The Redemption(46)

Logging onto the tour schedule, I look at the dates and cities. Miami in nine days. Nine days to wean my heart away from him. Nine days to mentally prepare myself to see him after our fight. Nine days to forget the past and try to move forward like we never happened. Nine days.

Ready or not, I’ll go because I have to. I’m damn good at what I do and I’m not gonna let little things like broken hearts and hurt feelings get in my way.





My phone rings just after ten-thirty. “Hello?”

Tommy’s voice is gruff. “Hey Rochelle, I need talk to you about Dex.”

Bracing myself to the mattress the best I can, I wearily reply, “Okay, but I think it’s only fair that I get to share my side of it.”

“Your side of what?”

“What happened betw—Wait, what were you going to say?”

“His kit got damaged in transport. He got through the show by using a floor model from Guitar Center. It’s not gonna work for the tour. It’s not made for that kind of stress. I’m sending over the contact information for the set maker. Call them first thing in the morning and see if they can rush the frame, bass, tom-tom, and snare out overnight to the next city. Philly. Philly’s next.”

“What happened? And what about the rest of the equipment?”

“The hi-hat and other symbols are fine. A local stagehand put the set down on the dock and a backloader didn’t see it. Bent it to shit. Dex is pissed.”

“He should be pissed. Will the current set work if the other won’t make it?”

“For the next show, yeah. But he was hitting pretty hard tonight. I don’t know if it will make it for two shows. It’s not as heavy as his usual. Oh and maybe give him a call tomorrow. He seemed out of sorts today. Left his clothes because he was late for the plane. Said he didn’t have time to pack. Maybe you can send some clothes too.”

“Geez, Tommy, let me just drop everything and go shopping for Dex,” I reply sarcastically. “He forgot his clothes? What happened to you managing him during the tour?”

“C’mon, Ro. Do me the favors. I can only do so much from here and keeping a tight leash on the guys is doing me in already and it’s only the first show of this leg.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dex is wasted because he’s upset about the drums. Johnny left after the show. Derrick and Kaz are dragging me out with them. I’m thinking I need to go to keep an eye on them. You know how those two are when they party.”

“Partying with the guys sounds like real torture, Tommy,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But don’t worry. I’ll handle everything in the morning.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“No need to suck up. I already said yes. Don’t you have some bars to get to?”

He laughs. “Yup, getting right on that. Thanks for the help.”

As soon as the phone disconnects, I lay in bed and turn on the TV, trying to distract myself from the fact that I have to return to Dex’s house in the morning. Damn him. There’s just no escaping. As soon as I decide to get out, I’m dragged right back into the lion’s den… or tiger and lair in his case, according to Firenza.





I’m not happy about going back to the scene of the cheating crime, but I’ll do it for Tommy. Even though it’s really for Dex. I swallow my pain, blaming myself for getting involved with him in the first place, and go inside with a huff.

His house is quiet, the house manager only coming twice a week while he’s on tour to check on things, organize mail, and dust. I help pay the bills while the guys are gone, so I know all of this. I know too much these days. I shut the door behind me and stand there, smacked by the conversation I was caught in the last time I stood in this spot. The disappointment that he could give us up so easily, that he could move on so fast, weighs my feet to the spot, hesitant to go further. I steel myself and head upstairs not wanting to waste any more time than necessary here.

His bed is made this time. I’m sure with fresh sheets, but the memory still remains. My senses tormented by the memory. Firenza taints that same bed that I once had sex with him in. My stomach rolls, so I take a deep breath, gripping my arms around me and focus on the job at hand. I direct my gaze to his nightstand where his charger sits, no phone attached, and I wonder if I should pack it. I walk over, reaching behind the stand to unplug it, knowing the answer already. The corner of a photo tucked under a leather book catches my eye.

I reach for it and pull, sliding it out from under its hiding spot. My breath doesn’t catch, it stops altogether as I stare down at a photo of me.

I don’t remember when or where it was taken. There’s a light reflecting in my eyes, the area around me has a red glow, maybe an after party from eight or nine years ago judging by my hairstyle. Two corners are bent and finger prints cover the glossy surface. I don’t know why Dex has it, but all that strength I gathered to get through this task suddenly evaporates. I sit on the edge of the bed and stare down at it. It’s a smile I don’t recognize as one I usually have, not posed for the camera, exposing an inner happiness, one not manufactured for others but instead by others.

Tucking it back under the well-worn leather book, I’m tempted to open the book. It looks like a journal though so I don’t. My thoughts are still on why Dex has this picture of me and it raises questions. Too many to work through right now.