Best Of Everything Read online

  The brief article is long on speculation and short on substance, as is typical for the site, but they nailed the high notes: Derek’s been a naughty boy, Sage doesn’t look like she knew about it, and the miracle of birth has reared its ugly head to the delight of onlookers.

  If I didn’t feel sick when I started the day, I do now. If I crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head, will it all go away?

  Derek comes out of the bathroom wearing only a towel and a sheen of moisture on his skin. Elvis ripples on his forearm as he smiles at me. “I forgot to grab clothes,” he explains. “You think Jeremy might have a shirt I can borrow?”

  The part of me that was freaking out melts into a puddle of quivering goo as the now familiar surge of heat shoots through me. I’m thinking, walk in like that and he’ll give you more than a top, but instead I say, “I’ll ask,” and force myself to my feet. I’m halfway to my bedroom door when he grabs me and spins me around. I find myself staring into his face, his emerald eyes as intense as lasers.

  “I’m sorry all of this is happening, Sage. But I want you to know. Nothing’s ever going to come between us. I mean it.”

  His arms are so strong. They feel like steel bands around me, holding me against his taut, hard stomach. My pulse quickens and I feel weak. All I can do is nod. He leans down and brushes his lips against mine, sending a shock of sensation through me, and then…lets me go. I stand like a deer in the headlights and manage a weak, “I’ll get you a shirt,” and then slip out the door. I stand in the hall, my heart trip-hammering.

  What am I doing again?

  Oh. Right. Shirt.

  I knock on Jeremy’s door, and his singsong voice calls out, “Entrez.”

  I push the door open. He’s sitting by the window reading on his tablet, a cup of tea in his hand. He looks up at me and winks.

  “I thought you might be that hunk of man candy you’ve been keeping all to yourself.” He eyes me. “Maybe looking to take a walk on the wild side.”

  I laugh in spite of myself. “No such luck. But he needs a shirt.”

  “Ooh, playing dress up? Now that’s more like it. Does he favor chiffon? Sequins? I have a cunning little salmon tank top he’d look all that wearing.”

  I keep a straight face. “I was hoping you had a Megadeath T-shirt.”

  “I’m a gonna go Versace on your ass if you keep that up, girl. I can probably find something from my boring butch phase. Lime green chemise or vertical stripes?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “I should so give you something that would have half the horndogs on this block baying at him, but I don’t need the competition, so this is your lucky day.” He looks at me over his tablet. “I saw the snaps of you and Derek online. Not the best composition.”

  I stare at the ceiling. “Oh, God, please just kill me now.”

  “Dahling, don’t you know that as long as they’re talking shit about you, you matter? Hey, as long as you’re in the public eye, you’re selling records. I’d look on the bright side of all this.”

  “Right. The bright side that has my boyfriend with a surprise baby and an ex who wants back in his pants like nobody’s business.”

  “Well, sweetie, she’s not alone there, so get used to it. But I sympathize. Maybe next time find a nice pencil-necked geek with Coke-bottle glasses and bad breath instead of Adonis there. I should live so long as to have your problem.” He sighs and rolls his eyes, then puts the tablet down and stands. “Now, let’s see if we can find something that will fit his great big…frame.”

  I blush as he winks again. He delights in embarrassing me, I know, and takes endless pleasure in shocking me. I try hard not to give him the satisfaction, but I can’t. “I was serious about Megadeath. Or maybe Metallica?”

  He pulls out a white oxford shirt with blue pinstripes and holds it up. “Have you ever seen him in real clothes before, or was he wearing an animal skin when you met?”

  “That looks like it’ll fit.”

  “Abercrombie, baby. It was absolutely made to be worn by Derekissimo. The Derekster. Dereeeek.” He blinks a bunch of times. “I like that. I think I’ll call him that from now on. Dereeek. Sounds vaguely French. Hmm. You have a lovely Dereeek.”

  “Find your own damn Dereeek,” I snap and whip the shirt out of his hands.

  “Ooh. Take all that energy out on yo big bad man.”

  “Don’t you ever think of anything else?” I say as I turn, but I’m smiling.

  “What else is there?”

  “Thanks, Jeremy,” I say as I open the door.

  “Try to relax, Sage. I know just the thing. Hear it works wonders.”

  “You and Melody went to the same school, apparently.”

  “I knew I liked her for a reason!”

  Derek’s standing by the window wearing only his jeans when I return. He so looks like a Calvin Klein model I want to take a picture, but instead I hand him the shirt. “It was either that or a feather boa.”

  “Nice,” he says.

  He pulls the shirt on, leaving it untucked, and I inspect him before nodding approval. “That’ll do,” I say, wondering again whether this is all real and if he’s really mine.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” he asks, smiling.

  “Like what?”

  “That.”

  “Oh. Brain tumor. I wasn’t going to tell you, but I have so little time left, I felt like I should.”

  His smile stays in place. “I’ve heard there’s a miraculous treatment for those.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yup.” He leans closer and whispers a lascivious suggestion.

  I’m this close to ripping the shirt off and taking him right there, but we still need to talk about what’s happening with Lisa, and I don’t want to be all jelly-headed after curing my tumor, which is how I’ll turn out.

  “Interesting. I’ll keep that in mind.” I study my Chucks for a moment. “You hungry?”

  “Is that your way of trying to come on to me?”

  “I figured since you didn’t get the tumor clue, I’d be more direct.”

  “Well, now that you mention it, I could eat.”

  “Then put some shoes on and let’s go.” I’m suddenly starved, but mostly I want to get away from the bed and a partially dressed Derek who’s having a seismic effect on me.

  Jeremy hears us leaving and comes out of his bedroom. He gives Derek a once-over and smiles at me. “You kids be safe out there. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

  “That leaves it pretty much wide open,” I say, and then we’re out the front door and down the stairs.

  The morning air has a snap to it that foreshadows the coming winter. I’m glad I’m wearing my jacket, and Derek slips his on and pulls me close. I love the way it feels to walk with him like this, like a real couple, two against the world instead of just one. The sky’s a pale blue, streaks of high clouds drifting lazily in the bright sunlight, a picture perfect autumn New York day, and for a few seconds I’m able to forget my doubts and inner dialogue and just be in the moment, Derek by my side.

  We grab brunch at the packed café amidst the clatter of plates and the din of conversation, and then set out for the subway that will take us to Battery Park, where we can catch the ferry to Liberty Island along with about a million tourists.

  The crowd is dense when we arrive at the island after a noisy boat ride, and we make our way to the base of the statue. As we near, I see a young family with a baby boy, and my throat tightens. They look so close, the guy taking turns pushing the stroller with the girl, exchanging secretive glances with each other. I think about my own childhood, abandoned by my father, and Derek’s with his drug-addled mother, and now Jason, and I wonder when the cycle of broken families will end. I know I’m being morose, and I do my best to put a brave face on, but I can’t help the regret I feel as I watch them.

  After an hour playing tourist, we tire of the endless humanity and make our way back to the dock. We take the return boa
t, watching the New York skyline near as we approach, and then catch the subway to the boardinghouse Derek’s moved back to since finishing his daily recording in New Jersey. The neighborhood is run-down and squalid. Graffiti covers every surface, and groups of toughs loiter on the stoops, glaring at anyone walking by. I edge closer to him as we move down the sidewalk, suddenly wondering whether this is such a great idea.

  “Why do you live here?” I whisper.

  “It’s the cheapest place I could find that wasn’t on Skid Row.”

  “It’s creepy.”

  “Beats the tunnels, though.”

  The boardinghouse is grim, the interior as shabby as the exterior. We climb the grubby wooden stairs, worn smooth by generations of luckless feet, and when we reach the second floor landing, my nose wrinkles at a sour stink. Derek notices and shrugs.

  “That’s the Korean contingent. It’s their food. Pickled horse dong, I think.”

  “You know how to impress a lady, don’t you?”

  “This wasn’t my idea, remember?”

  His room is about the size of a broom closet. It’s neat and clean inside, but the ceiling is stained from leaks above. I use the bathroom and wish I hadn’t. When I’m finished, I want to do nothing but leave, any curiosity I had more than satisfied. I know that just a few months ago I would have been grateful to stay in a place even half as good, but that was then. If anything, seeing Derek’s digs strengthens my resolve to work even harder so I never have to go backward.

  We take the train back to Manhattan and wind up at a restaurant near Lincoln Center for a late lunch. I’ve forgotten how expensive the city can be, and about choke when I see the tourist prices in the popular spot.

  “I just want a sandwich, not a new car,” I complain, and Derek smiles.

  “Don’t sweat it. I got paid eight hundred bucks for the appearance yesterday. Eat two if you want.”

  We place our order with an overly cheerful young man Jeremy would probably swoon over, and sip our sodas as we people watch through the picture window. I don’t want to ruin the mood, but the clock’s ticking, and we need to have the discussion we’ve both been avoiding. I clear my throat and take Derek’s hand.

  “So where are Lisa and Jason staying?”

  “They’ve got a hotel in town. She said they’re looking for an apartment, but it’s tough since she’s unemployed and broke.”

  “Let me guess who she’s expecting to help her out with that.” I try not to sound resentful, but fail.

  “We talked about it,” he concedes. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable to cover some of Jason’s expenses.”

  “You live in a rat hole, Derek. Isn’t it a better idea to try to take care of yourself first?”

  He sighs. “I wish I had that choice.”

  “You know she’s going to want more than just a little help. Wanna bet she asks you to move in with her so Jason has a real father?”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “You sound sure, but once I’m gone…”

  I can see he’s trying to stay calm. “Give me a little more credit than that, Sage.”

  I know I’m being an asshole, and I have to struggle to stop. But I manage. Barely.

  “I know, Derek. It’s just that with everything that’s happening, with me in LA and you here…you know what I’m saying.”

  “What I know is that I want to be with you, and only you. The rest of this I’ll figure out.”

  “It couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”

  “I know. But I didn’t have any say in it, remember? I was as surprised as anyone. But now I have to deal with the fallout. It sucks, but there it is.”

  The waiter arrives with our food and I stare at it glumly. “It does suck.”

  “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll get through this. We’ve managed so far.”

  “We’re both going to be on tour pretty soon. Add that to the mix of suckiness.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s going to be awesome. You’re going to be famous.”

  “I don’t care about that, Derek. I just want to be together.”

  “We are together, Sage. We’re just together in different towns for a little while longer, and then we’ll be together, but on tour in different states. It’s not going to change anything. We’ll figure out ways to see each other. We’re not going to be playing every day.”

  “I’m still working on Terry to get you put on a leg of the tour.”

  “Which I completely appreciate. And believe me, I’m hoping as much as you are that she can do it.”

  We finish our food and walk hand-in-hand toward Columbus Circle, where we used to hang out when we were homeless. We pass a few kids playing for tips by the park, and I put a dollar in a girl’s hat. She smiles at me as we move on, her voice following us down the sidewalk.

  The afternoon fades as we walk easily through the city, and when we get south of Times Square, Derek stops in front of a storefront – a tattoo parlor. He eyes the designs in the window and, after a few moments of hesitation, takes my hand and leads me into the shop.

  “What are you doing, Derek?” I ask, but he just smiles as he approaches the proprietor, who’s covered with body art and piercings and has a braided beard with beads dangling from the ends.

  “I want to get a heart with ‘Sage’ in the middle. Right here,” he says, tapping his chest.

  “Yeah? How big?” the man asks.

  Derek shrugs. “Maybe like this?” He holds up his hand with his thumb and forefinger spaced two inches apart.

  The artist does a quick sketch and shows Derek, as he squeezes my hand.

  “How long will it take?” Derek asks, and I cut in.

  “For two of them? I want one that says Derek.” My eyes are moist. This is so like him, so unexpectedly thoughtful – it’s the perfect commitment gesture at the ideal time.

  But there’s no way he’s going to get my name emblazoned on his chest and I’m going to walk out without his branded on me somewhere.

  The familiar clacking buzz of a tattoo gun starts as I watch. An hour later Derek’s is finished and it’s my turn. I have mine done on my shoulder blade, and the pain is nothing compared to how full my heart feels.

  By the time we make it back to Jeremy’s, the sky is darkening. Inside the apartment is a note from Jeremy saying he’ll be back late. Derek takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom, the incessant honking and revving of motors serenading us from outside, and removes my jacket as he kisses me softly.

  I want him so badly, it’s like a force of nature. As the passion of our kiss builds, I pull at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as his hands rove over my body. I groan in the back of my throat when he bites the side of my neck softly, and then we’ve managed to free each other of our clothes and I’m pushing him backwards, our lips still locked together.

  I can feel that he’s fully aroused when his back presses against the bed sheet. He looks up at me in the faint light sifting through the curtains and begins to say something, but I put my finger on his lips and he goes silent. He reaches for the box of condoms on the bedside table and removes one, the wrapper crinkling. He rolls it on and begins to shift, but I stop him, holding his gaze as I push myself on top of him and slowly straddle him. He arches his head up to meet my lips and then he’s inside me. It feels incredible, and I let out a soft moan. I rock back and forth, and the sensation’s so intense I never want it to stop.

  I have no idea what I’m doing, but nature takes its course, and I move in a building rhythm as a tightness mounts inside me, a quivering that begins as a liquid ache and is soon a fire raging out of control. I grind against him, wanting more of him, my lips now locked on his again, our tongues sliding together, our desire an animal thing with a mind of its own.

  I shudder again and again as I climax, a light sheen of sweat on my breasts and back as Derek’s hands rove across my slick skin. I kiss him greedily, wanting to consume him in every way, but he’s not finished yet and is still
thrusting into me. I pull my head away from him, and his eyes open.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, unsure of what I’m doing. I shush him with my finger as we continue to move together, and then swing one knee around. I move the other leg until I’m facing away from him, Derek still impaling me, but in an even more intense way. I can move faster now, the tightness in me increasing at the unbearable delight of the new position as I completely control the rhythm and angle, my juices soaking us both. The molten core inside me is building to fever pitch, demanding more of him, again and again, and then I’m spasming with each thrust, completely out of control. I cry out as he tenses, and he climaxes with me as I hold him as deep inside me as I can, connected in the most essential way I can imagine.

  I fall forward, panting, drained. He pulls me toward him and we drift off, my head on his chest. There’s nowhere else on the planet that I’d rather be than in his arms, the sweet salty taste of him still on my lips as my eyes flutter closed.

  Chapter 4

  We wake up around midnight and make love again, this time more relaxed, savoring each moment. After we shower, I go into the tiny kitchen and root around for something to eat, and grab a box of Saltines and some peanut butter. We sit on the floor and munch our vagabond feast and then climb back into bed, exhausted, morning rushing toward us at supersonic speed.

  We rise late and I’m freaking – my flight leaves at noon, and with security checkpoints and all the other airport BS I’m afraid I’ll miss it. I rush a shower with Derek, marveling again at his incredible body, and then I’m hopping on one leg as I pull on my jeans, an eye on the clock, which is saying I’m out of time.

  Derek wants to ride with me in the cab to JFK, and helps me gather my few possessions and pack them into my backpack, which I make a mental note to swap for something newer as I frown at the bursting seams and fraying zipper. Jeremy’s on the sofa when we come out of my bedroom, and he smiles sadly at us from his position in front of the TV.