That Blue Gibson

CH 74

By the time Taylor caught up with Dave, he had already downed three shots of whiskey and was impatiently waiting for a fourth.

Taylor leaned an elbow against the bartop next to him, "You know you're way in the wrong here, dude."

Dave straightened his spine and glared at his friend, then swiped his freshly poured shot and threw it back. "I should have fucking known you'd side with her," he muttered, throwing his shoulder into Taylor's when he stalked past him. 

Taylor sighed and shook his head at the bartender, effectively cutting Dave off. He ordered a couple tall glasses of water and watched Dave stomp away, knowing things were bad when even the drunkest of fans recognized the look on Dave's face and shied away instead of asking for a photo. 

"Go ahead," Taylor sighed and folded into a wooden chair at the tiny table he found Dave at. "Get it all out."

Dave straightened up in his chair and held his hand in front of his face, resting his elbow on the table top as he counted off on his fingers. "One, she has a fucking busted head and shouldn't be alone. Two, I have that big ass empty house where it's just me and occasionally the girls, who are fucking dying to meet her and she still fucking insists on some shitty rental out on the coast. It's like an hour's drive from me!" 

Taylor listened carefully, watching the crowd milling around the other side of their table. 

"Three during rush hour," Dave added miserably and it took everything Taylor had in him not to laugh. He looked like a petulant child that was told he didn't have enough tickets at the prize counter.  

"All right, ready?" Taylor shifted to look him in the eye. "Put your goddamn fingers back up cause I'm addressing every single one of your complaints." 

Dave shot him a glare out of the corner of his eye. "Fuck you," he muttered into his water glass. 

Taylor ignored him and held his own fingers up, unable to hide his smirk. "One, her head is fine. She couldn't have fixed up that house with her head caved in and you fucking know it. Two, and this one is multidimensional so pay attention. Yes, you're alone in that big ass house, but your loneliness doesn't mean she needs to uproot herself and her kids just to make you feel better. Do you honestly expect her to meet the girls when she's knee deep in packing peanuts? 'Hi, I'm Liz, I'm moving into your Daddy's room because I'm your new Mommy!'"

Dave practically lunged at Taylor, "Fuck you, Hawkins. You know that's not-"

"Phee is going to see it that way, dude. She's three." Dave's silence was the only answer Taylor needed. "Jesus, Disco. Give the poor girl some space. Meet her family, get to know her better, let things happen naturally. You do this every time."

"I do not."

"No? You don't find some amazing woman and spend every waking moment aggressively wooing her until you're latched on like a goddamn barnacle? You rush into things because you think she'll find something better before you can get your hooks in. There's more than just your feelings in play this time, man. You have to consider the kids and above all, her."

Dave crossed his arms in a huff, letting Taylor know that everything he had said was accurate. "Just a couple months ago you were begging me not to see her."

Taylor snorted into his glass. "Say that again, but slowly."

Just a couple months. Fuck. 

*

"David!" Paul's cheerful voice called through the phone after several rings. "I have a feeling I know why you rang..."

"Hi, you wouldn't happen to have my girlfriend, would you?" Dave moved his coffee mug off of the note Liz had left him and re-read her handwriting. By the time he had woken up that morning, Liz was gone and a note stating she was at Abbey Road with Paul lay in her place on the pillow. The rest of the night before had been tense, but civil for the sake of the cameras that had discovered their presence on the streets of London, though she did burrow her way into his arms when she finally came to bed. It felt as if they were at an impasse and all he wanted was to get back to normal.