Rock All Night(100)

“What do you care?” I asked with considerably less humor than he’d used.

“I just like my toothbrush to be by itself,” he said, the humor fading fast.

“What does it matter? We’re sleeping together. Any germs I have, you’ve already got by now.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then who cares?” I snapped.

“I’m asking you – ”

“It didn’t sound like you were asking me.”

Now he was getting really irritated. “Well consider this a formal request, then: put your own toothbrush into your own glass. There’s, like, five of them on the counter – ”

“Why do you care?!”

“Why do I have to have a f*cking reason?! Just don’t put your toothbrush in my goddamn glass! CAN YOU HANDLE THAT?”

In answer, I took my toothbrush and walked out – not just out of the bathroom, but out of the hotel room.

I probably looked pretty odd stomping down the hallway with a toothbrush in my clenched fist, but there was no way in hell I was going back in there.

Derek apologized later and just explained that he liked his space. I apologized for getting angry so quickly.

What I didn’t tell him was that I had a creeping apprehension that the toothbrushes were just a stand-in for something else.

But, I mean, that was just the stress of the Road, right?

The constant togetherness, with only a couple hours’ break here and there, right?

…right?





82




One of my biggest problems was that the jealousy came back. With a vengeance.

For the first five or six days after we slept together, Derek only had eyes for me. No matter how beautiful the groupies and models and actresses were who flirted with him, he didn’t give them anything other than the obligatory (but still dazzling) smile. Boobs came out en masse, but the most risqué thing he signed was a girl’s arm. And then he would turn away and put his arm around me, and walk me through the crowd introducing me to rock legends and movie stars.

The green-eyed monster was still lurking in the background, but it wasn’t gnawing at my guts like it had before.

Then… something changed.

I think it was an exceptionally beautiful hotel concierge. Brunette, six feet tall, crystal blue eyes. She didn’t know who Derek was, and she didn’t give a damn. She was polite but perfunctory, and acted entirely blasé during the beginning of their interaction.

Derek was having none of it.

He turned up the charm to 11. He leaned over the counter in a ‘hey baby’ kind of way and kept cracking jokes like his life depended on getting her into bed.

It worked.

Well, not the ‘getting her into bed’ part. Although that was only because he brought her up short once he had her on the line.

She laughed at one of his jokes. He made a mildly suggestive comment and she shut down. He teased her about her reaction and made her laugh again. Within another sixty seconds she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

It was like watching an elaborately choreographed dance. A mating dance.

And I went from unsure, to astonished, to boiling-hot furious over the course of it.

A running monologue kept spooling out in my head the entire time.

Wait… what is he doing?

Is he doing what I THINK he’s doing?

What the f*ck – he IS doing what I think he’s doing!

He’s KNOWS I’m here, right?!

Why the FUCK is he DOING this?!

Just as they finished their interaction and she looked like she was about to hurdle the counter and jump his bones, I latched onto his arm like a tiger and dragged him off.

He went willingly, but he threw up a casual See ya! salute. “Catch you later!”

She stood there, her eyes open wide, her face like a little kid whose birthday gift had been taken away just as she was about to open it.

“What the f*ck was that?!” I hissed, low enough where I hoped no one but Derek could hear me.

He played stupid. “What?”

“That!”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, babe.”

“You putting the moves on that – that woman!”

“Whaaat?!” he grinned, then shook his head like I had it all wrong. “No, no – that was just a little friendly flirting.”

“Friendly flirting is ‘that color looks nice on you.’ That was NOT friendly flirting.”

“Sure it wa– ”

“Why are you even f*cking flirting in the first place?! And in front of me! Do you know how disrespectful that is?”

“To who?”

“To ME!”

He stared at me like I’d just grown a second head. “Are you serious?”

“No, I just like getting this angry and pissed off. Yes I’m f*cking serious!”

There’s this Pixar short, One Man Band, where two dueling street musicians are pulling out all the stops to get a coin from a little girl. The big buff musician stumbles, makes a fool of himself, and falls all over his drums. The little girl looks over at the skinny musician, who rolls his eyes and gives this utter look of contempt that manages to combine What an idiot with Forget what you just saw even exists, because it was so beneath your notice.