“Sure I’ve gotten into some trouble, a few bar fights. I have an ego bigger than Texas and a jealous streak to match.” ~Johnny Outlaw
The convention looms and Tracy isn’t letting me get out of it. I have to be there. I have too many people counting on me being there today. I leave Dalton in bed at his house, which we retreated back to this week, and tiptoe downstairs. The front door is about to close when I hear Dalton. “Holliday?”
I step back inside and look up at the top of the stairs. He’s been holed up for days, so seeing him out of his room surprises me, especially at this early hour. “Hi. You’re up?”
He uses his palms to rub his eyes and the sleep away. In the low light coming from the bedroom I’m reminded how handsome he is, even with the sadness that haunts him. “Where are you going?”
“I have the convention today. I reminded you last night.”
“I guess I forgot.”
“I need to get going or I’ll be late.”
I feel his gaze harden. His voice becomes stern as if I have to justify myself. “It’s four in the morning.”
“I have to go back to my place to get dressed first and pick up some stuff. I’m meeting Tracy there at seven to set-up.”
He sits down on the top step, his body looking too tired to stand. Rolling his shoulders forward, I can see his mood changing for the worse. “How long will you be gone?” First his body language, now his tone. He’s losing patience.
“All day.”
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. Late.”
“I need you here,” he says, leaning his head against the wall for support.
“Dalton—”
He stands and rushes down the stairs, grabbing me by the arms. “I don’t just need you here. I want you here. I want you with me.” He pulls me to him, holding me tight. “Don’t leave me.”
“I don’t want to leave you. I want to stay.” I whisper, rubbing his back. “But I have to go. Today’s important for me and the company. I have meetings I can’t cancel last minute.”
Cupping my face, he looks into my eyes. His are glassy, desperate. “You don’t have to work. You know that. I need you here. I can take care of you.”
“I love my job. I do it because it makes me happy.”
“Don’t I make you happy?” I feel the slight shake of his hands. “I almost died. It should have been me, not Cory.”
My heart splinters, hurt from seeing him so broken. I touch his cheek and try to find enough strength within me to share. “You have to choose to live your life.” The weight of this tragedy is destroying him on the inside, he’s being dragged under. “Don’t let the dark win.”
He kisses me, holding his mouth hard against mine. When he releases me, he says, “You can’t go. You see what I’m going through.”
I pull my hands back from him, surprised by his manipulative tactic. “I want to be here for you. I do—”
He raises his voice. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Dalton, it’s early. I’m tired. You’re tired. Go back to bed. I’ll check on you late—”
“No! You have to make a decision—you stay or go, but you don’t get both.”
“Please don’t do this. It’s just one day. I’ll be back tonight. I promise.”
His hands jerk back like my touch now burns. “You don’t have to say it. I can tell you’ve made your choice. Go. Get out.”
“Dalt—”
The sincerity he held minutes before disappears, engulfed by anger. “Fucking go, Holli!” He turns abruptly, runs up the stairs, and slams the bedroom door shut.
I’m left with my mouth agape, caught between pain and my own anger. Picking my heart up off the floor, I try to collect myself, fighting back the tears until I reach my car. There is no traffic at this hour, but the burden of the baggage I brought with me from Dalton’s weighs me down.
Holli.
He’s messing with me, pushing buttons, picking a fight. I take a deep breath, trying to put it in perspective. He’s in so much pain, giving into the dark when I’m fighting to keep him in the light. Cory dying just might be the death of Dalton. That scares me. As much as I want to save him, I might not be the angel he thinks I am. I might not be strong enough to pull him through this. He might have to save himself this time.
Showing up on time doesn’t win me the brownie points I thought it would. Tracy is already at the convention center and has set up most of the Limelight products. “I’m surprised to see you,” she says.
“I said I’d be here,” I reply, too curt, which I hate. Taking a deep breath, I add, “This is important.”
“It is. It’s your baby. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m here, but I’m useless.” I sit down in a chair, my body heavy with worry. Dropping my head into my hands, I say, “He told me to leave this morning.”
“What? What do you mean he told you to leave?” she asks, standing there with a box in her hands.
With a sniffle, I say, “We had a fight.”
“Oh no, Holli. I’m sorry.” She sets the box down and sits in the chair next to me.
I huff. “I feel like I haven’t stopped crying since Paris.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“If I talk about it, I’ll lose it again and I don’t feel like crying anymore. Can we concentrate on work?”
“Okay.” She turns around and points. “There’s a box somewhefre over there that’s labeled brochures. We need to put those out and I think we’re set up.”
She starts straightening the T-shirts on the rack out front and I walk behind the display and move boxes around until I find the right one. When I bring it back, I set it down on a chair, and start unpacking while this morning’s fight runs through my head and guilt weighs down my heart. I give into my emotions and say, “He wanted me to stay.” I peek up at her, expecting judgment.
She stops what she’s doing and says, “But you decided to come anyway. Is that why he told you to leave?”
I nod, my throat tightening too much to speak.
“I’m sorry, Holli.”
Holli. He called me Holli in his anger. Breathe. One breath at a time, I breathe deeply.
“It’s just a fight,” she adds. “You’ve been through a lot of heavy stuff lately, both of you, not just him.”
“These last few weeks, I feel like I’m losing myself. His life is big, his depression even bigger. And I can’t stop thinking about Rochelle and the kids. The baby will never know his father.”
She comes and hugs me. “You care about them and they know that. It’s not going to be easy for them, but from what you’ve told me about her, she’s a fighter and she’ll fight for the kids to have the life they deserve. She’s fortunate to have so many around who love her.”
My head drops down and I close my eyes, trying not to cry. I should be out of tears—Cory’s death, Rochelle’s heartbreak, and Dalton lost in the middle of a tragedy. I’ve had to be strong when I felt weak and now that I’m away from him, I feel like my emotions will cave in on me if I’m not careful. “I can’t lose everything I’ve worked so hard for—”
“You won’t. You’re crazy about each other. He’ll understand and I know you two will be okay.”
Taking her words to heart, I start to believe we’ll be okay. “Thank you,” I say, releasing her. I lift my chin, take a deep breath, and when I exhale, I solidify my purpose of being here today—my business. I love my company too much to let it slip to the wayside. So today, I’ll be here, fully present, and tonight, Dalton and I can talk. He knows how much my company means to me. He’ll understand why I came here today.
“I’m thinking the brochures should go on the sides to capture the attention but not block the product,” I say, lining them up.
“I agree,” she says.
The morning disappears while I have meeting after meeting with buyers and do some meet and greet type stuff. I could have never predicted a lime would land me where I am today. Why anyone wants to meet the creator is beyond me, but it’s flattering.
Right before noon, I see a familiar face heading our way. But even better, it looks like he brought lunch, or I’m hoping he did. “Fancy seeing you here, Danny.”
“Eh, I had nothing better to do,” he says, shrugging.
“Ha ha.” I lean forward, trying to get a peek inside the bags. “What do ya got there?”
“Oh this?” he says, holding the bags in the air just out of my reach, teasing me. “Just some sandwiches. Nothing you’d be interested in.”
Tracy returns to the booth, and says, “Holy! Um, hello.” Her mouth is open as she stares at him. She sets our drinks down on the table, and asks, “Who’s your friend, Holli?”
“Don’t stare,” I whisper, “his ego is already way out of whack. And this is my neighbor Danny.”
“Underwear model neighbor Danny?”
Danny laughs. “I prefer photographer these days, but it’s good to know my reputation precedes me.”
“Oh here we go,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’ve done it now, Trace.”
“Nice to meet you…”
“Tracy, Danny,” I introduce them. “Danny, Tracy.”
“Nice to meet you, Tracy.”
She replies, “Likewise.”
After setting the bags down, he says, “Holli, last week you mentioned you’d be stuck here all day. Thought you could use some food.”
“Awesome. I’m starved.”
“Wasn’t sure how many people would be here, so I have extras. Hope you like turkey or ham.”
“Thank you. This is very thoughtful.” We find an extra chair for him and eat together, trying our best to not be so obvious to any convention goers.
After filling a buyer’s order, I sit back down with them and point at Danny’s shirt. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the tee either. I appreciate you wearing it.”
He puffs his chest out. “Have to show my support and it’s awesome. A good friend gave it to me.”
“She must be very beautiful,” I state without smiling, laughing on the inside.
He chuckles and rolls his eyes this time. “She is.”
“Stop flirting. I feel left out,” Tracy says, pretending to pout.
“Not flirting. She has a boyfriend. A guy she keeps locked up in her basement, hidden from the world. Right, Holli?”
“That is so not true. I don’t even have a basement,” I say, laughing, but it’s short-lived as I’m reminded of Dalton. This conversation, even in jest, hits too close to home for me to enjoy.
“Hey.” Danny stands just as we finish, and says, “I should get going and let you girls get back to work.”
“Thanks for lunch,” Tracy says, digging through her purse. “Let me give you some money.”
“Nope, it’s on me. My treat,” he says, nudging me with his elbow. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you again. Lunch was good—”
“The company better,” he adds.
“The company was definitely better. You made me smile, which was starting to feel foreign.”
“That’s a shame. If you ever need someone to talk to, you know where I live,” he says as we hug goodbye.
“I think I remember where you live,” I joke, releasing him, but our hands stay together as I look up into his eyes. “Thank you for the offer. I might just take you up on it sometime.”
While rubbing his thumb over the tops of my fingers, he leans closer, the scruff of his cheek against my cheek. “But not tonight. I have a date.” He winks and with a confident smile says, “I’m hoping to get lucky tonight.”
“What the fuck is going on?” I’d know that voice anywhere, but I still jump, shocked by the harsh words, and pull my hand back. When I turn toward the table, Dalton is standing on the other side of it, his hands fisted, fury written across his face. “This is why you said you’d be late? Fuck. I’m such a fucking fool.” He gives me a hard stare of disbelief before he turns it on Danny and it changes to hate. “Are you for fucking real with this shit right now? Every fucking time I turn my back, you’re right the fuck there on top of my girl.”
“Dalton!” I say, surprised to see him and even more so by his anger.
Danny’s hands are in front of him in surrender, and he says, “Hey buddy, like last time, nothing’s going on here.”
Before I can say more, Dalton’s rushing forward and grabbing him by the shirt.
“Dalton, no!” I yell. I grab Dalton’s arm, trying my best to pull him back, but his strength easily outmatches mine.
Danny’s ready to fight this time, his body as hard as Dalton’s, and equal in size.
Dalton pushes him in the chest, and says, “Then why the fuck do you have your hands on my girlfriend?”
Danny could fight back, but doesn’t. Instead, he puts his hands between them, and says, “You need to calm down. Holli and I are just friends.”
As a crowd gathers, I hear the whispers begin. I hate the whispers. Phones and cameras are out probably capturing the whole incident to share with the world.
“Just friends,” Dalton repeats, angling his body toward me. He points his finger accusingly. “You left. You left me to come see him?”
“No,” I plead, “you’ve got this all wrong.”
Dalton takes a step closer to me, his eyes wild, his actions equally unpredictable.
Danny matches him by moving next to me, his arm out in protection. He lowers his voice, a threat masked in words of peace. “She said you’ve got this wrong. Now calm down.”
Dalton fixates on Danny’s hand, which is a mere inch in front of my thigh, then drags his gaze back up, calculating, until his eyes lock on mine. Betrayal. He looks at me with hurt and betrayal. Just as I reach out to touch his cheek, he left hooks Danny who falls against the flimsy banner and hits the floor.
I hear the scream. I just don’t realize it’s mine until I see the look of horror on Tracy’s face.
Dalton leans over Danny, and threatens, “She’s mine, so keep your fucking hands off!”
“Dalton, what have you done?” I fall to my knees and touch Danny’s cheek that’s red and already swelling. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. We need to get you some ice.”
Tracy leans down, to help Danny up. “Holli, you need to go!”
“What?” I look at her and I see her own anger tinting her cheeks red. “Take him,” she says, pointing at Dalton, “and leave. I’ll take care of Danny and the booth. You both need to go.”
“Danny,” I say, “I’m so sorry.”
He won’t look me, but moves away to stand up. Tracy holds his arm as he gets to his feet.
“What?” Dalton asks, standing behind me. “You’re sorry? You feel sorry for him?” He looks shaken and confused. His hands are still closed, the veins in his arms pulsing, but there’s an innocence in his expression, the hurt coming through. “You’re taking his side?”
The whispers aren’t whispers anymore. They become louder, embarrassment sets in as: I’m chastised by Tracy, humiliated by Dalton, and feel horrible for Danny.
Security quickly takes Dalton by each arm, using their own threats of removal. He puts his arms up like he’s waiting to be cuffed. “I’ll go.”
Tracy and Danny move behind the shirt stand then walk toward the main hall of the convention center.
A fire has been set, an anger sparked deep within that fuels me. I turn, poking Dalton in the chest. “How dare you come to my work, hurt my friends, ruin my business, and make a scene like that! These are buyers, Dalton. This was my chance to grow and you ruined it. Nobody will want to work with me if they think I’m crazy and hanging around insane people.”
“Insane? Ha! Everyone loves a good show. They eat it up.” With an arrogant smirk crossing his face, he proclaims, “I’m Johnny fucking Outlaw. I just made your business.”
And there it is…
While backing away, my breathing becomes harsh, and my thoughts start spinning too fast to keep up. In a rush, I turn and grab my keys from the floor near my purse.
“I’m going. I’m going.” He’s aggravated, yanking his arms away from the security guards. I dash past him just as he calls to me. “Angel…”
I don’t stop. I go. I run, past the crowds, and the other booths. I run out the entrance, bumping into people along the way. I know he’s behind me. I hear him calling me. I feel our connection—stretching beyond being saved—his words the breaking point.
He catches me just inside the parking garage. “No. You can’t leave me. Holliday, don’t.”
Turning abruptly, I hit him on the chest, and yell, “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t own me. I am not your employee, and I don’t owe you anything.” With a wave of pained emotion, I hit him again. “What you said in there… you took everything—everything—I’ve worked so hard for and you belittled it like it’s a casual hobby of a kept woman.”
He grabs my wrist, squeezing so tight I can’t escape. “I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t. Cory’s death has fucked with my head—”
“No! You don’t get to use Cory’s death and you won’t use Dex’s drug problem, or the band ending to excuse what you just did to me. I get what you think you saw, Dalton, but you are wrong. I was giving a friend a goodbye hug, thanking him because he was gracious enough to not only come out and support me today, but to bring lunch for us because he knew we wouldn’t be able to get away.”
“You have money. You can order delivery.”
“Oh my God! You don’t get it, do you?” I shake my head, but his grip tightens. “You live in your own world. You’ve said it yourself. I may have money, but everyone doesn’t drop their lives for me. You’re so caught up in yourself that you’ve failed to notice you’ve been losing me.” Remembering Rochelle’s advice, I refuse to back down. “I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t live only for you anymore.”
“I do things for you. I do, so don’t turn this around like I haven’t. I have.”
“What are you talking about? And what have you done for me? Because where I stand, everything has been about you from the start, starting with the lies you told to get laid back in Vegas.”
He stares into my eyes, his mouth slightly open, then he says, “I’ve flown across the world just to be with you.”
I nod, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. When I open them again, I look down, away from his, not able to reason between how he’s hurt my feelings and the love I feel for him. I don’t think I’m going to be able to in this parking garage either. I take a step back, but stop because he’s still holding my wrists. When I glance over at two women entering the garage, he loosens, then releases his hold.
When I take another step back, he moves closer. “Holliday?”
I don’t understand how a man who loves me so much can hurt me so badly. “Don’t.”
He doesn’t listen. He moves and pulls me to him. With our bodies pressed together—one of his hands lands on my lower back, the other on the back of my neck. “I don’t want to hurt you, but my life is a whirlwind.”
I want to kiss his regrets away, but he needs to feel everything right now. He needs to escape this state of numbness he’s been living in since Cory’s death. I’m just sorry that him living again is coming at the expense of us. “Your life is a tornado, destroying everything in its path.”
The whispers return as a group of teenagers exit an elevator down the row of cars—their giggles getting louder as they hurry in our direction. Their mission accomplished as they point at Dalton.
We head for the car. I get my key ready to help with a quick escape as my steps pick up. But there’s a hollowness to the echo from the solo footfalls of my heels hitting the cement. Panicked, I turn around, realizing there’s no we, but me here and him over there. My eyes connect with his as he remains where I left him. My heart beats faster as my hand goes out, trying to close the distance. Even though I know the answer before I ask, I do it anyways, hoping to be surprised. “Are you coming?”
“No,” he says, “Go on without me, Holliday.”
I glance over at the teens with their phones out, squealing in excitement, then back to him. With a small nod and a silent goodbye, he signals for me to leave. I turn back around, standing there a second longer before I walk away from him… and he lets me.