He staggered back into the hotel room at around seven a.m., surprised not to see Darling curled up sleeping in their bed. Where the hell had she gone? He’d been a jerk and treated her wrong, but it had just pissed him off so much that she’d lied to him, that she’d messed with the tour and his drumming. Didn’t she understand that he’d been into her for her and thinking that she only cared about him because of Becket was downright hurtful? So he’d said some mean things. Maybe she was off talking to Madison and licking her wounds a bit. He’d give her a few hours and track her down. Right now he needed a hot shower and maybe some sleep and about half a bottle of Tylenol for his headache. He’d slammed back so many shots he’d been barely able to walk. The hotel bartender must have left him sleeping it off in the corner, the giant bottle of Crown Royal nearly empty in his lap. He hadn’t drunk like that in a long time, and he was more than mad at the lapse. He did turn down drugs, and he was proud of himself for that small accomplishment—though it had been a near thing. Yep, Darling had done a number on him.
He flicked on the light in the giant bathroom and avoided looking at himself in the mirror. He whipped open the shower door and immediately realized that all of her chick stuff was gone. No fruity shampoo, girlie-smelling soap—even the pink razor thing was gone. He slammed the door shut and went back into the bedroom, frantically pulling open drawers only to find them all empty. On the dresser was a short note neatly scrawled on hotel paper. He read it twice before he swung his fist into the mirror over the dresser, sending glass shards across the bureau and cutting up his knuckles. That bitch. Darling was gone. A rage like he’d never felt before erupted from his newly thawed heart. Nothing in the hotel room was safe. When he’d finished ripping apart the furniture, he punched holes in the sheet rock. He’d never busted up a hotel room in the past, but at the moment it felt good to just let the poison out of his system. He ignored the banging of the hotel security and threw a lamp at the brave officer who unlocked the door and tried to talk to him. A short time later they returned with Link.
* * * *
His friend was at least smart enough to just sit out in the hall and try to talk to him through the shut door. Ross was exhausted. He sat against the wall surrounded by splintered wood and floating downy feathers ripped from the duvet. He closed his eyes and slapped his head against the wall a few times.
“Hey, Ross. Please, dude, just talk to me. I’m worried about you, man. I’ve never seen you act like this, not even right after, you know, Lisa died,” Link said.
Ross ignored him, not trusting his voice to do anything other than growl.
“I know Darling left. She texted something quick to Madison, but I don’t know what happened.” Link exhaled loud enough to be heard through the wall. “We’ve been friends for years, so what the fuck is going on?”
Ross opened his eyes, glanced around his totaled room, and giggled. “Holy fuck, I trashed this room.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Good thing I assured the management that you were good for the repair costs, or one of those London bobbies would be in here arresting your sorry ass.” He chuckled.
“She left me. Actually, she used me, got what she wanted, and then left me.” Ross kicked a pile of torn linens until his foot couldn’t reach them anymore.
“What the fuck are you talking about? That girl was in love with you. Are you using drugs again or something?”
“No. Never that shit again.” He contemplated what to tell his friend and decided on just baring the truth. He was determined to tough it out and play the part of Charlie Brown—pathetic. “She was only interested in me because of the band. She must have talked Madison into telling me there was an issue with my visa so she would have enough time to, you know…” He let his words hang in the air, at least until Link’s laughter broke the silence. “It’s not fucking funny. I got conned.”
“No, it’s not funny. It’s fucking hysterical.” Link broke into a fresh round of laughter. “You actually think Darling plotted an elaborate ruse to keep you in Uniontown so she could seduce you? And that”—he broke into another round of guffaws—“and that she coerced Madison into helping her run this diabolical scam on you?”
Ross plunged his elbow into the drywall, making yet another hole he’d have to pay to repair. “It’s not fucking funny. Tommy told me yesterday there was never any visa issue. She set me up.”
“Dude, I set you up.” Link’s voice had taken on a sober quality.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ross demanded.
“Just what I said. I’m the one who told Madison there was a problem with your visa and that you would be delayed. I let her work her magic and get you to stay where I thought you should be for a while.”
“Why would you do that to me? How could you mess with the band stuff, was it some kind of joke to you?” Ross bit his words out, slapping his skull against the wall again.
“I did it because I want to see you happy. I’m sorry if I fucked stuff up.”
“Well, great going, dude. I’ve never been so happy in my fucking life. Thanks.” Ross looked around his smashed-up room and let out another hysterical giggle.
“Come on, let me in there. I want to see how bad it is,” Link asked, the sound of him getting off the ground and tugging on the doorknob interrupting Ross’ moment of mirth.
He slid his body up the wall and unlocked the door, letting Link in. Why not, they’d been friends for years, and he’d seen Link in some pretty dicey situations before.
“Holy shit, this place is toast. I’m almost impressed. You might really be full-fledged bad-ass rock star material.” They both started laughing at the ruined room.
“So, maybe in future, you won’t try to help me.”
“I had to. I knew that morning when you actually got all pissed at me for calling Darling boring that you had a thing for her. She was the first person you even cared enough about to try and piss off. Besides, I impressed the fuck out of my wife coming up with the sort of devious plan that only she would normally come up with.”
“You guys certainly had me fooled. Shit, this means that Darling didn’t know anything about this.”
“I can’t say I know Darling as well as you—for obvious reasons—but from my dealings with her and the way Madison talks about her, that girl doesn’t have a mean bone in her body and would never do anything to hurt someone or get involved with them just for fame. I kind of get the impression she didn’t really have much real experience with men in general.”
“Let’s not go there. Fuck, the things I said to her last night. No wonder she took off. I practically accused her of winning the groupie of the night award.” Ross slapped his hand over his face, not wanting to have to see Link’s expression of shock.
“Your nefarious plan to set me up didn’t include doing scary shit to Darling’s house would it?” he asked, hopeful.
“Ah, no. I might be new to scheming, but I’m not enough of a shit head to shoot up my own dog and someone’s house, vandalize my wife’s car, or burn down a shed. I have no idea who is doing all that shit, but I don’t buy the pissed-off locals story. It’s too much.” Link slapped his friend on the shoulder. “I do think that we might need to get a replacement drummer for a couple of shows, though. You best get your ass back there and start kissing up, groveling, the whole nine.”
“If Darling doesn’t kill me, Tommy probably will. I am such an ass. If dumb was dirt, I’d cover an acre,” Ross lamented, his drawl unusually heavy in his chagrin.
“Nah, your stupidity would cover a whole county. But since you’re like a brother to me, I’ll go talk to Tommy—at least, as soon as I calm my wife down. She really might kill you if you don’t work things out with Darling. I’m pretty sure she’d been planning a bridal shower and all. Knowing her, she’s already figured out how many children you should have, so if you mess this up anymore, I can’t protect you.”
Ross reached into the garbage and grabbed a balled-up piece of hotel stationary.
“Dude, don’t even bother trying to clean this up. Just get out your checkbook,” Link advised, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I know that. But this here paper tells me I have some heart and soul fixing to do.” He stuffed the crumpled note in his pocket.