Part 12
Paul turned his head as Wil's hand made impact and held his cheek, glaring at the man who had just struck him. He looked both angry and frightened, in some ways like a child. Onlookers responded with a collective "Woo" and fell silent except for scattered whispers.
"Oh my God," Tez mumbled, sending narrowed eyes of contempt in Wil's direction "Why doesn't Paul hit him back?"
You could've heard a pin drop in the dressing room before Paul broke the silence with a whisper: "Cunt."
Wil clutched a handful of Paul's shirt and pulled him closer so that their noses were almost touching. "What did you call me?"
I couldn't stand back any longer and allow Paul to endure further physical and emotional abuse. Pushing past Tez's muscle form, I strode directly to Wil and covered his hands with my own, trying to pry his fist open.
"Let him go," I ordered in a calm but firm tone. He looked at me and regarded me disdainfully.
"Keep out of private affairs, mate," he replied, tightening his hold on Paul.
"Let him go!" I repeated, raising my voice and widening my eyes. Paul, whose cheek was already turning red, gazed at me and then at Wil, silently pleading for mercy. He swallowed tightly. Wil realised that he wasn't going to be able to get away with his abuse and snapped his fists open, pushing Paul back. Paul sat on the bench and held his head in his hands, in pain and feeling humiliated.
My selfless actions encouraged others to move in Paul's defense. Austin and Steve held Wil by the elbows and started to steer him out of the room while others grunted and muttered insults. Wil unsuccessfully struggled to break free. As he rounded the corner, he gave me a quick glare and shouted, "Slut!" to Paul, who didn't look him in the eye.
Once Wil was gone, the dressing room started to return to normal, as though the commotion hadn't occured, and guests continued their conversations. Bandmates patted Paul's shoulders and offered words of support while Paul simply nodded, unable to look at anything but his feet.
Tez appeared at my side, shaking his head. "I've come across some bad blood in my time, but this guy's a real tosser," he said. "I'd bust his arse myself but that'd be wasted energy. He ain't worth it."
I approached Paul, leaning against the bench beside him. I couldn't find words that seemed appropriate or that hadn't already been said by someone else.
"Well, I don't quite know what to say," I admitted. Tez stood back and mingled in with the congregation to allow Paul and I to talk amongst ourselves.
"I do." Paul reachd out and squeezed my hand. "Thank you."
"Why didn't any of you mates come to help you? They just stood there like statues."
He mustered a half-hearted grin. "They're chickens. They put on a tough front, but at the slightest indication of trouble, they run away." He rubbed his cheek, wincing. "You'll find there's a lot of people like that in my line of work."
I glanced around at Paul's bandmates. The majority of them had been taking drugs and were displaying the effects, even though i'd taken their supplies from their bags.
'Oh, shit!' I suddenly thought, patting my pockets to check if the drugs were still where they should've been. To my relief, most of them appeared to be there, though I estimated that about five or six of them had fallen out when Paul and I were in the bathroom. We were too engrossed in ach-other to notice. Ah well, the next person who entered the bathroom would be finding a pleasant surprise waiting for them on the tiles. But wouldn't have seen the drugs when we were getting dressed? If so, why hadn't he said anything?
My thoughts turned to Paul and Wil. I guessed that the band would've let Paul be beaten senseless by Wil if I hadn't stepped in to defend him. How could Paul consider these people to be his friends? What sort of people would allow a friend to be abused right in front of them? I couldn't understand it. Wasn't there anyone that Paul could trust his life with?
"How did you put up with that piece of shit?" I asked.
"I managed. I put up with him for three months, after all."
"But hadn't you only went out with him for one month?"
"I knew him through a friend before then." Paul took a deep breath and slid off the bench. "Can we go somewhere, please?"
"Where do you want to go?"
Paul shrugged. "I don't know. I just need to get out of here for a while. Could we use your car?"
Five minutes later we found ourselves driving aimlessly along the streets of Sydney, listening softly to Aspirin's "Special" from the Dust Off The Wings soundtrack, one of my favourite homegrown movies. Before we'd left the Metro, we asked Tez what he wanted to do, as he didn't appear to know any of the people in the dressing room. He got the impression that he wanted to be alone and offered to hang out with his friend on the staff until we got back. From the mischievous gleam in his eye, he was more than looking forward to paying him a visit.
I didn't really know where Paul and I were going to end up, but I wasn't thinking about our destination. Paul seemed to be thinking intensely about something, most probably the event in the dressing room. His cheek was turning a harsh shade of red, and his lips were moving slightly as though he were whispering to himself or in deep thought.
Finally I broke the silence with, "Do you think he'll come back for you?"
"Oh, yeah," he replied, crossing one leg over the other. "He's probably sitting at the bar right now, waiting for me to come out so he can finish what he started."
I gripped the steering wheel with sudden anger. "You shouldn't have to live with that, Paul! Put a restraining order on the fuckin' prick!"
He sighed, looking out of the passenger window as he rested his chin on his hand. "Rich, i've been living with it ever since I finished university. After I broke up with Austin. I can't begin to recall how many boyfriends i've had who started arguments with words and ended them with fists." He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand, looking exhausted and frustrated. "Don't get me wrong, i've had some fantastic relationships over the years. They just didn't last. I guess you could say they were the cream of the crop." He curled the corners of his lips into a small, sad smile. "I seem to pick most of the bad ones. Wil included."
His words saddened me. Here he was, an obviously friendly and caring person, not to mention extremely attractive, with a good head on his shoulders and a good heart to match. Most guys like him would have found someone to settle down with and be blissfully happy in their relationships. Yet from what he had told me, his heart had been broken time and time again, used and abused. Nobody should have to bear that, especially not Paul. He needed somebody who would treat him right, never hurt him, physically or emotionally, and give him all that he'd been deprived of in the numerous bad relationships. Could I make a difference? Could I heal his wounds?
"This is wrong," I muttered, shaking my head. "Those aren't relationships. They're torture. You've got to break yourself out of his cycle, Paul, you can't let yourself be repeatedly hurt by people who are supposed to care about you."
"Well, that's why i'm hoping this relationship will be different."
"This relationship?"
"Us." He motioned to me, then to himself. "I know we've only known each-other for two days, but I had a good feeling about you since we met." He lowered the sun visor and looked at his cheek, running a finger along the surface. "I know I shouldn't allow myself to be hurt by guys, but it's happened so often that now I just enter a relationship expecting to leave with the battle scars. So I don't fight."
He fell silent again, staring at his reflection in the small mirror attached to the sun visor. I glanced over at him - his mouth was half-open as though he wanted to say something further, but he was inwardly debating with himself about whether or not he should say it. I waited patiently, not wanting to pressure him into saying anything that he wasn't sure about.
After a while he flipped the sun visor back up and fell back into his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Rich, if I tell you something, will you swear that you'll never tell anyone else?" he asked softly.
"Of course I will," I promised, meaning every word that I said. "Hold on a second." I turned off the CD and pulled over to the side of the road so that I could devote my full attention to him. Something in his tone told me that whatever he wanted to say was painful for him, and possibly very few people knew about.
"What is it?" I asked, turning to him in my chair. He unbuckled his seatbelt, bit his lip and looked down at the palms of his hands.
"You know the way I said that the abuse started after I left Austin?" I nodded. He squirmed in his chair, taking a shaky breath. "Well...That...That's not true." He looked over at me. "It started with my dad."
Part 13