"No. I’m going to stick it out at the house. It was just easier to move all this stuff here instead of finding room for it there." She forced Sheryl to sit up on the couch. "Thanks for your help."
"Anytime. You did promise us dinner though." Aaron rubbed his stomach. "Lunch was a long time ago."
"There you go again. Always thinking with your stomach." Danny teased. "The first time he met my mother he was nice and polite for about five minutes. Then he asked what was for dinner."
"That was not my fault." Aaron protested as the others laughed. "We walked in as she was cooking. It smelled too good not to ask. I was just making conversation."
"Stan should be here in a moment with the pizza, so we won’t let you starve." Nicole assured him.
"So much for steak." Aaron mock grumbled. "Oh well. I’ll guess I’ll have to settle."
"Are we going out tonight?" Sheryl asked eagerly.
"I don’t see any reason why we can’t." Nicole did not have to think about it for long. "We haven’t gone out in a while."
"Good. I was hoping you’d say that. I’m in a mood to get a little funky." Danny commented in his radio voice.
"You know, we all regret the day when an oldies station bought y’all out." Sheryl told him. "You were a lot easier to take when you were introducing sugar coated pop rock."
"What? You have something against the funky free stylings of seventies drug induced rock?" Danny pretended to be hurt.
"Yes." All three of them said it in unison.
"Ok, I do too, but it’s a job. We do carry that syndicated program on new artists and what’s coming next now."
"Really?" Nicole asked in a disinterested tone. She really was not paying attention to him.
"Yeah. The buzz on the blue gecko CD is really good. Matter of fact." He pulled his duffle bag over. "I managed to sweet talk the manager of our sister station out of these." He pulled out a few CD’s and t-shirts. "It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but she eventually fell victim to my charm. Although now I have to take her five year old to see that new children’s movie."
"Ugh. That was a big sacrifice for these." Sheryl made a face as she claimed a CD and a t-shirt. "One for you." She handed them to Nicole before claiming another set for her. "Is this the re-released one?"
"I think so. It seems to have two more songs on it." Danny examined the back. "I really just wanted the t-shirt. I already have a copy of the demo and then the official CD."
"I think we all do." Aaron examined a t-shirt. "These are nice. I like the logo." A small blue gecko was on the left hand side, near the heart. The shirt was a forest green and the back simply proclaimed the band’s name.
"What about you, Hotshot? Like the goodies?" Danny asked. He put the remaining three shirts and the last CD aside.
"I guess. It’s almost a validation though, isn’t it?" Nicole asked quietly.
"Validation of what?" Sheryl asked.
"I was right."
"No you were not." Danny said in a forceful tone. "We all know she wasn’t going to go."
"Had I not made her you mean?" Nicole looked at him. "Here’s the proof right here." She held up the CD. It was her first copy not counting the demo.
"Nicole, that’s not proof. All it shows is Laurel did what she was contracted to do. She did nothing more carry out her responsibilities to the band." Aaron pointed out.
"How do you know she’s not sitting somewhere right now waiting for you to call her home?" Danny asked.
"How do I know she’s not out with a different girl every night and thanking her goddess that she’s not here?" Nicole retorted.
"Honey, you slept with someone else. That doesn’t mean Laurel has, but it doesn’t mean that she can’t either." Sheryl attempted to put it gently. "I doubt she’s grateful she’s on tour."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because she didn’t want to go. It’s hard to like something enough to enjoy it when you didn’t want to do it in the first place." Sheryl answered.
"So you’re saying she’s only out there because of me?"
"What we’re saying is that she left because you didn’t give her a choice. She stayed because like it or not she is a member of the band. The band was contracted to record a CD and do a national tour. You weren’t there any longer, so I don’t think she saw a reason to come home." Aaron explained.
"And how you would know?" The tone was harsher than she intended.
"Because I would have done the same thing if I were in her position." He answered.
"You would have left Danny instead of staying to talk things out?" The idea struck her as being too incredible to believe.
"Honestly, if he did to me what you did to her. Yes I would. Nicole, I’ve been really good at biting my tongue and letting you get away with being a hermit and the queen of self-pity, but I can’t do it anymore. I haven’t known you as long or as well as the other two, but I have had enough. You wrote her a note asking her to leave. You would not answer the phone when she called from New York, except that once. In that conversation you again told her to leave. If she had done that to you, what would you have done?" He managed to keep his voice even. Danny and Sheryl were staring at him in shock.
"I don’t know. What does it matter anyway?" Nicole stood. She had not been expecting the assault. It left her off balance. The only way she felt she could cope with it was to move. She walked over to the window, cracked it open and lit a cigarette. "She’s gone. There’s not much I can do about it, is there?"
"Yes there is. You can call right now and tell her to come home. Apologize to her and see what happens then." He made it sound as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
"I fucked up. I know that. I tried to call her before she left, but she didn’t want to talk to me. I tried to call her on tour, but I wasn’t on the list of accepted people. I sent an email posed as fan mail to BJ asking him to watch over her, but while I didn’t exactly say to keep it a secret, I didn’t actually ask him to tell her anything. I guess I overestimated or underestimated his sense of confidence. I’ve even had Danny try to find her." Nicole sat down on the window ledge. "From my perspective, it does not appear as if she wants to be found."
"Maybe you didn’t try hard enough." Aaron said softly.
"What was I supposed to do? Over night myself to their hotel?" The fight was draining out of her. She never had been able to maintain anger for long. "It won’t work. As much as I want to, need to apologize, I can’t seem to find a way."
"One will open you know. Somehow it will happen." Aaron walked over and stood before her. "Love does triumph, even over death."
"No it doesn’t." She replied. "It just never dies."
"That, my friend, was my point."
"How was that your point?" Nicole was understandably confused. She had meant the pain of losing love never dies, but it did not come out the way she intended.
"Look at this. Tell me what it is?" He pulled something from his back pocket. She could see Danny and Sheryl silently watching the exchange. She wondered for a moment if they had drawn straws for this conversation. "Well?"
"It’s a chewed up pencil."
"Partially. It’s a wooden pencil. Once it was a tree, now it’s a pencil."
"So?"
"So, look at it this way. You can take a tree, which is made of wood, cut it down and make a house, boat, box, pencil or whatever. It’s not a tree anymore, but it is still wood isn’t it?"
"Yeah." She felt rather stupid at the moment. She was not quite able to grasp his analogy.
"Your love was a tree. It may be cut down, but it’s still there. It’s up to you to decide what to do with it. You could call her back, plant another tree and build a house out of the fallen one, or you could choose to leave it there, dying. Make a pencil out of it and take it out every once in a while so you can look at it and chew on it until your gums bleed from splinters. Otherwise, it’ll just stay there, rotting. What good is rotting wood?"
"That is without a doubt t
he strangest analogy I’ve ever heard." She looked at him closely. For a moment she suspected drug use, then the true meaning behind the confusion sunk into her mind. "For some odd reason, it actually makes sense though."
"Hey, would I purposely try to upset and confuse you if I didn’t have a moral to teach?" He gave her a hug.
"Wow. Why am I always the one left out when drama starts?" Stan complained. She turned to see her cousin standing near the elevator with three large pizzas.
"Why did you get three pizzas?" She asked. The absurdity of it returned her to the present.
"I paid for two. It’s a special. Buy two and get one free." He explained. "I think I got everyone’s favorite."
"Who care’s what’s on it. It’s pizza. That’s all that matters." Aaron dropped his serious demeanor and ran to help Stan with the food.
She knew she should thank him, but she would do it later. Now she understood his point. He made her upset just so she would calm down and see what he wanted her to see. He wanted her to see hope. It was still alive. However, the pizza did smell good and pushed the more depressing thoughts from her head. After all, she was in her favorite place with four of her favorite people, and they were all about to eat pizza. Her deep thinking could be delayed under those circumstances.
Chapter Twenty Three
"Good lord almighty." Laurel quickly tossed the bag she was searching through to the floor. Muggster yelped and jumped on the bed. The poor dog put her head on her paws.
"What’s the matter?" BJ asked as he unzipped his. "Never mind. I think whatever it is, it’s spreading." His bag soon joined hers by the door. "That was some funky smell."
"You know, I hate to say this, but I think it is time for a trip to a Laundromat." The bassist shook her head. Every piece of clothing she owned smelled of cigarettes and sweat. It was not a pleasant combination.
"We could just toss all this shit and buy new clothes." The drummer looked hopeful.
"No way, man. My favorite shirt is in there. Aren’t we supposed to have roadies or someone else to do all this for us?"
"I don’t know. I think Steve uses housekeeping to do his. I don’t know what Jenna does with hers." He looked over the hotel’s service menu. "Says here that they do have a laundry service, but it’s too late to get them done today. They wouldn’t be ready by the time we leave tomorrow."
"Great." Laurel threw herself back on her bed. "Just great. So, I guess that means you and I get to have a contest."
"What type of contest?"
"To see who can turn more shirts pink or blue or whatever." With one hand, she opened the drawer beneath the phone. "Might as well see if there’s a place to do laundry near here." She pulled out the hotel phone list.
"Who are you calling?"
"The front desk. Hopefully someone there will be able to tell us. We’re gonna sound like hicks." It was inevitable. The concierge did know of a place only a few minutes walk from the hotel. Laurel regretted having to call to ask. She knew she sounded stupid.
"Well?" BJ asked as she hung up the phone.
"Three minutes from the parking lot. Take a left right out the side doors." She threw the rest of her clothing into the bag. "Might as well wash all of it."
"Yeah. Hopefully they’ll have detergent or something. Do you have any change?" He searched through his pockets.
"Not a lot. Maybe they’ll have a change machine too." She grabbed her room key and hefted her bag. "Come on Muggster. Let’s go." The small dog waggled her rear end in the universal happy dance of small dogs everywhere. Laurel grabbed the leash before the dog had a chance to escape down the hallway. For a puppy, Muggster was quick. "Ready to go?"
"I guess so."
"Running away?" Larry asked from the hallway. He looked as if he just finished his evening run.
"Worse. Laundry." BJ told him.
"Cool. Wait a moment and I’ll grab my stuff too." He disappeared into his room.
"Weird. Was it just me or did he sound happy to do laundry?" Laurel asked in wonder.
"He seemed happy. Then again, he is kinda strange."
"Hate to break this to ya, BJ, but so are we."
"True."
"Ok, I’m all set." Larry bounced out of his room. He had a large duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
Larry was the hyper sort. He talked incessantly on the way to the Laundromat. Fortunately for Laurel and BJ, there was a small convenience store attached to the place. They were able to buy detergent, drinks and snack food. They were even able to buy a roll of quarters apiece. That clued them into the reason the store was there. It made money off people doing laundry next door. The clerk did not even blink when she walked in with Muggster.
"You’re really not going to do it like that are you?" Larry came over as Laurel attempted to toss clothes into a washing machine. She did not even sort them first.
"What’s wrong with this? They’ll all get clean."
"Wrong? Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to sort things?" He seemed shocked.
"No. What’s the difference?"
"Look, there’s a logic behind laundry. It’s not that hard to understand. Here I’ll show you." He took her duffle and unceremoniously dumped the contents onto a table near the machines. BJ came over to watch. "You have to sort everything by color and blend."
"And that matters why?" She asked.
"I bet every time you wash clothes something comes out a different color?" He managed to keep from laughing.
"Yeah." BJ nodded along with her answer. He had the same problem.
"This is how you solve that problem." He showed no shame as he sorted her clothing into piles. He did not even wince at the smell emanating from them. "Some how I figured you for a boxer type, but want to explain these?" He asked as he held up a pair of red lace panties.
"They were in the bag." Laurel did not even blink as she answered the question. "They’re not mine." True. Somehow, Nicole managed to leave them in there after the last trip to New Orleans.
"Toss or wash?" He asked.
"Wash please." She kept track of what pile they landed in for future reference.
"Getting the idea?" He asked.
"I think so. All the under thingies are in one load, shirts and jeans in another. That’s it?" The big mystery was almost solved.
"Well, I’d suggest nice shirts and slacks in load separate from the jeans and t-shirts, but since you don’t have any of those don’t worry about it now. I would separate the jeans from the t-shirts though. You have tons of those."
"Yeah I guess I do." She laughed. It was all she wore except for the occasional pair of khakis or cargo pants.
"Now, this is how you operate the machine. Is everyone paying attention?" He asked as BJ and Laurel turned to watch a jogger pass outside the window.
"Yes. Go ahead." BJ was the first to answer.
"Yeah, I’m here. The machines."
"Ok, first you put in the quarters, set the temperature and load setting, and then start the water. Jeans, t-shirts, and such are put on this setting." He illustrated by example. "Now the detergent." He carefully measured the recommended amount of the liquid before adding it to the churning water in the machine. "Finally, we add the clothing." He waited until the water reached a certain point before adding those. "Now you’re on your own."
"Thanks, Larry." Laurel was relieved to find out that there was not a great mystery behind laundry.
She was able to get the other two loads into machines without a great deal of trouble. She looked over as BJ started sorting his clothing. He benefited from the lesson as well. Laughing a little about the entire situation, she took a seat on a handy bench. She could not resist the lure of the cupcakes sitting by her drink any longer. She savored every bite. It was the first time she was able to partake of snack food since she graduated from college. Muggster waited beneath the bench with bated breath. She was waiting on scraps. She never got any. Laurel knew better than to give her dog chocolate.
"I bet you can’t cook e
ither can you?" Larry asked as he joined her on the bench.
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, no one ever taught you how to do laundry. It follows that you never learned to cook." He reached down and scratched the small dog’s ears.
"You’re right. She can’t cook. Well, she can make macaroni and cheese, but she has to read the instructions carefully." BJ commented as he joined them.
"He’s right. I can’t cook. Never learned how." She answered.
"Well that I can’t teach you here. Maybe one day if we ever have the opportunity." He shrugged. "I can’t think of how, but who knows."
"That’s great and I think you for this, but why?" Kindness from strangers was not a concept she was accustomed to experiencing.
"What else are we going to do?" He laughed. "You both are in the same ship I’m in, neither of you really party. BJ, you really ought to start running with us. I was going to ask your guitarist, Steve as well. He seems pretty tense and bored."
"Yeah, we’ll become a running cult." Laurel could not help it. She laughed as her mind formed the image of the four of them in matching shorts and tennis shoes.
"It’s either that or sit in our rooms and get so bored we get into trouble." He responded.
"Bored is bad. Trouble is even worse." The bassist knew that from her own experiences.
"It might be fun. I sure could stand to lose a few pounds too." BJ patted his stomach. He was correct, but Laurel did not want to agree with him. He was sensitive about it.
"Great. We’ll ask Steve as soon as we get back to the hotel. Now do either of you have fabric softener?"
"Nope." Laurel was not aware they needed any.
"I’ll share, but you’ll owe me next time. Now, come on and learn all there is to know about drying clothes." He stood as the washers finished their duty.
For the first time ever, Laurel managed not to mess up any clothing. Larry taught her more about laundry than she ever needed to know. He did confide that his father was a dry cleaner. That was why he knew so much. He worked in his father’s store after school and during his summer breaks. Regardless, she was grateful he was willing to share his knowledge. He even showed them both how to fold things to minimize wrinkles. It was better than just arbitrarily throwing the clothes back into the bags. She knew no one would believe that she and BJ had washed, dried, and folded their own laundry. Nothing was wrinkled, faded or a different color than it was before it was washed. It was a small thing, but she was proud of it.
All That Jazz Page 26