Decades

Maybe Your Attention Was More Than I Could Do

Stevie exhaled sharply, blowing every bit of the air out of her lungs before she caught another breath intensely. She held her hand behind her and pushed against Lindsey's leg to halt his movement so she could adjust before he thrust into her any deeper. It hurt, but she wanted it. Her body stretching to accommodate him in this way was a new sensation, the perfect combination of pleasure and pain. It felt important tonight to offer herself to him in ways she hadn't already given herself.

So far, this was all new, and honestly, it was brutal. But it was brutal and primal in exactly the way she needed it to be. When he entered her room, her body was tense, and she felt like a spring, tight and coiled. She'd been jittery, and her hands were trembling. She was exhausted from the fight of it all. Her heart was racing like she'd done something strenuous. Tonight was almost more than she thought she'd be able to survive.

The amount of cocaine that tiny Stevie had used tonight was freakishly dangerous. She felt terrible but wasn't even worried about herself. She was reaching a new stage in her life. Any feelings of self-preservation she'd normally experience were becoming more and more muted. The stress she was currently under, and there was entirely too much of it, made it impossible to cope while sober. So, she chose never to be sober, a habit that had been accelerating for some time but currently had her spiraling to a new and darker place.

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"Open the fucking door," he shouted. "I said open the fucking door," the pounding increased with the yelling. "I'm going to break the mother fucker down if you don't open it now," Lindsey yelled, beating on the door and causing a terrible commotion.

Stevie was doing another line of coke because of the whole performance and Lindsey's attitude; she was crashing. "Not now, Lindsey. Go, God, just fucking go away. I can't do this right now. I can't."

"You can, and you fucking will, dammit. Open the door, now. I'm counting to three. If you don't open it, I'm kicking it in," Lindsey threatened. Mick came out and grabbed Lindsey's shoulder, telling him to knock it off. But, still, Lindsey counted, "One, two...." pausing before he got to three, hoping she'd open the damned door so he didn't have to kick it in.

Nothing happened.

"Three!" he shouted at the top of his lungs before kicking her door hard. It didn't move the first time, but by the third kick, it flew open. Stevie was in a ball on the sofa, looking even tinier than usual. She wiped at her nose with a trembling hand, her eyes big and her pupils blown.

Mick followed Lindsey into her dressing room to protect Stevie. He wasn't sure what was about to happen with the two of them. But whatever was happening was already way out of control. The lovers had passed the point of behaving reasonably, no matter what the disagreement was about.

Carol Ann came into the dressing room behind Lindsey, watching the damage she'd put into motion unfold. Mick spoke sternly, "Lindsey, get out of here. You can talk to her tomorrow once we're somewhere that the press won't have a field day with your crazed behavior. This is totally inappropriate. After everything you guys have done to cement the story for her and Don, don't make a scene like this the story the media gets ahold of, for fuck's sake."

Lindsey's voice became quiet, controlled, and dangerous. "I don't care about the media, or Don, or what story anybody hears. Get the fuck out of here, Mick," he said patronizingly as he faced the gangly drummer.

Carol Ann stood near the wall, hoping he wouldn't notice her and turn his ferocious glare her way. Mick agreed to leave the room but told the two of them that he'd be right outside and warned them not to make a scene.

He looked at Stevie lovingly and told her he was right there if she needed him. This angered Lindsey again, and he looked at Mick, "Stevie doesn't need protection from me. But, keep trying to make yourself out to be her fucking hero, and you might."