Page 47 of Edging Obsession

Because of his popularity and looks, I often remind myself Miles is mine. My insecurities get the best of me, but it’s to be expected dating someone like him, as women throw themselves at the band members any chance they get.

It’s the last song and they wind into Miles’ favoriteWicked Joys. In a way, it fits my man. For the amount of joy he brings to me, he also brings a wickedness I love. My energy is waning after this eventful day. By the end, mine and my parents’ shoulders touch, swaying from side to side. My voice is hoarse from singing, and they’re exhausted just from the experience.

Callan sings the last chord in the encore then thanks the crowd, who chantsmore. The band leaves the stage, and my sweaty man comes over, embraces me, and twirls me in a circle. I run my fingers through his wet hair, whispering how awesome he played. How proud I am of him. He has the most exquisite smile. When he places me down, my parents congratulate him, letting him know they enjoyed the concert.

The band is going to a dance club, but Miles declines, wanting to treat us to dinner. We’re all hungry, although he’s famished from the performance. He escorts us to this adorable German restaurant. The building is one of the old types made of clay, wood, and timber beams. Inside, the beams run along the ceiling. Heavy wooden booths line the walls. The delicious smells have my mouth watering. A man comes over to Miles, calling him Matthias, and shakes his hand. His arm stretches over to the large booth as Miles requests English menus. Miles tells us most restaurant close early in Germany, except for this one which remains open into the early morning.

He tells my parents, “I thought I’d bring you to a true traditional German restaurant. I’ll suggest a couple of things. TheRouladenare pickles and bacon wrapped in beef or veal. It comes with dumplings. There is a variety of Wiener Schnitzels. The original type from Austria is made of veal.Sauerbratenis another typical German dish. It’s part of a beef roast in a sweet and sour gravy.”

My mom jumps on theSauerbraten, my dad takes the pork knuckle, and after discussing some of the schnitzels with Miles, I choose the one with Hollandaise sauce. Miles orders for us, and he takes theRouladen.

While we enjoy our drinks, some guy comes up to our table, looking down at Miles. He folds his arms over his skinny chest, and says in German, “Auf diesen Tag habe ich gewartet.”(I’ve been waiting for this day.)

Miles takes a gulp of beer, sits back, and says nothing.

He points at Miles rattling off more German.

Miles’ entire body stiffens, yet he remains quiet. We have no idea what he’s saying. I scoot closer to Miles.

The man pulls a thread from the bottom of his frayed shirt, glancing out the window as if daydreaming. “Karina, sie gehörte mir.” (Karina, she was mine.)

Whatever was said gets Miles’ attention, because he stands, causing the guy to take a step back.

The man’s eyes shift to Miles, shouting about a Karina.

Miles shoves the guy who is a lot shorter than he is.

Our waiter comes over, and from the look of the exchange, he asked Miles if the man was bothering him.

The man hits his own chest, tears running down his cheeks, screaming.

I jump out of the booth, grabbing Miles’ arm, who has latched his hand around the man’s neck. The server and I are asking Miles to let him go.

Miles’ bodyguard Hendrick arrives. “Miles, was geht hier ab?” (Miles, what’s going on here?)

Through clenched teeth, Miles says, “Dieser Typ behauptet, er wäre Karinas Liebhaber gewesen. Das baby war nicht meins.” (This guy claims he was Karina’s lover. The baby wasn’t mine.)

Hendrick steps in, grabs the guy by the shirt, throwing him to the side, which forces Miles to let him go.

The guy is on the ground, pointing his finger at Miles, spit flying out of his mouth as he continues to scream.

Miles begins punching him in the face, but Hendrick stops him by taking the guy out of the restaurant. Miles stands there, breathing heavy, staring out into the distance. I take his hand and kiss the top of it, except it doesn’t get his attention. He’s still lost in thought.

I whisper, “Mein Lieber.” His eyes flicker to mine. “Who was that man?”

Hendrick comes inside and says to Miles, “Wir bringen ihn zur Hütte.” (We will bring him to the hut.)

Without a word, Miles walks out of the restaurant, and Hendrick gestures for us to follow. We pile into the limousine, still hungry, and shocked by what occurred, wondering what the man said for Miles to react the way he did. My parents hold hands, squishing close together. I remain on my side of the car, letting Miles find calmness by staring out the window.

From my window, I notice a couple of men shoving the guy into the car as he shouts, “Karina!”

His wild hair and obsessed eyes have me shrinking into my seat.

Hendrick drops my parents off at the guesthouse and makes his way back to Miles’ home. Inside, Miles heads straight to the liquor, downing a glass of whiskey before pouring another with a shaky hand. This is the first time I’ve seen Miles unhinged. Even when danger lurks, he’s calm, collected, and protective. I have no idea what the man said to throw him into this state. I press my hand to my chest, saddened this happened on the first European concert tour. Miles was on top of the world on stage and flying high when he got off. Whatever this man said, pelted him into a furious man.

Biting my lower lip, I say, “Talk to me, Miles. Who is Karina?”

He lifts his head, eyes on mine, and says, “My dead wife.”

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