Beat (Life on Stage 2)

“At the Wynn?”

I freeze. I hate myself. What I’ve done is loathsome and vile. It was never meant to happen. I didn’t mean to fall for another man. I wasn’t looking, we just sort of found each other. And after last night, I finally realize that nothing can stop what is going on between Flynn and me. What we have is real, not a fantasy I’d spent years imagining.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” I bow my head repentantly.

Dylan forks his fingers through his hair and edges over to me. He sighs loudly when I don’t look up. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I fucked up.”

Not what I was expecting.

My eyes jump to his, finding a pain that is familiar. Guilt? He places his hands on my shoulders and I wait for him to continue.

“I’ve been so preoccupied with the tour, how things are changing for Easy Ryder, I haven’t given you the attention you deserve.” He closes his eyes, and when he reopens them, remorse looms in the forefront. “I shouldn’t have gone last night. It was a mistake.” As if I didn’t already feel like a horrible human being, he’s apologizing for having to go to a business dinner, when I was with another man.

“You had a business dinner. I understand that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I won’t be going to any more business dinners. I promise.” The declaration is so heartfelt, it feels like he’s promising something much bigger. “You’re what’s important and I won’t let you slip through my fingers. I’m going to fix things between us.”

“Dylan. I…I need to tell you something.” I steel myself with a deep breath and wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans discreetly.

A knock at the door interrupts what is about to be my confession.

He ignores it. “It can wait. Go on.”

Like a coward, I cling to the interruption for a minute of reprieve. “It’s fine, why don’t you get it?”

Dylan lumbers to the door as the second knock comes. Just as I’m beginning to steady again, I hear the voice from the hall.

“Brett said you wanted to see me?” Flynn.

“I’m making some changes to the show,” Dylan replies curtly and then looks back at me. Not a single muscle in my body has moved, I’m so tense. “But I’m busy right now. Lucky and I are”—the sneer on his lips grows to a full-blown self-satisfied smile as he adds—”going to enjoy our last few hours in a hotel room before we have to get back on the bus. I’ll meet you in the lobby at three to talk.”

If Flynn responds, it isn’t audible, but the slam of the door makes me jump.

I convinced myself it was a bad idea to break things off with Dylan before he was going to have a sit-down with Flynn. Although the truth of the matter is, I’m just buying more time. I’m afraid that when I end things, Dylan will see right through whatever I say and know I’ve fallen for Flynn. And that won’t be good. Dylan is already clearly bothered by the attention that Flynn’s receiving. If he finds out we’re together, it’s Flynn who will pay the price.

The last show in Vegas is uneventful, and I’m anxious to speak to Flynn when they finish playing, but backstage is crammed with people and Dylan keeps me tight against his side. “Change of plans. Lydia flew in to tell Mick she got the all-clear from her doctor to try to get pregnant again.” A few months ago she miscarried; I remember Dylan telling me she was really upset. “They want to go out to dinner to celebrate before the bus rolls tonight.”

“Wow. That would be three, right?”

“Yep. We have a lot of catching up to do.” Dylan nuzzles into my neck and I blanch, finding Flynn’s eyes trained on me, watching us together from the other side of the room.

I down three glasses of wine at dinner, well aware that two is my max. Lydia and I spend most of the night talking about her two boys and plans to try to have a girl. But my mind keeps wandering back to Flynn. Before we leave, while Mick and Dylan are busy signing a few autographs, I take the opportunity to throw out a random question to Lydia.

“How did you know Mick was the one?”

“Wow, you get deep when you’re inebriated.” She smiles. “We dated casually for a while, both seeing other people. The band was taking off and we were young. When I was with Mick, I never thought about another man. But when I was with someone else and something funny happened, the first thought was always to call Mick and tell him. A nice guy could take me on a great date, yet I’d want to call Mick and tell him about something I saw.” She sips her water. “My advice. Go to a comedy show or a place you’ve never been. If you don’t have the urge to call him and tell him all the funny jokes you remember or something you saw, he’s not the one.”

The helicopter trip to the Grand Canyon immediately comes to mind. I was sitting next to Dylan, but couldn’t wait to tell Flynn all about the things I saw when I got back.

It’s almost two in the morning when we board the bus. The driver starts the engine as soon as the door closes behind us. “You want a few minutes to get settled before we get on the road, Mr. Ryder?”

Dylan looks at me. My stumbling will have nothing to do with the sway of the bus tonight. I shrug and head to the bathroom. The curtain on Flynn’s sleeping berth is drawn, but I imagine snuggling up to him as I pass by. It physically hurts to know he’s only feet away while I’m sleeping beside another man.

The next morning, I wake to an ache in my chest and throb in my head. It’s as if someone ripped out my beating heart and reinserted it under my eyes so I can feel every painful heartbeat. Water. I need water. The alcohol left me severely dehydrated.

I make my way through the bus in the dark to the galley, hoping to find Flynn in his normal position, anxiously awaiting the coffee pot. Discovering the living area empty, I slump with disappointment. The clock on the microwave reads almost six—perhaps I’m a little earlier than usual.

Ignoring the nausea of a wicked hangover, I force down two bottles of water with a couple Tylenol. After an hour of staring at the door that leads to the sleeping area, I grab a blanket, curl up on the couch, and eventually the vibration of the bus lulls me back to sleep.

A soft kiss on my cheek wakes me. Groggy, I smile with my eyes still shut. “It’s about time.”

“Come back to bed.”

My eyes spring open. Not the voice I was expecting. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

Pushing up with one elbow, my other hand rubs my eye. “I fell back asleep for almost four hours?”

“I guess so. I don’t get why you jump out of bed so early anyway.”

I look past Dylan toward the rear of the bus. It’s quiet. “Is everyone still sleeping?”

He shrugs. “Come back to bed.”

“Actually. I have something I wanted to work on before the bus gets loud.” I hold up the notebook that must have fallen from my hands when I nodded off. “Do you mind?”

The muscles in Dylan’s face tighten. “Whatever.” Letting out a frustrated sigh, he retreats to the bedroom and slams the door.

My second cup of coffee does the trick, and with the aide of the Tylenol and water earlier, I feel human again sitting at the dining table in the galley. I’d hoped Flynn and I could have a few hours to talk this morning. Think about how we’re going to handle things once I break up with Dylan. I reach up to the cabinet where Flynn seems to have a never-ending stock of Hershey’s Special Dark for me, and find he’s replenished my bars with bags full of Hershey’s Special Dark chocolate kisses. My heart melts faster than the chocolate in my mouth.