Page 71 of See Her

In what is quite obviously a hotel hallway, a voluptuous bleached blonde groupie-looking girl with pink streaks in her hair is using a key card to swipe the lock to her room… while my husband leans against the wall a couple of feet behind her. He doesn’t look happy or excited, but he does look… expectant. His eyes are hard set on the card swiper like he’s eager for it to blink green.

What the hell could that mean…

There’s a hyperlink just below the photo, and though I know it leads to an inevitable breakdown, complete with tears, and dark, sickening heartache, I tap on it without a thought. I need to find out if I have something to worry about here.

The headline reads:

Turn it Up settles into their new wild life on the road with The Shock Wave.

Below the headline are two photos, side-by-side. One is the nightmare of Jack standing by as some bimbo groupie is unlocking a hotel room, and the other is of Josh, possibly in the same hallway, with several scantily clad ladies hanging off him like Christmas ornaments while the smug asshole grins, obviously eating it up.

Below the photos, is a simple caption:

Jack Krasinski and Josh Nolan of the new smash rock band, Turn it Up, were seen living it up at an after party at the Westin, Dallas. – Photos courtesy of @rocknfangurl95

That’s all there is.

I’ve forgotten all about the full pot of coffee that’s finally brewed as my eyes brim with tears. The smell does nothing for me as my vision blurs, and I feel the sting behind my closed lids. I feel a sob trying to crawl its way up my throat and I clench my jaw against it, refusing to let it surface. If I submit to this feeling, I might never recover.

I’m on total autopilot as I snatch my phone back up and immediately dial Jack.

Sleeping or not, I’m playing the wife card. I want him to explain this, right away. I want to know I don’t have a damn thing to worry about, immediately. I’d rather find out that I’m certifiably hallucinating than know that what I’m seeing in that picture is real.

Without a single ring, Jack’s voicemail picks up.

His phone is off.

That’s so… fucking convenient, I think to myself, despite how hard I try not to. I just feel so fucking vulnerable and helpless that there’s photographic evidence of him being with a girl, possibly more, just last night, while I was here trying to keep from missing him. And now I can’t reach him.

My old, insecure self starts swirling to the surface, even though I know I should be fighting to push her back down. But I’m hurt and scared, and therefore can’t seem to help being very reactive right now, and so she wins… I power off my own phone.

Two can play that game, I think to myself as I fight off another wave of painful tears.

As if to signal to me that I’m not alone, the dogs paw at the back door to be let in. Absently dropping my phone back to the counter, I venture over to open the door for them, but instead of running straight for their food bowls, they both fawn all over me, rubbing against and pawing at me, whimpering, and trying to give me kisses.

After letting them love on me for a few moments, I let them enjoy their breakfast as I head to the shower.

As I hold myself under the spray, I feel more like I’m trying to hold the pieces of my soul together.

Jack

Week-old shit rottingin the tread of an eighteen-wheeler’s tire after an all-night haul on the interstate… that’s what I feel like as I stomp onto the bus after speed brushing my teeth, splashing water on my face, and cramming everything in my bag.I don’t remember much after my third drink of the night, and I can tell why by the pounding in my head that feels like a twenty-inch subwoofer. I grab a bottle of water out of the mini fridge and down it on my way to my bunk where I immediately grab my phone out of my pocket and sit down. All my foggy brain can think about is calling Mayzie, but all I get is a dark, dead screen. Perfect.I pull my charger out of my bag and plug it into the bunk’s outlet to charge.Unable to take being vertical anymore, I pull last night’s shirt over my head, and lay back to shuck my cargos off.I lie back on the pillow and close my eyes.Hangovers don’t usually happen to me, so I can only guess at how much I had to drink last night. I hate that I don’t remember anything, and it makes me feel uneasy as I very restlessly doze off.

When I wake up, it’s to the feel of the bus rocking me. I have no clue when we got on the road. Once I blink a few times, I immediately grab my phone and power it on.When the home screen comes up, I see that it’s two hours later, and there are still no texts or voicemails from Mayzie.

Dammit, that’s not a good sign.The tour extension was tough news on both of us, and I hope she’s not withdrawing.

I lay back and dial her number, pushing a hand into my hair as I listen to her voicemail pick up.

“Baby, it’s me,” I sleepily rumble into the phone, my heart sinking at the fact I’m talking to her voicemail again and not her. “Could you call me back when you get this? I’m starting to get worried. I love you, and I miss you.”

I end the call and drop my arm holding the phone at my side as I let out a deep sigh. I could really stand to hear her voice right now, hell, at the very least; especially after yesterday. I’m not sure how she’s doing, but I know I’m pretty much a wreck if you’ll recall my mental state last night.

After scrubbing my hands over my face a couple of times, I finally decide to make an effort to get up rather than lie here in my misery all day.

Pulling a shirt on, I make my way down the narrow hallway of bunks and into the lounge area, where thankfully, I find no one but Matt. I’m not in the mood to handle any other personalities; not before I have a cup or five of coffee in me anyway. After pouring a mug of black, I shuffle over to sit in the recliner opposite where he’s sitting in his sweats, guitar leaning against the side of his chair, his phone in his lap and his head leaning against his hand.

“Hey,” he grumbles his morning salutation. Clearly, he’s only marginally more awake than I am.

---