I lay staring at the ceiling of my hotel room, morning sunlight filtering through the drapes as Roberta snored softly in the other bed. Sometimes I got my own room and sometimes I shared, but for once I was glad for the company. If I'd been alone, I would have be too tempted to give into the emotional maelstrom that was churning inside me ever since my encounters with James the day before. I wanted to cry, I wanted to howl...but hadn't I done enough of that over the years? Seeing him only reinforced how fractured I still was.
But the thing that was most disturbing, the thing that had kept me up most of the night, was recalling those few moments where the pain and heartbreak were forgotten and it was just Jamie and Leila, the connection as strong as it had always been. That dormant part of me had come alive, and though it was amazing to feel whole again, it just made this morning's reality all the more painful.
Forcing myself out of bed, I took a long hot shower and went to wake up Roberta. She was hung over from the previous night's festivities, so it was a quiet room service breakfast and then we packed our stuff and headed over with the rest of GNR to the airstrip to catch the chartered plane to take us to that evening's show in New York. As I climbed from the van, a limo pulled up next to us and the Metallica boys piled out, most of them looking the worse for wear. Only James seemed sober as he pinned me with those blue eyes that never failed to make me weak in the knees. He looked like he wanted to come over and say something, but he must have thought better of it and instead turned and boarded their plane. I watched him go, doing a poor job, I knew, of hiding my confusion and hurt.
"Good morning sunshine." Kirk came over and gave me a hug, but not before I saw the sympathy in his eyes.
"I missed hearing you say that," I whispered against his ear as I hugged him back.
Pulling back, we smiled at each other.
"You ok?" he asked kindly.
My lips twisted into a grimace as I shrugged. "It is what it is. I'll get through it."
"Well, I'm really happy to see you. I missed you. We all missed you."
The implication was clear, which only added to my confusion.
Before I could say anything, Lars came over grinning. "So you weren't a drunken mirage, yer really here. Damn, that was something. Of all the places."
He shook his head in amazement. Then he caught sight of the large GNR group boarding their plane and I could see the wheels turning in his head. Uh oh.
"We're stealin' Leila!" he called out cheerfully as he looped an arm around my shoulders and practically dragged me to the other plane.
Rather than make an embarrassing scene, I let him lead me towards the Metallica jet. "Lars, what are you doing?" I hissed as he practically pushed me up the gangway.
"You'll thank me later."
"I'll kill you later is more like it," I muttered.
He gave me a gentle shove through the door of the plane and I stumbled through.
James was sitting at the back staring out the window, when he looked up sharply at my entrance. "Leila..."
"Look who's joinin' us for the flight," Lars called out from behind me.
James looked past me and shot his band mate a death stare. "This isn't a good ide—"
"It's a fuckin' awesome idea! The old crew back together...we have a shitload to catch up on."
Clearly James didn't want me there, and suddenly I was pissed at his hot and cold attitude. Fuck him, I was going to stay for the flight and catch up with my friends, and he could just suck it. Finding a spot across the aisle and up a seat from him, I made a big show of storing my large tote and purse in the over seat storage. Stretching up, I made sure to expose as much midriff as possible before "dropping" a magazine and bending over to pick it up, my ass encased in tight denim pointed right at his face. I could hear the sound of a sharp breath being sucked in, and I felt a small victory for being able to still affect him, at least on a carnal level. Settling into my seat I caught Lars watching me from across the aisle, and he just shook his head in amusement, a pleased smirk plastered on his face.
We taxied out and within minutes we were winging through the sky towards New York. Despite Lars' claim that I was on the flight to "catch up", he was asleep before the plane left the ground. I tried to read my magazine, but it was impossible to focus with James sitting just a few feet away. Though I wasn't looking at him, I could feel him as easily as if I was touching him. I wondered if it was the same for him or had that connection only been one-sided, just like my feelings? That thought hit me hard and suddenly tears were tickling the back of my eyelids. I squeezed my eyes tight; crying in the middle of the Metallica jet was not an option. Keeping them closed, eventually I drifted off to sleep.
At one point I was vaguely aware of something soft being draped over me, but I drifted right out again, only to wake up awhile later, the fingers of a bad dream still tapping around the edges of my conscious mind. Sighing, I was about to stretch and sit up when I became aware of a whispered argument from the seats behind me.
"Jesus man, what more of a sign do you need?" Lars was asking someone. "I mean, what are the fuckin' chances? You have an opportunity to make this right."
Who was he talking to and what was it that could be made right I wondered?
"Don't you think I've thought about that thousands of times before over the years?" The low rumble of Jamie's voice was unmistakable. "Of course I have... but it's too late. And nothing's really changed."
"What hasn't changed?" Lars was quick to ask.
James was silent.
"For fucks sake"—I could hear the genuine frustration in Lars' voice—"all this time and you still won't tell me why you blew up the best thing you had goin'."
"I thought the band was the best thing I had goin'."
It was easy to detect the irritation in James' retort.
"No, that's the best thing I have going." Lars' tone softened then. "You had something a fuckin' whole lot better."
There was silence for a moment.
"Lars, I don't wanna fuckin' talk about this, especially not now."
There was a pause, and I could sense that they were looking over at me.
"Leila's asleep," the drummer muttered. "But maybe I should go wake her up and you can tell her yourself why yer such an idiot."
My breath caught in my throat. They were talking about me, about James and me. I strained to hear Jamie's response.
"You do and I'll fuckin' lay you flat. I mean it. She's...she's suffered enough because of me."
I felt a wave of emotion hit me at his words. He didn't know the half of it.
"All the more reason to make things ri—"
"Just let it go Lars."
"I can't." He let out a sigh. "And it's obvious, neither have you."
Before James could respond, I could hear the drummer get up and return to his seat across from mine. I tried to keep my breathing steady but my brain was full of a million conflicting thoughts and emotions. I couldn't really make sense of all the double talk, but one thing seemed true, though it was at odds with what I'd believed for a long time, Jamie cared about me. That should have made me felt better, instead I just felt more confused.
A few minutes later, the pilot announced our descent and I pretended to wake-up, stretching my muscles out. I was surprised to find a blanket had been laid over me while I slept. Looking over my shoulder, I caught James' eye. Suspecting that it had been him, when he looked down in embarrassment, my suspicion was confirmed.
The landing was smooth, and before I knew it, we'd come to a halt, a gangway was brought over and the door opened, humid summer air seeping into the cabin. The band and the couple tour management types who'd been on the flight, got up and started collecting their things to debark. I stood up too and opened the bin to get my bags. My tote was within easy reach but my purse had slid to the far corner and was just out of my grasp. Stretching on my tippy toes, I tried again unsuccessfully to reach the bag. Suddenly I felt someone come up behind me. I knew it was Jamie as he pressed himself against me, easily reaching up and over me to retrieve my bag. The feel of his tall, lean body against my back was intoxicating. We stood there for a moment unmoving, the air buzzing with energy. Finally, I turned slowly and tilted my head to look up at him. Knowing now that he cared for me on some level, I couldn't help but feel my resentment soften a little. He'd still fucked up bad, but he seemed shamed over that fact, even now. My head was hollering at me to be smart and keep up my protective wall, my heart was laughing maniacally as it took a sledge hammer to that wall.
"Thanks," I murmured, suddenly feeling shy.
He met my gaze and up close I could see into the depths of his eyes, and I could have sworn I recognized emotions there, deep and powerful ones I had thought only existed in my imagination.
He broke eye contact, looking down at his feet. "Yeah, sure," he mumbled, still avoiding my gaze.
I was disappointed that the moment was over so quickly, but it left me reeling all the same. In less than twenty-four hours, I was starting to see other sides to the enigma that was James Hetfield. Over the years I'd called him every name in the book, compared him to Satan and claimed him to be without feelings or humanity. I was wrong, even back then I knew it was untrue, but seeing it in the flesh was unsettling. Clearly there was more going on than I understood.
"Ok." I took a step back, trying to cover my confusion with a small smile. "Thanks for the lift."
I turned away, immediately berating myself for my obvious awkwardness.
Thanks for the lift? God what an idiot!
"Hey Leila." He stopped me right as I was about to exit the plane, and I paused to look back where he still stood in the aisle, a bemused smile on his face. "It's really good to see you again."
I didn't know what to say to that, so instead I just nodded and headed outside, taking in mouthfuls of air to fill lungs that had suddenly forgotten how to breathe.
~
Hours later after a shower and an iced latte, I finally felt even keel again and ready for the day's performance. We'd barely dropped our stuff off at our Manhattan hotel before we were all being whisked off across the river to New Jersey. Tracey, Roberta, and I were running through our usual three part harmony warm-ups while I finished up my hair and make-up in the shared dressing room, when there was a knock at the door. Tracey answered thinking it was her boyfriend, who was a member of the GNR road crew, but instead she called me over. Kirk was standing at the door looking slightly embarrassed at intruding on us.
"Sorry for interrupting, I just wanted to grab Leila." He smiled. "By the way, you all sound amazing. The voices of angels."
"Ok, you're officially my favorite person on this tour." Roberta smirked from her spot in front of the make-up mirror.
Kirk laughed as we stepped out into the hall to chat.
"What's up?" I asked, smiling warmly.
"Well, Lars and I were wondering if you'd come watch our set."
"Oh I don't know if that's a good idea..."
"Come on Lei, forget about James. We just wanna share this with you. There was a time when we were practically family, and we want you to see how far we've come from those days jamming at the Mansion in El Cerrito."
"God that place was a shit hole."
"Yeah." He smiled in remembrance. "But we had a lot of good times."
"Yeah." Memories of happier times flashed through my head. "We really did."
I didn't tell him I'd watched some of the show the day before in D.C., but looking into his persuasive brown eyes, I knew I couldn't say no. "Of course I'll come."
He beamed happily as he looped an arm around my shoulders and we headed towards the backstage, using the brief chance to catch-up a little.
Lars saw us approach and came over to say hi. "Glad you said yes." He grinned. "We put on a fuckin' kick-ass show...if I do say so myself."
"You usually do say so," Kirk and I chimed in unison.
We all looked at each other and started laughing, just as James and Jason chose that moment to arrive.
"What's so funny?" Jason asked, grinning.
"These two are bustin' my balls." Lars tried to look offended, but his wide smile destroyed the effect.
"I didn't think you even had balls to bust," James countered, raising a mocking eyebrow at the drummer.
"You can all fuck off."
We snickered at Lars' attempt at coming off as a badass.
"So Leila's gonna stay and watch the show," Kirk announced, steering me over to spot that was just at the edge of the stage.
I looked sideways at James' reaction, but he kept his face neutral, nodding instead. "Cool."
Cool? Cool?
Sigh.
The guys stretched and practiced unplugged for a few minutes, getting themselves more and more pumped up for the show. This was all so familiar, except for Cliff's glaring absence, it was as if no time had passed. They gathered for the huddle and Lars gave me a pointed to look to come join them, but I shook my head. Something in my eyes must have told him to let it be. I needed to keep some distance, it was getting harder and harder to remember that so much had changed.
The opening music started up and the guys gave one last group hug before breaking apart to collect their instruments. Surreptitiously, I watched James down half of a beer that was handed to him and then wipe his mouth on his wrist band. Before I could look away, he pinned me with his gaze, and I wondered if he was remembering all the times we were together like this moments before a show. Just before he went out onto the stage, he would always come and pull me close and give me one last kiss. In that moment, the band, the crowd, everything just went away, and it was only about the two of us. I often thought that he needed that moment of connection before he went out and laid himself bare on the stage. A reminder that I was in his corner and I loved him, and he somehow drew strength from that.
He must have seen something in my eyes, because his own eyes darkened and he took a couple steps in my direction before being intercepted by his guitar tech. The guy spoke into James' ear, I assumed giving him last minute notes, but James was still looking at me, his gaze intense. The tech gave James the thumbs up and stood there expectantly, waiting for him to head onstage. With one last lingering look in my direction, he settled his guitar low in front of him and strode out onto the stage along with the rest of the band, the crowd going nuts.
Leaning against a rigging tower, I watched their set, and despite my initial reservations, I enjoyed watching their performance, especially now that the anxiety of meeting James face to face has come and gone. Knowing he couldn't see me from his spot down at the front of the stage, I was free to let my gaze follow him as he performed, and I was struck anew by how much he'd changed. When last I'd seen him, he'd had a youthful energy, bounding around with a shit eating grin, head-banging in time to Lars and Cliff's rhythms. Now he prowled across the stage, a larger than life personality that was somehow menacing and sexy at the same time.
Towards the end of their set, he swapped out guitars and then went to sit on the stairs that were centered upstage, and started in on the ballad I'd heard the previous day. My stomach clenched tight as the beautiful melody echoed through the hushed stadium, and just like yesterday, I was struck by the lyrics and the emotion in his voice.
He leaned into the mic to sing those poignant words, "...and nothing else matters."
I noticed, with a start, that I was now in his line of sight and he was looking straight at me, his stare unwavering. Throughout the rest of the song, he looked to me often, our gazes catching and holding time and time again. If I'd only theorized before that the song was written about us, the look in his eyes as he sang the song to me, seemed to confirm it.
When the song ended and he made his way back to his mic towards the front of the stage, I was left trembling, deeply shaken by the vulnerability that only James could expose in me. Overwhelmed, I headed back towards the dressing rooms, deciding I'd had enough emotional turmoil for one day. Half way there I remembered Kirk and Lars; I couldn't be an asshole and bail on them, not when I knew how much it meant for them to share their success. Sighing in defeat, I turned back and found another place to wait in the wings, tucked out of the way of the busy crew.
Finally James said goodnight to the crowd and the guys headed offstage. I watched covertly as he took the towel that someone handed him and wiped the sweat from his face. Handing it back, I could see him looking around expectantly, and before I could wonder who or what he was looking for, his eyes fell on me and he broke into a wide grin.
Damn that fucking megawatt smile of his!
Towel guy gave him a beer next, and he took it before striding over to where I stood. That goofy grin was still plastered on his face as he tipped his head back and took a deep swallow from the cup. I watched beads of sweat trickle down his neck and had to look away. Post gig sweaty James had always been too much of a turn on for me. I wondered if he remembered that too as he took another long swig. A little bit ended up on his mustache, and I reached out without thinking and swiped it off with my thumb. Fortunately, I stopped before embarrassing myself by licking the liquid from my appendage, something I used to do to turn him on. We'd made a game out of turning up the sexual tension, until we barely made it somewhere private to jump each other. His jaw tightened and I knew he was remembering those times too.
Mutely he gave me the beer, and automatically I took a sip, the coldness of the drink a relief to my suddenly parched throat. Feeling a drop on my lip, I reached up but James beat me to it, using his thumb to wipe the liquid from my lower lip and then sucking it into his mouth. My eyes widened as heat and desire rushed through my body at breakneck speed. My hands began to itch with the need to touch him and I could feel myself reaching for him, half aware that he was reaching for me too.
"James, we need you onstage for the encore."
It was the same guy who had interrupted us earlier. I was starting to hate that guy.
Taking a step back, I tried my best to smile, pretending that I hadn't just almost completely destroyed the façade that I had carefully constructed. The one where I was done and moved on. I was over him. I was completely and absolutely over him.
He was looking at me with those soulful eyes, his brow furrowed as if couldn't quite understand his own impulses. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was just as unsettled as me. Giving me another hard look, he turned and walked back out onto the stage.
The band started their encore as the crew rushed around me, but I was barely aware as I tried to bite down on my disappointment. Damn I had wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it with every fiber of my being. What the hell was wrong with me? Things were confusing and fucked up between us, I didn't know if we were friends or foes, but I wanted to feel his lips on mine all the same.
The guys played two more songs before finishing for the night. I waited patiently for Lars and Kirk to towel off, pretending not to notice that James had peeled off his t-shirt, his torso gleaming with sweat. Cups of beer and water were handed out and James took a swallow, his eyes on me. I felt my hands begin to itch again. Why did he have to be so damn—
"Leila?"
I didn't realize that Kirk had been trying to get my attention. I flushed with embarrassment as I apologized. "Sorry, what was that?"
"What'd you think of the show?"
My heart swelled with genuine pride as I gave him a heartfelt grin. "Un-fuckin-believable! Truly. I'm just so proud of what you"—I looked at James then—"what all of you have accomplished."
The guys were grinning broadly, except for Jamie, he was staring at me pensively. "You always believed in us," he said quietly, his forehead creased. "You said we were going to be huge. How did you know that? Especially back then when we could barely keep our shit together?"
Instead of the hugely successful front man standing in front of me, who only minutes earlier had commanded the attention and adoration of an entire stadium, it was the shy and insecure boy who'd never believed or understood his own self-worth. I barely even noticed as Lars, Kirk, and Jason discreetly stepped away, leaving us alone.
"I just saw how your music connected with people. You understood their pain...their frustrations...and voiced it in a way that they didn't know how to. You let them know that they weren't alone, they weren't outsiders...they mattered."
He took a couple steps towards me, almost as if he couldn't stop himself.
"Just like you always did for me." His voice was hoarse with emotion.
I sucked in a sharp breath at the significance of his words and the sincerity in his voice. What the hell was he trying to do to me?
"I should get going," I mumbled, feeling my emotions bubbling to the surface. "I need to finish getting ready."
Without waiting for a reply I quickly moved past him, needing as much physical distance as possible. Every moment in James' company only added to my confusion. My anger and pain were being slowly wiped away and replaced with renewed feelings that were dangerous to consider. I needed to stay away from him. I didn't want answers anymore, not if it meant falling back into the rabbit hole. I was terrified that with very little effort, he was going to make me fall in love with him all over again.