Page 55 of Broken Melody
“She’s not coming,” Henley says for the tenth time. “She’s definitely not coming.”
“What if something happened?” Rocco asks. “Call again.”
“I’ve called at least ten times already,” I tell him.
“I’m sure she didn’t just bail on us. Something’s wrong,” Rocco adds.
“Like what?” Nixon questions before they all start to hypothesize about where in the hell Sailor could be.
I close my phone after trying to reach her yet again, I said I’ve tried ten times, but its probably been more. Each and every time my call goes straight to voicemail. Anxiety starts making me pace the room and obsessively push the call button over and over with the same result. Where could she be? “Do any of you have Britt’s phone number?” They all shake their heads no, and I curse wishing at least one of us had thought to obtain it so we could have it to call right now. Looking at my phone once more to see the time, I finally declare, “I’m going over there.”
“We’ll come with you,” Rocco says but as soon as he started speaking I was already shaking my head.
“No. I’m going to go alone. I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to all barge in there demanding answers. Plus someone should stay here in case she shows up.”
“Oh, and you think that you should be the one to go and talk with her?” Henley asks. And really, why am I surprised he would?
“Actually, yes. I do.” And before he or anyone else can say another word, I turn to leave, “I’ll text or call you as soon as I know something.”
My head is spinning with thoughts of Sailor. Thinking back to the photo shoot a couple days ago, I don’t remember her seeming like anything was wrong when it was all over. In fact, I felt like we connected on a different level that day. Sure, we had to put on a show for people, but first of all she chose to do what Rick asked without much question, and secondly, I’m confident that what began as an act, didn’t end that way.
As soon as we had changed back into our street clothes the limo took us back to the arena to obtain our cars, since we had all driven there that morning. I walked Sailor to hers, she thanked me for helping her during the shoot and I smiled and told her I’d see her today. I still remember her smile and wave as she drove away.
All day yesterday I fought with myself. I wanted to call or text her. Ask her if she wanted to get together for dinner or just hang out. I found myself working on another song – something I’ve been able to do in a new way recently - and was thinking about how much I would love to be with her and all the things I want to do with her, and to her. More than anything I wanted to ask her if she was feeling the same things I was when we were together. I wanted to have the balls to see if she wanted to see where things could go between us. I wrestled with feeling like I would end up fucking things up like always and thinking I was acting like a girl. The photo shoot felt like one long erotic tease and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Doing my best to push the feelings aside I reminded myself I would see her today and kept myself busy.
Now, I regret that choice. What is the big deal about a phone call? Or a text to say hi? Something is wrong. I can feel it. I may still be getting to know Sailor, but I have seen enough to know that this isn’t like her.
Pulling up to her apartment building I have a brief moment of hesitation about going up and pounding on her door. But, the fact remains she didn’t call any of us, and something really could be wrong. Without another thought I race to her door and do just that. When no one answers initially, I do it again. And again.
“Sailor! Answer the door. It’s Maddox.”
Finally, I exhale as I hear steps inside and the lock turn. Feeling anger begin to rise over the fact she left us all to worry, I open my mouth to ask her where the hell she’s been, but when the door finally swings open, it reveals the face of Britt with a brush in her hand and an irritated look on her face.
“Maddox? Why are you beating on the door?”
“Is Sailor here?” I ask her and before she can invite me in, I’m pushing past her and looking around the room. I really don’t care if I’m being pushy and rude.
“What do you mean? She told me she had rehearsal this morning. Why would she be here?”
“She didn’t show up,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen with obvious concern and she heads to what I’m guessing is Sailor’s room with me on her heels. “Sailor?” she knocks and I strain to hear, something; anything, but there’s nothing. “Sailor? Are you in there?” Britt asks again. I’m about to open the damn door myself but Britt is kinder than I am. “If you’re in there, I’m coming in.”
When she opens the door, thank god it’s unlocked, the first thing I see is purple. She has a purple comforter on the bed and a hell of a lot of pillows. There’s also a lump under the blanket, but I’m not going to feel better until I see her face.
“Sailor?” I say this time and move toward the bed. There are several Kleenex on the bedside table and a few have fallen on the floor.
“Maddox?” I hear a small voice say in surprise and for a very brief moment I worry that I’m not going to find her alone. I will not even hesitate to kick a dude’s ass, that much I know for sure. But when the blanket finally moves to reveal her face, my worry shifts to nothing but her. Seeing her red and swollen eyes and damp cheeks I move to sit on the bed beside her and immediately feel her forehead.
“Are you sick?”
“No,” she says. “It’s just a bad day. I’m sorry, I’m not going to be able to make practice today.”
“Songbird, I’m aware of that. Practice started over an hour ago. I’ve been worried sick.”
Her eyes widen and it’s clear she’s been caught up in whatever is going on and didn’t even realize how much time has passed. I reach out and push her hair out of her face. Pieces of it stick to her cheeks and she sniffles making my heart hitch in my throat.
“Sailor, what’s wrong?” Britt asks approaching from the other side. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed me?”
