Chapter 119: Krispin
"I completely fucked up my life with drugs and alcohol."
I saw her mind lose focus and it wasn't where I wanted her to go. My hand slipped under the table and I pinched the inside of her thigh.
"Oww."
"I need you to listen."
She smiled slightly and let me continue.
"I wasn't a pretty drug addict. It consumed me. My music suffered but more than that, my family and friends suffered. I wouldn't listen to them. My new friends provided the drugs. Funny how when you're rich, you don't even need to pay for the high. But I did pay and managed to snort more than a million dollars up my nose. Another mill, I spent on wild parties, alcohol, and anything my druggie friends wanted."
I inhaled deeply before continuing. "I hated myself and death was on my horizon but I didn't see it."
I looked away. The next part would be the hardest and it might be the end of us before "us" was part of our story. This time it was her sweet hands that turned my chin and I couldn't help but grin.
"I brought several of my druggie friends to Damian's hotel. I wanted to show off my dominant techniques. Damian didn't know I was there. He was one of the friends that tried to get me help but I thought I didn't need help. I only needed more cocaine."
My eyes shifted away. "I hurt one of the girls."
When I looked back, her green eyes were wide. I could have told her Damian stopped me before it got completely out of hand, but I didn't. That didn't matter. All that mattered was the horror in her eyes.
"She never pressed charges, but Damian kicked me out of the club and his hotel. A week later, I drove my car into a tree and got a DUI. I entered rehab for two weeks. I came out, realized I wouldn't be able to say no, and went back in. I stayed four months. I have a sponsor and I am a sponsor. I'll always be an addict. I don't feel the need like I did, but it's there. It will always be there."
I wanted to walk away from her and not see her disappointment but I couldn't. "Now you know the ugly truth about me."
"You're not ugly."
"Neither are you."
That brought a smile to her lips and it took all the control I possessed not to lean across the table and kiss her.
"Will you tell me about your family?"
Her question surprised me but I understood, because I could hear the longing in her voice. With her history, she was hungry for hearing about a family that wasn't a nightmare.
"My parents live with three Dachshunds in Florida on the ocean. My sister is about an hour's drive from them. She's happily married with two children. My nephew is six and my niece, four. They have no television, no Internet, and no cell phones. My sister's crazy and home schools. She's determined to keep them safe from the evil world. Why she lets me see them is beyond comprehension but I'm welcome as long as I bring a guitar."
"When did you start singing?"
"My parents have video of me dancing and singing in a walker before I could actually walk. I don't remember a time that I didn't love music."
"Why hard rock?"
"It speaks to me but then so does Sinatra, Eminem, and Adele. I love to write music and I'm lucky that others are willing to sing my non-rock ballads. For me, music is about the story. I never understand when someone says they don't like rap or country. Some of the best stories come from those genres. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the fans, excitement, and fame. It's a high in itself. This won't last forever and I want to enjoy every day until it's over."
"Why would it be over?"
"Well, the norm is ten to fifteen years, and then I'll get a ten-year break," I grinned. "After a decade, I'll become 'in' again and then play smaller venues as I grow older and my ability tapers off. Haven't you ever noticed how it works for rock-n-roll gods? I've studied the process and I have plenty of good years before I start a family and enjoy the slow time."
"You want a family?"
"Don't you?"
I didn't mean to make her cry but the tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. I got up and moved around the table. She scooted over before I could nudge her into moving. I took her hand in mine and tipped her head toward me so I could listen to her quiet words.
"I'm filled with cracks, not a whole person. I wouldn't make a good mother."
I lifted her hand and slowly spread her fingers apart. I kissed each one and then, not caring that people walked by, I ran my tongue around each digit. I could tell it tickled but I kept a tight grip on her wrist. When a fine sheen of saliva coated each one I lifted my opposite hand and placed it against hers. I could feel the slippery moistness. My fingers were bigger and they covered hers completely.
I ran the fingers from my other hand down then up, tracing the contours of our joined fingers. I peeked between the gap of our middle and index fingers and smiled at her.
"I'm looking between the cracks." My voice was husky because her taste turned me on. She tasted like bagel, cream cheese, and woman. I moved my hand slightly and our fingers now fanned. I lowered each digit and used my other hand to press hers down one by one.
"We can fill the cracks Angela. I'm not asking for anything but today; one hour, maybe an evening, and then I'll ask again. I come with baggage. You come with baggage. Maybe our clothes can mingle for a while and iron out a few wrinkles." I gave her my best rakish grin.
"Do you know any other Eminem songs?"
"I know them all."
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