Two Punks In Love

What Sucks

Kat, Two Days Later

"This is crazy," I whisper to Trace as I peak through the curtain of our cubicle in the VIP area of a well known LA medical campus. There's a bar out there, but I've been here before, so that's not what I'm staring at.  "In all the times I've ever been here, there's never been anyone else in the VIP lounge. Now, Adam Levine is out there getting a Bloody Mary from the mixologist."

Trace has his boots up on the coffee table, flipping through the TV. "Yo, Levine! Bring me a Bloody Mary!"

"Get your own goddamn booze, Gallant!" He yells back cheerfully. We saw him on the way in. He sees me watching him, and says sweetly, "But if you need something, Gorgeous..."

"She's got everything she can handle, you know what I'm sayin'?" Trace pops back.

"That's not what she said," the ageless Levine laughs. He winks suggestively at me as he walks by, "Call me..." he says in his best fuck-me voice.

"He's married," I huff, as I snatch the curtains closed.

Trace laughs. "He's kidding. He's just fucking with me, baby."

I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows, glaring at my gorgeous rock star, in his bad boy ripped jeans and an expensive, skin tight, black button down. "Do you flirt with his wife to fuck with him?"

Trace isn't looking at me as he says, "Naw, but Leed does..." then he frowns at the TV, turning up the volume a little so he can hear.

Our hearts go out to our co-worker and friend Colin Rieter, as he goes through this difficult time of heartbreaking tragedy. Replacing him on the desk until further notice...

Trace frowns at me. "Do you know what they're talking about?"

I bite my lip. "Yeah. His fiancée passed away a few days ago. Very suddenly. Cardiac arrest..."

"Wait, are you talking about that actress? Emma... something?"

Trace isn't quite thirty but he's already developing a haze about the entertainment industry. He doesn't pay that much attention to up-and-coming celebrities, unless they are in the music industry and he likes their sound.

"Emma Rollins. Yeah."

"I didn't know they were together," he mused.

"They had just gotten engaged, recently." After a moment, I add. "It was on her Instagram."

I look away. The autopsy is being performed today. I wish the coroner hadn't told Colin that. The idea of them cutting her open, taking out all her insides to evaluate her unexplained death—it's tearing him out of his frame. Part of me wants to be with him right now, but I know I can't drop everything to take care of him around the clock. One of his sisters has flown out to be with him, but she can't do a thing with him. He completely ignores all her well-intended help. It seems like I'm the only one who can even get him to shower and attempt to eat. I didn't even go to work yesterday. I was at his place instead of the office. I know I should figure out a way to explain to Trace that I'm visiting with Colin, but I just don't know how. Every time I try, the words get stuck.

I don't want to fight with Trace right now. Between that asshole Chris Manning blackmailing me and poor Colin's awful tragedy, and feeling nauseous and having to pretend to Leed and Ashlynn that yoga and acupuncture makes me feel perfect so as not to hurt their feelings, and pretend to Trace that I'm as excited about having twins as he is, and you know...squeeze my job in there somewhere between yoga, Colin, puking, and giving Trace access to my belly so he can have his Dad-Tadpole Talks, I swear I can't take a single more tense thing.