The Rhythm Method (Stage Dive 4.80)

However, one thing motherhood had taught me was to rest when you could. That, and never wake a sleeping baby. Since my hair was already reasonably clean and my black sweats were sort of fresh, I grabbed a pillow and a blanket and made myself comfortable on the couch with the baby monitor. Self-care these days was a whole lot about sleep. Screw the skincare routine. I drank a bottle of water earlier. Good enough. Having a child was basically crossing out the top ten things that were important to you and replacing them with your infant. The one who still needed a name. Eh. One of these days. It wasn’t bothering him—yet. And David didn’t seem overly interested in the process these days. Our first big decision together about the baby, and he’d opted out. Ouch.

As I slipped off into sleep, I could still feel the uneasy feeling inside me. Hopefully David was taking time to think, and we could talk things through and clear the air when he returned. Hopefully.

* * * *

Muffled yelling woke me. The soundproofing in the condo was hardcore. For me to be able to hear anything from the hallway outside the apartment where the elevators were, someone had to pissed. Big time.

More shouting. And those voices were horribly familiar. I grabbed my cell and the baby monitor and ran for the door. Two men tussled. David grabbed fistfuls of his brother’s sweater while Jimmy seemed to be doing his best to hold him off. Not so successfully.

I hit the number for downstairs and said, “Send up security to the penthouse. Now.”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” snarled David.

“Of course it’s my fucking business.” Jimmy pushed back. “Keep things up like this and you’re going to ruin your life.”

They careened off a wall and staggered back. It was like rock ’n’ roll wrestling come to life, in a horrible manner. Two spots of red sat high on David’s cheekbones, rage lighting his eyes. He was full-on losing it. Of all the times to not have security hovering. Holy shit.

“Get your hands off me,” ordered Jimmy. “You’re behaving like a damn fool.”

“Oh, yeah. Jimmy’s got all the answers. He knows everything!”

“Davie, I’m warning you…”

“Got his life together and his marriage is perfect. Just ask him.”

Jimmy growled. His hands were clenched tight around his brother’s wrists. “You’re too fucking defensive to take advice. Fine.”

“Because I definitely need another person telling me what to do.”

“She’s right. You’re behaving like a child,” said Jimmy. “Davie, let me go. Now. I won’t ask again.”

They didn’t even seem to realize they had an audience as they pushed and shoved at each other.

Then Jimmy pulled back an arm, formed a fist, and let it fly. Straight at his brother’s face. David’s head snapped back from the impact, and his hold released. He stumbled back against the wall, hands covering his eye.

“Oh, no,” I said.

Jimmy turned to me and frowned. “Ev… shit.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, Bon stepping out. He took in the scene with a practiced eye and managed to keep a neutral face. Which I appreciated. Then he knelt down in front of David and coaxed him into showing off his nice, fresh black eye. Jesus. I always hated violence. I focused on taking deep, even breaths because hyperventilating wouldn’t help.

David got into a fight shortly after we got together, but nothing since. He was a lover, not a fighter. He wasn’t angry like this. Not normally. We didn’t really live a rock ’n’ roll lifestyle. No drugs apart from the occasional joint. No craziness apart from Mal. And definitely no trashing places and shouting the house down. Sure, there was the occasional party or get-together or a drink after a show when the guys were on tour. But nothing like this.

“I’m sorry, Ev,” said Jimmy.

“I know.” I nodded. “It’s probably best if you go for now.”

With a sad smile, he disappeared into the elevator and left.

“How badly is he hurt, Bon?” I asked.

“Nothing a pack of ice won’t fix. But I can get a doctor over if you’d like to be sure.”

“David?”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t look up. “Don’t need a doctor.”

“Are you drunk again?” I asked in my calmest possible voice.

“No,” he growled.

What the hell else was I supposed to think when he started brawling with his brother? Give me strength.

“I need you to calm down, please,” I said, face set.

My husband looked at me and sighed. Slowly but surely, his shoulders fell back to a more normal level. All of that rage was leaving his body. “Okay.”

“I think we’re okay now, Bon. Right, David?”

“Yeah,” said David, staring at the floor with his one good eye.

“Thank you, Bon.”

The bodyguard looked between us, then nodded and pushed the button for the elevator.

“Let’s go get that ice.” I headed back into the apartment, making for the kitchen. Heavy footsteps followed behind me. My hands shook, but I could ignore that. I grabbed a kitchen towel and filled it with the cold stuff before handing it to him.