Damn, He Can't Compare

17. caught out

August 29th, 1986. Hotel in Venice. 10:12 A.M.

The hotel room given to us in Venice was huge, way bigger than any of the other ones we had been staying in before, not that I'm complaining. Curt was out, somewhere, he always left before I woke up and comes back around lunch time.

I sat down at the desk and attempted to read a book from one of the shelves, but I couldn't concentrate on anything but the room. We were only going to be here for tonight's show, then back on the road to another city.

I might as well make the most of it, I thought to myself, making my way over to the large bathroom with held a double bath in it. For no reason at all, I left the door wide open. I turn the tap water on and wait for it to heat up, in the mean time I slipped my clothes off and threw them to the side.

When it's ready, I step into the tub, immediately basking in the warmth of the water as it soothes my achy legs. I lay on my back in the tub, bubbles covered the surface of the water, only the top of my body stuck out.

I heard the hotel door open, thinking it was my husband, I called out to him. "Curt?" I sang merrily from the bathroom. Instead Roland sloped his body against the door frame, I exhaled out in slight relief. His eyes steadily gaze to the water and inspects my nude body lying under. It felt so natural, him looking at my naked body and exposed breast.

He sat down on the edge of the bath and dipping his hand into the water's surface. His ring glistened under it, before he takes it out and stands back up, pulling his shirt over his head. I beamed with happiness, splashing around as he unbuckles his belt and takes his jeans off.

I pull my knees up to my chest, as he steps in as well. He sinks down into the bubbles covering his entire body before coming back up, his hair trailed down the side of his neck and his skin was shiny.

We decide to climb out of the bath and dry off. Instead, I found myself racing across the hall and into his room, he sprawled me across the bed and draped his body over mine, reaching for a rubber he kept in the nightstand.

August 29th, 1986. Hotel in Venice. 11:07 A.M.

Afterwards, Roland answered the door to room service in his boxers. I was still naked and my hair dripping wet on top of the sheets. He placed the plate of moldy cheese and crackers onto the dresser, takes a piece and eats it.

I scrunch my nose up at it, "Oh, god that's disgusting." He takes another piece and is about to eat it when the hotel door flies open to Manny. All three of us freeze like a deer's in headlights, Roland and I glance at each other quickly.

I throw on one of Kate's dresses fast, Manny's mouth gasped open, he slowly starts taking steps back, the word "Curt." Falls out, and off he goes, running down the hall. Roland sprints after him, all I hear is a loud thud and then Roland dragging Manny back to the room.

He throws him on the ground, as I close the door and block it off. Manny scrambled to his feet again, while Roland grabbed the cheese knife off the plate and walked back over. My throat closed up as Roland's stare burned through Manny, who's hands were clenched angrily to his sides.

Roland grabs him by the shirt and shoves him against the wall. The back of his head smashed against it hard, causing him to groan out. Swearing at him between gasps, "You're- a damn f-ckin-g psycho, you- know that?" Manny says, obviously mad but could do little with the knife being held against his throat. This was so unlike Roland and we both knew it.

"Stop!" I begged him, "You're going to kill him!" He leaned to Manny's ear, "Don't tell anyone." He growls, running the blade against the bone of his jaw.

Manny slides down the wall, covering the bloody part of his face while Roland dropped the knife and ran out of the hotel room with a handful of clothes, to who the hell knows where. I knelled down besides Manny and gave him a huge hug, apologising  over and over, "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." I repeated until he told me to shut up.