Chapter 10: (Even) Nice Guys Lose Their $hit Sometimes

Check out the theme song for Mac and Adam's Fight ...Way Down We Go by Kaleo.

Adam

I'm glad the hotel door slamming open woke me, because being slapped in the face with a pair of jeans is not my favorite way to wake up.

"Get up. Sexy times are over." Mac follows up with a wadded shirt.

Then she's a blur of motion, throwing clothes into her suitcase at the same time she's trying to streak on some mascara and lipgloss and toss her counterful of makeup into her travel case. I ignore her abruptness and check my phone. Did we oversleep? She gets easily stressed by the itineraries. She hates to look unprofessional.

No, it's early. We don't have to leave for the airport for several hours.

I rise, watching her body language as she glares at herself in the mirror, plastering on black eyeliner.

Yeaaaaahhhh.

I'm going to need my pants for this.

Fuck, maybe some coffee, too.

I slide into my jeans and lumber into the kitchenette of the suite. I pop a pod in the Keurig while Mac throws shit around in the bathroom. I almost make her a coffee, but hesitate. She's already amped up, and frankly, I'm a little grumpy with her. Damn, she can be a moody piece of work. We went to bed in a better place than we've been in years. What the hell happened?

I sip my coffee. She probably had a dream that upset her. Or maybe another one of those prickly intuitions. I sigh. I know the whole condom-breaking thing is really freaking her out. She's trying so hard to ignore it, but the clock is ticking on the morning after pill. She's probably just stressed.

I relent and make her a coffee.

Decaf.

I take the coffee to her in the bathroom, where she's putting her hair up in one of those messy bun things. It looks cute when she does that, because the whole backside of her hair is a soft palette of pastel highlights—tangerine, sea green, aqua. She looks like a little striped Easter Egg.

The idea of Mac as an egg that could easily crack makes me frown into my coffee. She acts so tough, but in truth she's so very fragile. Especially since the trauma last year. Nobody else—not even Leed—really understands that, but I do.

She mistakes my frown in the mirror. "What?" she snaps.

"Nothing." I say.

She looks down at the coffee. "Jesus, Adam, who wants to drink that shit? There's a Starbucks in the lobby."

"You are not too good for a K-cup, Shortcake."

She shoots me a bird as she zips up her bag and brushes past. "You really need to get the hell out of here,  Adam. People are up, roaming the halls."

Ahhh...that's what happened. She stepped out and probably saw Leed in the hall. I follow her, catching her from behind, with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me."

"Nothing is wrong except you are doing the shit you always do. I let you sleep in my bed a couple of nights and you act like we are a couple or something. This doesn't mean what you think it means. It means...nothing. This was just...to get each other out of our systems early in the tour, and now I really want you to leave."

I'm angered by the coldness in her voice, and I'm about to call bullshit when a knock on the suite door interrupts us.

Mac freezes. "Shit. I forgot." She rushes to the door and tries to keep it closed, speaking through a crack to the other side.

I have the sudden thought it might be Leed, and I'm so fucking ready to get this over with that I stride over and jerk on the door.

Well, goddamn. Not Leed. Room service?

"I didn't order that," she tells the guy.

I pick up the ticket. "You didn't order the two egg white omelet with spinach, no salt, no cheese like you eat practically everyday? Who the fuck else would order that? It's awful."

She just glares at me and throws the door open, gesturing for the attendant to bring in the cart. "Just hurry up!" she snaps at him.

"Don't be so fucking rude," I mumble to her. I give the guy a two hundred dollar tip in the hopes he won't phone in a blurb about us to a celebrity gossip blogger the minute he walks out the door. It's probably wishful thinking, though.

"See, Adam? You shouldn't be here," Mac is ranting as she grabs things off the coffee table, throwing them in a bag. "That guy needs to be bought off now. But in order to do that, I have to tell Marcy about last night, and I don't want to do that. I had no intention of even letting you stay last night."

I'm looking beneath the silver covers on the plates. "Mac, what the hell is going on? You ordered me eggs with jalepenos and cheese just they way I like. That tells me half an hour ago you were thoughtful and sweet Mac. Now you are acting..."

She rounds on me, spoiling for a fight, "Like what Adam? Like a bitch? Like a crazy person? Say it!"

I just stare at her for a long moment, then I take my breakfast over to the table and sit down. I make a show of snapping the napkin and putting it in my lap and then I eat a piece of bacon and stare at her. I'm not taking her bait. I don't think Mac is a bitch, and I only think she's a little bit crazy.

Honestly, from what I've seen, all women are a little bit crazy, and I prefer Mac's brand of crazy to most.

"Get the fuck out!" she yells.

"No. But why don't you sit the fuck down, and tell me what your problem is," I say as I pour syrup on my waffle.

"Fine! You wanna know what my problem is, Adam? THIS!" She digs in the pocket of her track pants. She sits the box down like it's a bomb and backs away from it. Then she flings her arms in the air and yells. "What the fuck Adam! What do you have to say about that?"

For a long moment I stare at the box in shock, as I fight to slow down the burn of anger rising up in me. Okay, I get she went to my room to bring me some clothes. But she didn't find that ring lying around. Fuck, she had to break into the damn safe.

"What do I have to say?" I repeat. "I say, you shouldn't be snooping in my shit, MacKenna. Would you like it if I looked in your phone?"

"What!?!?" She nearly shrieks. "Don't confuse the fucking issue, here, Adam."

"Uhh, no that's exactly the issue. If you hadn't done something wrong, you wouldn't have any reason to be unreasonably upset right now." I take a careless scoop of eggs and choke it down, focusing on the chewing.

"Unreasonably upset? Are you fucking kidding me?" She grabs the box and snaps it open, revealing the five carat oval diamond set in pave. "You bought me an engagement ring, Adam!!! Are you crazy?"

"Apparently," I mutter, shoving in a forkful of waffle and washing it down with the rest of my coffee. Isn't insanity doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?

"I told you I'm not...I can't...that's not what I want."

I rise, clattering my fork on the plate. I take the ring, snap the box shut. "Look, you said I gave the world's worst proposal. So I figured, eventually, at some point, if circumstances ever moved me to try again, I would need to do it way the hell better. So I bought a fucking ring, alright?" I shrug and put it back on the table. "Do you see me down on my knees? Fuck no. I know you aren't ready for that. This fight we are having is not because I'm pushing you. This fight is happening because you did something you had no business doing, and karma has turned around and bit you on the butt."

Mac is gripping her head, staring at me like she doesn't even know me, her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows bent nearly together. "Karma? What the fuck are you talking about? You're a Christian!"

"I was raised in a Christian family, what the fuck does that have to do with anything right now?" I wave her weird sidebar away. "Back to the point. You should fucking apologize for breaking into the safe in my room and taking something that doesn't belong to you. Especially...that's a not exactly a dime-store ring, you know."

She grabs the ring back and rips open the lid. "Yes, I can see that Adam. I'm sure it's quite expensive. But you are fucking insane if you think I'm going to apologize because you bought me a ring, and you are fucking insane for throwing away two hundred thousand dollars on a whim—"

I snort and hold up five fingers. Jesus, what does she think? That I wouldn't go in for a decent stone?

"Jesus Christ!" She swears, examining the ring again. She scowls at it hard, like her hate can dull its brilliance.

Then she shakes her head. "That just makes it worse!" She closes the box gently and sits it on the table. "Adam, do you know how shitty that makes me feel? That you wasted your money on an engagement ring that is for nothing—just because you think I might be pregnant?"

That's it. I don't fucking get her at all. There is no logic to the shit she is saying. "You make no sense, woman. I love you. I don't know why you don't believe it, or can't accept it or whatever...but I do. Since I apparently can't help myself when it comes to loving you,please explain to me why in the fuck I wouldn't want to show you that? Especially in this situation we are in? Me, loving you—me, showing you that I will be there for you—it's at least maybe a small factor you should consider when you make your decision about taking that pill. And if it turns out that you don't take the pill and you are pregnant—why wouldn't we be together? Committed? A family?"

"Because of this!!!" She screams, gesturing between the two of us. "Because we fight. Because it will never work. Because we will break up the band and mess up a kid!!!"

"THE ONLY FUCKING THING WE FIGHT ABOUT IS THIS!!!" She flinches at my volume, and I put my closed fist in my mouth and bite my knuckle, trying not to yell again. I take a step toward her. She takes a step back. "Mac...if you would just...love me and let me love you, it would be all right. I promise. We would be okay."

"You can't know that. And I...I can't do that..." she gestures to the ring and crosses her arms. Her face is hard, but I see her eyes are watery.

"Fuck!" I stalk into the bathroom and return with the goddamn morning after pill. "Take it!" I growl at her. "Fucking take it and let's end this insanity."

She stares at the box. "No," she says quietly. "I don't want to."

"What the fuck does that mean, Mac? That you want to maybe have my kid, but you don't want to be with me?"

"I don't know!" she shouts. "I just know, I don't want to take that pill right now. And it's not your fucking decision! You can't make me take that pill and you can't make me marry you, either!"

Goddammit, I take it back.

She is fucking insane.

Yesterday she was yelling at me because I didn't want her to take it. Today she is yelling at me because I want her to. I want to punch a fucking wall right now. I don't know what to do.

The anger coursing through me finds an outlet. I crush the Plan B box I'm still holding. I grab the ring. I fling the balcony door open.

I hurl both the morning after pill and the goddamn ring into the wilds of midtown Atlanta. I watch the arc of the little blue box as it falls.

"Problem solved." I tell her as I stride past her and out her door.

Ha! Who's right? Who's wrong? Who's crazy? (Oh, I know that one--Adam for flinging that ring!!!!) Thoughts?

Please comment/vote/follow/list. I thank you, friends!