Decades

Things Get Confrontational. And confusing.

He was tempted to go back into her room to empty whatever she had in that drawer and drive her to rehab. But, she hadn't shown signs of a drug problem, only enhanced creativity, more personality, and confidence, paired with higher energy levels. Still, this is how it started. He couldn't imagine losing her to that dark world of drug abuse again.

The spark was absolutely missing from their musical session today. They both knew it was because Lindsey had seen more than Stevie wanted him to. He was contemplative and quiet. She was embarrassed and uncomfortable. Both were withdrawing.

When she walked upstairs to her room after dinner, Lindsey wondered if she was going to her velvet bag. He felt a flash of anger, or maybe anxiety, with an unhealthy amount of sadness. He stood at the sink for a beat and then followed her upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. Without knocking, he opened her door. He knew if she was doing coke again, she'd hide it.

He intended to catch her in the act. If she needed help, he'd see that she got it. Again. He would not let her destroy herself on that dangerous chemical path again.

She was startled when he came bursting into her room. She'd been changing into some cozy socks; it was cool out, and her feet were cold. Lindsey had been quiet through dinner, and she kind of thought the time they'd spent together recently was winding down. He'd had enough of spending so much one-on-one time with her. She remembered the times her very laugh had set his teeth on edge. He must be growing tired of her.

The door flew open and Stevie said, "Lindsey, you scared me to death. Why are you bursting into my room like this?" He looked around, seeking something specific and only finding socks in one of her hands and her tiny foot with the pretty red pedicure in the other.

"Linds!" she admonished, "what are you looking for?" He quickly came around the bed where she sat and jerked open her nightstand drawer. Furiously, she dove for it and slammed it shut. Thinking he had totally taken leave of his senses.

"What are you hiding, Stevie?!" he raged, "Why are you doing this?"

She was irate at the attempted invasion of her privacy and the inquisition that followed. What on earth had gotten into him? "You need to leave. I don't know what you think you're doing, but this is not okay. I'm sharing the house with you, and this is my room. You cannot just come in here and toss my things like I'm some kind of inmate having my cell searched. What in the hell is wrong with you?" she practically yelled in frustration.

"I just can't believe you'd go down this path again, Stevie. You're better now. I know the past few years have been incredibly difficult, and I can imagine you have felt alone and even uninspired at times, but you could have come to me. Dammit, Stevie. I can't be this close to you and do nothing to help," Lindsey groaned.

"You think I need your help? I can handle these types of things on my own. And if I want, I'm not so alone that I can't find someone who is more than happy to "help" me out. This is a private matter that is simply none of your business. Certainly not a criminal matter, so I don't know why you're acting like it is."

He turned around and faced the door, clutching his hair in his hands. He'd have to try another tact. His mishandling of this could cause her to relapse further. "I don't want you getting in trouble. We're renting this house together, doing a record together, so it actually is my business. I know it's a temptation. It probably always will be. But I want to be here for you. I want to help you in any way that I can."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. This was the least sexy proposition anyone had ever made her, and she'd been propositioned a time or two. She wasn't a charity case.

"And it is a criminal matter, Stevie. The whole thing can ruin you. I care too much about you not to step in and help."

A look of confusion rolled across her face. "Lindsey, what do you think I'm doing up here?"

"When I was looking for scissors earlier, I opened the drawer and saw the velvet bag, Stevie. Don't think I don't remember that black velvet bag. Ugh, I just don't want to see you spiral into drug abuse again, baby."

Still plenty pissed but also slightly amused, she raised her voice, "You think I'm using drugs up here? Seriously? I don't think you're offering the kind of help that I actually need. Why do you think I'm on drugs again?" she asked.

"And I'm not your 'baby," so don't say that again."

"Well, you're so slim, you've got so much energy, you're waking up early-ish, and your eyes seem to be really alive...and you've got that bag in your drawer. You came up to your room after dinner and again earlier today..." she cut him off.

"Stop it. I'm not coming up to my room for a bump. I came to get cream for my hands earlier. I'm here for socks now. What the fuck, Linds, why are you monitoring me?"

"Well, what about the bag? Your energy level? If you're not doing coke, prove it. Show me the bag."

"Are you fucking serious?" she shouted, "This is a ridiculous invasion of my privacy. And you don't want to see what's in my drawer. I guarantee you that." she rolled her eyes. "But, since you're here demanding to see it and since you don't trust me and think I'm on fucking drugs, fine. Have at it."

She reached into the drawer and grabbed the bag, cheeks flaming red with embarrassment and hostility. "Catch!" she tossed the velvet bag to him. He immediately pulled it apart and dumped out the contents.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What an ass he was.

Out of the bag fell Stevie's vibrator, a dildo, some lube and a remote control that seemed to go with it.

"Sorry your search didn't turn up anything more damning, Linds," she snarled.

"Now, get out of my room."