Without You, chapter 5
Jemma had challenged him intellectually while stimulating him sexually. She'd mothered him when he was sick, which was quite often. She'd set free inner feelings that he'd often tried avoiding. Her beauty, both inner and physical, was something he wanted, yet when she was his, he did everything conceivable to lose her. He turned to the second page. He had no idea how many times he'd masturbated to this photo. Every other day perhaps. It was just a snapshot he'd taken of her while on vacation in Las Vegas.
In photo form, the wind blew her long hair away from her face and she was smiling. Behind her was the Caesar's Palace hotel where they'd spent the better part of two weeks in the penthouse suite.
It was a typical tourist photo but it was her smile that turned him on. It was so free from pain. Billie would do anything to have her smile for him like she had in the photograph. He'd do anything to have her lips, her body again.
He unbuttoned his leather pants. Before beginning his self-stimulation, he pulled himself over to the night-table refrigerator and removed an unopened bottle of Dom Perignon champagne. The bottle opened with a loud pop and smoke billowed from the top, but no liquid spilled.
Sipping deeply from the bottle, he flipped through the photo album that was all too short, carefully avoiding the final page. He rarely looked at the last page. As always, he wound up back on page two.
With the bottle two-thirds empty, he pulled his pants and briefs down to his knees and poured the remaining champagne onto his palms.
This was part of the ritual. Fine champagne was something he and Jemma enjoyed sharing. He could still share it with her. His thoughts began to slip.
It was during one of their final dinner dates that she had said something that inspired him to write the most beautiful song of his career. "I can't live with you and I can't live without you," he could hear her saying as if it were just yesterday. Words flowed from pen to paper faster than he could write.
Billie concluded that this was his private way of explaining all that had happened between them. The song "Without You," was not an apology, it was his side of the story. It was rock 'n' roll sincerity that sold over three million copies in the U.S., topping the record sales charts and putting the Billie Mann Group on top of the rock world. He offered Jemma half of the royalties from the song because without her there would be no song. She politely declined.
A sold-out Billie Mann Group tour ensued. When the tour arrived in Los Angeles, Billie Joe desperately wanted to see her. No matter how many women he had, no matter how over her he told everyone he was, he'd do anything for her except let her permanently slip out of his life.
He'd called her a dozen times over the course of two days, leaving message after message on her answering machine. Even though she never responded, he'd left her ten All-Access passes at Will Call. She never showed.
After the show, Billie vowed he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. He quickly showered, changed into dry clothing, and left, avoiding all the backstage hoopla. He and his driver headed for Jemma's apartment.
Using the phone in the limousine, he dialled her from the street below her apartment. Again he was greeted by a recorded message.
"Jemma, I know-I hope you're there. I'm downstairs and even if I have to break down the door to see you, I'm willing. If you're gonna call the cops, well, call 'em now. . . I don't expect anything from you. I don't deserve anything . . . Fuck, I don't even know what I'm trying to say other than I still care about you. Words can't heal what I've done but, fuck, the past is done . . . I really need to see your face again," Billie softly explained after the beep. The words still echoed in his mind as he wondered if he could've possibly phrased things differently.
It was too late now, he thought, already inside the building. This was one of the rare occasions after a gig that Billie Joe was sober. As he arrived by way of elevator at her floor, he heard familiar music. The closer he got to her door the louder the volume grew. Then his world began to spin uncontrollably as a loud gunshot echoed through the hallway.
In photo form, the wind blew her long hair away from her face and she was smiling. Behind her was the Caesar's Palace hotel where they'd spent the better part of two weeks in the penthouse suite.
It was a typical tourist photo but it was her smile that turned him on. It was so free from pain. Billie would do anything to have her smile for him like she had in the photograph. He'd do anything to have her lips, her body again.
He unbuttoned his leather pants. Before beginning his self-stimulation, he pulled himself over to the night-table refrigerator and removed an unopened bottle of Dom Perignon champagne. The bottle opened with a loud pop and smoke billowed from the top, but no liquid spilled.
Sipping deeply from the bottle, he flipped through the photo album that was all too short, carefully avoiding the final page. He rarely looked at the last page. As always, he wound up back on page two.
With the bottle two-thirds empty, he pulled his pants and briefs down to his knees and poured the remaining champagne onto his palms.
This was part of the ritual. Fine champagne was something he and Jemma enjoyed sharing. He could still share it with her. His thoughts began to slip.
It was during one of their final dinner dates that she had said something that inspired him to write the most beautiful song of his career. "I can't live with you and I can't live without you," he could hear her saying as if it were just yesterday. Words flowed from pen to paper faster than he could write.
Billie concluded that this was his private way of explaining all that had happened between them. The song "Without You," was not an apology, it was his side of the story. It was rock 'n' roll sincerity that sold over three million copies in the U.S., topping the record sales charts and putting the Billie Mann Group on top of the rock world. He offered Jemma half of the royalties from the song because without her there would be no song. She politely declined.
A sold-out Billie Mann Group tour ensued. When the tour arrived in Los Angeles, Billie Joe desperately wanted to see her. No matter how many women he had, no matter how over her he told everyone he was, he'd do anything for her except let her permanently slip out of his life.
He'd called her a dozen times over the course of two days, leaving message after message on her answering machine. Even though she never responded, he'd left her ten All-Access passes at Will Call. She never showed.
After the show, Billie vowed he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. He quickly showered, changed into dry clothing, and left, avoiding all the backstage hoopla. He and his driver headed for Jemma's apartment.
Using the phone in the limousine, he dialled her from the street below her apartment. Again he was greeted by a recorded message.
"Jemma, I know-I hope you're there. I'm downstairs and even if I have to break down the door to see you, I'm willing. If you're gonna call the cops, well, call 'em now. . . I don't expect anything from you. I don't deserve anything . . . Fuck, I don't even know what I'm trying to say other than I still care about you. Words can't heal what I've done but, fuck, the past is done . . . I really need to see your face again," Billie softly explained after the beep. The words still echoed in his mind as he wondered if he could've possibly phrased things differently.
It was too late now, he thought, already inside the building. This was one of the rare occasions after a gig that Billie Joe was sober. As he arrived by way of elevator at her floor, he heard familiar music. The closer he got to her door the louder the volume grew. Then his world began to spin uncontrollably as a loud gunshot echoed through the hallway.
