Page 39 of Rock Bottom

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, getting to his feet so fast he nearly knocked over the guitar. “I just thought… I thought…” He lowered his head, tears welling in his eyes.

Shit. That was exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

“Hey, Oscar…”

“I’m sorry,” he said again and practically ran for the ladder.

“Wait!”

I jumped up, blocking his path at the last second. He bumped right into me and almost fell. I reached to steady him but stopped, worried he might misinterpret that too.

I dropped my hands to my side with a sigh. “It’s not that I don’t like you, okay? You seem like a great guy. It’s just… Look, I’m only here for a couple of weeks. I can’t get involved. You understand.” I was trying to let the guy down as gently as possible, but it clearly still hurt.

Oscar pushed up his glasses and shrank back, gripping one arm. “I understand.”

Fuck, Dante. Do something. Make him feel better. Prove you’re not an asshole. “Hey, that doesn’t mean we can’t hang out.” I elbowed him gently. “You still want me to come see your friend’s band play at Tappy’s tomorrow?”

He lifted big, wet eyes from the floor. “But you said you couldn’t.”

I shrugged. “Church might be my bodyguard, but he’s not my boss, Oscar. If he wants to stop me, he’s literally going to have to tie me to a post. I’ll be there. If you still want me to go with you, that is.”

He offered a weak smile and nodded.

I smiled back. “Great. Is seven too late to meet?”

“No. The show goes until midnight.”

“Perfect.” I patted his back and walked him slowly to the ladder so he didn’t get the impression I was rushing him out. “And you can introduce me to your friend afterward. We’ll jam together. How’s that sound?”

Oscar’s smile finally bloomed. “Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow night.”

I didn’t sleep that night. I tossed and turned in my bed, worried about the next day. Had I made the right call with Oscar? Probably not, but what was I supposed to do? I wasn’t good at saying no, especially to fans. I wanted people to like me, not think I was some sort of self-absorbed asshole. That’s part of how I got into drugs in the first place. The pills helped loosen me up, made it easier to have fun and laugh.

I got up three times in the night to go check on Church, but he insisted he was fine. He accepted the water I brought him every time, but otherwise didn’t seem interested in anything other than catching up on his sleep. Understandable, given the circumstances.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of the tea kettle and smiled, knowing it meant someone had delivered Church’s Wattson-approved tea and he was feeling well enough to make it for himself.

But my smile fell when I remembered the plans I’d made with Oscar for that evening. If I followed through, I’d have to lie to Church, and that was arguably worse than lying to Oscar. No matter what I did now, I was going to have to let someone down, and I felt like shit about it.

I spent the rest of the afternoon and all the next day pacing around, waiting for Church to find out and come yell at me. He never did. Why would he? Unless Oscar ratted me out, which I didn’t think he’d do, Church had no way of knowing what I had planned.

Maybe I shouldn’t go. I glanced over at the clock. Less than two hours to decide. If I didn’t show up, it’d crush Oscar, but if I did, so much could go wrong.

I heard Church opening the fridge downstairs and thought he might be getting ready to make dinner.

I should tell him. He’d know what to do.

I sat up from the bed and started down the stairs.

“No, Mum. I told you it’s not like that.”

I paused with my hand gripping the wooden railing. It sounded like Church was on the phone, and with his mother. The one he refused to talk to me about. If I walked into the kitchen, he’d probably hang up. It wasn’t right for me to listen into his side of the conversation, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I sank onto the stairs, straining to hear.

“You know he doesn’t want to talk to me.” Long pause. “So let me see if I understand. Because he’s rich and famous, it’s totally acceptable that he’s not straight? Yes, let’s forget about the hookers and that he’s a drunk and the fact that I’m not bloody interested! How could I be? He’s disgusting, Mum! I’m ashamed to have ever associated with him, and if I never have to see him again, it’ll be too soon.”

My heartbeat throbbed in my ears, blocking out the rest. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was one thing not to like me, but for him to say all that about me…and to his mother. We’d been flirting yesterday and today I was disgusting?

I couldn’t breathe.

---