Everything was surreal.
I was the one who’d made the arrangements for Dump, with Bobby’s help, after Sienna notified everyone to speak to me. She also didn’t want to be the one to call Dump’s mom. Sienna hated her, and Dump did too, but it was his mother and she needed to know her son had died. Maybe this news would be the news she needed to pull her head out of her ass to get sober, but for whom would she do it? I didn’t know. Dump was her only child.
I kept replaying the sad and unbelievable conversation with Rita, Dump’s estranged mother and the inspiration for our band’s name – a woman who had always given zero fucks about anyone but herself.
“Rita?”
“Who is this?” She’d asked harshly. I feared she’d hang up on me.
“It’s about Victor.”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Jake. Rita, I have terrible news. Are you alone? You might wanna sit down”
The line was silent, and I’d thought she’d hung up. “Hello?”
“Is he dead?” she snapped.
I instantly wanted to throw up. My stomach lurched and I couldn’t say the word.
“Hello? Is he dead?” Her voice was angry. I could practically feel her hands at my throat.
“Rita, I’m sorry.” I thought I heard heavy breathing, like she might be crying. “He had cancer, and he passed away the other night from complications of pneumonia.”
“Sure.” A muffled sound came through the line. “I bet it was drugs, and you all are covering it up. I know how you famous kids do that. Your people cover that shit up.”
“No, Rita. You woulda been proud of him. He’d been clean for years.” I waited for her to say something, and looked at the screen of my phone to make sure we were still connected. So I continued. “Um, we’ll be coming back to LA tonight and are having a service on Sunday, and just wanted you to know...”
Then the beep, beep, beep of the disconnection sounded in my ear.
She’d hung up on me.
I told Sienna about it when she’d finally come through the door late that night; all she said was, “Fuck her.” And then disappeared into my guestroom with more shopping bags.
My recollection stalled when Miguel rolled in the cart to take our bags down. Sienna stood clutching the urn to her chest as we rode down the elevator. She sighed heavily and moved her black thick-rimmed sunglasses from the top of her head down onto her face.
“Did you look outside?”
“Not today.”
“Did you see all the fans?”
She licked her lips, biting the bottom one. “There were several across the street when I came in last night. I didn’t want to look at them.”
“Did anyone notice you?”
“Yes. But I ran into the building from the cab.” Her replies were monotone and matter-of-fact, devoid of any emotion at all. “They were screaming and crying, telling me they loved me. I thought no one knew where you lived.”
“You’re kidding, right?” What she’d said annoyed me. She knew better. “You know that shit doesn’t stay off the radar for long.”
She didn’t say anything after that. The door to the elevator finally slid open, and Miguel and our two security guys waited as we approached. The click of Sienna’s black knee-high boots echoed off the marble lobby reminded me of Aly; her stride echoed the same way. The three imposing men in their black suits paced back and forth, their hands clasped behind them, glancing at us solemnly. They looked like FBI agents. Miguel spoke first.
“There are two SUV’s. One has your four friends, and the other is yours.” He looked at us seriously. “The crowd has grown,” he said softly, looking around as other tenants walked in. “Some of your neighbors aren’t very happy.”
This made my temper ignite. I stood tall, grinding my teeth together. “My best friend just died, Miguel. Sorry someone like me lives in this building. They can all go fuck themselves.”
I glanced, around making eye contact with a couple about my parents’ age, waiting for the elevator. The petite woman in a sleeveless baby blue dress, with short blonde hair and shining blue eyes, looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place her. I’d seen her somewhere else before, other than my lobby. She gave me a sad smile before she vanished behind the elevator door. She probably wasn’t the one who complained. I’d meant to ask Miguel who she was, but Alex, our Samoan bodyguard, stepped in front of him.
“Sir. We need to get going or your flight may be delayed. It’s the tail end of rush hour.”
“Sure,” I said grudgingly.
Alex nodded and walked ahead of us, leading the way. “Brace yourself,” he warned, and looked at David, our other linebacker-sized bodyguard. As soon as we walked outside, the screaming pierced my ears, and I couldn’t hear anything else but my name. I was shocked at the number of cameras. It was almost like someone called and told them what was going on. Sienna gripped my arm and buried her sunglasses-covered face into my shoulder blade as camera flashes blinded us. Alex and Kyle did their best to shield us, but there were too many of them.
“How are you doing, Sienna?” – What? How do you think she’s doing?
“Our condolences.”
“When did Dump pass away?”
“Sienna! Are you going to be living with Jake now?” a female voice shouted. Really? Who asks that? I whipped my head around trying to see who it could be, but there were too many arms and lenses; too many unshaven, dark-faced men in the sea of fucked-up tabloid mayhem.
“Jake! Where is Alyssa?”
“Jake! How is the rest of the band dealing with this tragedy?”
Then a lens hit me in the nose as we stepped into the street to our waiting transportation, and I lost it. I grabbed the camera, butting a man straight in the nose with it at least two times. I stopped when I spotted blood in his mouth and nose. I heard Sienna’s cries to stop and I climbed into the back seat, slamming the door shut.
I stared at Sienna and took her trembling body into my arms. “Get the fuck outta here already!” I ordered the driver. He eased his way through the bulk of camera-clad people standing in front of our SUV, still having the nerve to keep shooting pictures. Their hopes of getting an image they could sell to the tabloids. “Fucking vultures.” I kissed the top of her head. I couldn’t see Sienna’s eyes behind her dark shades, but her tears spilled down her cheeks.
It was one of the worst days of my life. Everything that had transpired up to that moment was so fucked up beyond belief that I couldn’t grasp hold of clarity. I held Sienna in my arms, the wife of my dead drummer, and prayed for the fourth time in my life.
I was thankful and grateful for the friends more successful and ballsier than me. I was offered to hitch a flight back to Los Angeles at the last minute when word got out as to what our plans were for Dump. David Todd, CEO and Founder of one of the largest media conglomerates in the world, Red Layne Media Ltd., owned the penthouse in the building where I lived. He had that old school suave thing goin’ on, with a full head of brown, graying hair – reminding me of The Most Interesting Man In The World. If Tom Brady and Marlon Brando had a baby – David Todd was it.
Mr. Todd was as generous as he was shady, and by shady, I mean there was some shit that I’d overheard once that made my blood run cold, kinda like a mafia vibe if I had to describe it. The one and only time I’d been up to his apartment, I was standing at his door. Before I could knock, it cracked open, and I heard voices.
“Clive, if that delivery doesn’t make it, someone won’t be going home to their family. I won’t be out twice,” a heated voice warned.
“Yes. Mr. Todd. I understand.” And the door flung open and my eyes met Mr. Todd’s. He didn’t even flinch, staring at me with stony eyes. That’s when my blood went instantly cold. I knew he was testing me, to see if I’d react; I didn’t. His minion, Clive, took off without a word. I didn’t dare turn to see what he looked like. Mr. Todd placed his arm around my shoulders when I walked in, pulling me to him, whispering in my ear
. “Mr. Masters, business is business, and sometimes it takes you down some unfortunate roads.” And he laughed, patting me hard on the back.
“Mr. Todd, I give zero fucks about what you’ve got goin’ on.”
As I recalled the surreal encounter, I graciously declined his free flight offer and explained that the entire band would be traveling back to LA and we would be going together – “The plane is yours,” he insisted, bowing to me as he exited the elevator. “Whenever you need it.” He whipped off his black tie from around his neck as he turned to face me. “You just make sure to let me know when your next European tour starts. Sloan, my assistant, she’s a big fan. I’d like her to join you for a bit. You know as a gift to her, for all she does for me.”
Fuckin’ A – whatever you want, Mr. Todd, I’d thought, stoked about his insistence under the circumstances. I wanted one less thing to worry about.
It was a relief that Sienna and I didn’t have to hassle with crowds or security while carrying Dump’s remains onto a plane. As I dipped my head, we walked into the sleekest piece of equipment I’d ever seen. It was a Dassault Falcon – running in the rage of about thirty-five million dollars. I’d done a little research on what it would take to own one. I wasn’t quite there yet and wasn’t sure I’d ever be. In spite of everything, the jet was exciting, and the other guys felt the same. None of them had ever been on a private jet before. Sienna on the other hand, had many times. She was as unaffected by it as she was devastated, cradling Dump’s urn in her arms as she sunk into the tan leather seat at the back of the plane.
I zoned out as soon as our flight attendant, Gloria, introduced herself and offered us drinks, not really hearing the captain or paying any mind to the emergency exit info they were attempting to explain to everyone. Let’s face it; we would all more likely die if we fell out of the sky. As we taxied down the runway, I peered over my shoulder and watched as Sienna popped a pill in her mouth, knocking it back with who knows what kind of drink. I was still amazed that after all these years, Sienna decided to start drinking. In high school, all she did was give us shit about it. That familiar yearning gripped at my stomach. What was she taking? I told myself it was one of those Ambien’s. I needed one of those too; wait, no I didn’t. I didn’t need anything.
Holy fuck. HOLY FUCK! My insides coiled, realizing nothing in my life would ever be the same – Dump was gone forever. Aly wouldn’t entirely be mine until she finished college, and my relationship with my mother and Notting was glaringly on a new level.
I hadn’t slept in days, and whatever Sienna popped in her mouth – I took one too.
25
Alyssa
Since the news of Dump’s death, traffic on our street had grown heavy, congested at times. It was the first time since Jake’s rise to fame that our homes were on the news. ‘Local celebrity’s passing stirs mourning from music lovers near and far.’ Nobody but the band knew he was sick, and Dump’s death took everyone by surprise. The NBC affiliate in Los Angeles wanted to interview me, but I said no.
Jake’s yard became a small shrine to Dump overnight – causing Kate to hire security. Cops began to patrol every hour or so. She’d asked me not to alarm Jake about it. She didn’t want to add any more stress to his life. “This will pass, and things will be a new normal, Alyssa. Please don’t say anything, he’ll know soon enough.” I felt like a prisoner of sorts. I had his fans shouting my name as I’d dash from my car into the house. They were sweet of course, perched in the spot across the street where I used to hang out in high school, waiting to catch a glimpse of anyone tied to the band.
What a mess.
I had no idea what I’d say to Sienna when I saw her. Should I smile? Should I hug her? Of course I should hug her – duh.
In my restless state, I unconsciously ran my hands over my legs, back and forth, finally feeling the stubble growing on my calf. I looked closely at the dark hairs sprouting up. I was perplexed at how the hair on my thigh was practically nonexistent, smooth as silk, the opposite just a few inches away. I chalked it up to shaving. I should have never shaved my calves back in the sixth grade, I thought, crossing my legs in front of me and directing my thoughts back to Jake.
The time read 5:36 PM, and Jake should be sending a text at any moment. The butterflies swarmed up my spine at the idea of being with him again. My obsessive, lurking craziness took over as I waited for Jake’s flight to land. I busied myself with something I shouldn’t have been doing while I waited, searching hashtags - #JakeMasters, #RitasRevolt #RR #EvaJames – anything that would bring up anything at all about Jake.
What was I doing? I shouldn’t be trying to find out anything, but guess what? There it was. As soon as I scrolled through Eva’s hashtag, there were several pictures of Jake and her, smiling like a happy couple. I knew better than to trust anything on social media. It was all bullshit. Or was it? I just couldn’t help myself. I kept lurking and lurking as my stomach boiled over with psychotic anger, completely forgetting that one of Jake’s best friends had just died. Not actually forgetting, but not caring. All I cared about were the images of Eva and him in each other’s arms, blissfully smiling at the camera. One of them was of Eva kissing Jake on the neck and his eyes were closed like he was enjoying it.
A moment captured. How many other moments like that were there?
I blinked several times, as if what I was seeing would change. But of course it didn’t, she was still there, kissing his neck. I wanted to scratch out my eyes and hers. I took a screen shot of the image – because of course I wanted to continue torturing myself at a later date, and God forbid it vanish from the Internet.
I sucked in a deep breath and sighed out heavily, punching away at my keyboard. I whispered out loud to myself that it was nothing, that she was nothing. Shit happens on tour. I kept reminding myself I could be his at any moment I wanted, and twirled the ring on my finger. But doubt consumed me, because now all I could see was the image of Eva and him. Then I found myself going to Facebook and stalking Nathan. I typed in his name and clicked.
There he was – a gorgeous, smiling, perfect picture of Nathan stared back at me. I could almost feel his gentle, kind, sweet nature oozing out of my computer screen. I buried my face in my hands.
“What is going on?” I shouted into my palms, rubbing my hands up my face and through my hair. I picked up my phone, looking at the screen, hoping I’d missed hearing a call or text – nothing.
I punched in a text to Nadine.
- I FOUND A PIC OF JAKE AND EVA. KILL ME.
-
Immediately my phone rang. It was Nadine.
“Stop it!” she yelled. “This is his job, and you know this. He’s just living his life.”
Her words burned. “I know, but I can’t stand it.”
“Then why do you go looking for it?”
I could hear the wind. She must be driving. “Where are you?”
“Driving home.” I could hear the sound of the wind begin to fade and the music cease. “Aly, you need to check yourself. This is something he’s gonna be doing for the rest of his life.”
“I know. I don’t know if I’m tough enough.” A ping chimed in my ear. It was Jake, and my heart sprung into high gear, thumping erratically. “Jake just landed.”
“When is the funeral or whatever they’re having?”
“It’s tomorrow, I think.”
“I’ll call you when I get home.”
I didn’t even say goodbye and tapped quickly at my phone to read his message:
- ALYCAT. KATE & NOTTING ARE COMING TO GET US. WE’RE STAYING AT A HOTEL. HEARD IT’S A MADHOUSE THERE. MEET ME AT SHADE IN A HALF HOUR.
Happiness surged through me, and I smiled despite the reason why he was back.
Why shouldn’t I be happy? I was excited to be with Jake, and I could still be supportive with condolences for Sienna and the band’s loss. I felt sad, but couldn’t mourn something that I didn’t feel a loss for.
I stuffed a change of clothes in a bag
and headed for the door. I stopped short of pulling it open when I heard my mother shout out my name.
“Alyssa!”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah!”
“Where are you going?” I heard her voice move closer. “There are cops parked outside, informing people that Jake isn’t at this residence.” She pulled her glasses from her face and looked at me somberly. “The news says the memorial is tomorrow.”
She shook her head sadly, and I nodded. “It is.”
“Kate called.”
“And?”
“Are you going to see Jake?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes roamed my face, hesitant to say more. Staring. Blinking. “Be careful.”
Something in me stirred. “I’ll let you know what’s up, once I know.” I said, facing the door.
“Nathan came by earlier.” She announced just as I stepped out.
I paused for only a blip, wanting to ask her why she didn’t tell me three hours ago. “Thanks.” I pulled hard on the handle to shut the front door, barely feeling my hand on the knob. Why didn’t Nathan just call or text?
All of a sudden, I felt the weight of circumstances truly hit me. I had no business getting upset about Jake and Eva when I still cared about Nathan. All of us had a past. I needed to get over Eva. I walked slowly toward my courtyard gate and could hear the commotion of car engines and voices. I froze. There was absolutely no way for me to leave my property without some sort of confrontation. My breath was labored and angst needled at my brain.
Just walk out there and get in your car - I ordered myself. Normally I’d walk to downtown Manhattan Beach, a short stroll up and down one hill but as I opened the gate and stepped out my name was shouted.
“Alyssa! Oh my God, oh my God!” I kept my head down, as if I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t make eye contact with anyone.
“Aly! Is Jake okay? What’s the band gonna do?”
Broken Notes Page 18