The stress is getting to Monica. Her nightmares are back with a twist.
"Hey, Hon. I woke you didn't I?"
"It's okay, Gee. I told you to call. I'm glad you did."
There was something in her voice that caught his attention. "What's wrong?"
Monica closed her eyes and laid back against the pillows. She wasn't about to tell him about the nightmare. Instead she told him, "I'm just lonely in this big bed."
Gerard didn't buy it, "Monica, tell me. What's going on? You sound wrong."
"Wrong? That's not very nice." She answered avoiding the question. "What's wrong with me missing your body laying next to mine?"
"Not a damn thing if that's the only thing that is wrong."
"So how was the concert?" A change of topic was needed.
Gerard sighed. She obviously wasn't going to tell him what was bothering her. "It was really rad. The crowed was great. Frank dove right in."
"Jamia's gonna be pissed. She's always telling me how much it scares her when he dives off the stage."
“Yeah, but at least they catch him." Geared laughed.
"I'm glad you don't try that." Monica said slowly feeling the effects of the nightmare fading.
"Oh, I learned my lesson. Doing that shit ain't for me."
Monica remembered his experience, "The bear suit."
"Fuck yeah. Damn, hitting the floor hurt."
"You were with Liv then." She said softly.
Gerard was surprised by her comment. "Yeah, that was a long time ago."
"Not all that long." Monica said softly.
"Monica, is it getting to hard for you to deal with Liv? Is that what this is all about?"
"What all of this?"
He sat down on his bed and lit a cigarette, "All of this. You're upset but you won't tell me why and now you've mentioned Liv. Are you upset because I talked to her on the phone?"
"Gerard you said barely two words to her." Monica reminded him.
He took a drag and remembered how his heart had seemed to miss a beat when he heard Liv's voice.
“Unless you've talked to her since then."
"What? How the hell could I have done that? I don't know her number."
Monica sighed, "I'm sorry I don't know where the hell that idea came from."
"Honey, you didn't answer me. Is it too hard for you to deal with her."
"What difference would that make? I have to deal with her because of Elle."
Gerard sat thinking. "I'm sorry."
Monica pulled herself up in the bed, "Look Gee, I was having a nightmare when you called and that set my mood. Don't worry about me dealing with Liv. Really, she hasn't caused me any trouble. It's kinda like we both understand we have to deal with each other and accept that fact."
"I'm just sorry this all falls on you." He said sadly.
"It's okay, really. I would deal with the devil himself in order to have Elle." Monica told him.
"You kinda are dealing with the devil." Gerard said jokingly.
"Gee, don't. We already had this discussion. You can't make yourself hate Liv."
He heard sadness in her voice, "Monica, I can't make myself hate her but that doesn't mean I care about her. I love you. As much as we've been through you can't tell me you doubt that for one second."
"No, I don't doubt you love me."
"Okay, then. Now, Honey go back to sleep. I'll call you tomorrow."
Monica remembered she was going shopping with Bert and she hadn't mentioned it to Gee. Now just didn't seem like the time to tell him. "I'm going shopping tomorrow." She said simply.
"Good, buy yourself some new clothes. That will make you feel better."
That made her laugh, "Buying myself new clothes will make me feel better? Gee, since you've known me, how often do I buy new clothes? Face it I’m a jeans and hoodie girl."
"Then buy yourself some new hoodies." He said with a laugh.
"Maybe but I hate to spend someone else’s money."
Gerard stopped smiling, "Not again, Monica. I gave you the credit cards and I've explained to you that everything I have is yours."
Monica flopped back down and closed her eyes, "Shit, I'm just in a bad mood. I'm sorry."
"Promise me you'll be in a better mood tomorrow."
"I will, I promise. And" she added, "I'll spend some of your money tomorrow."
"No, you will spend some of our money tomorrow." he corrected her.
"I'll spend some of our money tomorrow." She repeated.
"Now go back to sleep"
"Can do, Mr. Way." She yawned for added good measure.
"Love you, Honey,” he said in a sexy voice.
"Love you too." She closed the phone and set it on the bedside table. Once the light was off she pulled the covers up and closed her eyes. She really wished she'd been in a better mood for his call but the nightmare had made that impossible. Shit, she hadn't had a nightmare about Kyle for months. That however hadn't been the most disturbing element. In the nightmare she had been the one in the water. She could feel the coldness filling her soul. Kyle had stood on the shore laughing as she went under. The final time she had surfaced it hadn't been Kyle standing watching but instead it had been Gerard with Liv at his side. He simply had watched; making no move to save her.
Gerard snuffed out the cigarette. Shit, he hadn't asked her about her nightmare and he should have. He was worried about her. All the shit with Kelly and the abuse was bringing her past back to haunt her. He wished with all his heart he was with her right now. He would take her in his arms and make her feel safe. She needed him and he wasn't there. This part of the tour couldn't be over soon enough. He wanted to get back to his family.
He sat staring at the drink in front of him wondering once again why he didn’t just down it and then order another. She had told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off. She didn’t need his help. She didn’t want his help. Her image filled his mind. Fuck, someone had hurt her and it made him want to hunt the fucker down and mess him up. Of course he couldn’t cause he didn’t know who all his anger should be unleashed upon.
Reaching across the bar he picked up the glass and lifted it to his mouth. The bitter taste of whiskey burned his throat. Why the fuck not get wasted? He was only hurting himself and not one fucking person cared. Was this how she felt he wondered? Putting the glass back down with more force than necessary he realized she couldn’t feel that way. She had someone. Someone who depended on her, someone who loved her.
“Another” he said to the bartender.
He grew angry at all the time he had wasted tracking her down. It was all for nothing. She didn’t want him in her life. She never had really wanted him in her life. There was only one man who she wanted. Only one man she had ever wanted. Maybe she would finally get him. That thought made him grab the second glass and pour its contents down his throat in one swallow.