We see a different side of Brody.
Night had fallen on another rigorous day of merching and Tyler, Dirty, and myself were packing up. I discreetly watched as Joe and Patrick chatted up Bridget at her booth. The scene made me frown. Since our pool disaster, Patrick and I hadn't spoken much over the past couple of days, which was just fine with me. I had nothing to say to him.
I gathered up a box of shirts and followed Dirty to our merch van. A sharp vibration send waves through my thigh as my phone sang a Motion City Soundtrack tune. I tossed my box into the vehicle and grabbed my phone.
1 Text New Message
hey. want to hang out for a little bit?
I smiled at Brody's message.
"Can you get the rest of the stuff?" I asked Dirty as I began texting him back.
"Yeah, sure." I gave him a quick hug before beginning to head toward the tour bus area.
"Lola!" I frowned at the last person I wanted to see, but I didn't break my stride.
"What do you want, Patrick?" He struggled to keep up with my pace.
"Can we talk?" I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"Nope." He grabbed my arm, halting me to a stop. Again, my phone started to vibrate and ring.
cool. meet me at the halifax bus.
"Who's that?" Patrick asked, as if it was any of his business.
"Brody. We're gonna hang out." He frowned, clearly agitated by my singsong tone.
"Why not?" I countered. The conversation was beginning to bore me.
"It bothers me, OK?" This guy was a piece of work. He kissed me. He decided to be the beacon of morality and loyalty. He blew me off. And now he was troubled by another man's presence in my life.
"It bothers you?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest. He lowered his head, kicking lightly at the ground.
"Yeah, it bothers me. I don't want you with other guys. Especially him." I shook my head.
"You don't know him." I countered lamely.
"I know enough. Probably more than you do. I've heard things about him. Not nice things. He's only after one thing." I held my hand up.
"Spare me the big brother speech, alright. And don't blame your hang ups on Brody. You don't want to be with me, fine. But don't try to pull this bullshit. You can't have your cake and eat it too." I turned and headed toward the buses, leaving my would-be lover in my dust. The Halifax bus wasn't very hard to find, considering the bus boasted their name in large letters. I knocked lightly and waited for a response.
The door opened, revealing the man I was coming to see. He smiled and greeted me before stepping aside to let me come inside. Their bus was almost identical to ours, only the color scheme was slightly different. He led me back to the lounge where the TV was blaring. We quietly sat on the couch.
"So, did you have an agenda or are we playing it by ear?" I asked as I focused on chipping away some of my blue nail polish. An impish smile spread across his face, giving me an uneasy sentiment. Something about the situation didn't feel right. The vibe was borderline creepy.
"Well, actually, I do have an agenda." He leaned in, placing his lips on mine. Almost instinctively, I pulled away and stood.
"Listen Brody. I like you. But not like that." His eyebrows knitted together.
"What are we? In high school or something?" He asked, standing up as well. I backed away from his advancing form. My heart started to beat a little faster.
"Well, no. I just don't have those kind of feelings toward you. That's all." Without warning, he grabbed my arm and effortlessly tossed me on to the couch, slamming my back into the cushions. I watched in horror as he began to unbuckle his belt.
"Apparently you have no idea who I am." OK, what was that supposed to mean? Was he some Warped Tour lothario or something?
"Don't do this, Brody." I pleaded as he came closer to me, his pants undone. Tears of pure terror spilled from my eyes. A yelp escaped my lungs as he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, allowing his mouth to bite roughly at the tender skin of my neck. I pushed meekly at him, but was met with a searing slap across the face. Stinging heat radiated from my cheek. His body fluently overcame mine as he laid on me, forcing my form deeper into the cushions. My lungs contracted as I heaved, struggling to breathe.
Fight him, Lola! You have to fight!
With the expertise of a ghetto girl, I scratched at his face mercilessly. He seemed almost amused by my action and landed another blow across my face. This time, I could feel the burning of hot liquid oozing from my lip with a metallic taste to accompany it. His paws pinned my hands above my head and continued his assault on my jugular.
Go for the jewels. No boy is immune.
I bucked and twisted, allowing for my knee to connect with just the right soft spot between his legs. He emitted a strangled grunt that men save for such an occurrence. His body hit the floor with a thud. No time was wasted as I hopped off the couch and leaped over his figure.
My heart rejoiced as the exit to the lounge was only inches away. But my foot was jerked out from under me, sending me to the floor. Pain spiked up my knees and shins. A hand grasped my ankle. I kicked, squirmed, and screamed. Why didn't anyone hear me? Why wasn't help arriving?
My fingers clawed at the carpet as I inched away. I let out a guttural growl as I fought to escape. My tears were replaced with sheer determination. I refused to become another rape statistic. Lola Trohman would not become a number that night. The skin on my legs peeled away as I was dragged across the carpet. Brody had somehow gotten on his feet as was pulling me like a rope in a game of Tug-o-War. Even my fingertips were casualties of rug burn. His digits slipped, leaving him with just my flip-flop in his hand. There was a brief moment of just confused stares being exchanged. I scrambled to my feet, kicked off my remaining sandal, and ran as fast as my little legs could carry me.
"What's going on?" I shoved past a generic scene boy who had stepped onto the bus and headed out the door. My bare feet pounded against the pavement as I broke away. I was sure they would be throbbing later, but at the moment, pain wasn't registering. Not even my busted lip or swollen cheek bothered me. The Fall Out Boy tour bus came into view and grew bigger as I approached it at full speed. My brother was outside, a cigarette hanging from his lips and Bridget by his side. I couldn't remember the last time I was elated about seeing him. Without warning, I collided with his chest as I nestled into it. My adrenaline evaporated and the tears returned.
"What the fuck, Lola?" His arms hung limply by his side, but I didn't mind. I was alive and so was he. That was all I cared about. He flicked his cancer stick to the ground and pulled out of my hug. I cringed at the crimson stain I left on his light blue t-shirt. His expression immediately softened.
"What happened to you?" Bridget asked, stepping closer. I broke. The floodgates opened, spilling tears and incoherent words wrapped in painful sobs. Through it all, I managed to choke out Brody's name. That was all my brother needed to hear.
"Watch her." Joe handed me off to Bridget, who embraced me while I soaked her with tears and blood. My brother disappeared onto our tour bus and reemerged with Dirty and Pete.
"Where is he?" My ex asked, his voice soft and gentle.
"He should be on the Halifax bus." Bridget answered as she stroked my hair. With no more words exchanged, the guys headed off in the direction I had come from.
"What's going on?" Patrick poked his head out from the tour bus.
"Joe, Pete, and Dirty are gonna go whip some Brody ass. I'm going to go make sure they don't end up in jail. Will you take care of her?" I heard my friend say before pulling away from me. She tilted her head and looked down at me. "I'm gonna be right back, OK? And then we'll talk about this when you're ready." I nodded before she hugged me and ran off after the boys.
"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up." Patrick guided me inside the bus and back to the bathroom. He unfurled some toilet paper and ran cold water over it, saturating it with the liquid. It stung as he pressed the cloth to my lip. With his free hand, he gently caressed the uninjured side of my face.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, wincing at the pain caused by moving my mouth.
"Don't be." Was all he said before placing a soft kiss on my forehead. Once the bleeding subsided, he led me to his bunk and we crawled into the small space. Without a word uttered, he pulled me into his chest. We lay there for a moment like the world didn't matter. Then, almost inaudibly, he sung.
"Hold me closer, tiny dancer," His voice was low, just above a whisper, and raspy. "Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy day today."
CeCe, this may be the closest thing you get to Patrick covering Tiny Dancer. Lots of love to my DoJers, honorary and all. Love you, miss you. Can't wait to talk to you guys.