Sequel: Happily Ever After
Status: Complete

Even Lovers Drown

Chapter 20

Saylor lifted a cardboard box of merchandise from the parking lot pavement. She didn't struggle under the weight of the half-empty container as she walked the short distance to the truck. With so many shirts sold, it wasn't nearly as heavy as it had been earlier that day. Another plus to bigger venues, more merchandise sold and lighter boxes to reload into the U-haul.

Heavy lifting wasn't necessarily her forte.

She handed the box to Davy, who stood inside the truck's storage unit. Mumbling a "thanks," he took the box from her hands and shoved it in its proper place amongst the cardboard skyscrapers he had created. His movements, though quick, were careless. His dimple was hidden from view, no smile on his face. He was tired after a long day of working, ready to leave, not in the mood to be loading up boxes. Saylor felt the same way.

Sighing, she turned back to the multitude of merchandise packages scattered around the pavement, the other two merch girls perched on top of a set of boxes. It seemed they all were ready for the boxes to magically load themselves so they could leave. Dealing with large crowds of demanding fans all day zapped them of energy. Saylor wasn't sure if the exhaustion that came with the number of fans at large venues offset all of the positives she had found during their time there.

"Sarah, Jenny, get up and help us load. I want to get on the road and get some coffee," Davy said.

"We've lost our drive to work," one said, dramatically collapsing on their box perch.

"Well, go find it."

Saylor shook her head and grabbed another box. Exhausted, Davy's usual persuasion techniques would fail worse than normal. She was pretty certain the girls didn't listen to most of his requests, even when they pertained to work. He wouldn't get much accomplished by demanding things now.

"If someone would have let us go watch Say Goodbye's set—"

Davy cut her off, "It is the same damn set you saw yesterday. Shut up."

Handing him the cardboard box, Saylor refrained from pointing out that they weren't that likely to see the show for the rest of tour unless they worked another small venue. Both merch tables had to be manned the whole night, probably something the girls considered a disadvantage while Saylor considered it a major advantage.

It kept her from being forced to inhabit the same space Blake performed in.

"How do you know?" the girl countered.

Sarah or Jenny? They were still a mystery to her. By the end of tour, she would know how to tell them apart, physically and personality-wise. Maybe. She hoped. Not being able figure out which was which hindered her in conversation with them. Or it would if she ever decided to speak with one alone. The awkward "Hey, you" didn't seem like the proper greeting for merch workers that shared tight quarters.

By no means was she trying to become buddies with them. Developing a friendship would cause her failed past relationship to slip into the open. Everyone would find out and Saylor didn't want that. But she did want to be familiar with the girls. They worked together. Coworker familiarity would do them no harm.

Davy groaned, tossing the box to a corner. "Get up or I ground you."

Talking back clearly wasn't going to get very far with him. The girls should trust that he knew how the band's sets worked. After all, he had been friends with them since the formation, if not before then.

Saylor wasn't sure how or when they met. She vaguely recalled him rambling to their parents within the first month of school about some girls he met in class. But she hadn't stayed and listened to the conversation. She was too busy trying to get into the high school of her choice, the one that offered medical courses as part of a special curriculum. The grades, the application, the essays, the interview, all had to be perfect. She wanted that jumpstart in her progress towards a nursing degree. That's all she cared about. Nothing had been more important than getting her degree in nursing.

And Katie derailed all of the work she put into her goal.

"You can't do that," the merch girl said, sitting up on the box.

"I hope you like not talking to that drummer for a month," Davy returned.

Their mouths dropped in unison, the gawking expression on their faces holding identical shock. Davy was threatening to take away their drummer-time, a bargaining tool that was sure to make them listen. Grumbling incoherent words, one pushed herself off the boxes and helped the other up. They didn't argue or talk back, just grabbed one box each and began bringing them to the U-haul.

"That's what I thought," Davy mumbled, victorious.

Smiling at the minor accomplishment, Saylor grabbed another box. Her arms struggled slightly under its weight. Bracelets and other band trinkets filled it to the brim, she knew. She remembered struggling with the same box earlier after Davy suggested they get rid of one box by adding the merch to a near empty box, save space in the U-haul by not saving their arms from the unnecessary weight. Dumbest idea ever and she had gone along with it.

"Hey."

Saylor jumped at the sudden voice. The box slipped from her hands and fell to the pavement with a loud thud, narrowly missing her sneaker-clad feet. Wide-eyed, she turned to the woman who spoke, though she didn't need to in order to know who it was.

Blake.

The lead singer stood there, hands shoved in her pockets. A small smile graced her full lips. Sweat stains decorated her shirt from the recent performance, but the smell of peppermint bombarded Saylor's nose. Intoxicating. Saylor had to remind herself who was standing in front of her to keep from shifting closer. Damn that woman and her perfume.

"Can’t you leave me alone?" Saylor asked.

Not pleading, not desperate, not whiny, but tough. Strong even. She was rather proud she managed to create the tone. She didn't think she would be able to fake it after the table hitting incident. The remnants of fear bubbled in her stomach, ready to explode.

"I just want to say I'm sorry," Blake said.

"That's lovely. You can go now."

"I didn't mean to scare you earlier."

Saylor had heard it before. "I'm sorry." "I didn't mean to." Lies that became Katie's catch phrases. Meaningless apologies. Another thing to add to the growing list of similarities.

"Get out of my face," Saylor said.

She grabbed the box at her feet, ignoring the weight that threatened to snap her arms like twigs, and turned. She had every intention of walking away, leaving Blake and her apology standing there with the rest of the merch workers watching.

But a firm hand on her elbow stopped her.

"Can’t you listen to me for a second?" Blake pleaded.

Fear rippled through Saylor. Her lungs constricted, her body threatened to give way to shakes. Familiarity swarmed her mind. She looked at her elbow, where the delicate hand gripped, and let her eyes trail from the hand up the arm, shoulders, and neck, until they rested on Blake's face. Blue eyes bore into her, anxious, searching.

Katie's angry face flashed before Saylor. Fierce blue eyes, mouth twisted in a snarl, jaw tight. So vivid Saylor nearly forgot that Katie wasn't there. The memory cleared, and Blake's face returned to view. And Saylor wasn't remotely comforted by it.

"Don't touch me," Saylor ground out.

Blake released Saylor's arm instantly, her arms falling to her sides, and mumbled a pathetic "Sorry."

She had seen the unguarded terror that washed over Saylor's face, the expression unable to be hidden in her moment of vulnerability. Whatever had scared her caught her off guard, and, as she turned around and marched away with the cardboard box in hand, she hadn't managed to recover from the brief scare.

Did she really frighten Saylor that much? She hadn't been trying to. All she wanted to do was apologize. She hadn't been vicious with her attempts to talk, hadn't yelled or threatened her. So she had been a tad whiny when begging, but that wasn't frightening. Her grip hadn't been hard and her intentions hadn't been malicious.

So why did Saylor look terrified?

Blake wanted to ask, wanted to find out what she was doing wrong. She knew she wouldn't get an answer, though. Saylor wouldn't talk to her. She wouldn't even accept an apology. Approaching her wouldn't get Blake anywhere.

Maybe waiting would work. She could let Saylor calm down, get things straight. And then they could talk. Blake didn't think she would need long. A good night's sleep would help Saylor considerably. She would awake refreshed, happier, and they could start the day on a better foot.

Davy grabbed the box from Saylor. Her face held the same fear he had seen at the merch table, and he wasn't sure why. Blake hadn't done anything threatening. Saylor had no reason to react the way she did. No reason that he could see.

He looked at Blake. She met his gaze and smiled, a small upward tug of her lips that lit her face, then walked away. He couldn't stop the smile from spreading on his own face. She was persistent. Saylor's barriers would be broken in a matter of time, something that should have worried him. But Blake would help Saylor heal, he was sure of it. Saylor just needed to let go of Katie long enough to let Blake in.

"It's going to be a constant struggle between you two, isn't it?" Davy remarked.

Saylor mumbled incoherent phrases under her breath, turning to grab another box from the pavement.
♠ ♠ ♠
Told you I would post another to make up for the week I missed.
Thank you to BeggingForChanges and unkemptRose.
And thank you to any new subscribers.
I don't really like this one that much, but I do like the next chapter.
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Dakota Ray