The Essential Jagged Ivory (Jagged Ivory Boxed Set)

by Lashell Collins

  Otis waited for the girls to calm down and the crowd to grow quiet as he slowly walked to the far right of the stage.

  “You all know this next guy,” Otis panted into his microphone. “He had to take a little break for a minute, to take care of himself. But he's back now, and I think you'll agree with me when I say that he sounds better than ever!” The crowd responded with a roar as Benji continued to play.

  “He is one of the baddest … one of the bravest … and certainly one of the strongest mother fuckers I know,” Otis said as he draped his arm over Benji's shoulders. “Make some fucking noise for Benji Staffon on the bass,” he hollered. And the audience did exactly that, giving Benji a totally unexpected and humbling two-minute ovation. He couldn't help but get tearful as he stood in their presence. He threw out a few guitar picks and pumped his fist in the air as the crowd cheered. Otis hugged him tightly for a few beats as the applause continued, and it was an emotional moment for the band and the audience.

  “Last but certainly not least,” they heard Noah saying as they finally pulled away. “Give it up for my big brother on the lead vocals. Mr. Otis Ivory!”

  The cheers heightened once more, and when the guys composed themselves, they finally got back to the music. And when Jagged Ivory left the stage after their encore, Benji was on a natural high so good he felt like he was flying.

  Chapter Four

  Fae was breathless. She watched the action from her vantage point and nearly had to grab some tissues at the end of the band introductions. She felt like such a girl, but she couldn't help it. It was just so moving watching Benji Staffon and Otis Ivory get choked up as they stood onstage in a tearful embrace. And the other guys were all just as emotional. Even from where she stood, she could tell that Noah had to compose himself before he could introduce his brother, and Cory and Buzzy were both teary-eyed as well.

  She understood it. They almost lost him. The guys of Jagged Ivory were famous for always insisting that they were a family. And during her time on this tour, she had come to believe that statement was more than just lip service they fed to the press. Out of all the bands she had ever teched for – both famous and not-so-famous – the boys of Jagged Ivory were definitely the closest. They appeared to truly enjoy each other's company, and they obviously genuinely cared about one another. So Fae knew that the emotional outpouring onstage was real. And it touched her.

  As the band left the stage after their final encore and Benji removed his bass as he walked toward her, she felt the muscles in her stomach tighten with anticipation. He caught her gaze and smiled as he handed her the StingRay 4-string he had been using for the last two songs, and Fae knew she was in trouble when those tightened stomach muscles gave way to butterflies. Reaching out, she grasped the bass in her hand as her heart fluttered frantically.

  “Thanks, Fae,” he said lightly as he continued past her without slowing down. She felt as though things were moving in slow motion as he walked by her, and she turned to watch him go. He exited the wings with his bandmates and disappeared down the hall, and Fae felt as though she were in a daze.

  “You're welcome,” she whispered to herself after he was gone. She knew it was silly. She was acting like a lovelorn teenager deep in the middle of a high school crush, and she knew it. She also knew that she had to get over it. She had to push this silly, girlish infatuation down. Squash it now, before it became a problem. It wasn't like a relationship with Benji Staffon could ever go anywhere. Hell, it wasn't even like he would ever be interested in her anyway. She knew that she wasn't exactly his type. She wasn't proud of it, but she had looked up pictures of him on the Internet with his old girlfriend. She was a supermodel, and drop-dead gorgeous. Long, glossy, red hair and a figure so stick thin that Fae wondered if a cheeseburger had ever passed the woman's lips before. And judging from the groupies Fae had seen him interacting with during this tour, the bass guitar god had a definite “type,” and she wasn't it.

  Not that it mattered. She rolled her eyes at herself as she got to work, packing up all the basses, amps and pedals. And she silently berated herself as she worked. She couldn't keep allowing herself to have these kinds of thoughts about him; it was so counterproductive. What she wanted out of this experience was to learn from the best. Her whole reason for wanting this gig so badly was to be near Benji Staffon in order to soak up any bit of knowledge or wisdom she could from him. She wanted to pick his brain and learn what made him such a great bassist. She wanted to find out how he felt about certain basses and gear, and what inspired the amazing bass solo on “Slave For Your Love.” She had so many questions, and she knew that it was a total fan way of thinking, but she simply couldn't help herself. She was such a fan!

  *****

  Benji handed his bass off to Fae and followed the guys as they left the stage. The lingering high he had felt onstage still had him amped up. He could feel the adrenaline pumping throughout his body, his heart pounded, his muscles flexed, and he felt so alert and alive. He couldn't remember ever feeling this good coming off stage before, and he wanted everyone around him to know that.

  “Man, that was fucking awesome!” Buzzy said, beating Benji to the punch.

  “It was incredible,” Noah chimed in as they made their way down the hall toward the dressing room. He placed his hands on Benji's shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze as he walked behind him. “You were amazing, man! I told you you could do this!”

  Benji smiled at his words, but he didn't respond because he felt Cory pat him on the back as he asked, “How'd that ovation feel, man? The crowd was so happy to see you!”

  Benji shook his head as if in disbelief. “Man, I can't even describe how it felt,” he answered truthfully. “It was so incredible. And so unexpected.”

  “It shouldn't have been unexpected, man,” Otis responded, turning to look Benji in the eye. “They missed you. Almost as much as we did.”

  “That's right, man,” Buzzy added. “Joe did a good job; he's a good bass player. But he's not you, Benji. And I missed the other half of my rhythm section. It just wasn't the same without you.”

  Their words made him feel so good, and Benji was on cloud nine by the time they reached the dressing room. But as they all filed in, he suddenly felt himself come crashing down with a staggering velocity. In an instant, his natural high vanished as old instincts smacked him in the face, daring him to walk a different path. And as he watched the activity going on around him, Benji felt his breathing shallow as little beads of sweat broke out across his forehead like tiny pin pricks. What had he said to Fae before the show began? That he knew he would be facing all those old demons when he walked back into the dressing room after the show. Well, he was right. And he had no fucking clue how to combat them or what to do with himself. Before his overdose, he would have come off the stage, gone into the dressing room and headed straight for a bathroom stall to shoot up. It was his normal post-show routine, and right now he felt sort of lost without it.

  He saw a sudden and uncomfortable flash of light before his eyes and he jumped, blinking a few times as he looked up and frowned slightly.

  “I'm sorry, Benji. I didn't mean to startle you!” Mercy's voice was full of laughter as she apologized to him.

  “It's okay,” he mumbled, looking around distractedly.

  “Did you see how fucking amazing this guy was out there?” Noah asked her as he put his arm around Benji's shoulders.

  “Yes, I did,” Mercy exclaimed as she raised her camera to snap another picture. “And I got some truly awesome shots of you onstage for the tour journal, Benji. I can't wait to get them online!”

  Benji tried to give her a genuine smile, but he was sure he probably came off looking more like a deranged psychopath instead. After posing for the camera, Noah patted his shoulder and walked off in one direction as Mercy went about her way, capturing the action for the website. And Benji was left to his own devices once more. He watched as the dressing room began to fill up with a wild mix of family and celebrit
y fans on top of the usual bounty of hot chicks in short skirts. And he felt like such a loser as he shook hands and smiled and was congratulated and welcomed back by all of them. The atmosphere was excited and happy, everyone eager to celebrate Jagged Ivory's opening night in L.A., and Benji's triumphant return to the fold. But all he could concentrate on was the itch in his teeth and the gnawing in his gut. He thought for a brief moment about reaching out to Noah, but when he looked over at him, he saw Monroe and Kay Ivory laughing and talking with Noah and Otis, and he didn't want to interrupt them.

  “You were incredible out there,” he heard a voice say, as he turned to look to his right.

  “Thanks, Mike,” he said, smiling at the band's manager as they shook hands.

  “I am so proud of you, Benji. I want you to know that,” Mike continued as he held his gaze.

  “Thanks,” he repeated awkwardly.

  “You alright?” he asked as he studied him.

  Benji nodded and smiled at him. “Yeah. Just … trying to take it all in, you know? Savor it for a minute. It's a little overwhelming.”

  Mike smiled at him. “Yeah, I guess I can understand that. Listen, I need to find Mercy. But you let me know if you need anything, alright?”

  “Yep.” He watched as Mike weaved his way through the growing crowd in search of his daughter, and he let out a heavy sigh as he watched him walk away. Glancing around once more, he saw Cory having what looked like an intense reunion with his family. He knew that his friend was going through a lot right now between his marriage issues and just finding his dad. It was slightly humbling to realize that he wasn't the only one going through personal problems right now.

  “Benji!” The voice was loud and high-spirited, and Benji knew immediately who it belonged to. He felt his muscles tighten with dread, and the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up as he turned around to face the owner of it.

  “Hey, Crank,” Benji answered somewhat stiffly as he reached out to shake the man's hand. Frank Middleton – Crank to his friends – was the rhythm guitarist for the band Motor Dogs, and he and Benji had been in another group together for a very brief period back in the day. Most people thought his euphemistic nickname referenced the powdered methamphetamine, and given Crank's favorite pastime, it was an understandable assumption. But really he came by the name a lot more innocently than that. As a teenager, when he found his love for music, he was known for cranking the volume as high as it could possibly go. His parents would yell at him all day long for it to no avail, and they had been calling him Crank ever since.

  It was normal for him and a few of his bandmates to show up backstage at a Jagged Ivory concert whenever they were in the area, and the two groups often partied together, so Benji wasn't surprised to see him. But he realized now that he had been secretly hoping Crank wouldn't show tonight. Not because they'd had a falling out or anything. But because Crank just happened to be one of Benji's closest drug buddies and they would often get high together. But he wasn't at all certain how the guitarist would handle his brand new sobriety.

  “Are you afraid that your friends won't accept you now that you're clean?”

  Beth's words suddenly floated through his mind as Crank took his offered hand and pulled him in for a quick, macho hug.

  “Man, you owned that fucking stage out there tonight,” he exclaimed, smiling at Benji.

  “Yeah, man,” Dino, one of Crank's bandmates chimed in. “You rocked it out there!”

  “Thank you,” Benji smiled at them.

  “Not too bad for a dead man,” Crank smiled.

  “A dead man?” Benji questioned.

  “Hell yeah, buddy. When you OD'd, it was all over the news that you were fucking dead,” he explained. “For a minute, I didn't think I'd ever see you again, dude. It was scary as hell.”

  Benji smiled slightly, but something about Crank's words didn't ring genuine to him.

  “So how was it?” Crank asked, eyeing him closely. “You stayed in the whole time this go around.”

  “Yeah, I did,” Benji answered cautiously. He was well aware that Crank had done rehab himself, at least a couple of times that he could remember. And he always came out and went right back to the same old lifestyle. Benji would never judge his friend. He knew that he was in no position to do that. But he just didn't want to be on that twisted merry-go-round any more. “It was uh … productive. It was worthwhile. I'm glad I stayed in,” he finished honestly, looking his friend in the eye and hoping that he would get the message.

  Crank nodded his head as he continued to look Benji in the eye. And Benji suddenly found himself hoping that he didn't look as weak and uncertain as he felt. But something in Crank's eyes told him that his friend wasn't buying it.

  “That's cool,” Crank shrugged. Then he stepped closer to him and leaned in so no one else could hear him. “If you change your mind though, I'll be around for a while. And I got some of the best smack in the world, man. Purest quality you've ever tasted. You would love it.”

  Benji stared at him, unable to breathe for a moment as Crank smiled wickedly at him. He felt winded, as if he had been whacked in the gut with a baseball bat, and his skin tingled uncomfortably, from his scalp all the way down to the soles of his feet. He was stunned. He took an involuntary step back away from Crank as one hand went to his own abdomen as if in pain, and he continued to stare at him in disbelief. And all he could think about was the fact that his friend had heroin on him. Right now. In the dressing room. Right in front of him. His hands balled themselves into fists as he thought about it. A nod of his head … a smile … the lift of an eyebrow. That's all it would take for Crank to follow him into the bathroom, away from the prying eyes of his brothers and Mike, and all the nosy people in the dressing room. One tiny indication that he was interested, and Benji knew that he could be enveloped by the warm, blissful buzz that heroin brings with it.

  “Fuck,” he said quietly, turning his head away from Crank and looking down at the floor for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. All he had to do was nod. He didn't even have to say a word. He could simply nod his head and lead him out of the crowded room. It would be so easy. So quick. He licked his lips anxiously at the thought. He could taste it. He wanted it so badly that he could already taste it. His body remembered the feeling of being overtaken by that mellow wave of pleasure. It craved that vacant, nodding state that heroin induced.

  As his insides churned, he suddenly heard Noah laughing loudly, his voice rising above the low rumble in the dressing room, and he glanced over at him. He was standing with his arm around Mercy, and they were laughing at something Buzzy was saying. Benji closed his eyes tightly as he fought against those old instincts, and listened to Noah's voice in his head.

  “You can do this, Benji. I know that you can. 'Cause if I can do it … then my hero has to be able to do it!”

  He took a deep unsteady breath. And then he looked up at Crank and backed away a few more steps, shaking his head as he lifted his hand, as if telling him to stay away. “I'm cool, man,” he told him with great difficulty. And he hoped like hell that he was the only one who noticed the quiver of his voice.

  Crank looked him in the eye for a good long minute. “No problem, dude. You know where to find me when you change your mind.”

  Benji gave him a disgusted roll of his eyes, and without another word he sidestepped him and walked away. He retreated to the back of the dressing room where he grabbed his gear and slipped unnoticed into the bathroom area and back to the showers. And as he went about his business, stripping down and into a shower stall, he ran the incident over and over again in his head. He couldn't believe it. He had known that Crank was going to be a difficult hurdle to clear, but he hadn't expected him to just come right out and dangle the shit in front of his face like that. He had hoped that his desire to stay clean would mean something to his friends. And as he shampooed his shoulder-length mane of hair, it slowly dawned on him that it did mean something to his true friends. His brother
s. And really, as far as Benji was concerned, they were the only ones that mattered in the end. They had each gone out of their way to show Benji that his sobriety was important to them. So if friends like Crank couldn't accept that he was trying to live clean, that was their problem now, not his.

  Still, it weighed on him. He and Crank had known each other for a lot of years, and Benji liked to think that they were close. But the more he thought about it, the more he began to wonder if maybe the only thing they had in common was the drugs. He hated to think that was the case, and he knew that only time would tell. But he also knew that he couldn't be around Crank right now. Not if the man was going to take pleasure in tempting him every time they saw each other.

  He turned off the water in the shower and grabbed his towel, draping it over his head as he vigorously towel-dried his flowing locks. He was paying close attention to his task when he heard a couple of familiar voices enter the shower area, and he couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

  “I understand what you're saying, O,” Buzzy offered. “I just don't know how to respond, that's all. I mean … the very last thing I want is to upset anybody. And I don't want there to be any sort of misunderstandings or hurt feelings, or …”

  “I don't want that either, Buz,” Otis assured him. “Man, you have no idea how important this is to me. I love them both. I want them to overcome their issues. And honestly, I don't mind the new clean atmosphere around here. The way we sounded tonight … the way we played off of each other onstage. The way we jammed in rehearsals last week! Buzzy, we have not had this kind of musical chemistry since we formed. And I have no choice but to believe that it's due to all five of us having clear minds for the first time since then. But all I said is that it's a shame that we can't all go out and celebrate after that amazing show. It would be so great to just go out and hit a few clubs without worrying about whether or not Noah and Benji are okay.”