.”
Had they told me that, and I missed it? “Sorry, I thought you were from Portland since that’s where we moved you both from.”
“Nah. We had enough of Eugene. Fresh start and all that.” Tony didn’t elaborate any further, but I guessed it had something to do with Bowie’s accident.
We finished eating, and I took the dishes inside while they got back to writing. Emails waited to be answered, and I had plenty to keep me busy until it was time to leave.
“Knock, knock,” Bowie said as he knocked on the office door. “What time do we have to leave?”
I glanced down at my watch. “In an hour. Guess the day got away from me.”
“Got time to shower with me?”
I’d never logged off so fast in my life. “I’ll never say no to that offer. Lead the way.”
Beneath the warm spray, Bowie finally relaxed. “This feels good.” I took a chance and filled my palm with shampoo and began massaging his scalp. His moans had my cock perking up, but now wasn’t the time for play.
“Trust me when I say it’s gonna be fine. Hell, you’ll probably be the new favorite son after today.” He snickered. “My mom’s a great cook, and my dad has this natural calmness that obviously skipped me.”
“So not true. You are always calm, even when I’m not.
You and Tony are about the only two people in the world that have the ability to keep me from getting all riled up.
I’ve spent so much time on the defensive that I forgot what it was like not to be.
Definitely uses fewer muscles not being so pent up. ”
I pressed my lips to the big scar on his shoulder. “Glad I could assist in some way.”
Bowie turned in my arms and wrapped his around my neck. “You assist in more ways than you know. I’m sorry I’ve kept so much from you, but trust doesn’t come easily for me.”
Glad I’d practiced patience with Bowie. I knew there was more to his story, and in time he’d tell me. “It’s a challenge for many, and one thing I learned is trust is earned, not given. Bowie, you’re worth the wait.”
Heated kisses were inevitable between us, but time wasn’t on our side right now. “Sorry, my love, but we have to end this here in order to get to Woodinville in time.” One last kiss before we scrubbed up, dried, and got dressed.
Bowie was far too quiet during the drive there. “Woodinville was where I grew up but sadly is too far out of my price range. There are a ton of wineries and distilleries here. Makes for a great Sunday afternoon visiting them.”
“With a designated driver on speed dial, I’d imagine.”
“Too right you are, good sir.” But at least he was talking now. “Maybe a Sunday date one weekend if you’re up for it.”
“I’m down for it,” Bowie laughed. “Up, down. Isn’t it funny how words that mean two completely different things in the literal context yet for which we just used them they mean the same.”
“Very odd indeed.” And something I’d never considered before. Huh, food for thought. “Well, it looks like Twila is here too.”
“Twila?”
“My younger sister. She’s a handful, and here she comes.” The blonde-headed Tasmanian Devil herself came barreling out the front door. “She will jump in if we don’t get out.” I loved my sister, but she was a lot of energy wrapped up in a tiny five-foot package. “Come on.”
I’d barely shut the truck door before she ran straight for me. Thankfully, I’d played this game a thousand times and caught her midair.
“Pressley!” she squealed. “You never come over anymore.”
“Girl, you’re never here. You’re always on campus. Come meet Bowie.” We walked around the truck to where he nervously stood. “Bowie, this is my younger sister Twila. Twila, my boyfriend Bowie.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. He’s so hot, Pressley.” Yeah, not sure that shade of red on Bowie’s face was healthy. “Pressley sent us videos of you playing. You’re so badass.”
“Language, young lady,” Mom scolded with a smile. “You may be in college, but you’re still my little girl.” Twila rolled her eyes. “Your eyes will get stuck like that someday.”
“So not true, Mom,” Twila fired back. I missed their playful banter.
“Mom, Dad, this is Bowie. Bowie, these are my parents, Bob and Gail Darren.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Bowie held his hand out to shake, but Mom wasn’t having that and drew him into a hug.
“Sorry, she’s a hugger.” Not much taller than Twila, but the woman had an iron grip.
“Bowie, nice to meet you.” Dad shook his hand. “You are quite a talented musician. The music is a bit louder than what I’m used to, but you are really good. Did Pressley tell you I was in a garage band in high school?”
Bowie looked at me and smiled. I rolled my eyes, and Twila sang, “Your eyes are gonna get stuck like that.” We all laughed when Mom bopped the back of her head.
“Bowie might have mentioned it, but I’m sure I didn’t get the full story. Why don’t you tell me, sir?”
“There will be none of that sir nonsense. Please, call me Bob. You know, you’re the first boy our Pressley has ever brought home.” Dad led him inside, leaving the three of us in the front yard.
“I think your father has a new friend,” Mom smiled. “Come on in, son. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
The evening had only just begun, and I already knew, based upon the interaction between Bowie and my parents, that I’d do anything to keep him.
Forever.