She hurt him like every other woman he's known. All the lyrics he's sung about the bad girls he's tried to make good. She knew. She was his shoulder when in need and he loved her so damn carelessly. And she hurt him.
Normally, he'd plaster on a smil...
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He quickly placed his hand over her mouth to quiet the sound coming out, her voice started off loud, filling the open space of the suite but then grew shrieky and weak.
He was lucky though, or she was lucky, that no one from his team had come out of the rooms to check out the noise.
Though, she continued to yell.
Did she not recognize him? Of course she didn't, what else would cause her to frantically scream at him.
Calmly and reassuringly he "shushed" her and began to stroke her hair as he placed her down on the couch. He could feel the sweat as he stroked her cheek.
"Goodness you're burning up."
Fearing that she was overheating, he scooped her back up into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the master bathroom. He stood her on her feet but her knees buckled and she fell limply against his body. He used one hand to hold her up and the other to power on the shower using a touch-tone pad. He let the water run cold and placed her in, not caring about getting his own clothing wet. Her eyes were open but she seemed to be in another world.
He knew about her problems with drugs in the past. He had gone on tour with her many times and everyone in their label knew the difference between a sober and "lifted" Nicki. Sober Nicki was more talkative and sweet and lifted Nicki was less playful, more reserved and a lot more irritable. It had been a thought he had pushed to the back of his head. Once, he had tried to ask her about it but she awkwardly deflected and changed the subject. It hurt him to know that she had to use drugs, but he had compartmentalized it because after a while there was never really a sober Nicki, and he'd grown accustomed to it.
But now, he had no choice but to face it. Alcohol didn't cause your body to overeat like this. Whatever she did, she'd had too much of it.
He lightly tapped on her face and she gasped for air under the water, sighing from the relief of its coldness.
It seemed she had "regained" consciousness and was now more alert. She began to gag and lightly pushed him back, running out of the shower and to the toilet where she emptied the contents of her stomach. He rushed over to her, holding her hair and rubbing her back. When she was finished, she hovered over the toilet resting against the seat.
After changing her clothes and dressing her in one of his t-shirts and putting her in bed, he took a shower himself.
He couldn't really wrap his mind around the events that had taken place. He hadn't seen or spoken to her in a year and some months, not since Coachella where he had congratulated her on her relationship, which ironically turned out to be the reason they hadn't spoken. Now here she was, in his bed, and all he could think was how she had some fucking nerve.
--
I woke up and I instinctively pulled the covers closer to my body. It was freezing in here. I lay here staring at the ceiling, not wanting to move or get up, but I'm fucking thirsty. I do not want to go downstairs. I don't want to have to deal with anyone today, but I'm sure my crew is going bat-shit wondering where I am. Let them wonder; it's not like I have anything to do today anyways.
