I'm with the Band

Chapter 36: Debilitate

I gotta say, I'm not great for home decor. Like, I definitely don't have an eye for it myself. However, I feel like anything I would have decided to decorate my future house with would be better then floor to ceiling posters and memorabilia of my boyfriend. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of him. Kind of have to be when you decide to date a rockstar. But the hundreds of photos, magazine spreads and miniature statues freaked me the fuck out. 

It freaked Leighton out too. At least I thought it did. I honestly couldn't read his expression at this point. The awe mixed with the confusion and maybe a little bit of fear morphed into one as he still battled with laboured breathing. Leighton leaned against the wall of what appeared to be the kitchen. A white and weathered table sat in the middle of the room with matching cabinets lining one side completely. A sliver of sunlight shone through the shutters of the window, illuminating a small section of Leighton-clad walls. 

The man closed his front door shut and walked over to Leighton as he inspected a 3D printed, shirtless figure of himself next to the kitchen entrance. A musty smell hung in the air, probably from the piles and piles of old newspapers documenting the rise of Kill Klub and every time they have been mentioned in the media ever. 

"Do you like it Leighton?" The man asked. The gun now rested by his side but his finger remained next to the trigger. He slicked back his hair as he stared at Leighton's swollen face, completely unbothered by the fact that Leighton was severely hurt. 

Leighton swallowed nervously and looked up at the older man, who was uncomfortably close. I could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to determine how to interact and answer so that we both didn't end up dying in his basement. 

"Yeah," Leighton eventually settled on. "It's great." 

The older man smiled at him like he was the second coming. 

"I got a lot more of this in other parts of the house. I can't wait til you see my records collection. I have every exclusive vinyl and CD you have released. Even the weird Japan one. Do me a favour and never release another CD in Japan. Not your best work." 

The man ran reached out to touch the wall, running his hand over a picture of Leighton in Japan when he was 19 years old. Kanji streaked across the page as Leighton stood over a crowd of people in tight leather pants. The fans reaching out towards him. 

"I'm flattered. Really sir. I am. But, like I said outside, my friend and I are injured. We need a phone. You said it yourself, all of America is looking for us right now. We need to get back to our band mates. The people that did this to us our still out there." Leighton tried to speak in a levelled manner but the man's face grew more and more grim as he spoke. 

"And I'll kill them for what they did to you Leighton. Mark my word. They try and debilitate the best thing to happen to rock music since The Rolling Stones and they will face the barrel of my gun. You don't need the cops. You don't need the hospital. I can have an army here in minutes that will stop at nothing to protect you. We will do what we have to do. No questions asked." 

Leighton shook his head. I looked on, shocked at what this guy had said. I knew we were doomed from the moment we stepped into the house. I wouldn't even be surprised if this guy didn't have a phone. It was clear that he was stalling. I literally couldn't gage whether he was just a fan of Leighton and really wanted these album signed or if he wanted to rip off Leighton's skin and wear it as a coat. 

"Now please Leighton. Ya'll are guests in my house and I would want nothing more then for you to sign my Leighton Adler one of a kind scrapbook I made of you. Now you stay here in the kitchen and I'll be right back. Don't you move now."