10
Once I left, he raged. Something shattered against the wall and he hollered unintelligibly.
I walked faster so he couldn't catch up to me in that headspace—as history illustrated it wouldn’t end well.
Then I took the stairs so I wouldn't have to wait for the elevator in case he followed.
I knew there was no stopping him when he got like this, and I was in no mood for visiting another ER.
Midway down the steps, my knees buckled.
I was forced to sit and gather my wits, weeping harder than I had in years.
The worst part was the echo. I hadn’t heard myself sob this hard since I was a kid.
Back when the smallest inconveniences prompted the gravest despair.
When the world seemed one quarrel away from collapsing.
"Excuse me, Mr. Rawlings? You ok?” A guard plodded down the steps behind me. A harnessing presence, drawing me forth from the distal shores of my mind. “I think it'd be best if you return to your room. Show’s starting soon."
I couldn't look back at him.
"Yeah, mate…I hear you. Just, uh…give uz a minute, would you?" I wiped my face with the sleeves of my tee.
"Sure.”
A while later, he offered a cigarette. I took it, knowing it would make me sick.
Then he sat beside me and fumbled for a lighter.
He was a tall, middle-aged Korean guy with a close haircut and tired eyes.
He had straight white teeth and visible laugh lines.
I placed him somewhere in his late forties.
"Han,” he said, extending a hand.
"Rafe," I replied.
“Yeah, I know who you are. I better.”
“Yeah,” I chuckled.
When he found the lighter, instead of handing it over, he indicated I should put the cigarette in my mouth.
Dumbfounded, I took a second to assess the brand and it wasn't a Marlboro.
I popped it between my lips and turned to face him, tears still streaming down my cheeks.
He struck the lighter a few times before it caught, and I noted his hands were big and red.
Frayed bits of hair covered the knuckles.
First inhale hit like a ton of bricks. This thing was bitter. Nothing like Rome's. I hit it again and it was so pungent I nearly gagged. No menthol. No filter. No calming effects. As I coughed, my eyes watered over.
"Easy there," Han said, rubbing my back.
The touch was overly familiar. A step too far for hotel security, but I didn't mind.
His hand was huge and heavy. It slipped down my spine, moving in broad circles between my shoulder blades.
It took all I was to not lean in and purr.
I hit the cigarette again in hopes it would take my mind off his touch, but the stroke only intensified.
I'm no idiot. I knew the instant his touch became sensual.
His circles grew broader and slower, and soon he was rubbing across the small of my back and ribs, like Rome had been doing only moments earlier.
I was afraid to look up and read his face—afraid I would see things I sensed in his touch.
My breathing shallowed, so I let the cigarette burn between my fingers; the ash growing so long it plopped off without me thumping the filter.
Rome…Rome…Rome, my mind chanted. The second I thought of him and what we’d been doing only moments ago, the effect of this guy's touch began to wane.
Why the fuck was he still rubbing my back?
I had a choice. I could sit there and pretend not to pick up what he was putting down, or I could give him a signal for more.
"How's that treating you?" Han asked, indicating the cigarette. His accent was vague, and I assumed it was a regional twinge I was picking up on.
"Alright, I guess," I tilted the filter to watch the tip burn.
"Good…" He rested his hand, still not removing it from my waist.
With his free hand he took the cigarette from between my fingers and finished it off.
That crossed a line. It was disturbingly intimate.
I turned and watched him take long, expert draws.
His eyes didn't squint when he exhaled, like Rome’s.
His lips were thin and wet and reminded me of a fish, so unlike Rome's.
"You're pretty good at that," I grinned.
"Too good, really. Been trying to quit since I was sixteen." Finally, he removed his hand from me.
"Oh yeah?"
"You know…I've seen tons of singers come through here. Can’t say I’ve ever found one alone and crying before. What set you off?"
I watched him unseeingly. "How long've you worked here?"
"Four years this May."
"You like it?"
"It has its ups and downs, but the team is good. The hours are good. And I can spend time with my wife in the earlier part of the day, then work here during the evenings. She loves it because when I used to work days, she hardly ever saw me."
"Nice."
"Gotta keep 'em happy," he declared. "Happy wife, happy life. Whatever it takes. Now that she's six months along, her mood changes from one minute to the next."
"Pregnant? Cheers, mate. Congrats! That’s really cool."
"Thanks," he finished off the cigarette, crushing it on the step.
"Girl or boy?"
"Girl, unfortunately." We laughed. "Now I have to worry for her the way I worry for her mom. The same way I worry for my sister."
"Girls are tough," I nodded. "I've got a sister too. Her name’s Rosa. You won't believe how many of her dates I've had to threaten." We laughed again.
I asked more about his family, and he was happy to oblige.
He had lived in the US growing up because his dad had migrated there to start a business, but when he became ill, they packed up and headed back home before he died.
Once Han met his future wife, he decided to stay.
As he spoke, he lit another cigarette and we shared that one as well.
Then his hand fell onto my back again, even lower this time.
Swallowing thickly, I tried to remain as still as possible.
He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me over slightly, and it reminded me so much of Rome that I felt sick.
I played it off and wiggled free with a laugh.
Now I leaned back onto the steps with my elbows, watching the piercing lights above and craning to see the stairs wind up several floors.
"We've been here a while," Han acknowledged. "They'll be looking for me." He’d cut his radio off earlier to stop picking up interference in the stairwell.
"Yeah, me too.”
My phone had buzzed nonstop for the last half an hour. Soon it'd be time for soundcheck, which I was debating skipping because I didn't want to see Rome again.
"You know, if you ever need anyone to talk to…about whatever upset you today...you can always reach out." He handed me a business card with his full name. Han Lee.
"Great name," I chuckled. "Sounds like some sort of film character.”
We parted ways at the elevator. Once I got back to my room, I set his card on the nightstand and kept watching it in disarray.
After I showered, I sat in a towel on the edge of the bed and couldn't keep my eyes off the name.
Han Lee. I recalled his touch. Those heavy gratifying hands and gross cigarettes.
His working-class casualness. His boring, comforting stories.
I brushed damp hair away from my face and considered calling him.
I pictured his dick. Why did I want to call, exactly?
To fuck? Probably. I think out of spite.
But Rome had texted me over a dozen times, each message increasingly more unhinged.
That’s because before I hopped in the shower, I texted him what I’d been too afraid to say to his face.
That he was a fucking liar. Now I read through his responses.
Rome: "Liar? Really, Rafe?"
Rome: "Really? That’s how you feel?"
Rome: "You know what, bro? I'm done."
Rome: "You know who you sound like right now? Piper. You sound just fucking like her, bro."
I felt all the blood rush to my head, boiling at the tips of my ears. I nearly threw my phone against the wall, but refrained because I’d only be screwing myself. He kept texting, and I kept ignoring.
Rome: "You’re always telling me how you love me more than she does. You’re always talking about how you'd take care of me. Always talking about what you'd never say to me...and now you go and sound just fucking like her!"
A while passed before he continued.
Rome: "She barely even touched me, Rafe."
Finally, he admitted there was something.
Rome: "Just a bj that's it."
I knew he was still lying. To soften the blow. I knew they'd done much more. He wouldn’t have held her hand otherwise.
Rome: "I needed it. I couldn't fucking sleep. I was so fucked up, babe. You were gone..."
I could almost see him pacing as he'd written the messages. Angrily smoking. Spitting off the balcony. Watching his phone, waiting for it to ring. It didn’t, so he kept dropping his head and mumbling to himself like he always did when he was upset.
The balcony was his thinking place, his venting place, his smoking place.
No matter where we were, he always found the nearest balcony and posted up outside, headphones on—sometimes for hours.
Rome: "She barely fucking touched me. And I didn't touch her at all. I swear to God, babe, you know me. You know who I wanted there instead."
Rome: You’re all I think about."
I lay back on the bed and shut my eyes, starting to itch all over. After a few minutes of inactivity, he sent a new one.
Rome: "Babe...talk to me. I need you."
Rome: “I need you, Rafe.”
Rome: “Please, baby.”
I couldn't keep ignoring him.
"Hey," I texted.
Rome: "Babe...why did you leave? Where'd you go?"
"To get some air."
Rome: "I need you.”
Rome: “I need you, babe…"
"It’s ok. I know. "
***
"Long night?" Nathan asked later that day, seeing how out of it I was backstage before the show.
"Yeah..."
"You look beat, mate."
"I know."
He seemed like he wanted to laugh. Rome brushed past us, fidgeting with his in-ears.
"Wuddup, Nate," he said, ignoring me.
He was in a black tee and jeans. His hair tumbled all over the place whenever he looked down.
"RJ, mêt," Nathan chuckled in his Welsh way. "Alright, butt? Last night was mental!"
“Oh for sure, bro.”
Levi and Alex joined, and things became unruly before the huddle. Alex knocked Levi's hat off his head repeatedly, then Rome joined in, knocking it off whenever he least expected it.
"Yous bois are gonna owe me sixty bucks if this one's dented, mate," Levi popped it off and studied it before setting it back in place.
"Don't worry about it, Leo. We got you," Rome said in one of his exaggerated accents, knocking the hat from his head a final time. Screams filled the arena, which let us know the intro video had begun.
"You're a bit quiet, lad," Alex remarked, noticing I hadn't spoken in the last few minutes.
"Just thinking..." I ruffled my hair, flipping it back and tucking it behind my ears as the tech set my guitar over my head.
"He's in a bit of a mood, ain't he?" Rome remarked, eyeing me; daring me to challenge him in front of the others. He strapped his guitar on as well.
"Yeah, we thought Rome was the moody one!" Nate said, slinging an arm around me.
Levi pretended to pinch my nipples and I slapped his hands away. Soon we finished our huddle, singing the chorus to Eddy Grant's "Electric Avenue" to warm up, then the music started. That was our cue to line up.
"Look alive, bois!” Levi proclaimed. “It's go-time!"
As I sprinted up the steps into view of the roaring crowd, wielding Blackbird in the air like Excalibur, I had zero clue this would be the last time I ever stepped on stage with Rome again.
***
He looked at me mid-show, during Nathan’s sappy solo again, but I couldn't look back.
Towards the end of the show, we stepped backstage for a break and I changed my shirt.
I ran into him at the soundstage, and he wouldn't take his eyes off me.
I missed his eyes. They were damn mesmerizing when he was sleepy, and tonight they seemed more tilted than usual.
"How long were you with her?" I asked.
"Fifteen minutes." There was no hesitation in his reply, which meant it was rehearsed. "No more than twenty, tops."
"What'd she do?"
"I told you."
"Tell me again."
"She just blew me, babe," he muttered beneath his breath, glancing around. "She tried to kiss me, but I wouldn't let her. I wouldn’t do that to you, Rafe, I swear to God. It was strictly transactional. You believe me?"
"Who was she?"
"No one, babe. Just some bird I met at a club. Chatted 'er up a bit. Nothin’ special."
"Why her?"
He averted his eyes. "She was just the first girl I saw when I walked it. That's it."
After the show, he followed me back to my room and waited while I showered so we could talk. When I came out in a dressing robe, I sat on the bed beside him, damp hair tumbling forward.
"You're always scowlin’, man.” He mimicked my frown and I pushed him. That sent him back onto the mattress, laughing hysterically.
"Babe, you look so miserable, sometimes. Take it easy!" he grabbed the back of my neck and kissed my hair, blowing raspberries against my cheek until I laughed.
“You’re so annoying, mate!”
When we sobered, he asked, "Hey, baby...who's Han?"
"Who?"
"A manager or somethin’?"
"No one."
"Why's his card here?"
"What? Where?" I played dumb.
"There," he chucked his chin in the direction of the nightstand.
"He's just some guy."
"C'mon, Rafe, get the fuck outta here. Be real." Not much escaped him.
"Don't be stupid. It’s nothing."
"How'd you meet then?"
"Why d’you care?"
"Because you want me to care, right? That's why you left the card out? For me to see it? So, what happened?"
"We just talked."
"So, you were with him, yeah?"
"Uh...for a while, yeah."
“Right.” He looked straight ahead, arms resting on his knees. Jaw clenching.
"I was crying on the stairs and he came by—"
"Cryin’?"
"Yeah…after earlier. I was scared. He gave me a cigarette."
"You don't even smoke."
"I know…but I took it anyway."
He got up and put distance between us.
"Rome, we just talked for a while…” Why the fuck was I explaining myself? After what he’d done in Thailand? Fuck him. “Then he finished my cigarette..."
There was a noticeable shift in his demeanor, which lent me a wicked little shudder of gratification. He was on the brink of imploding, and for some reason I wanted to see it.
"He took it from between my lips and put it right between his."
"Fuck off, bro."
"He was rubbing my back. To be honest…it felt good. It’s what I needed." Finally, I lied: "He kissed me. I don’t know why I let him.”
He watched me, dead-eyed. No longer smug or manipulative, just empty. He walked out and I let him go. Moments later I looked for Han's card and it was gone.