All the Love in the Universe

Eight. Spotlight Burns-Alec

"I think this is gonna be bigger than we think."

The TV Stars were fresh off a photo op at Dollywood, and now idling in a Memphis parking lot outside an iconic recording studio.

Pop star Lassie LeFleur was fashionably late for the session. John was jittery to meet her; Paulson, collected.

Alec was on edge. They were slated to be on Tardan Tonight the next night in Atlanta, and Marie was booked for a show in the same building. This was par for the course in their history, but right now they were riding the wave of a fight. Alec always got nervous before a big performance, and overindulging in beer and weed didn't subdue his mood like they used to. Sometimes, these days, they even fed his paranoia: paranoia about losing Marie, the band, his mind. Paranoia about paranoia, per his father's psychiatrist's cautions.

"It's her!" John cried out, pointing at a white limo that had pulled up alongside the studio.

But a moment later, a second limo appeared and deposited Lassie and her assistant Rita curbside. The first limo contained her entourage, a flock of colorful characters carrying cameras and notepads, documenting every iota of Lassie's lifestyle.

"We'll be on her reality show," John gabbed ebulliently. "How do I look?"

He preened and tussled his longish hair in the rear view mirror as Paulson smoothly opened the bus door and stepped out into the Tennessee sun.

Time stood still for an instant in Alec's psyche. He popped an edible into his mouth—a cherry-flavored gummy fish—and tried to quell the swell of emotions that threatened to cloud his head.

Marie's voice, uncharacteristically raised in alarm, reverberated, hung in the ether. The last time they'd been together, the parting had been trying.

"You don't have to go," Marie sobbed, her face bowed in her hands. "You want to go. Those are two very different things."

"Marie!" he'd pushed back. "The guys are waiting for me right now. Right now. I don't want to leave you here but I have no choice. And I'll see you in Atlanta. It's just a couple days."

She wouldn't be talked down.

"You can take me with you. Just just won't."

"I can't."

"Won't."

He sat beside her on the bed as she cried, not really knowing how to settle her. He was uneasy and afraid. They'd just spent hours cuddling and nuzzling, restoring each other's souls with gentle fondles and kisses.

Usually when he had to go, she would calmly accept. But tonight was different. Tonight he had run his mouth, hemorrhaging gushing nonsense that slapped her heart to and fro.

Even now, he could barely recall the exact words he'd uttered. He just knew he had waxed philosophic about their condition in a particularly callous way. He may have mentioned something about Paulson's new girlfriend kissing him playfully on the neck during soundcheck, and John's belief that anyone other than Marie would make a good fit in his life.

He also may have stated that John had a point, that several young women he'd met recently on the road piqued his interest. Certainly, anyone but Marie would best her in the "band-approval" category of acceptability.

The fact he'd pondered these things aloud while running his fingertips over her naked breasts and rubbing her feet with his under the covers intensified her reaction. She was out of the bed in a flash, scrambling to find her clothes while choking back tears.

Now they were in repair mode, but she was slow to hear his makeups. The longer she held out, the more frustrated he became.

"We'll talk about it later," he tried, gulping back anything more. He'd already said too much. Every additional word seemed to get her more upset.