by T Gephart
In any case, their regular support act had shit the bed, fucking up hardcore and got tossed off the docket. Enter Black Addiction ready to take up the slack. Their loss was most definitely our gain. And what a fucking gain it was.
Show after show packed to capacity, we played each gig like it might be our last. And realistically, it might very well have been. So we made it count and got some attention from the powers that be. Fancy suits started knocking at our door wanting a piece of the pie and before you knew it, we weren’t nobodies anymore.
Of course we didn’t just end the tour with a deal and a few more thousand fans. My front woman Angie ended up shacked up with Power Station’s keyboard player. They’d gotten hitched and were now expecting a kidlet. It was the ultimate tour souvenir; T-shirts are so redundant these days.
So, we were famous right? Nope, not even close. People knew who we were for sure, and there weren’t many nights I spent alone. Girls wanting to be my muse and all that. But as far as fame and fortune went, we were still lacking.
That deal we’d signed, completely shafted us. New York suits trying to make us sound like 5 Seconds of Summer. I literally want to kick my own ass when I look at our album cover. Sad, sad times.
Luckily for us, while we didn’t get the accolades and piles of green rolling in after that bullshit attempt of mainstreaming, we did get our asses pulled from the fire by the one and only Power Station. Seemed liked the guys felt like playing fairy godmothers, because for a second time they’d given us a reprieve. This time in the form of a shiny new contract signed to their new label. The gift of current paperwork giving us total creative control. Gratitude didn’t even come close. Although there was that whole procreating with one of my band members, so I guess it all came out in the wash.
“Sooooooooo . . . Should I go?” My lady friend from last night walked back into the bedroom carrying two steaming hot cups of Joe. Her long hair flicked off her shoulder as she sat down beside me on the bed.
“Yeah, I’ve got a session. Last night was fun though. We should do that again.” The cup she had so generously brought to me made its very much-needed journey to my mouth. Mornings were not usually my friend, their existence made better by caffeine and a cigarette. Today I was going to have to settle for just the coffee.
“Last night was fun. Do you even remember my name?” She sat smiling as she watched me drink.
“Caroline, and I never forget a name, sweetness.” My recall earned me an even bigger smile.
That was my super power, my party trick—and the reason I was able to play a song perfectly after hearing it just one time. Photographic memory. Names, faces, music, dates, phone numbers—all of it stored in the huge vault that was my gray matter. It wasn’t even something I had to think about, just boom—it was committed. High school was a walk in the fucking park, I even aced my SATs. And while my folks were creaming their pants over the college offers I was receiving, I turned my back on all of it. The stage was the only place I was going to be spending my days and for better or worse, I made my choice. Which in this case obviously paid off, and I was finally able to give a big fuck you to everyone who thought I’d end up working at 7-11.
“I could call you later? Or we could meet up tonight?” Caroline’s hand traveled suggestively up my leg.
“Maybe leave me your number and I’ll see where I’m at. I’d hate for you to be waiting around.”
The brush off was gentle, but I wanted to be clear nonetheless. We—Caroline and I—were not a thing. We weren’t going to be sharing popcorn watching the latest Michael Bay flick nor would we be dating. Not that I had anything against her—she ticked all the boxes—but I wasn’t interested in a girlfriend. Hadn’t had one in a few years and now that life was throwing me all the pussy I could handle—literally, and I’m talking two hands—I wasn’t about to give that up for a ball and chain.
“Okay, well thanks for last night.” She leaned in and gave me a kiss on the mouth. It wasn’t a sweet kiss, more a calling card to remind me she had sucked my dick so hard last night I wasn’t sure I didn’t have chafing this morning.
“Sure thing, babe. Let’s do it again sometime.” And I meant it too; my dick just needed a day or two to recover.
She grabbed a marker that was sitting on my nightstand and scrawled her number on the notebook that was lying beside it. The little love heart added to the end made me second-guess my decision. Maybe a callback wasn’t in the cards; the love heart was giving me the heebie jeebies.
Thankfully, she didn’t try to convince me further and was dressed and out the door about thirty minutes later. Awesome. Now I could finally get some sleep. My eyes slowly closed as my head hit the pillow.
“Hey, Rus. Are you home, buddy?” The knock at my front door threatened to upset my plans.
While the whole band had made some coin during the Power Station tour, it wasn’t enough for us to pack up our shit and head into the city. I still lived in a row house I had inherited from my grandma in the Bronx, with Joey and Max still sharing a place about a block away. Angie was the only one who’d shipped out. With the husband and the bun-in-the-oven, no one was surprised when she’d relocated.
“Rus, open the door. I saw the chick leaving.” Joey, my drummer and not too distant neighbor didn’t take the hint that I wasn’t interested in entertaining this early in the morning.
“Give me a minute.”
As much as I wasn’t in the mood for company, Joey would probably sit on my front stoop until I opened the door. And being that I didn’t want to piss off my neighbors anymore than I already did with my occasional parties and loud music, I figured it was easier to just suck it up and see what he wanted.
I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and made my way to the door as I pulled them on. My debate of whether or not to let him sweat it out a little longer negated by the fact I was already bored with whatever bullshit I knew was going to be coming out of his mouth. Better to just get it over with.
“Fuck, dude. What the hell happened to you?” Dark sunglasses covered Joey’s face, and he looked like absolute shit.
“Max’s brother is in town. He split up with his wife again and he’s crashing on our couch. His snore is like the Texas Chainsaw massacre is going down, I haven’t slept all fucking night.” He pushed past me and wandered into my living room. “I think she’s finally done with his ass, apparently their last showdown was pretty epic. So whatever he’s done, I think he’s out for the count but there is no fucking way he is staying with us.” His ass hit the couch as I followed him back in.
“So what do you want me to do? There’s no way he’s staying with me.” While I was sympathetic to his cause, I wasn’t sure exactly where I fit in with this problem. Max’s pain-in-the-ass older brother wasn’t going to be chilling it in my spare room, if that’s what he was looking for.
“I’m not looking for a solution, just fucking refuge. We’re recording today and you know I need a solid ten hours or I can’t function. You want to be sitting in a booth with me longer than you need to be because I can’t keep time?”
Joey was an amazing drummer, which was handy because he wasn’t good at much else. He’d skated from crappy dead-end job to crappy dead-end job, and while my choice of not going to college had been my own, poor Joey didn’t fair so lucky. Our deal gave the kid a fighting chance at doing something with his life, his future hopefully guaranteed not to include food stamps and unemployment lines.
“Yeah, you can crash in the spare room if you want. Max know you’re here?” The words had no sooner left my mouth when there was another knock at my door. It seemed my house was the place to be this morning.
“Speak of the devil.” I opened the door to a weary-faced Max who was also rocking a dark pair of shades.
“I’m going to smother him in his sleep.” He stormed right in and took a seat beside Joey. “It sounds like a bear is trying to fuck an elephant. There is no way he is staying with us. Whatever he’s done can’t be that bad. I’ll beg N
icole to take him back.”
Max was the other half of our rhythm section. Killer bass player and all-around nice guy; we’d been tight since the band’s inception. While Angie, our singer, was my best friend, these two guys fell into line directly behind her. Being that she had a full dance card, I was spending more time with these two. I loved Angie, but I drew the line at talking about stretch marks and sore nipples.
“Maybe it’s just a phase; she’s thrown his ass out before and they always end up back together.” I tried to offer a silver lining as I took a seat opposite them in my armchair.
“God, I hope so. He had “Every Rose has its Thorn” by Poison on constant repeat until three a.m. I’m not sure whether to put him out of his misery or pay for someone to suck his dick.” Max closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the back of the coach.
“Right? It was depressing the hell out of me and I never get depressed.” Joey pulled off his shades and rubbed his eyes.
“Okay, so just tell him he needs to find some other place to stay. Tough love his ass.” It was simple, Max just needed to man up and tell his brother to take the pity party somewhere else.
“That’s easy for you to say, you don’t have any brothers or sisters. And while Phil is constantly fucking up, I can’t turn my back on him. It’s bad enough my parents won’t have anything to do with him.”
Max was right on two accounts. One, as far as siblings I came up short. The parental units felt they hit perfection when they had me and figured they would quit while they were ahead. Their account is slightly different, citing my lack of sleeping and constant crying which had scarred them for life, but I prefer to think of my earlier infant behavior as character building. Like SEAL training for parents, Mom and Dad can survive anything now. Zombie Apocalypse, they won’t even bat an eye. They will thank me later. The second thing he was right on the money was his brother. Phil was a complete and utter fuck-up.
Born eighteen years before Max, Phil had pretty much been disowned by his parents before his younger brother had blown out his first candle. Of course Max didn’t have it in him to also shun the dude who shared his DNA, so every time Phil messed up, Max bailed him out. It was an ongoing saga. Never been so glad to be an only child.
“Fine, then at the very least set some ground rules. He’s a big boy, he needs to learn to stand on his own two feet.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know this was going to be bad news for us.
With a new album in the works, we were getting ready to get it on the airwaves and take the show on the road. Last thing we needed was family dramas.
“It’s cool, I’ve got it under control.” Max didn’t convince me he had anything under control.
“Can we stop talking now? I need sleep. Unless you want to tell us about that smoking hot chick who walked out of your door this morning, that would be worth staying up for.” Joey leaned back into the couch and threw me a grin. The bastard was predictable if nothing else, constantly looking to me for details. I didn’t even want to know what he used them for.
“Nothing I want to share, boys. She left with a smile and that’s all that matters.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Rus. Honestly, all those girls? How do you not have an angry pitchfork mob of women on your lawn? You sleep with them and yet they still worship you after you show them the door. It’s like your dick has magic powers or something.” Joey wasn’t giving up.
“Seriously, Joe. If you spent as much time concentrating on your own love life as you did worrying about mine, you’d be a lot happier. Probably getting more action as well.” Positives all around. As far as disclosure, they weren’t getting jack.
“That’s an avoid if ever I heard one,” Max laughed.
I could have launched on the defensive that the avoiding was being done by the two people currently taking up space on my sofa. Considering there was a perfectly good house of their own they could be chilling in. But instead I flipped them off and headed back to my room. I left them to fight over who was getting the spare room and who was getting the couch, the outcome not affecting me either way. What was important was that in few hours everyone was going to need to be razor sharp. Studio time was happening, and I wanted to make the new tracks my bitch.
My perfect life was over.
Crushed like a forgotten Oreo at the bottom of the box.
How could I have been so stupid?
As the streetlights slowly peeked through my drapes, so did the realization that everything I’d worked for in the last two years was gone. The man I’d encouraged and loved for two years dumped me without a second thought.
Our special dinner did not end up with him giving me a key. Quite the opposite in fact, he sat me down and told me we were over. Done. Finished. Through.
While I had assumed those random acts of sweetness were leading us to the next level, they were nothing other than cowardly sidesteps to showing me the door. He’d been trying to soften the blow. It was over. I was over.
We’d been discovered, or at the very least our fling had been, and the senior partners were not amused. Actually they were the opposite of amused. Talk of unprofessionalism and breaking of contracts was thrown about. Fraternization apparently frowned upon. I really should have read the fine print.
Long story short, they agreed if I left quietly they would give me a letter of recommendation. A message my boyfriend hand delivered with the parting words that although he “cared for me, it was time we both moved on.”
When it came down to the crunch, he bailed on me like a bad investment. Sorry, thanks but no thanks, my services were no longer required. Even the chance for our relationship to continue now that we no longer had to hide was also shunned. Too much trouble, too many raised eyebrows—the clean break preferred.
Asshole.
So, I was sent packing with four weeks severance pay under a cloud of suspicion. I had been reduced to lunchroom fodder, the gossip ranging wildly from corporate espionage to an unplanned pregnancy. The truth not anywhere near as sensational as the lies, and yet still no one suspected our indiscretion.
“Open up, Ali.” Renee hammered at my door.
Her visits over the last week had been a daily occurrence, her stopping by with the excuse of bringing me food. I think it had less to do with the Chinese takeout and more to do with making sure I hadn’t hung myself with my shower curtain.
“I’m still alive. Leave the sweet and sour pork by the door and allow me to wallow in peace.” I didn’t even bother lifting my head from the pillow; I had no intention of moving from my couch.
“I’ve got sushi and I’m not leaving it on your doorstep. Open the door.”
She was persistent; I’d give her that. And probably more caring than I deserved. She’d always known Rob would break my heart and not a single “I told you so” had escaped her lips. Instead she fed me, let me cry and then locked me in the bathroom until I showered. Friends don’t let friends smell.
“My life is over and you brought me raw fish?” I opened the door wearing the same stained T-shirt and sweatpants I had been living in for the last two days. There was no need to get fancy; misery didn’t have a dress code.
“Your life is not over, this is just a hiccup. And sushi is good for you.” She pushed past me and took the five short steps from my door that landed her in my kitchen.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m a shitty friend as well as shitty girlfriend. Oh, and I’m a shitty paralegal too it seems. Just all-around shitty.” I let the door slam as I joined her in the kitchen. As far as wallowing was going, I was still neck deep. It was good to be successful at something, self-pity being my only option currently.
“You aren’t a shitty friend.” She pulled the bamboo chopsticks from the plastic bag. “Or any of that other stuff.” She tactfully added. “But you can’t sit in your apartment and hide from the world for the rest of your life.”
Reality. Something I didn’t want right now, not that my reluctance to deal stopped it from arriving on
my doorstep in the form of my best friend and questionable dinner. She was right. Hiding was not the solution. Lord knows I’d been giving it a try, and all it got me was greasy hair and a smelly apartment. My severance pay would soon dry up while my bills would not. And while one of the four weeks was spent wallowing, I literally couldn’t afford anymore time off. So while I wasn’t ready to deal with society, I would at the very least have to start dealing with the classifieds. Who knows, maybe sticking a toe in first by rejoining the human race would prepare me for an interview. It’s not like I had much more to lose. “You’re right.” My shoulders slumped as I leaned against the wall for support. “I need to get out.”
***
It would have been easy to get dressed up, get drunk and have sex with some random guy. At least that’s what Renee wanted me to do. But every single time we’d walked into a bar, I almost had a full-blown panic attack over the thought of some guy seeing me naked. My confidence—which had always been lacking—was now nonexistent, and even alcohol didn’t seem to help.
With Renee as my cheerleader, I persevered for an entire week. Night after night, bar after bar, with only one of us ending up getting lucky—not me. My attempts at flirting bordered on embarrassment next to my cool femme fatale best friend.
Even with my battered bravado and lackluster enthusiasm, I put on my prettiest dress and highest heels in what would be my fourth attempt at trying to get laid. This time without Renee—the pressure of having an audience just making it more difficult. Apparently a one-night stand would cure me, or at least send me into post orgasmic bliss so that I wouldn’t care for a while. I wasn’t convinced, but I was willing to give it a try.
It was while I was at the bar, sipping a Diet Coke through one of those ridiculous cocktail straws, that my world went even further into a tailspin.
“Hey, Ali-cat.”
The nickname sending chills down my spine despite the bar feeling like a sauna.
“Rob.” I twirled around to the direction of the voice, his smiling face greeting me as I made eye contact. Damn it, he still looked good.