That Blue Gibson

CH 31

"Where are you, man?" Taylor yelled through the phone.

Dave could hear blaring music behind him. "I'm at the... I'll just send you one of those fucking location... tag... things," Dave replied, "Just come get me."

He had chosen a random floor of the hotel to escape to knowing the lobby was full of people and potentially Depp, and found a bench next to a window that faced the street. He tapped out his text to Taylor and leaned against the cool window pane, watching the cars below pull in and out of the drive up several floors below. 

Something in him had snapped up in Liz's room and he was trying to retrace the exact trajectory of the night. How had he gone from never wanting to be apart from her to literally running from her? He didn't want to admit it, but Depp had gotten in his head. Maybe not so much the fact that they would be starring in several movies together and around each other all the fucking time, but that he could just be in her hotel room when she wasn't there? That was unsettling. He would always wonder who was lurking behind her closed doors, waiting for him to leave on tour or something. And that little comment about 'taking matters into her own hands'? If that wasn't an allusion to a handjob, he didn't know what was. The last thing he wanted was to be in some sketchy back and forth with Depp again. It was bad enough in the 90′s, but now the gossip sites would have a fucking field day with that one. Her little outburst about marriage had surprised him as well. Who the fuck brought up marriage? 

He thought about the morning she had woken up in his bed, covered in his bruises and wearing his shirt. She had made some comment about his coffee addiction, and though he thought he had heard all the jokes before, this one made him smile even now. She was funny and smart and a fucking amazing musician, which is why he pursued her in the first place at Silva's party. He was after another sound on a record, not her. Things just seemed to fall into their weirdly appropriate places when she was around. Their similar interests, sense of humor... everything was just easy when he was with her. He spied Taylor's red pickup speeding into the hotel's drive up and turned away from the window. Even if Liz were marriage material, everything was too fucked up now.

*

"Oh fuck, what happened?" Taylor eyed Dave as he slid onto the truck's bench seat.

Dave shook his head, "That shit was never going to work out, man."

Taylor punched the brakes on his tiny Toyota, earning horn blares from the car behind them. "I thought she was perfect! I was just getting to like her!"

"Just drive, dude."

*

"Liz?" Travis carefully sat next to her on the couch.

She looked up in surprise, she hadn't heard him come in the room. She quickly brushed the tears off her cheeks and sat back on the couch, "I'm fine," she whispered.

"Yeah, you look great," he peered at her mascara stained face through the dark, satisfied when he saw a slight smile from her.

"I let that shit go too far and now look at me," she laughed a little.

"Tequila always shows us the light," Travis threw his arm around Liz's shoulders and she leaned into him.

"Tomorrow is going to be fucking rough," she mumbled, thinking about the oncoming hangover mixed with the four press interviews she had lined up. Travis moved to stand, but Liz grabbed his shirt. "Would you mind hanging out with me? Just until..."

Travis settled back into the couch and Liz rested her head on his shoulder, "Thank you."

*

"Liz, wake up."