Afterglow || Tommy Lee

32. Lovers Start As Friends

Malibu California March 21 2003

Sitting on the large sectional sofa in our living room, I gather my legs beneath me, sitting cross legged in my ripped jean cutoff shorts and my loose fitted ramones band shirt that I made into a tank top with my dark curls down and past my shoulders as usual. I held in my hands the piece of paper that my father had written his phone number on and hesitated over the buttons on the cordless handset.

I take a deep breath and start to dial with each beep indicating the number, then suddenly I chicken out and stop, placing the antenna of the handset to my lips.

I'd been staring at this piece of paper for weeks. I'd of course pick it up, look at it in my hands, study his handwriting and then get pissed off and stuff it back in my desk drawer in my office. I figure this time, maybe I would actually just try and talk to him.

I sit with it for a few more minutes, wondering what the hell I even say and then start to dial again. But on the last number I chicken out again and hang up.

"Fuck Andrea... get it together," I say quietly to myself with my eyes closed, pressing the antenna to my forehead.

Ever since that night, when I was just a kid and had that horrible argument with him, I always wanted him to come back, telling me that he loved me, saying that everything would be alright and that I didn't really have to leave the only home that I've ever known.

Trust me I don't regret anything about moving to Seattle and starting a new life on my own. I am damn proud of myself that I started my career there and that I did it all on my own. Yes I certainly had a little help in the beginning but everything else was all me.  I do regret yelling at him the way I did on my birthday. He may have deserved it, with everything that he's done to my mom, to me and especially not showing up or talking to me at all after my mom died,  but I love him still, and miss him so much.

Why does this shit always have to be so complicated?

I sigh once more, open my eyes to look at the phone number on the little piece of paper once more and just as I was about to dial his number again, the phone instantly rang in my hand practically startling me right off the couch.

"Fuck," I chuckle to myself, my hand in my chest and I answer the phone. "Hello? Hi... uh yea he's here. Uh, here I'll get him for you, he's just in the studio... one sec..." I trail off as I rise from the couch and make my way out of the living room, feeling the hardwood floor beneath my bare feet, walking down the long hallway and to the door to Tommy's studio.

I can hear him faintly through the door, sounding like he's working on a track of something, so I slowly open the door to see him at the far end of the sound proof room, behind his drum kit, wearing only black baggy  shorts with his wallet chain, and just smashing those drums like he does so well. He continues for a few more seconds then once he sees me with the phone in my hand covering the mouthpiece he stops, his breathing slightly heavy since he was just going crazy.

And looking fucking goddamn sexy as fuck doing it too, especially with his sweat glistening down his bare chest from the studio lights... ehem, sorry.

"Hey baby, what's up?" He exhales.

"Um, there's someone on the phone for you," I say as I walk over to him.

"Who?" He asks

"I think it's your lawyer," I say. He wipes his forehead with the back of his gloved hand then takes the handset from me.

"Hey... Hey yea, good, I'm good... Yea? ok...  mediation? Ok... uh huh... yea, no of course, sure...However we do it... yea...  I just want my boys back y'know? Yea... ok... ok thank you. Yea you too, alright... see ya,"