Page 16 of Symphonic Synergy
Marley leans back on the couch and belly laughs. I glare at him, and he smiles, his blue eyes twinkling in a way I haven’t seen in weeks. “All right, Kaye, you don’t have an issue with women. But you sure as hell have issues with something, so why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
I moan in frustration as I slide into the armchair and cradle my head in my hands. “She’s my Billie.”
“What?”
“Piper Hughes, the lead singer of the opener, is my Billie. OMG, she’s Billie, and I’m Lars. I’m about to blow my world apart.” My lungs burn, begging for breath. The round gold pendant lying against my skin singes my flesh. The walls are crashing down on me, and the sky is falling on my head. Life as I know it seems to be over. Oh, God, I’m dying.
“Kaye,” Marley calls from what sounds like miles away. “Kaye, three-three-three. Name three things you see.”
“My shoes,” I gasp. “My hands and the marble floor.”
“Name three things you hear?”
My breathing is still erratic, but the belief that I’m dying is fading. “Your voice. Music coming from the bedroom. Sirens. Why are cop sirens so loud?”
“Move three body parts.”
I lift my arms and legs and flop them around. “Is four okay?” I ask, looking at Marley.
He smiles as he wipes the tears I didn’t know I’d shed from my cheeks. “Yes, sweetheart, it’s okay.”
“I don’t lose control, Marley,” I sob. “I don’t lose control.”
Marley wraps his large, tattooed arms around me and holds me as I weep. I cry for the little girl who never had love and became the woman who is now frightened by it. Love isn’t an emotion that evokes joy. Love is a vortex that spins me in circles and takes every fiber of the control I’ve salvaged.
“All I have is the band. My job. I can’t spiral out of control because it will leave me with nothing.”
Marley pats my back and places a chaste kiss on the top of my head. “You know we got you, right? You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone. I’ve got you. With or without the band.”
“What am I going to do, Marley?”
“I wish I could tell you. But when it comes to emotions and self-preservation, things become muddy.”
I wipe away my tears and glance up at him. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you?”
Marley smiles, but there’s sadness behind it. “Nope. I think you’ve got enough on your plate. I can handle my shit. Don’t worry, I won’t give you an ulcer.”
I gaze at Marley’s face, seeing the pain he’s holding at bay. His eyes are sunken, and it’s clear that no matter how well he says he’s been doing, he’s not sleeping or taking care of himself.
“Marley, I don’t live and breathe this band simply because it’s a paycheck. The four of you are my family. I want you all to be okay because I care.”
Marley rubs the back of his neck and grimaces. “Shit’s complicated, and I don’t know what to do or how to fix it. So I do what I usually do and add fuel to an already blazing fire.”
“You can start by talking?”
“Talk to who? You? A Shrink?”
“Iggy.”
Marley’s arms falter around me, and he stiffens. “Why would I need to do that?”
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes my lips. “When did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re into Iggy.”
Marley stares at me as he fingers the loop on the right side of his bottom lip, something he does when he’s pensive or turned on. Since he’s never put the moves on me, I assume he’s contemplating my question.