Limbo

RACHEL:

"Hey, have you seen my G'n'R shirt around anywhere?" Ash calls out from the depths of the closet. "I want to wear it for the show."

I look around the room for a minute before I spot it, and reply, "Yeah, it's in your laundry basket. You wore it a couple of days ago, remember?"

"Well, shit! I guess I'll wear one of my jerseys, then. It's too damn hot out there for full black clothes."

He comes out a few seconds later, buttoning up a blue and white baseball-type shirt with a big "R" on it, and I inquire, "Whose jersey is that? I know it's a baseball shirt, but I'm not real familiar with the different teams."

He looks down at the shirt and grins, then explains, "This is a Kansas City Royals jersey, they're one of my home state teams. Gotta represent, y'know." He turns around, so I can see that the team name is inscribed on the back. "I thought about wearing my Chiefs shirt, but this one is still pretty new, and I'd really rather not take the chance of that red dye fading onto me because I'm sweating my ass off."

He goes to the mirror and starts messing with his hair, and I sit down on the edge of the bed. After watching him for a couple of minutes, I ask, "So what was up yesterday? I noticed that you came in quite a bit later than the other guys."

He turns his head to look at me for a second, then goes back to his hair. "I just felt like having some space," he says. "I'm with these guys practically twenty-four seven, and even though they're like my family, sometimes I just want a little me time, to just drive around somewhere and have some quiet."

"Really? Because from what CC said, your little companion last night isn't all that good at quiet."

He freezes, not moving a muscle for several seconds. I'm not even sure he's blinking, and then he finally says, in a rather tense voice. "When the hell did you start asking CC about my business, anyway?"

"I didn't ask anyone anything until just now, Ash. He made a trip into town for some Monster last night, and invited me to ride along. We were stopped at a red light, and saw you walking into the restaurant with that little blonde girl."

He spins away from the mirror, and his tone is defensive as he retorts, "So, I'm a grown-ass man, I don't have to ask anyone's permission to do anything. Or has someone made up some sort of new rules without giving me the memo? Last time I checked, I'm not on any sort of a leash."

I'm surprised by how angry he seems to be, and I reply, "No, you're not, and I didn't mean to imply that you are. I just don't understand why you seem to feel the need to lie about it. I just asked you, and that's exactly what you did. And you completely left out the fact that you took her along to the clubs with you the other night, too. I thought we were friends, Ash, and friends don't lie to each other."

"Real friends also don't go sticking their noses into other people's business without being invited," he snaps back. "As I said, I'm an adult, I'm free to do as I damn please, and I don't have to answer to anyone else. Not my family, not the guys, and not you, either!"

I'm basically just gaping at him by this point, but I manage to say, "Ash, I'm not trying to control you, or anything like that, I just..."

"Don't even, Rachel, I call bullshit on that!" he snarls. "Oh, you had me fooled at first, I admit, but you've finally slipped up. Jimmy was right the whole time, you do have a fucking agenda!"

"Who's Jimmy? And what the hell are you even talking about, an agenda? Agenda for what?"

He gives me a sarcastic smile, which is actually more of a grimace. "You didn't think I heard you the other night, did you? You thought I was asleep, but I wasn't, and you clued me in to your plan."

"Well then, why don't you return the favor and clue me in, because I have no fucking clue what you're even talking about, Ash! Explain it to me, if you'd be so kind."

"All right, if you insist on playing it out," he sneers. "Jimmy is a paranormal investigator we met recently, and he's explained exactly how ghosts operate. You're lonely, you want company, and you've decided that you want someone you can keep here with you, so you've latched onto me, since I was the one who could see you. So you do whatever you can think of to make me want to spend time with you, and look for a chance to tie me down to this place with you. And what better way than to fall back to something I already wanted, and use sex to reel me in?"

I'm completely stunned by what he's saying, and I can't form words for a minute. Finally I manage to ask, almost in a whisper, "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Kinda hard not to, when you're doing everything he warned us about," he informs me. "You're trying to pull me away from other people, and keep me from doing things that don't involve you. And I heard you myself the other night, saying that you wanted me to stay here. So just out of curiosity, were you figuring on trying to convince me to kill myself, or just arrange some sort of 'accident' for me?"

I'm staring at him in utter disbelief, trying to force something out of my mouth that will make him realize that he's completely off track. But before my brain can put anything together, Andy bellows from the foot of the stairs, "Dude, we need to leave in less than thirty minutes, hurry up with your beauty routine! And Melissa is here, you apparently dropped your keys on her porch last night."

He's quiet for a moment, then he looks at me, gives me a rather unpleasant smirk, and yells back, "Yeah, I'm almost ready! Just send her up, okay?"

"Okay, but if you make us late, I'm giving you a fuckin' wedgie onstage!"

I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, then the door opens and the girl from last night peeks in. "Hi there, hon," she coos. "You dropped your keys last night, and I thought you might like to have 'em before you go." Then she looks at him a bit more closely, and asks, "Are you feeling all right? You look a little stressed."

The grin returns, and he replies, "You might say that. Actually, that's kind of why I had you come up, I was wondering if you might be up for helping me de-stress before we go?"

"Well, I guess that depends on what you have in mind."

He reaches out, pulling her against him, locking his lips onto hers and cupping a breast in one hand. And it appears that she's on the same page, because she starts unbuttoning his shirt. They're groping and pulling at each other's clothes, and I dash for the bathroom, so I don't have to see it happening. I go to the furthest corner of the shower, trying not to hear the sounds coming from the bedroom, and attempt to answer the question that's racing through my head:

Which hurts worse? Not allowing yourself to cry when you have the ability, or not having the ability when it's the only thing you want to do?

After several minutes, the sounds subside, and then I hear CC yell, "Dude, we need to leave in five minutes, get your ass in gear!"

"Yeah, we'll be right down, guys!" I hear footsteps crossing the bedroom floor, and he says, "Go on down, Liss, I'll just be a minute. I have something I need to take care of."

I hear her going down the stairs, and then Ash steps into the bathroom. He stops in the doorway, and just stares at me for a second. Then he pulls something out of his pocket, and I hear a 'clink' as he drops the medallion onto the top of the sink. "We're going to put on a kick-ass show today, and I plan to have a great fucking time, without dealing with any more of this crap. So I guess we'll see you when we get back."

He spins around on his heel and stalks out of the room, and a couple of minutes later, I hear the front door close. I quickly go across to Andy's room to peek out the window, and I'm not even surprised to see Ashley's "friend" climbing into the car with him. I watch as they drive off, then go back across the hall, and back into the bathroom.

I see that damned necklace lying on the counter, and it almost seems to be taunting me, so I just throw my head back and scream until I can't anymore. As I stare at it, Ashley's last words cross my mind again, ""So I guess we'll see you when we get back."

I pause for a second, then pick the hateful thing up off of the counter and leave the room, whispering to myself as I head downstairs, "Don't count on it."

Notes