One Last Verse

by N. N. Britt

  I heard Maria and noted Ashton steering Isabella into one of the dressing rooms. A roll of thunder came from the lobby. Soft at first, the footfalls grew stronger and louder, overtaking the crackling walkie-talkies and the background music.

  In a blink, Frank was swept away by security and I was escorted to one of the lounges, where Levi was entertaining some of the sponsors and potential donors.

  Over-caffeinated and confused, I breezed through the crowd on autopilot, willing myself to concentrate on the present and not the past, but all my mind could think about was Frank. The thought of seeing him again churned my stomach.

  Gut up, girlfriend, my inner voice said. You’re the shit. You’re the shit! Screw this rich asshole trying to ruin your night.

  Shaking off my unease, I smiled as the people in front of me shook hands. Contrary to Frank’s belief, the world didn’t revolve around him and I wasn’t going to let him steal all the limelight.

  “Don’t you own an iron?” I mouthed at Levi as we crossed paths while bouncing between the guests.

  “I was in a hurry.” He gritted his teeth and moved on to the next person.

  A beat later, we met at the bar. “There’s probably a steamer somewhere upstairs,” I said, shaking my head. “You can’t do Q&A looking like the guy who lives under the bridge on Ninth and 110.”

  He lifted his left foot to show off his prized Doc Martens. “Make it Beverly and 101.” Amusement came into his eyes.

  “Okay, so you want to be a hipster bum.” I snorted out a quiet laugh. Never a dull moment with my partner in crime.

  Levi waggled his thick brows and nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Says a Jewish dude from Santa Monica.”

  “That’s how I roll, baby.” He spread his arms and clicked his tongue.

  “Let’s go fix this horror show.” I pointed at his chest. “I know you’re going for a Kurt Cobain feel, but my OCD can’t take this.”

  All the staff had migrated downstairs and no one except for two guards were on the deck when we went up. My phone squawked as I entered the office.

  “I can’t find parking!” my mother shouted on the line.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m next to a big blue truck.”

  “At the rear of the building?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, hang on.” I killed the call and dialed Ashton’s number. “Mom just got here. Can you please go out and meet her? Grab a parking pass from Linda.”

  “Okay,” he said in a singsong voice.

  “And hurry!”

  I slid the phone back into my pocket and absently stared at the items sitting on the shelf in the corner. There, among pencils, notebooks, and old tapes lay a small portable steamer.

  I spun around and shot my question at Levi. “Did you know Frank was coming?”

  He’d already taken off his hoodie and was working his way down the buttons on the front placket of his wrinkled shirt. “Yes. I knew.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I plugged the steamer into the nearest outlet and flipped the switch.

  “I’m not at liberty to say.” He shrugged.

  “Are you serious?” Fury filled my chest. “We work our asses off for eight months and he comes and steals all the thunder?”

  The fact that Frank had ambushed me outweighed the fact that he was possibly behind Margerie’s sudden change of heart. I was upset, to say the least.

  Without a word, Levi pulled off his shirt. We stared at each other intensely, but he didn’t grant me an explanation.

  “Fine,” I grumbled under my breath and motioned at his shirt. “Hold it up.”

  “It was supposed to be a surprise.” Frank’s voice came from the doorway.

  My heart dropped to my stomach. I tore my gaze from the steamer and glanced at him over Levi’s naked shoulder.

  The deep quiet that fell over the three of us pushed against my chest. My hands continued to work on Levi’s shirt, but my brain stalled. I didn’t know what to say or where to begin exactly.

  “Do you mind?” Frank took a tentative step forward, entering the office and swallowing up all the air inside.

  When Levi shifted, I ordered, “Don’t move!” Then I returned my attention to the shirt. He froze at my command like a kid who’d done something wrong. “Let me finish it.” I needed a human shield. Another body to protect me from Frank while I gathered all my defenses together.

  The thick clouds of steam dancing in front of my face obscured the lines of his silhouette. Hands in his pockets, he stood in the center of the room and patiently waited for me to finish tidying up Levi’s shirt. Minutes passed. None of us spoke. Long, awkward silence stretched, testing everyone’s limits.

  The fabric was as straight as a framed piece of paper. Another second, and it was going to combust.

  “I think it’s good, Cass,” Levi finally said. “Thanks.”

  Mute, he moved to the side to put on his clothes. I shut off the steamer and set it on the desk. My gaze avoided Frank’s. Talking to him was inevitable, but my denial waged a war with my common sense. They fought ruthlessly inside my head as I watched Levi exit the office. In a rush, he left the door slightly ajar and the distant hum of the crowd downstairs reminded me that I couldn’t be gone long. This wasn’t the time or the place to discuss our romantic relationship.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Frank spoke, voice deep and steady.

  “Why are you here?” Summoning all my courage, I looked into his eyes. They were just the way I remembered them—bright, gunmetal blue, and hauntingly beautiful. My pulse spiked. My tongue stuck to the top of my mouth.

  Again, he didn’t give me any warning. Closing the distance between us with two wide strides, he palmed my cheeks and said, “Baby, listen to me.” His thumbs brushed my temples. “I need to tell you this before you see the final cut, okay?”

  Panic raced through my blood. I’d seen the final cut. Two weeks ago at Levi’s place. All ninety minutes. Everything we’d recorded and collected over the past eight months.

  “I can’t do this right now,” I squealed, my face hot from his touch. My fingers curled around his wrists with every intent to free myself from his grip, but I didn’t. Instead, I let his warmth fill me from head to toe.

  “I know you’re mad at me,” Frank continued. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I needed to go away for a bit. I needed to clear my mind and figure out what to do with the rest of my life.”

  “I’m glad you took the time to work on your issues.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I didn’t want to make more promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.”

  “Good.” I nodded and pulled his palms down, away from my face.

  “I missed you like crazy.”

  “Well, hate to disappoint you, but I was too busy sorting through the pile of shit you left us with to miss you.”

  “I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but I am sorry.”

  “Why are you here, Frank? To capitalize on our work? You had the opportunity to be part of this project… Do you expect me to welcome you with open arms?”

  “No. I want another chance. I’ve been sober for over two months.”

  “So you checked yourself out of rehab? Come on! You know better than that.”

  “It’s not like that, doll. I’m only here for the event and my sponsor is here with me. Alisha. You just met her. We’re flying back to Arizona tomorrow.” He paused to take a breath.

  I felt stupid for being jealous, but my wounded pride didn’t want to give up yet. “How do I know you won’t slip again?”

  “You don’t. And I don’t either because I can only take it one day at a time, but I can promise that I’ll do my best. I’ll work as hard as I can.”

  “We’ve been through this before, Frank. You’ve said that same thing to me but failed to keep your word.”

  “It’s different this time, doll. Please just give me a chance.”

  His chest heaved
. So did mine. Then something between us shifted.

  Memories began to flood my brain. He was so easy to forgive, and it terrified me. My emotional dependency on him terrified me. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to leave you?” Inhaling sharply, I refused to let the tears spill. “It was the hardest choice I’ve had to make in my entire life, but I’m content with it. I’m happy with where I am and who I am. Even if it’s without you.”

  He stared at me intently. “I know, and I’m sorry I put you in a position where you had to choose. I’m sorry I humiliated you. I’m sorry I said those words instead of the ones you deserved, and I’ll work hard for the rest of my days to make it up to you.” Fortitude settled into his features. “I love you and I want you back in my life.”

  I felt it then. A warm balm wrapping around my heart and healing its countless cuts and gashes that I’d endured while being with this man.

  “Frank…” My lower lip trembled as I tried to think of a reason to say no and put an end to it, but nothing seemed good enough. “There are hundreds of people waiting for me downstairs.”

  “I know, and that’s why we’re not going to talk about the things we need to discuss until later, but I need you to know at least this much before you watch the film. I need you to know that I love you more than anything.”

  Our faces were so close, I could almost taste him on my lips, taste his fear and taste his hope. My head spun and my knees shook. My entire body was under some kind of magical spell. There was a certain level of alarming awareness that pricked my skin when he spoke about the film and I feared the worst, but we didn’t have enough time to get into details.

  A light knock dragged me out of my stupor. Then a throat cleared and a head popped in from behind the cracked door. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” one of The Jay Brodie PR girls said, her eyes ogling Frank. “But Linda needs you two for a photo.”

  “Okay. Tell her we’ll be right there,” I replied with a smile. My face was burning and my heart was whamming against my ribcage, restless.

  Once she was gone. Frank whispered, “Please. Just give me a chance, doll.”

  I lay my palm on his chest and stared at the outline of his shoulder. He’d been down and broken so long that seeing him without a sling and with color in his face was strange. “Let’s talk about it later, okay?”

  Downstairs was crazy. Frank and I were separated the instant we entered the lounge after a quick photo op and didn’t get to see each other again until the showing. My mother showered me with a dozen questions about him, but I had no answers. Confusing thoughts that ran through my head only made me hate myself more for wanting to forgive the man. He slid into the seat next to mine moments after Levi had finished his speech. The lights dimmed and a wave of anticipatory whispers rolled through the auditorium. The last three rows, reserved for the VIPs, were sectioned off and crammed full. Security guarded both sides in case someone tried to sneak up for an autograph during the showing. We sat at the very back, surrounded by darkness. Up front, the screen flickered and came alive.

  I could see my mother’s French bun on the first row. Beside her, Janet and Billy seemed to be rekindling their younger years with his arm thrown over her shoulder. Looking around, I noted Brooklyn. Levi’s parents. Some of his college friends. The excitement was palpable. I sensed it with every cell in my body, the electrical charge in the air, the lilt in everyone’s voices as they exchanged murmurs.

  I couldn’t describe the feeling that engulfed me when I saw our names on the screen.

  Bernstein/Evans

  Sweat coated my palms. Dreamcatchers wasn’t just an attempt to bring attention to all the unfairness. This film was a labor of love, sleepless nights, and too much Red Bull and coffee. It was our child.

  The credits on the screen flashed. Soft, soulful music filled the auditorium. This was an all original soundtrack, written by Isabella, Kit, Story, and Andy. We’d also used some of the songs from the bands who’d come forward and donated their time and material to the cause. What I didn’t expect was Frank’s name.

  I knew this wasn’t the cut I’d seen at Levi’s place when a short clip of his first rehearsal visit popped up on the screen. After he was a no-show for the recording of “Afterburn,” Levi and I agreed on deleting all the footage of him from the film. The final cut I’d watched didn’t have any.

  It wasn’t quite clear to me why the theatrical version had the material that had been trashed.

  Mouth agape, I drank in the images running in front of my eyes.

  Next to me, Frank didn’t move or make an attempt to hold my hand. The film was rolling and Isabella’s face appeared on the screen first. Her laughter, bright, loud, and bubbly, poured across the dark rows. It was a pulse-jarring sound of happiness that melted my heart. The interview parts alternated between backstage and concert footage, and Levi had done a great job piecing all the material we’d collected together.

  My heartbeat began to accelerate when Frank’s features entered the frame. He sat in a chair with a lav microphone clipped to his shirt. I could tell this was shot recently by the length of his hair and the sharp, well-defined lines of his cheekbones.

  And then he spoke and it was the most honest thing I’d heard from him since we’d met.

  I have to confess, my relationship with this project is very complicated. I’m not sure how to describe it. Love/hate maybe. I’m the hated one.

  I think the main reason I’m here is because the people who put this film together showed me things I could no longer see myself after being tied to one of the biggest enterprises in the business, and I wanted to share the real story behind who Frankie Blade is and give back.

  When you do something for a long time, it becomes part of you, it takes you over and it tricks you into believing that’s all you can ever be. This was exactly how I felt after my accident. I couldn’t fathom the idea of doing something else. I had the band, I had the name, I had the collection of hits, and I wanted to get back out there and do it again. The same thing I’d been doing for over a decade before the accident tore my body apart. So I spent seven years putting myself back together, just to discover that I couldn't do it anymore.

  Meeting Isabella was eye-opening. She managed to do what I failed—without the backing of a major label, without the backing of a huge fan base, without an impressive bank account—write music and perform.

  I didn’t really see it until after I slipped into a bad depression. It took me a while to come to terms with myself, with my physical condition, with all the changes in my body. I fought it relentlessly at first, and alcohol seemed like the best way to silence all the dark thoughts that constantly filled my head. That pointless fight against time, aging, and health issues cost me friendships and also cost me the woman I love. One can only take so much while living with an alcoholic.

  There was always a certain level of awareness, somewhere deep down, but I ignored all the signs for the longest time. When Isabella and I decided to record “Afterburn” together, I let my insecurities take over. I think being fired from my own band drove me to the point where I couldn’t function at all.

  I have permanent loss of strength in my right shoulder and arm, injuries that were self-inflicted while I was under the influence of alcohol, and blood pressure issues due to my head trauma. All of these health problems prevent me from going back out and doing a two-hour set three times a week, but what I do have is my voice. And that’s the only thing that truly matters.

  I think we all secretly want to see a fit, model-perfect person on stage, because that’s the industry standard, but I believe it’s time we rethink this standard. It’s time we let music be our guide. It’s time we close our eyes and hear a voice. Let that voice make you feel, let it evoke the strongest emotions, let it mend your wounds, and let it love you for who you are. Love your body, love your thoughts, love your skin color, love your accent, love the people around you. Just love.

  Because that’s what music does. It erases borders,
it erases differences. It unites people.

  Now that I see all this, I feel reborn. I’m ready to write new music and I’m ready to move forward.

  Sure, there are regrets. Tons. If I could go back and do it all over again, I would be smarter about my choices. And I think I may not be giving enough credit to the amazing woman who pushed me in the right direction and introduced me to Isabella. She doesn’t know I’m recording this right now, but I just wanted to say this… Cassy, thank you for showing me that the world isn’t shit and that it’s full of passionate people. Thank you for everything that you’ve done and endured for me. I’m sorry we’re now forever slated into the archives of history in the form of an internet meme.

  He laughed then and the sound of it was magical. A balm to my aching heart. A whisper of reassurance.

  There was so much footage of him and Isabella together I’d never seen. Rehearsing, performing, talking, recording. Endless minutes of musical bliss.

  My shock was deep and I didn’t dare move. I kept watching until the film passed the midpoint, sifting through my mind, looking for signs, trying to understand how he’d managed to pull it off without me knowing. And how had Levi managed to pull it off? Had my brother been part of this too?

  It happened during another clip when Frank’s face filled the screen as he spoke. I could see every tiny line and every shadow. Little stamps of time on his skin, barely visible but there. Just another reminder that he belonged to another generation and that somehow we still managed to mesh. Somehow we still managed to make it work.

  Heart pounding, I turned my head to face him. His eyes were transfixed on the footage. The flickering images danced across his cheeks, illuminating his skin. That’s when I saw it, the wet trail of his tears.

  He was laid completely bare, unveiled, and free.

  I reached over and grabbed his hand. Our gazes met. Then there was a click, and something light, soft, and new passed between us.

  It was the strangest thing, seeing the man I’d had a crush on as a teen for who he really was years later. Seeing all his strengths, his flaws, and his potential behind the blanket of darkness. Feeling him in every breath and every beat of my heart.