blind eyes

13 Chris

They were barely past the halfway point of the run, and Chris was already starting to lose his mind. The insufferable closeness of being with Sunday nearly every minute of every day had led him into an ill-fated and poorly-planned affair with Alex, and now the other woman was wanting more; she wanted the right to tell people that he was warming her bed, and he was just over the whole mess. The pressure was mounting and he was going to be forced to make a decision soon, he could feel it.

To escape his bandmates and the women, he had gone to hide out in a back corner booth at, of all places, a local steakhouse. No one in their right mind would search for his vegan ass in carnivore heaven, so he felt reasonably safe—from the ladies, from the band and crew, and from his fans. Hell, it was sad to admit, but he also needed a break from being a lead singer.

When the waitress raised an eyebrow at his order of a salad and water—no bread, no cheese and definitely no meat—he quickly made an excuse and then returned to staring straight ahead at the other side of the booth. It was time to dive head first into his alone time, time to think. He drew in a deep breath and started trying to weigh the pros and cons of each of the women in his life. Sunday was just so sickeningly perfect, and Alex, fuck, she was amazing in bed but she needed a ball-gag every other minute of the day.

Within minutes, a familiar form was sliding onto the bench seat across from him and frowning. "Did you really think that we wouldn't know where you went to?" His bandmate inquired, voice soft but curious.

Chris actually laughed, but it tasted acerbic. "Why would any of you have to find me right now—it's fucking noon and we don't have the Meet & Greet until, what? Six tonight? No one should be looking for me and no one should think to find me here. You're not supposed to have even thought to look here!"

"Defensive much?" his friend grinned with pride. "Look, I've been wanting to talk to you alone. Plus, I'm not sure that you really thought your 'great plan' out so well, man. This is the only place to eat within about ten miles of the venue—AJ has already downloaded and memorized the menu."

Chris considered tacking on a spiteful reminder that he could have Ubered anywhere in the world, but he bit his tongue. Fine. He had been found and he had been found damn fucking quickly. He sighed in defeat. "What's up?"

Rick leaned back into the faded and slashed leather upholstery and considered his words carefully. "Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush here: I know that you're fucking Alex behind Sunday's back." He didn't even pause long enough for his words to truly sink in before he continued. "I feel like I have to say something because cheating has never been a Chris-type deal; I literally never thought that I would see you doing something like this. So, I guess, I'm here to ask what's going on with you?"

The vocalist traveled through a series of emotions, from shock to rage to indifference. Eventually, when words entirely failed him, he simply shrugged. "It happened."

"How?" Rick demanded, placing his fists onto the table. "That's what I want to know: how did this just happen?"

The other man shrugged dismissively, avoiding his friend's eyes. "She was there, okay? Everything with Sunday was becoming too much, she's too fucking perfect all the goddamn time, and I needed an escape. She started talking about marriage and I flipped out, so I took a walk by myself and I met up with Alex on some wooded trail behind the venue. You know how she is, dude; she put it out there and I decided to go for it. End of story."

"So you're blaming Alex?" Rick actually had the audacity to laugh cruelly. "That's exceptionally low, Christopher. You and I both know that it takes two."