On the Edge of Tomorrow

Chapter 4

Billy left with little fanfare and fewer promises of staying in touch. It felt right for the moment. I wasn't sad when he left, but his ghost lingered longer this time. His vulnerability struck a chord with me, and my mind drifted to him often as the days slipped to months, hoping he was safe, drawn to communicating with him more, and to protect him from the downcast boy that sat in my kitchen that frosty December night. Still, his blossoming career kept him away, and even in calls, the frantic highs of the shows or the deep downs of the lonely road distracted him.

"You free?"

The text came unexpectedly in the mid-afternoon of a warm May day. The message wasn't unusual; he always prefaced a call with an unobtrusive text. The timing was surprising.

"Yeah," I texted back as I glanced around the busy sidewalk for a quiet nook to shield the street noise. My phone rang before I decided where to slip. I answered as I settled in an elaborate entryway to an office building. "Hey, everything ok?" It wasn't the best way to answer a call, but I didn't need pleasantries with Billy.

The breeze of his laugh hit the phone harder than the throaty chuckle. "Yeah, Lil."

"Usually I don't hear from you this early in the day." The urge to explain consumed me.

"Well, I want to see you. I have a couple of weeks off before the next album comes out, and I'm stuck in the clown car again." He always painted his world with painful echoes of false humor.

"Yeah, when were you thinking?" My mind spun through my limited commitments. Aside from my job at a grocery store, my social calendar emptied when most of my friends returned home for the summer.

"Tomorrow?" It came as an apology. "Sorry, I'm shitty at planning."

"No, that's fine, but..."

"You have plans; I get it. I can come whenever." Disappointment permeated voice.

"No, it's just; I mean, have you seen your mom?"

He let out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm home right now. I'm driving her crazy." I could almost see his dimples through the phone.

"Oh, I doubt that," I chuckled.

"Yeah, well, I caught her sticking a fork in the toaster, so I'd have something to fix today."

"Oh, dear, that sounds dangerous."

"Lil, she unplugged it first. My company isn't so horrible that she'd try to off herself. At least, I hope not."

"Right." A laugh escaped me to relieve the bubbling excitement.

"Sitting still is hard for me. I may have threatened to build her a chicken coop." His tone came more relaxed than it had been since the first night I met him.

"That doesn't sound so terrible."

"She doesn't want chickens," he sheepishly added.

"Ah, maybe a little over the top. Well, I can break a few things around the apartment tonight before your arrival."

"That sounds great." The rush of breath from his laugh hit the phone again.

"I work from seven to four most days," I added. Annoyance that work could interfere with Billy's visit filled me.

"Noted. I'll text you when I get into town. This will be good," Billy added.

"Yeah, I'm excited. Most everyone went home for the summer. It'll be nice to have a buddy." I tried to sound nonchalant as I scraped a fingernail along the brick of the building.

"We're buddies now, Lil?" A flirt filled his tone and pulled my mind to being tangled in him all those months ago.

"Good buddies," I interjected, with more chip than necessary.

"Good to know where I stand. I'll see you tomorrow, pal."

The moment the phone disconnected, panic coursed through my body. Billy was coming, deliberately coming to visit me. My mind swirled to things that I needed to do. I wasn't a mani/pedi girl; if he showed up and my nails were done, there'd be immediate mocking. Same with the apartment; it was in its unhindered use last December. It'd be odd if the place were tidy this time. Besides, since Ava and Laura sublet their rooms, most of the cluttered cleared. The summer roommates didn't arrive until June 1st. I soothed myself with the idea that all I needed to do was optimistically shave.

The evening dragged as I waited for sleep to come. My mind raced through the thoughts of Billy's nearing proximity. His last visit had been brief and clung painfully to friendship. What if the attraction waned on his side? He was traveling with a band; other girls must have captured his attention. The idea of me competing was crazy.

I checked my phone at lunch; Billy had texted that his flight arrives at 4:15 pm and he'd meet me at my place. Nerves bubbled within me as I stared at the message. It was factual, as usual. He hated texting.

"What's up with you?" Larissa plopped across the table from me.

"I have a friend visiting," I murmured, barely lifting my eyes from the phone.

"A 'friend'? Tell me more." Larissa loved to gossip.

"It's not like that. I don't think." A sigh cleared my thoughts and tore my eyes from my phone. "I mean, it was like that, and then it wasn't, and now it's; I don't know."

"Hm, do you have a visual? It'll help me help you." Nosiness defined her.

"Yeah." I flicked open my phone to the only picture I had of him from the first night we spent together. I gazed at his eyes for a minute before handing my phone to her.

"Oh, he's..." Her voice dropped.

"Yeah, he's not a model, but there's something about him." My mind wandered to him, his dimples, and the way he pursed his lips when he focused. "And his eyes, they're so..."

"Yeah, so it's like that," Larissa giggled. "How did you meet him?"

My eyes continued studying the picture on my phone that Larissa had absently handed back before starting to poke at her salad. Clearly, Billy wasn't as interesting to her as he was to me.

"He's in a band that played here last fall."

"A band? Is he famous?" Interest held her once again.

"No, he's a man in a van operation. But he's really good."

"Ugh, are you a groupie?" She returned to pushing lettuce around her salad.

Am I a groupie? How is a groupie defined? Do groupies watch movies with their prey? Is the focus of the groupie considered prey? Questions swirled in my stomach. Were there other groupies? I assumed he met other girls, but classifying them as groupies made me picture nylon-wearing, big-haired Poison fans.

Larissa didn't notice my distraction; her mind had already moved on to other thoughts. "Well, if you and your band boy are free, I'm having people over tomorrow night. You should come."

"Maybe; text me the info. I'm off the next two days." I always had Fridays and Saturdays off work, the perk of it being my third summer working.

"Any chance you want to give up your Sunday shift? I'd love the time and a half."

"Sorry, no plans to take any time off," I shrugged.

"Of course," Larissa whined.

"Sorry," my tone countered my apology. "See you on the floor."