chapter 8

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Bright white numbers on his phone's screen gleamed at Kyle after he greeted the guard with the curt smile. With only his new phone and wallet in his pocket, he walked past the hotel lobby, his leg and back muscles aching every bit. Even in midday, the massive pendant-bowl chandeliers lit the place brilliantly. The lights complemented the burgundy furnishings of the space.

His phone beeped right before he reached the elevator. Kyle read Jay's text and repeatedly pressed the elevator's Up button. He then thanked Jay and his wife for arranging the whole party, especially since Kyle didn't even shell out more than 50 bucks.

Getting wasted actually topped his to-do list today. He just had to rid himself of some work-related (and non-work-related) stress, get the bad vibes out of his system. Only, the idea didn't pan out.

He walked past Veronica's hotel room when some blues/rock music coming from her room held his interest. A stifled sound of what seemed like glass breaking made him quicken his pace.

Kyle grimaced when he found the room locked. He knocked and kept knocking. He didn't stop until Via yanked the door open. When he'd set foot inside her room, two liquor bottles were by the foot of the bed.

"The heck?" He found her MacBook on the desk and turned the music off.

"What?"

Kyle shook his head and held in an expletive, disgruntled by the sight before him. An empty bottle of vodka sat by the closet. The blouse and leather jacket she wore last night at the party were left on the bed. Her top was carelessly folded and all scrunched with its fabric inside-out. Her keyboard on the desk must have been plugged in since last night. "What the fuck?"

Keeping a crooked grin on, Veronica watched him as she slumped on the hotel bed.  "Who was that?" she murmured, squinting her glassy eyes at him. Her slurring and droopy eyelids gave away what she'd been up to all day.

"Who?"

"That girl at the party."

"Have you eaten bread at least?" he nagged, smelling out the reek of pot stemming from one corner of the room.

She shook her head lazily.

Before he could take another step, she'd already clutched the hem of his shirt, pulling him down to sit beside her. Then she started pulling him closer. Eventually, he was close enough to be able to kiss her.  Kyle grasped her shoulders and grimaced, seeing how blind drunk she was.

"Happy birthday," she greeted with a weak smile. "Have a good time?"

A smidge of relief crept into his veins.  They were still fully clothed.  He sensed she wanted him to do more than just sit there speechless.  He cursed in his head. "I don't wanna argue again, Via."

A few more seconds of her pulling him close and he'd have her flat on her back again. From her reaction, he knew she wouldn't oppose if he started kissing her now, and the thought alone turned him on more than he expected.

"Sober up," was all he said before making a move.

Then a tug and a much tighter clasp on the hem of his shirt forced him to stay put. It was a situation he'd been trying to steer clear of since that talk they had a week ago. "You're still upset?" Veronica murmured, seeming hurt by his distant behavior.  Her hazel eyes expressed her increasing confusion.

For weeks now, he'd been trying to show her that he could forget about the issues they'd been trying to resolve. He needed to. "You think you'll feel a little less shittier by making me watch you do this to yourself," he said, now wound up and feeling somewhat guilty. Last night, all he'd presumed was that it was just her darn cold.

She just told him a few days ago that she wasn't brooding anymore. They didn't even talk over why they shouldn't have done what they'd been secretly doing behind everyone else's backs, since they didn't want to set hurdles along the way. Especially now that their newest record was still in progress.

From what he could recall, their discussion on the matter didn't even last a minute. The fact only told him what had happened wasn't that big a deal to her. And though at first the thought didn't delight him, he'd convinced himself that he was fine with her judgment—as long as she was. So he pushed the issue aside and went about his week like nothing happened.

"I'll get you somethin'."

She scoffed. "As if all I need right now is a few signs that you actually care."

Apace, he got up when she tried to kick him off the bed. His fist clenched while he watched her ignore him. "Stop it.  Sober up. I'll get you some lunch."

"Just go." Veronica sighed.

Kyle shook his head in confusion and disbelief. He walked away and cleaned up the mess in her bathroom before she could think of smoking another joint again.  Then he headed for the door.

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With a full food tray on his left forearm, Kyle plodded his way back to his bandmate's room.

Everyone was still busy in the studio when he left past four, and he'd been in the booth all morning. He'd gone in early at eight and started working right after he went over the list of things to be done. He'd tried to call Veronica but her phone was turned off.

Then their manager told him that she'd called in sick. He worked nonstop the whole day. He'd been working on their songs all week: adjusting and re-adjusting the tempos, perfecting the guitar parts, and editing other technical aspects of their recently recorded tracks. His headache sprouted past three.

When he was satisfied with most of the end results, he drove back to the lodge and expected to find his bandmate in bedrest, with some meds by her side. Instead, he found her in the balcony in a pair of shorts and a booze-stained shirt, downing a half-empty bottle of vodka with a lit joint keeping her company.

Now he had a bowl of warm mushroom soup, a chicken sandwich to go with a cup of coffee and a glass of juice, in case she preferred it.

Finding out she'd locked the door again didn't surprise him.  Kyle put the food tray down on the carpet and used the spare key card.

He got in and heard the shower running. Out of relief, he breathed a sigh, assuming that she didn't do anything stupid again and hoping she didn't have another sip of alcohol after he'd trudged out of the room.

He drew the blinds right after he'd placed the food tray on the bedside table. He then stood by the bathroom door. The muffled gushing noise wasn't accompanied by any other sound that would suggest she was sobbing, or anything. But then again, how would he know?

Shortly after, his phone went off and he saw their manager's name on the screen. He took the call and Jay started asking how Veronica was doing. About fifteen minutes passed before she got out of the bathroom in a robe, her hair still damp and her cheeks and nose all pinkish. He watched her as she ignored him being in the room again. She grabbed clean underwear, a shirt, and a pair of shorts from the closet before tromping back inside the bathroom.

A half-hour later, she still seemed dead set on not paying him a single ounce of mind. He kept telling her to eat something after every five minutes, while he sprawled in the maroon settee by the TV.  On the bed, Veronica kept feigning to be busy skimming through the 50-something cable channels.

He shook his head when another ten minutes dragged on and she still hadn't touched the food.

Not long, he got up from the sofa, supposing she'd start eating if he left her alone. He threw another glare before he could reach the door and leave her be. "Cut the shit and talk to me when all this is over with."

•••

Slumped onto her messy hotel bed, Veronica flinched a bit when the door slammed shut. He left the room. Finally. Starving and exhausted, she'd stayed on the bed and kept giving him the silent treatment till Kyle at last gave up and made his way to the door.

Playing the cold and callous bitch all the while he was in the room wasn't so difficult. It was quite satisfying to see him pissed. If only she wasn't hungry enough and if only she was in the mood to order room service, she would've trashed the entire food tray an hour ago with him watching.

She snaffled the sandwich and finished everything under ten minutes, except the coffee and juice. She didn't want to get high on caffeine as well; she already had too much crap to think of to keep her up the whole night.

What was he thinking? That it was still absolutely okay for her to know he'd be glad to start seeing other women after everything that'd happened over the past weeks? She might empathize if he only did so out of lancinate boredom. Or if he just wanted to give a realistic picture of her preceding accusation of him being just like any other guy...still a sucker for a good time with any interesting enough millihelen should an opportunity present itself.

The previous night, it just occurred to her that he might've just held off until she left, before he gladly entertained the dolly bird with the punk rock look. He didn't even wait five minutes until she could actually pull out of the parking area. She'd caught him chatting with the pretty, younger chick—with the velvety boots, cool hip tattoo and all—just as she was about to get in the driver's seat.

Also, lately, he'd been acting as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing happened, as if nothing had almost completely messed things up between them.

Did he think she wouldn't know? Or maybe he did want her to know, just so he could make her face up the reality that they just can't have anything more than what relationship they'd had throughout the eight years. Maybe he'd been meaning to tell her that their personal lives just couldn't be any more associated aside from the fact that they work together.

Or maybe he thought she wouldn't care. Yet when he found her unbelievably stoned and smashed and alone in her room, he acted like he was truly concerned, even after she'd made sure he was convinced she'd only done it because she could.

Just so she wouldn't be in a room too static and unbearably quiet all night, she left the TV on. Every part of her was still stuck in a pensive mood. She soon remembered Kyle hadn't locked the door when he left. She peeled herself off of the bed to do the job, only to cuss when she recalled he still had the spare key card. She left it locked, anyway.

Veronica rubbed a hand down her face while she stomped away from the door. She approached the dresser to reach for her handbag. She scoured through her stuff to find her iPod, which she had just bought two weeks ago. Her dear ex still had her old one.

Alone facing the poignant blue-gray sky, she lounged the rest of the night away in the balcony again, notwithstanding how much she disliked heights, and not wanting to talk to anyone. She kept her phone off.  She even hid it under the pillows; Théo would be calling anytime once she turned the damn thing on.

What was she going to do with him?

It was upsetting to the point where she'd find herself crying at night in such a dire mental state, trying everything just so she wouldn't end up dialing one of his numbers on her phone. And what had been carking her more was that she still had feelings (profound and stubborn feelings) for him.

Sometimes she wished they could just undo everything. But if he really cared about her and their relationship, he wouldn't have felt the need to hide—for a whole year—that he was still seeing the other woman in the first place, seeing as they were already "going steady" that time.

And then there's Mr. Cool and Control...

If she hadn't been working with him for almost ten years now and if she didn't know him better, she'd actually settle for the apparent truth that he wasn't anything special but a part-time nice guy, part-time jerk like every other chap she'd met and dated.

He didn't even like talking about their situation. In all likelihood, to him, talking about it would just be a waste of breath.

It was clear to her now: he didn't even trust her enough to let his guard down whenever they'd get to discuss personal matters between them in every respect. She'd already given tongue to how she felt about things. She had ended up all teary-eyed and seeming pretty much bipolar, but all he'd given was mostly just piffling words and comforting niceties.

Was it that difficult for him to take her seriously?

•••

"You have gotta be— The hell is your problem?" was all Kyle managed to get out after rushing to her side. Snatching the liquor bottle on her lap, he then pulled the ear plugs out of her pinkish ears. Her skin was still flushed, and he knew she didn't touch the coffee and juice because they were in the same exact position as he had left them.

Veronica fidgeted and glanced up. Her swollen eyes conveyed she was puzzled as to why he was right in front of her again. Apparently, passing out drunk in the hotel room balcony for the second time was her idea of a good night's sleep. "What—"

"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't smoked another one-hitter and downed another bottle before jumping off the railing."

She scoffed and tried to get up from the chair but failed. "Yeah, 'cause you're one for caring."

"What's with you?"

"Just—  Go away."

Scowling at her shabby clothes, he hooked her arm around him. He held her by the waist while she wobbled her way out of the terrace with a hand on her head, grunting in pain and probably ready to vomit.

"Ouch." She chuckled before grunting again. "Painkillers, stat!"

"Bed or bathroom?"

"I need painkillers, not a shower."

"I was asking if you're feeling sick," was his impatient comeback. He lifted her off of the floor and carried her to the bathroom. He cautiously positioned her by the sink and held her while she waited to feel the need to throw up. Before she started gasping, he already had all of her wiry hair in his hand. He clasped it with the hair clamp he found hanging above the bathroom mirror.

Seconds of trembling and gagging sounds later, she was done. She tried to keep her stance by holding onto his arm while she gargled thrice. She cursed out loud, wincing in pain. She then swore she would never again get that high and that drunk.

Satisfied that she was no longer being difficult or patronizing, Kyle walked her to the bed, his arm holding her by the waist. He carefully laid her down on the mattress. Once he'd covered her up with the thick blue blanket, he looked for her meds packet in her purse and found ibuprofen. He helped her sit up, then gave her a pill and a glass of water.

Veronica kept squinting. She held the side of her head even when she'd lain back down.

If only he knew what this was all about... "Get some rest."

She sighed louder and turned her back to him. "Please go away."

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