7: The Beat-Down
Fingers tightly laced and swinging between them,
Anthony and Britney glided down the hotel hallway. Water dripped off his
drenched body, trickling over her hand. Britney held the other to her lips and
muffled a laugh.
"I CAN'T believe you did that!" she giggled, leaning
into her outstretched palm.
Cracking a smile, Anthony shrugged. "I used
to do that all the time, back when I was a kid." He reached into his pocket and
pulled out a key card. "Flea used to do it too!"
"Flea?" she raised an
eyebrow.
"Yeah," his smile waned. "That was Michael's
nickname."
They stopped in front of a door. As Anthony held out the
keycard, Britney drew nearer to him, laying a hand on his chest. "I never knew
you were this crazy, Ant!" she whispered. "I'm liking it!"
Anthony
lowered the keycard from the electronic lock. Gazing upon Britney brought a
soft, sweet grin to his lips. He drew his arms around her and fell into her
shimmering, chocolate-toned eyes. He swept her closer to himself. Leaning in, he
closed his eyes and brushed his lips across hers. He left a gentle kiss before
moving back. The two exchanged smiles, and Anthony slid the keycard across the
lock. Red light to green.
BEEP!
Britney giggled, and Anthony
couldn't help but join in, though he had no idea what it was about. They breezed
through the hotel room door, into the dark room. Anthony flicked on the lights.
Britney gasped, and clutched her chest. She and Anthony's sights fell upon a
figure perched on a desk chair, facing the now open door. Their eyes drifted
over the scowl on the man's face, the furrowed eyebrows, creased forehead, and
pouting lips.
"I was going to ask where the hell you were," the man spoke
evenly, "but I can see that you were wasting time with your
girlfriend."
Sighing, Anthony shook his head. "Flea..."
"It's
Michael! MICHAEL!" the other barked, pounding a fist on the armrest beneath it.
Raising a finger at Anthony, he added through clenched teeth, "I swear, you all
me that again, and I am going to hurt you!"
"Michael," Anthony raised his
eyebrows, "Come on, brother! I'll take responsibility. It was my fault we spent
so long out. We just lost track of time. You know how it goes..."
Michael
jolted to his feet. Holding a hand out to Anthony, he raged, "You just HAD to
jump off the hotel into the pool. That was a priority today!" Michael sighed and
rubbed at his temples. "Just, just get ready to go, okay? We're going to be late
as it is." He glared at Britney. "YOU might as well get out of here!"
She
bowed her head, turning toward the door. Anthony swept a hand over her shoulder,
and a single hushed syllable breathed from his lips. "Wait." He turned to
Michael. "Come on, man! You know that's no way to talk to a
lady."
Cackling, Michael wagged his head. Shooting an accusing finger at
Britney, he scoffed, "THAT is not a lady. THAT is a bitch."
Anthony
stepped closer to Michael, hovering a few inches over his bandmate, eyes locked
in a stare-down. "What the hell is your problem?"
"MY problem?!" Michael
exclaimed. "I'm not the one running around with some Yoko, doing my damnedest to
rip apart the band!"
Spit splashed onto Anthony's face. He kept his eyes
steady. Furrowing his eyebrows, he shook his head. "This is unbelievable. As if
this band's even WORTH keeping together anymore! I don't know what the hell
we've let it become!"
Michael's eyes widened, and he snorted. "You're not
telling me you... This band was sh** before Brian and Kevin came along and saved
our asses! You know that! You've said so several times yourself!"
Anthony
opened his mouth, then closed it again. He drew a hand to his lips. Michael's
words felt so familiar, and somehow true. His mind drifted back to the time when
the two of them had gone on a ski trip with the Kentucky cousins. Brian and
Kevin were both seasoned skiers, yet spent all day on the bunny slopes with
Michael and Anthony, who kept ramming into snow banks. A general feeling of
contentment swept over Anthony. He loved those guys. They were his
brothers.
"Sh**," he whispered, lowering and wagging his head. "I'm
sorry. You know I love you and Bri and Kev. And I love the band." He made eye
contact with Michael. "But that doesn't excuse your disrespecting Britney. You
should know that nothing can drive apart the band, and she's not trying to
either. I love her." His gaze slipped to his girl, who smiled. He stepped toward
her, and wrapped an arm around her back. And gave her a squeeze.
Michael
drew a hand to his forehead. Closing his eyes, he replied, "I'm sorry, man.
Guess I'm just feeling stressed lately."
"It's all right," Anthony
assured him. "I think we're all in the same place."
Bobbing his head
lightly, Michael lowered his arm. His baby blues trained on Anthony. "We do need
to get ready to go though."
"Yeah, you're right." He turned to Britney.
"Baby, meet me down at the limo in a few minutes?"
A soft smile swept
across her lips. "I'll be waiting for you." The two stole a quick kiss before
she left the room at Michael's heels. The door clicked shut. Sighing, Anthony
turned to the closet. To his charming wardrobe. He dragged himself to the
closet, grumbling under his breath. Sneering, he flung open the walk-in's doors.
And stepped inside. His eyes fell upon the closest suit to him. Its classy gray
on dark gray weave and handsome cream coloured turtleneck appealed to him. He
smiled as he snatched its hanger off the railing. He HAD to wear this one
tonight.