She scoffed. Spoiled-ass man. She lullabied him to sleep almost nightly. “I’m in love with you,” he said.
“Then I met you, when I met youuu I knewwww this was it. I’ve never been in love like thissss,” Charlie sang. Even in her playfulness, her voice captured him. “I could do this for hours and hours and hoursss.”
Chills. Every fucking time. She could sing the fucking alphabet.
“Say, man,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“Say, man,” she replied with a soft kiss.
“And that radio host with the slick mouth?” He mentioned.
“Yeah, what about her?” Charlie asked.
“She’s no longer on the air, and she’ll be making a public statement of apology,” Demi said. “Bitch’ll be lucky if she ever works in radio again. Mad at you or not, there will never be a day when I let someone disrespect you.” Protection. Charlie shook her head in amazement. This man was her mental and physical bodyguard. Nothing could touch her as long as he was around.
“You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate you for handling it,” she said. “I don’t know how it’s possible to be so in love with another human being.”
Her phone was an interruption that stopped them from falling down a rabbit hole. They would stay up all night, finding new ways to express their love. She’d sing, they’d fuck, he’d eat, they’d talk, insert some laughs, feather strokes to her shoulder while she perused YouTube singers, a break to take Bails out, a late-night bowl of cereal, then finally sleep. Their love was overpowering, and reality always slipped away. Charliezonia had a population of two, and they retreated there often, especially at night.
“Who calling you this late?” Demi asked.
She reached for the nightstand. “I don’t know,” she said. She snatched the phone off the charger and showed him the screen.
“Isn’t this Lo’s number?”
Demi came up on his elbows as Charlie sat up, straddling him.
“Hello?” She answered unsurely.
“Charlie, where is Demi?! I’ve called everyone looking for him! He’s not answering his phone! When I call, I need him to answer the fucking phone!”
“Whoa, Lo, chill with all that. My phone died,” Demi said, taking the phone from Charlie’s hands.
“I need you! It’s DJ! We’re at the hospital. He cut himself, Demi. They’re saying he might not make it!”
Demi moved Charlie off him and sat up. “Fuck you mean, he cut himself?”
“He slit his wrist open with a razor blade! Down to the fucking artery! What if he dies?” Lo’s tone was maniacal. She was losing it, and Charlie could hear her terror. Is that what motherhood did to you? Made you susceptible to this type of vulnerability?
“What hospital?!” Demi shouted.
“Beaumont!”
“I’m on my way,” Demi said.
He was moving in circles, chasing his tail, and Charlie sat on the bed, helplessly.
“Where the fuck are my keys?” Demi shouted. He was flipping covers off the bed, pulling drawers out the dresser, and tearing everything up in his path as he threw on clothes.
“I’ll find them, Demi,” she said softly. She climbed from the bed and commanded him. “Hey,” she said. “He’s going to be fine, Demi. I need you to make it there in one piece, babe. I’ll find the keys.”
Demi grit his teeth. “This divorce been hard on him, man,” he said. His jaw tensed, repeatedly. His eyes burned so fucking bad.
“I need you, Bird. Put on some clothes. I can’t do this without you.”
Final Chapter
Day sat behind the engineer’s table high as a kite. He was deep in thought, focused on all the wrong things. Stassi ran through his mind like a track star. He usually didn’t dwell when women exited his life. When one was going, there was another one coming, but he couldn’t think of one single companion who could intrigue him the way Stassi did.
