22 - New Reservations

The tepid water trickled down her cheeks, symbolic of the tears that wouldn’t come.  That Lilah refused to allow.

You single-handedly messed up the single most important moment of your life so far.  Cryin’ is not an option and you deserve the damn thumpin’ of your head.

Several taxis had been waiting at the back gate, and it was effortless for her to slide, virtually unnoticed, in to the back of one.   Any staffers that were hanging around had come on duty long after she arrived that morning, and they had paid her no mind. 

Sighing, she turned the shower off and reached for a towel with shaking hands.  As she swiped it over the cuts that were now stinging because they’d been swimming in perspiration most of the day, she thought of food.  Eating probably should have been more of a priority when she got out of the stadium, but she was so far past the point of actually being  hungry that a shower had sounded so much better.

She did kick herself another time for not booking a hotel with room service.   It was ridiculously priced food delivery, but at least she would be able to eat without getting dressed. 

After her shower, she was no longer sweltering, but she was tired, disgusted and generally disenchanted with living.  That meant she was going to wear cotton shorts and a tank top to the hotel restaurant, regardless of what the dress code was.  As a matter of fact, she likely wouldn’t even bother drying her hair, but would pull the wet mass into a clip and forget it.

What difference did it make who saw her scars? 

✧✧✧

“Thanks, Mike.  I owe you one.”  Tony disconnected the call and impatiently waited for the elevator to arrive at Lilah’s floor.

He wanted a smoke, and he wanted it bad, but there had been no time.  The minute the encore was over, Tony had hauled ass out of there, leaving the clean-up to his crew.  He might pay for his neglect later, when Jon found out, but right now he didn’t give a shit.  They had competent people who knew what had to be done, and Tony didn’t have to be there to hold their hands.

Shoving the phone into his pocket, he blew out an exasperated breath, hoping he could control his temper through this.

Adrenaline had kicked him into overdrive as soon as he saw her hit the ground, but there was nothing he could do.  He was effectively tied to the video board the minute the show started.  The only thing he’d been able to do was yell for Dawn and Abby, and hope that they would make sure Lilah was alright. 

His relief had been short-lived when Dawn and Abby returned to the stage without her, though.  Leaving her alone to …  To run away of all things.

He growled in the back of his throat, lifting a fist to knock on her door.  For the sake of his sanity, he was relieved when it  opened after only a moment. 

“Tony.  What are you doing here?”

More tension than he realized he was holding in his shoulders bled out when he saw her.  That was quickly followed by the relaxing of muscles in his chest, allowing his heartbeat to return somewhere near normal.   It didn’t mean she was off the hook, though.  She looked better than at the stadium, but not by much.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here?  Making sure you’re still alive!”  He didn’t wait for an invitation into her room, but put a palm on the door and pushed it wide enough to brush past her.  “What the hell is wrong with you?  I told you to dress for the heat, and you didn’t.  You didn’t drink anything all day and then, when I can’t do a goddamn thing to help you, you hit the ground with a fuckin’ heat stroke or whatever.”

“Stop yelling at me.”

The door closed quietly at her hand before she folded defensive arms over her red tank top and looked at the floor to keep from facing his frustrated anger.  When Tony registered the fact that her scars crept all the way down to the middle of her bicep, he got even more pissed. 

“Call me fucking crazy!  I yell when people I care about hit the floor in a dead faint and then disappear without a word!” 

“I’m sorry that…”  Lilah’s eyes snapped up, and her pretty forehead wrinkled with incomprehension.  “Wait.  Wha…  What did you say?”

“Christ, Lilah, of course I care about you.”  With a single knuckle and a sigh, he nudged her chin upward, his eyes devouring the physical evidence of her harrowing day.  “I’ve gotten to know –“ 

His words broke off when his eyes found the angry red gash that started less than an inch from where his finger lay beneath her chin.  Tony gently edged her face to the left so he could follow it to its source, below her earlobe, where he found its mate running in another direction.

It took every ounce of restraint he had not to lose his cool at the crudely carved number ‘7’ on her neck.  The cigarette he’d been craving would’ve been very helpful about now.

“What happened?” he tersely bit out through clenched teeth, his voice deadly quiet.

She jerked her chin out of his grasp and laid an open palm over the cuts.  It still wasn’t enough to cover them both, but she was trying.  “It’s nothing.”

He’d had enough of her trying to pretend everything was fucking sunshine and roses.  He wasn’t playing this game anymore. 

“Goddammit, don’t give me that.  What.  Happened?”

She folded herself into the room’s only chair, tugging the hem of her shorts down and then reaching up to fiddle with one of her earrings.    The way she held herself, so stiffly, you’d think he was the one who wanted to cut her. 

“I went to the Grand Bazaar last night.”  A negligent shoulder lifted in an effort to downplay her next words.  “I ended up in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong group of men.”

Lilah was going to give him a fucking stroke.  That’s all there was to it.  He could feel the vein in his temple blow up like a damn balloon.  All he had to do was wait, and it would split wide open.

He.  Needed.  A.  Smoke.

Crossing to her, he stifled his own visceral reaction, and sank into a crouch before her.  “Men?  How many men?”

“Three.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked carefully, hoping to God…

“No, not really.  I just have a couple of bruises and knot on my head, where I fell.”

For the second time since he’d stepped foot inside her room, the contracted muscles of his chest relaxed enough to let his heart resume a normal rhythm.  Why was she his to worry about?  Why did he give a damn? 

Because she’s got nobody else within a thousand miles, and you’re here.  That makes her your responsibility.

“Show me.”

“They’re not that –“

“Goddammit, show me!”

Her eyes flew as wide and round as her mouth’s ‘O’ of surprise when he sprang to his feet with the barked command.  Tony couldn’t blame her.  He was kind of surprised at his own adamancy, but she’d gone to the trouble of hiding knife wounds.  God only knew what else she was hiding.

Without a word, she stood, sliding the waistband of her shorts down over her left hip.  There was an ugly, purple bruise about the size of a baseball right on the fullest part of the smooth, pale flesh.

“C’mere.”  This order was issued with much more civility than the last, and she stepped within the reach of his extended hands without a peep of protest.   After he released the hair clip and tossed it into the chair, tender fingertips immediately began scouting along the sides of her head for the knot she mentioned.  The golf-ball-sized wound wasn’t hard to find, and she sucked in a pained breath at his prodding.

The soft little gasp did something to him. 

“Sorry, sweetheart.”   He lightly propelled her forward so that he could touch his lips to the affected area.  It wouldn’t ease the pain, but it was the only thing he could think to do.    

The fresh, clean smell of her shampoo tickled his nose and her soft snuffle of surprise curled a fist into his gut.  Before he could analyze the whys of his actions, or talk himself out of it, Tony took her in his arms, gently tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder.

Lilah stiffened, then sighed into the black fleece of his jacket and closed her eyes.  The tears that escaped from behind tightly squeezed eyelids weren’t from pain, either emotional or otherwise, they were… 

They were her defenses coming down for the first time in well-over a year. 

The smell of him – solid man tinged with faint, nostalgic hints of cigarette smoke – comforted her in a way that nothing else had been able to so far.  His silent strength acted as a pillar on which she could lean, and she felt safe resting there for a bit, knowing that she would give the strength back with interest. 

She would. 

In the meantime, was it too much to ask for this moment to go on for…  a while?  She could – and would – be just fine without his brawny arm snugged up under her shoulder blades.  His gentle hand cradling her head wasn’t necessary.  She didn’t need somebody else in order to be whole.

But it felt so, so good. 

“This is why you wore the damn turtleneck?”

She nodded mutely.  “I don’t need your pity.”  Her watery voice was muffled against his shoulder, the reminder more for herself than him.

The tears bottle-necked in her throat, precariously clogging her airway before falling out on a hiccupped sob when he growled, “Good thing I don’t feel a goddamn bit sorry for you then.  I’m only hugging you to keep from choking you.”

Despairing fingers curled into the fabric at the dip of his spine, and her shoulders quaked with the force of the long-denied tears.  As they poured free, Tony softly stroked her hair and held her for long, uncounted minutes, until the sobs finally began to subside. 

“Pack your stuff.  You’re coming with me.”

The unexpected words served as a boarding call for her departing flight from Fantasy Island.  Her infrequent moment of weakness was snatched away, and she went rigid with panic at the suddenness of it.  Lilah struggled, trying twist free of his iron-clad grip. 

“I… I can’t do that,” she sniffled, swiping at her cheek with one hand.

“Yes, you can.”

Her hair swished around her shoulders when she frantically shook her head.  The suggestion made her heart sing in one respect, but it unceremoniously shoved every fiber of her being into a place that wasn’t even in the same zip code as her comfort zone. 

She couldn’t just stay in his room, using it as some kind of flop house for wayward travelers.  Her pride wouldn’t allow it, and she didn’t need a babysitter.  If things between them were more… involved, that might change her mind, but even then, Lilah didn’t know the details of what his offer/order entailed, and she couldn’t blindly rely on anyone that way.

“I’m fine here.”

“You tell me one more time that you’re ‘fine’ and I really am gonna choke you,” he declared, scowling and shaking her lightly.    “You’re not fine, and I’m not leaving you here alone.  Why the hell are you traveling by yourself anyway?”

The truth of the matter was that nobody else had been crazy enough to spend the time or money this little jaunt required.  

“Two months is a commitment that not everyone is willing, or able, to make.”   

“Yeah, well…”  He frowned, finally allowing her out of his arms.  “I’m committing to the next three weeks.  Cancel your hotel reservations.  You’re staying with me for the rest of the tour.”