Untitled

by Jackie Chanel

  For months I’ve been angry with my sisters for allowing my parents to keep us apart, especially Sara, who doesn’t even live with them anymore. She could have easily called me, but she didn’t. Neither of them did.

  All the anger I felt evaporated as soon as I wrapped my arms around her.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked as soon as Sara released me.

  “Looking for you,” she answered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Long story,” she answered. Her cell phone rang as soon as she took it out of the back pocket of her jeans. She showed me the caller ID then answered it.

  “Delilah, are you with Mom and Dad? Good, where are you? Did you get the package from the front desk? Good. Hold on.” Sara held the phone by her side and whispered to me, “Where are you staying?”

  “Mandalay Bay,” I answered. “Room 305.”

  “Delilah,” she said into the phone. “I’m coming to get you. Meet me in the lobby.”

  When she hung up the phone I asked her what was going on. She said she’d explain once she met up with Delilah and ordered me to go wait for them in my room.

  I was too excited and curious to ask any more questions. We parted ways and I literally ran back to my room, anxious to see exactly what my sisters are up to.

  Twenty minutes later, there was an excited knock on my door, followed by my little sister’s girlish giggle. I swung the door open and pulled both of my sisters into my room. Delilah squealed like a little girl and jumped into my arms like she used to when she was just a kid. She isn’t a kid anymore, that’s for sure. Eighteen years old, and she’s prettier than any girl I’ve ever met. So is Sara.

  “I knew we’d find you!” Delilah kept repeating. “Oh my god! I’ve missed you so much! Where the hell have you been?” she demanded with her hands on her hips.

  “What are you talking about?” I was more confused than before. “What is going on?”

  Sara sat the box she was holding on the floor and sat on the bed with her long legs crossed. Delilah joined her. I sat across from them in a chair, still too stunned by my sisters’ presence in Las Vegas to properly formulate the million questions racing through my mind.

  “Where have you been?” Delilah repeated.

  “I’ve been Atlanta. Where do you think I’ve been?”

  “I called you a dozen times and your number was disconnected. And all my letters came back due to no forwarding address. How come you moved and didn’t tell us?”

  “Yeah, same here,” Sara stated. “I understand why you aren’t speaking to Mom and Dad, but we didn’t do anything to you. Why aren’t you speaking to us?”

  “You’ve been calling me?”

  “Yes, your house phone,” Delilah snapped. “But apparently, you changed the number.”

  “I didn’t change the number,” I told them. “I moved out of that apartment. I couldn’t call you with my cell number because your parents won’t give me their new number.”

  “Well, Dad took away my cell when I told him he was being an ass for not letting us talk to you. He cut Sara’s phone off and took her car so we couldn’t come visit you. He’s seriously trippin’.”

  “Geez, you guys, I’m sorry he did that to you. I thought he’d be over this shit by now. Obviously he’s not. How’d you get to Vegas anyway? And what are you doing here?”

  Sara explained that one of her classmates had been at the Boston show and mentioned seeing me in Joey’s band. She said that she went online to Joey’s website – which I didn’t even know existed – and it confirmed that I was the new guitarist on the tour.

  As luck would have it, my father’s spring sales conference is being held at the Sands Convention Center. He decided to bring the whole family – minus one – with him. When they realized that they would be in Vegas when I was in Vegas, they set out on a search and rescue mission.

  “I had a feeling that if we just stayed on the strip, we’d run into you,” Delilah laughed. “I just knew it.”

  I ran my hands through my hair. This is unbelievable! Here I am thinking that the two people I love more than anything in the world didn’t give a damn about me. Damn it feels good to be wrong this time!

  “What’s in the box?” I glanced at the large brown box at the foot of the bed.

  Delilah and Sara couldn’t contain their wide smiles and mischievous gleam in their eyes. Sara slid the box towards me.

  “It’s our gift. When we found out that you were going to be here, we FedEx’d it to our hotel. We figured that if you were mad at us, maybe this would help.”

  I ripped open the box, tossed the packing material to the side, and stopped.

  Sitting in the box was the one thing I never imagined would be in there.

  My guitar case.

  My mind stopped working altogether when I unlatched the case and sitting inside was Dee-Dee, my first guitar, lying in her zebra print bed.

  “What...how...how’d you get this?”

  “We stole it out of Dad’s office,” Delilah announced proudly. “It’s yours. He can’t keep it from you.”

  “We know it’s not as good as the one Kat bought you,” Sara said, “but it’s your first guitar and you should have it.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes even as my father’s stern words echoed in my head.

  “Boy’s don’t cry, Aiden. Man up.”

  Right now, nothing he says matters. I’ve been completely depressed over my family situation that I haven’t been able to function most days. Without Sara and Delilah my world seems like a dark endless tunnel with no light at the end. I can’t talk to anyone about it either. Sunny doesn’t like to hear my depressing thoughts and Kat just wants me to get over it.

  My parents are obliviously still upset with me and want nothing to do with me, but Delilah and Sara don’t feel like that. They came looking for me. They missed me like I’ve missed them.

  The tunnel doesn’t seem so dark now. My sisters are here, providing the light that I so desperately need to see.

  “Aiden, did you know are videos of you playing at Rabbit’s on YouTube?” Sara asked. “You keep getting better and better.”

  “Yeah, you’re getting so good,” Delilah gushed. “I can’t wait for your CD to come out. You are going to be so famous! Can I come with you to the Grammy’s? And the MTV Awards? Will you buy me some Chanel sunglasses?”

  Delilah’s excited questions were endless. I don’t want to ruin the moment by telling them that I’m nowhere near getting a record deal or that I haven’t finished my demo. I can’t tell them that. They’ll be really disappointed.

  I can fix it though. As soon as I get back to Atlanta I’m going to finish the demo and start sending it out. My sisters believe in me. They deserve more than me doing nothing but playing at Rabbit’s. Ever since Dee-Lee’s birthday party she’s been saying that she can’t wait to see me on MTV. I’m going to make that happen for her.

  Chapter 19

  “Aiden, answer the door!” Sunny yelled from the bathroom that she had turned into a beauty salon while she got ready for her big date. Her best friend, Erica, had practically moved in for the weekend to help Sunny prepare for her date with Gavin Lantana, the former lead singer of The Lantanas. She met him through one of her clients. I can’t believe she’s going out with him.

  “I can hear, Sunny, damn,” I mumbled but sat my Xbox controller on the couch. I rolled my eyes at Paulie, who was laughing.

  “Who’s she goin’ out with?” he asked.

  “Gavin Lantana. Remember him?”

  Paulie burst out laughing. “Didn’t he just get out of rehab?”

  “That’s what I heard,” I answered as I walked to the door and opened it.

  “Umm, is Sunny here?” Gavin asked. I’m sure Sunny hadn’t told him she has a male roommate. She never tells any of her dates. One guy actually thought he had the wrong apartment when I opened the door. I just let him leave.

  “Yeah. She’s not ready yet.” I stepped to the side and
let him in.

  He stepped through the door timidly, nothing like the guy I met in Tybee Island. He doesn’t even look the same. He’s lost the aura of a rock star that he had when his band was putting out hits. That’s what too much booze and drugs will do to you.

  At least he was dressed nice. His thin leather coat, white button down shirt and jeans are high quality, which is essential for Sunny. I frowned as I acknowledged what another man is actually wearing. I’ve been living with Sunny for too long. She’s starting to rub off on me.

  “I’m Gavin,” he said. He reached out to shake my hand.

  “We’ve met,” I reminded him. “A few years ago.”

  “Really?”

  I glanced over at Paulie with a clear “Who is this asshole” expression on my face.

  “Yeah,” Paulie interjected. “At the Tybee Island Blues Festival.”

  “I’ll get Sunny,” I said and walked away.

  I don’t care that an alcoholic has-been doesn’t remember me. Gavin and The Lantanas are the perfect example of what not to do with your career. Gavin’s very presence in my apartment is irritating. I don’t know why Sunny’s all excited about going out with this guy.

  Erica and Sunny were in Sunny’s room putting the final touches on her date outfit when I walked in and sat on the bed.

  “I don’t know why you’re so excited about this guy,” I commented. “He ruined his career.”

  “Gavin Lantana is still fine,” Erica spoke up.

  “He’s a drunk,” I added.

  Sunny put down a perfectly good set of gold bangle bracelets and exchanged them for a set of multi-colored bangles that I bought her for her birthday.

  “So are you,” she stated, “but you don’t see me warning girls not to go out with you.”

  “I’m not a drunk,” I fired back. “Besides, you told her not to date me.” I pointed at Erica when Sunny turned away from the mirror.

  “She did no such thing,” Erica jumped to her friend’s defense. “I’m a classy girl with standards, Aiden,” she snickered. “That’s why I won’t date you.”

  “Yeah, she’s not droppin’ her panties at the sound of your guitar so she’s out of your league,” Sunny added. “How do I look?”

  Sunny looked exquisite in the Japanese inspired dress that she’d made specifically for this date. The high slit in the dress showed just enough of her caramel complected thigh to keep Gavin drooling all night, but I’m not going to tell her that. Her ego is bigger than mine.

  “You look fine,” I told her. “You know that.”

  “Yeah, I do,” she smiled. “Don’t wait up.”

  “I’m not even gonna be here,” I reminded her. “I have a gig at Platinum tonight.”

  Sunny stopped in the doorway and turned around. “Damn it, Aiden, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”

  “No worries.”

  Sunny missing a show doesn’t bother me as much as it seems to bother her. Actually I’m glad that she’s not going to be there. Even after the incredible tour with Joey, I’m still a little apprehensive about playing anywhere else except Rabbit’s.

  Thankfully I wouldn’t be on stage alone. Mike and Paulie are playing with me. The last thing I need to add to my nerves is Sunny’s interfering ass.

  Joey called in a favor at Platinum to get me this gig. The owner is going to let me play a thirty minute set to open for PowerPlay, a ridiculously good band from Atlanta. Joey’s been pushing me to play different types of music while he’s finishing up his album. He thinks Platinum is the perfect place for me to start working on the songs he wants to put on my new demo.

  I thought when we wrapped the tour, he’d stop with the drill sergeant bit. Again, I was wrong. Now I have homework assignments while he’s in L.A recording.

  Write five new songs and play at least three more gigs outside of Rabbit’s before he gets back to Atlanta in two weeks. His demands are crazy but I’m going to try my hardest to do it.

  “Damn it, Sunny,” I heard Paulie snap while I walked down the hall. “I know how to string a guitar! I’ve been doing this shit since before Aiden even picked up a guitar!”

  Gavin looked uncomfortable. Erica was laughing.

  “You’re not doing it right!” Sunny yelled.

  “Aren’t you leaving? Gavin, get her out of here before I hit her with this damn guitar!”

  I opened the door and practically pushed Sunny and Gavin out before she could hit Paulie first. I finished stringing my own guitar and prepared to leave. Erica followed me and Paulie to my car.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked, blocking her from climbing into the backseat.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Even though Erica is the only one of Sunny’s friends that I can actually stand being around, I don’t want her at my show either.

  “Why? You’ve seen me play before.”

  “Because I don’t have anything else to do. And I like PowerPlay.”

  I groaned but moved to the side and let her in the car. Arguing with Erica is just as useless as arguing with Sunny. I’m starting to wonder if there’s a black woman in America that I can win against in an argument. I haven’t met one yet.

  I was a bit uneasy when I walked into Platinum and surveyed the crowd. I’m not used to playing for pop fans. They don’t get my music and Joey warned me not to play too many blues covers or I’d lose the crowd for real.

  “Jimi or Stevie Ray, if you insist on playing covers at all,” he advised. “Don’t throw in anything that you know they’ve never heard before.”

  And his last bit of advice... “Play those damn songs that you’ve been working on. I like Empty Kisses. Play that.”

  “Wow, this is a nice turnout,” Erica commented as we walked through the club.

  At about three hundred people, this is a nice sized crowd. They remind me of the crowds at the open mic nights I’ve played. The difference between now and then is that these people actually bought tickets to see the headliner.

  “Are you getting paid for this?” Erica asked.

  “My, my, aren’t you nosy?” Wild Mike answered for me.

  “I’m just asking because if you aren’t, you should be,” Erica explained. “You should get a manager.”

  “I don’t need a manager,” I told her. “I can manage my own career and get my own gigs.”

  “I thought Joey got you this gig,” she said.

  I don’t even know why Erica is even with us still. She said she wanted to see the other group. She should be sting in the audience, not walking backstage with me. Then it dawned on me. She doesn’t have ticket so she’s hanging with us like she’s part of the band. That’s why she offered to carry my guitar.

  “Dude, are you with the band?” A burly looking mammoth of a bouncer stopped us at the stage door.

  “We’re the opener,” I said, pointing to my name on his clipboard.

  “Aiden Tyler, huh?” he questioned. “Joey said you were a solo artist. Who are all these people?”

  “Even solo artists have bands,” Erica spoke up. She pushed her way to the front of the group and stuck out her hand.

  “Erica Steele,” she said. “Aiden’s manager. Is there a problem?”

  “No ma’am,” the guy said and moved out of her way.

  “Thank you.” We walked past the bouncer and Erica nudged me with her elbow.

  “Hire a damn manager.”

  My set was much shorter than what I’ve gotten used to playing at Rabbit’s. Thirty minutes was all I had to win this crowd over and I think I did it. This type of applause and cheers isn’t polite “get off the stage so the real show can start” applause. This is “damn, you were good” cheers and whistles, the same kind I get at.

  Erica was waiting beside the stage door when me and the guys walked off the stage. Her mouth was hanging open, actually her lips were moving but no sound was coming out.

  I grabbed her and pulled her towards me. “What’s wrong with you? What happened?”


  “Nothing’s wrong,” she replied, snapping out of her trance. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I just finished playing. Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  “No, I’m talking about up here!” She tapped the side of my head for emphasis. “Why the hell do you think that you can’t be a mainstream artist?”

  I looked around the hallway at Paulie and Mike for their input. I’m not entirely comfortable with Erica knowing so much about me and my music but that’s just Sunny, running her mouth again.

  “I’m a blues player,” I told Erica. “You know that. I’m just doing this because Joey wants me to.”

  “Fuck that,” she shook her head. “You’re a guitar player. You’re a song writer. Why put yourself in just one damn category when you’re so much better than that? You could be packing Philips Arena, not playing in these rinky-dink clubs. I’m going to talk to my aunt. You need a manager and she’s a damn good one.”

  “I told you, I don’t need a manager,” I mumbled while we walked to my car.

  “I thought you came to see PowerPlay. Why aren’t you still inside?” I asked.

  “I really didn’t come to see them. I just want to hang with you guys,” she said. “Plus, you’re my ride.” She grinned and hopped into the passenger seat.

  “I swear, you and Sunny must be related,” I grumbled. “You two are the most intrusive girls I know.”

  “Shut up. You know you love us.”

  Instead of going to Rabbit’s like I planned, I drove Erica home and went back to my place. I don’t have that much time before Joey gets back to write some new material so partying and hanging out at Rabbit’s has to be put on the backburner for now.

  I poured a shot of Vodka over a couple ice cubes and sat on the couch with my notebook. Every ten minutes the same annoying thought popped into my head.

  Mainstream artist...singer/song writer.

  There’s a huge difference from what I do and what most mainstream artists do. My music is different. When I look at people like Joey who has played with the best, written and produced some great songs for great artists, and made three solo albums, I know his solo career has never gotten to the level of success that I would like to see for myself because of the type of music that he plays. He’s content with his success and he has every right to be. Joey can pack a venue like the House of Blues but he doesn’t have the mass appeal to fill the United Center or Philips because of the music that he plays.