“The thing is, our label wants to release a bunch of our early songs. They need you to sign the rights, though.”
And there it was. The reason he was here. That they sent him to do the job was a complete joke. Better that they’d sent one of those fancy company employees in their fancy suits or even one of the other guys in the band. But Fred always thought he could talk anyone into anything. It was his gift, he said. But the gift had no value here.
“I thought they had all the rights. That’s why I get a big cheque in my bank every month.”
“Not for this. This is from back when we were with that fat guy managing us. I forget his name.”
“Damien.”
“Yeah, Dame, what a jerk, huh? Anyway, that stuff wasn’t included in the deal. Just sign the paper, mate, okay?” He laughed in that way people do when they want you to join in the joke. A shared memory, a common past, that’s what he was banking on.
I almost expected him to slap the papers down in front of me. I’d not be signing. I didn’t need the money and I didn’t give a damn. I’d refuse, just to be petty, because I hated this shit. This false camaraderie he put on to get his way. He could shit his way through life but it wasn’t cutting it with me.
“There’s nothing here for you. You can forget it. I wrote the songs; I have the rights. Write your own songs. Oh, you have for the past five years. I’ve heard a couple of them. Pretty fucking embarrassing, if you ask me. I’m glad I’m out of it. Better that than being a laughing stock.”
Fred sucked in his breath. He was used to people crawling up his arse. Not many people ever told him the truth. I never coated it, though. If he wanted nice words, he was looking in the wrong place.
“I’ll give you time to think about it,” he said. “You might feel differently in a few days.”
“Come back in a hundred years and I’ll think no differently. I have no shits to give in this business so best you walk out that door now and don’t bother coming back.”
Fred polished off his beer and stood up. He paused, then walked out.
“Well, that went well,” Carlie said.
I shrugged. I couldn’t be responsible for the trash that came in here. If he came back, he’d get more of the same. He’d taken just about everything he could from me but he obviously wanted to squeeze out the last bit of juice. Maybe, if he’d thought to apologize, I’d have signed those papers just to get rid of him but, as it stood, he could go to hell.
He’d stirred up some shit, though. All those memories I’d fought to lock away. They’d gotten all churned up. Ghosts of the past reaching out to pull me into the grave with them.
I ordered another drink.
Chapter 28 Jackson
AFTER FRED LEFT, I hit it hard. Normally, I knew my limits and I drank slow but I needed a few quick ones to get me through. Gina wasn’t at the bar. It was a weeknight and she had to be up early for work the next day. If she’d been around, I’d have probably reined it in but, with no one to give a shit, I got a skinful.
When my speech got slurry, I knew it was time to leave but that didn’t stop me from drinking when I got home. Leastways, I wasn’t too messy in public.
When I got to the bottom of the bottle, I looked for more. I had another bottle stashed away somewhere; I just knew it. I was too befuddled to remember where I’d put it, or maybe I’d drank it last time and hadn’t replaced it. While I was looking, I tripped over and landed face down on the floor. It was comfortable there, so I dozed off.
The next morning, I had an appointment at the hospital. Just a check-up. I rubbed my eyes and tried to stand up long enough to have a shower. Hell, that water hurt, hitting my head.
My mouth was like sandpaper, that dry, bitter taste of the morning after. I had no energy, nothing in reserve.
The appointment was for 10.30 but it was past 10 when I got dressed. I’d never get there in time. My guts rumbled in protest and the bed looked mighty fine. I could sleep this off.
It wasn’t like they’d do anything at the hospital anyway. I’d have to wait in a room of sick people, on an uncomfortable seat, until they called my name. Then I’d go in and the doctor would poke around at my hand, pressing things into it.
“Can you feel this? Can you feel that?”
Of course, I couldn’t bloody feel it. I could work that out for myself.
Then he’d tell me to wait and see.
Screw the appointment. I’d played nice so far, done everything I had to, but I’d not noticed any changes. They’d told me that it’d take a while but I was sick of it. This damn banging in my head drove me crazy. I’d sleep it off and make sure I made the next appointment. One time wouldn’t hurt.
What was the point of it, anyway?
I threw off my clothes and climbed into bed. My body ached from sleeping on the floor and I’d bashed my shin at some point the night before. Even after having a shower, the stench of whiskey came out in my sweat. I was in no fit state for human company.
About five-ish, I woke up and felt well enough for another drink. I dragged my sorry arse down to Trouble. No one need know I’d skipped the appointment. I’d tell Gina it was business as usual. Which it would’ve been, if I’d gone.
The skin on my hand itched under the splint. I wished they take the bloody thing off me but the doctor had said I still needed it for a week or so.
“If you want this to heal right, you need the splint. Just bear with it for a while longer.”
Easy for him to say, bear with it. He didn’t have his hand skin itching like a bastard.
Gina has thought it was a good sign when it first happened. “You must be able to feel something if it itches.”
“It’s not like that, it’s in the skin, not the nerve. I can feel with the side of my hand.” I showed her the bits that worked, “but not my fingers.”
I hated lying. I hated making excuses too but, if told Gina I’d skipped the appointment, she’d have a whole lot to say about it. That you can be sure of.
When she came into the bar, I waved her over but she didn’t smile. Usually, her smile brightened my day. A whole load of guilt swept through me but there was no way she’d know. She’d been at work all day.
We sat together, chatting as usual. Things between us were strange. We were together yet we weren’t.
She seemed distracted, like she was thinking about something else. Maybe she had work problems. There was something she wanted to say, it hung in the air between us.
“How are things at work?”
“Okay, at the moment,” she said. “A bit better than usual.”
I was proud that she’d stood up to those bitches. She let them walk over her too much. I knew she hated her job too. She said she needed to money but I wanted her to do something that filled her with joy, not just a paycheck.
The night seemed flat. I wondered if I should offer to walk her home. That might be the signal I needed to give. I pressed my knee against hers.
For once, she moved her leg away. I looked to her for some sign of what was going on but she didn’t acknowledge what she’d done.
It was early when she decided to leave. I stood up too.
“That’s okay, I can get home myself.”
If that’s what she wanted, I guess I was okay with it.
She hesitated for a moment. She had something on her mind.
“The hospital called me today. They wanted to know why you didn’t turn up for your appointment. I was hoping you’d tell me.”
Fuck, my stomach churned. I’d been caught out. I’d lied to her and she knew it. I’d forgotten that I’d given them her number as a contact. I was a dick, like a school kid caught out at cheating. Really fucking mature.
“I can explain,” I said.
She shook her head. “It’s not my business. You’re the one who needs to recover, not me. You’ve got to be responsible for yourself.”
She wasn’t angry, just really sad.
When she left the bar, I shook my head. I’d fucked t
hings up real bad.
Chapter 29 Gina
I GOT CALLED INTO THE supervisor’s office. There’d been some complaints about my work. No prizes for guessing where that came from. I walked down the hallway, determined that I’d not crumple this time.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to talk to you about this.”
“But I’d caught up on all my work. You can check the records and you’ll see, I had everything up to date.” I folded my hands in my lap and didn’t look up from them.
I hated dealing with Mr. Cross. He might be a nice guy but he had the power to sack me and that scared me.
“You know the procedure is to pick up the slack in the team.”
Normally, I’d say nothing to defend myself, promise to do better and go back to my desk. Then I’d fume and feel like I’d died a little bit inside. This time, I had to say something. My mouth was so dry, I was afraid the words would get stuck. Why hadn’t I picked up my water bottle off my desk?
“The thing is,” I started, but my words came out as a squeak. I gulped then kept going. If I didn’t say this now, I’d never say it. “I’m always picking up the slack. Maybe those who create the slack should be picking it up themselves. This system is unfair.”
I looked up at his face. It’d gone a little red. He was going to explode. I should keep quiet now but, I’d started talking and I’d finish what I had to say.
“The system doesn’t reward those who work hard. It rewards the staff who are lazy and unproductive. They don’t do their work and other people have to do it for them.”
He nodded his head. “I’ll take that on board, Gina. But, in the meantime, I think we’ll stick to the current system. The main thing is to have the work done in a timely manner. I’m sure that it all levels out.”
I got up. I’d tried. I never expected to be listened to. I could feel myself sweating and my face flushing. When I got to the door, I turned around. I had more to say.
“If it all evens out, then why am I the only one chastised about it? I have one or two slack days a year and you call me into your office. Other staff members do it constantly and nothing is said. I’d almost say you are too scared to confront certain staff members. Oh, and I’m quite upset now so I’m taking the afternoon off.”
My hands shook when I left his office. I’d said it and there was no taking it back. I walked to my desk, turned my computer off and picked up my bag. I couldn’t believe I’d said I was leaving. It was too late to go back on that now, though. I could hardly stay at my desk after I’d threatened to leave.
I wasn’t sure what to do with my day, so I headed for Trouble. I was still angry with Jackson for missing that appointment, well more so for lying to me but maybe there was a good reason. I hadn’t given him a chance to explain. He was obviously committed to getting his hand fixed. He’d had the surgery. Surely, he wouldn’t want to risk it by screwing around now. The doctor wouldn’t make him go back to the hospital if it wasn’t important.
I caught the bus across town. Maybe I wouldn’t have a job to go back to, but I’d worry about that tomorrow. I just needed to be out of there. Maybe I’d tell Jackson about it and he’d have some ideas. Every morning, I woke up dreading going into that place. The work bored me and I hated the environment. The only thing keeping me there was the money.
When I got to the bar, something was going on. Everyone was staring at something.
Jackson had someone up against the wall. I had no idea who it was but Jackson punched into him with a hell-bent fury
“Shit, Drew, get Alex,” Carlie said.
Drew ran upstairs while I ran to Jackson.
“Jackson, stop it,” I yelled.
He didn’t stop though, the guy struggled and Jackson reached for him, knocking him into the wall.
“Don’t come near me ever again,” he said to the guy. I’d never heard him so angry before. Sure, he was grumpy at times but this was cold, hard anger. It scared me.
Before I could say anything more, Alex rushed from upstairs. He and Carlie grabbed hold of Jackson and pulled him off the guy.
Alex told the other guy to get out of the bar. Blood gushed from that guy’s mouth. I wasn’t sure if it was right for him to go off without medical treatment. I didn’t want to get involved in that, though. I reached for Jackson’s hand. His left hand. The splint was broken. He’d been told to treat it with care.
“Can you call a cab?” I asked Carlie. We had to get to the hospital to get it looked at.
When the cab arrived, I went with Jackson. He didn’t say anything the whole time we’d waited. He didn’t say anything in the cab either. I didn’t talk either and I didn’t look at him. He’d put his recovery at risk. Maybe the surgery would be screwed up now.
I wanted to shake him and ask him why but I wasn’t ready to listen to his explanation.
We had to sit in the emergency room, in a little cubicle with a curtain around us. The anger in me boiled deep in my belly.
Next to us, a girl moaned in pain.
I couldn’t talk. If I couldn’t say what I wanted to say, I’d say nothing at all. It was as awkward as hell. Jackson sat on the edge of the hospital bed, staring at the curtain. I sat in the chair, staring at the floor.
An orderly came in and did some tests. Took Jackson’s blood pressure, asked him to fill in some papers.
“Are you family?” he asked me.
I shook my head. I didn’t even know what I was. It seemed like I was pretty nothing.
The waiting stretched on and on. I was about ready to smother the moaning girl with a pillow to put us all out of our misery when the orderlies came and got her. I wasn’t sure where we were in the order of things. It’d been over two hours.
“Do you want a drink?” I asked Jackson. “I think there’s a vending machine near the nurse’s station.”
He shook his head.
I had no idea what was going through his mind. At any point in the last two hours, he could’ve given me an explanation but he’d kept quiet. We were like two random strangers thrown together. Surely, he wouldn’t get angry for no reason but, if he couldn’t tell me, then what did we have between us? No kind of relationship, that’s for sure.
Finally, the doctor came in. It wasn’t a regular doctor but the one he’d seen for the surgery.
“Sorry about the wait but I wanted to see you myself.”
He examined Jackson’s hand then sent him off for some tests. I went out to the waiting room and picked up an old magazine. It had Tori Spelling on the cover.
Finally, it was over and we saw the doctor again.
“We just have to wait and see. Just do not put any pressure like that on your hand again. It was a damn stupid thing to do. You shouldn’t be drinking in the first place, let alone drinking and getting into a brawl.”
He replaced the splint and made an appointment for Jackson to come back.
Jackson called a cab. I wasn’t going to join him. He could go off on his own. He’d be returning to Trouble.
“Are you coming with me?” He held the cab door open.
I shook my head. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Suit yourself.”
Before he could leave, I ran over to him.
“Why did you do it? Just tell me you had a reason. After all you’ve been through, do you really care so little.”
“He pissed me off. That’s all.”
“You really care nothing for yourself, do you? You need to see a shrink. Until you get that sorted, I don’t know if I can be with you.”
I folded my arms and walked to the next cab on the rank, opening the door. I didn’t want to say anything because what could I say? He’d known the consequences but had done something so stupid anyway.
Jackson closed the cab door and took off. That was probably for the best but it made me feel abandoned. If he cared, wouldn’t he try to make this right?
“Where to?” the taxi driver asked, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel with impatience
. I told him to take me home. There was no other place for me.
Chapter 30 Jackson
I’D FUCKED THINGS UP royally. I knew that. Gina was damn mad. She rarely fought or yelled. She kept those things deep inside her and that just made it worse. Worse for her because she had no outlet and worse for me because I had nothing to fight against.
She’d stopped coming into the bar and she’d stopped coming to my place. I could go to hers but what would I say? If I apologized, she might be okay with that but what would it matter in the long term? I wasn’t sure I could do this. I’d been full of optimism when I’d agreed to the surgery but now it seemed hopeless. Even if I got the feeling back in my hand, I had no career now. No desire to get back on stage. The future that stretched before me seemed bleak. The only reason I even got out of bed and got dressed was to go to the club to drink.
There was nothing for me to do but drink. Drink was the only thing I could depend on in this world.
“Are we having a guitar lesson today?” Drew asked.
I waved him away. What the hell good were guitar lessons? He could work and practice and get better but, in the end, it was just playing guitar. That wasn’t worth a piece of shit in this world.
“Hey, I heard from Violet,” Carlie said. “She says the tour is going great guns. They’re living the dream.”
I just grunted. Nice for them.
“Jackson, you are fucking shit, you know that. You can’t even manage a snide comment anymore. You’re drinking way too much and your face is so sour, it’s making the beer turn. If you don’t get your act together, I’m going to have you banned from here.”
I grunted again. It didn’t even matter. There were other bars. The world was full of places to drink.
Carlie and Drew exchanged glances. I hoped they weren’t getting any fool ideas. I needed to be left alone. To sit in my corner and drink and brood about my life.
“Jackson, I think you’d feel better if you talked about things instead of bottling them up inside you,” Drew said.
The Trouble with Rock Stars: Jackson's Story (Access All Areas, #3) Page 12