Decades

Battling

The phone rang entirely too loudly, and Stevie scrambled to answer it, disentangling herself from Lindsey's arms as he groaned and rolled over, reaching for her. "Yes, thanks," she said into the receiver. "Fuck, Lindsey, we have to get up. I forgot we have to do that morning show interview this morning. It's live Eastern Standard Time, so we have to be there like thirty minutes ago."

Stevie reached over the side of the bed where Lindsey was lying and grabbed the mirror off the edge of the bed. They'd left it there last night, and thankfully, nothing had spilled. She quickly snorted the remainder of the white powder, telling Lindsey where the bag was if he wanted some. Hopping off the bed, she made her way to the bathroom to get dressed without a word to Lindsey about last night. She couldn't get into last night right now.

She came out fifteen minutes later looking tired but beautiful. Lindsey had gone across to his room and changed clothes, too. He knocked on her door, and they walked down together, careful not to touch. The familiar caution that they'd let go of for the night seemed to be firmly in place again.

They got through the interview, fielding the same old questions and sticking to their usual script. The interview was fine. They didn't offer anything new, but Stevie's laugh had been contagious, Lindsey had been devastatingly handsome, and they'd engaged some on camera with each other. They knew what was expected and tried hard to provide it. This was, after all, their job.

Following this interview, they had several hours to kill before the next series of interviews. Before Stevie followed Lindsey into the limo that would take them back to their hotel, Stevie heard her name being called.

It was Russell, the reporter from the party. In the bright morning light, he was still handsome. But Stevie was fairly sober now and wasn't interested in even continuing the conversation they'd had the night before, much less anything else especially not with Lindsey close by.

"Good morning, Russell. How's it going?" she asked politely. He explained that he'd been called away last night and that he was sorry not to have said goodbye. She made sure he knew it was no problem. She'd made it home safely and slept better than she had in a while, saying this part loud enough for her ex-lover to hear from inside the car.

"Let me take you to breakfast," Russell offered. Stevie let him know that she didn't typically eat breakfast and planned on going back to her room to get a little more sleep until it felt like a decent time to be awake. He then gave her a flirtatious grin and offered to come back to the hotel with her to tuck her in. Something about that didn't sit well with her.

Last night, any drunk flirting she'd done wasn't this Stevie, the sober one. She was walking with the Lord this morning, so to speak, and he was crossing a line. She immediately cooled her demeanor and refused his offer icily. But he was not allowing her to walk away so easily, not realizing she wasn't alone.

He grabbed her arm and reminded her that he was pretty sure she was going to "do him" the night before. She bristled at his words and the way his fingers were biting into her arm. "That hurts! Please let go of my..." before she could finish her sentence, Lindsey had gotten out of the limo and punched the reporter in the face, landing him flat on his back on the sidewalk outside the busy television studio. He then grabbed Stevie and helped her in the car, climbed in behind her, and slammed the door, ordering the driver to take them to their hotel.

"I knew that guy was a jerk. That's why I got rid of him last night," Lindsey said, clearly outraged about the whole situation. "Why are men always that way with you? If you wouldn't get so fucking wasted and throw yourselves at everybody who looks your way, a lot of this bullshit could be avoided."

Stevie's shock at the whole series of events was causing her to process things a little slower than she'd have liked. "What do you mean, you got rid of him? And what the fuck do you mean, implying that I cause men to act like this? Are you blaming me?" She did her best not to punch him, yet she was shaking with anger at both men.