Page 4 of Hold On

Thirty-two-year-old, has-been musician moves back in with his estranged mother after tour is called off due to excessive partying and drug use. What a fucking headline. If the women who wanted to fuck me could see me now.

It makes me think of that day in detention and how I had decided that night was going to bethenight. The one to end it all and yet,shewalked into that room and changed the course of everything. My life forever shifted the day she entered it and shattered into nothingness three weeks later when she left.

I never heard from her again.

Luckily, we wasted no time fucking the shit out of each other, as she gifted me with her virginity the night of her eighteenth birthday. Fucking me raw and burrowing herself into my heart over the next few weeks. And every girl after her has paled in comparison. I feel myself giving into that familiar feeling of despair. Time has never been a factor in my suffering. She slipped through my fingers, and I’ve never been the same since.

Lina Girl. If I only knew where she was now. It’s something I find myself wondering about often.

Movement catches my attention and pulls me from my internal misery as my mom gingerly approaches my car. Even though this is awkward for us both, I’m grateful to have somewhere to go. Besides, aren’t I kind of the problem she helped to create in the first place? I suppose it’s time for her to clean up her mess.

I open my door and gather her in half a hug, her head barely meeting my chest. It makes me wonder if she’s always been this small and fragile. And now I fucking hate my dad even more.

“I know this isn’t where you imagined yourself to be at this time in your life, Sebastian, but I’m so happy to have you home,” she gushes, as she surprises me and deepens her own embrace. I try not to stiffen at her candid affection.

“Thanks mom. It’s hard to say I feel the same.” I had decided a long time ago it was better to be frank with her than to lie for her comfort.

“I know, honey. I expected as such,” she mumbles, pulling away from me, trying to hide her wet eyes. I suck my teeth before turning to my car and grabbing a few things from the backseat. I had most of my other shit sent over separately. I’m still loaded with money and pay people to do the shit I don’t want to do. The perks of being a rich douche bag. Sighing, I follow my mom into the house, hanging my head in despair as I enter my new life.

*****

I have a bag of takeout on the seat next to me as I drive around aimlessly in the wet night. My mom tried to cook me something to eat, but all I could think about were the silent dinners we used to have together when I was a kid. Ones where I’d see all of her new bruises and she’d ignore mine while shoveling more broccoli onto my plate. Like that made up for her lack of acknowledgment of our situation. I didn’t feel like reminiscing, so I snuck out hours ago.

I have no plan, so I pull into the parking lot of a local dive bar called The Bengal. I snort to myself at the terrible name. Fisting a burger in my hand, I figure I should at least eat something if I plan to drink the rest of the night away. I have over a month sober, but who the fuck cares. I certainly don’t and neither does the label. The tour wasn’t reinstated when I left rehab. So, I’m saying fuck it to the sober shit as I shove another mouthful of Carl’s Jr. into me, in preparation of gettingshitfaced. Famous Star with cheese. Feels somewhat ironic now that I’m a fallen rock god without any prospects for redemption.

I eat my misery and watch the rain fall on my windshield in torrents, feeling extremely sorry for myself and my fucked up situation.

I’m crumpling up the paper to my first burger when I see a couple exit the bar, their bodies pressed together as they laugh lightheartedly. They look like they’re in love, the woman grabbing the man’s ass as they hurry to their car before quickly leaving the parking lot.

It has me feeling emptier than before, so I stuff a second burger in my mouth, haunted by the memory of a phantom with maroon hair she dyed herself.Alina. What I would give to forget her for even a second. It’s been so fucking long and yet, she still lives in my veins like my thirst for heroin. I shove the last third of my food into my mouth whole, longing for something to do other than wallow in the past.

A man exits the bar next, looking around a few times before heading around the back of the building, his shoulders hunched due to the rain. I look back to my almost empty takeout bag to find the fries, disinterested. I’m stuffing a handful into my mouth when a woman follows shortly after. And I swear to fucking god, time stands still as the ghost of my past appears.

Alina fucking Timber.

Right the fuck in front of me. And just as devastating as she was in high school. Her hair is darker, more of a purple color now. But it’s still long and her green eyes shine fiercely through the gray haze of the storm. She’s wearing a black beanie with a tight black hoodie and fitted jeans that make her ass pop.

It’s taking everything in me not to leave the car and gather her in my arms. I’ve waited for years for our reunion and an explanation as to where the fuck she disappeared to. The woman who saved my life and then vanished, almost like a guardianangel in disguise. I’m absolutely stunned to be witnessing her ethereal beauty again in real time, not just a memory from my overdrawn spank bank. She’s grown into the most gorgeous woman and I’m a damn puddle of myself in the driver’s seat as I gawk at her in disbelief. I watch her look around a few times before retreating after the man who left the bar seconds before her.

As a former rockstar slash drug addict, I know sketchy when I see it and when her body disappears into the dark behind the building, I’m quickly unbuckling my seatbelt to follow the two of them into the rain.

She’s not getting away that easily this time.

Alina:

I hate working when it’s pouring. I’m mandated by my fucking boss to do all business outside in the parking lot at the back of the building and there aren’t many awnings to keep from getting wet back here when the sky is truly dumping. I’d fuck in my client’s cars but have found I can usually get it over with quicker when I expose them to the elements. Not that they care for my own well-being. They just tend to freeze their balls off fast enough to pump, dump and run.

What a fucking shitty day.

I’ve had three more clients than expected and my body is tired. I’m so sick of being used. But the money doesn’t stop for my emotions; neither do the dicks. And all I can do is keep bundling up until it gets warmer outside. Like I said, my fucking boss could care less, and I’ve found a system that works to my benefit.

Albert’s waiting for me next to the dumpster. Howclassy. Then again, I’m a fucking whore who’s paying off her father’s gambling debts to his former loan shark, so classy isn’t really up my alley.

But in moments, Albert’s cock will be.

“C’mon, it’s fucking freezing out here. You can’t ask Luke to invest in an actual room or something?” he complains as I approach him. I smirk at his discomfort.

“Like I’d get into a real bed with you,” I say with a snort. “The alley is exactly where you belong.”

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