Would I really do that? I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t, probably not.
At the airport, I encountered a few fans and took a few pictures. The meaningful well wishes were uplifting, and they’d all mentioned the post I’d made of myself in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. They were all excited and looking forward to my new music. It’d been a long time since I casually interacted with fans.
I floated through LAX with a stupid smile on my face and actually said hello to a few people. I would have never done that in the past, ever. There was something to say about being twenty-five and living the kind of life I’ve led. I was a survivor. I had stories to share. I’d be sharing them soon enough. I rewound the conversation Marty and I’d had at the airport.
“You need to come back in about a month.”
“Jake. I can’t be driving you around.”
“Nah. I got that figured out. I’m gonna start this new solo project, and I want you to document it all. I want to share the good, the ugly and the resurrection.”
I finally got a smile from him.
I called my mom as soon as the plane touched down in Los Angeles, and she was beyond delighted to oblige. I’d avoided her and Notting for basically the last several years. Ever since I’d found out that Notting was my real, biological father. I’d wanted to protect my mother from the knowledge of my cheating “father”, Michael, a man whom I truly loved and had fond childhood memories of. Now Michael died not knowing that I wasn’t really his, and what did it matter? My mother had her own skeletons, major. It was just all so fucked up. I never really talked to her about the entire ordeal. The only person I really felt sorry for was Notting, and I wasn’t sure I felt sorry anymore. He got his son and the love of his life, even though he’d waited thirty years.
Holy shit. Was that bound to be me?
Notting and my mother Kate reminded me of so much of what I didn’t want to address. Everyone’s infidelity, everyone’s lies and secrets, including my own. Maybe if I took the time to actually invite her into my life…
Fuck. I want a real chance with Aly…or anyone, for that matter.
I almost said my thoughts out loud as I stood curbside waiting for my mom, looking around as if people would be reading my mind. It was hot, and the mixture of heat and the smell of jet fuel and car exhaust nauseated me. I hadn’t stood curbside since I don’t remember when, probably high school. Usually because it would get too crazy with fans. Today I took it all in stride and stood for pictures and signed autographs. I’d never asked anyone’s name before, but as I stared up from the black ink that stained the blue piece of paper I held in my hand, I decided what the hell. Happy brown eyes sparkled at me over a grin so big tugged at my heart. A teenaged girl with wavy black hair bounced on her toes.
I winked at her as she took the paper from my hand. “How old are you?” I knew I probably should not have asked that, and before I could apologize, her words rushed out so fast I couldn’t help but smile. “Fourteen.” She bounced. “I’m gonna be fifteen next month. Thank you so much. I had to do a double take standing at the baggage carousal. I was like is that! Wait is that? Oh my God that’s…and it’s you. Thank you! Can I take a picture with you?”
I chuckled. “Sure.”
Our faces appeared on the screen of her phone, and she snapped three.
“Okay thanks so much! Your music changed my life. I’m so happy you’re okay. I prayed so hard for you, because you’re so amazing you don’t even know!” She hugged me so quickly and took off. I barely had a chance to wave before another person came up to me. There was a small crowd for about twenty minutes before I realized my mom had pulled up, and she was watching the whole scene. For the first time since I was a senior in high school, I interacted with every single fan that wanted a moment with me.
I was stoked to be home, my real home. It was also a bittersweet moment, because Aly’s house seemed to mock me when I got out of the car and stared at it. It looked the same as it ever did, but she wasn’t inside it. She lived in Malibu with roommates, apparently. When she’d shared that bit of info with everyone at the dinner table the night before, I wanted to ask if she had her own room. She probably did, and I surged with jealousy at the thought of Nathan in her bed.
“Where’s Notting?” I wondered when I didn’t see his truck in the driveway when we pulled in. “He’s at work.”
“What?” I was shocked. He didn’t have to work anymore. “Where’s he workin’?”
“He’s been consulting at an agency in Beverly Hills. He’s bored.”
***
I lay on my mother’s bed and sunk into her pillows. The smell wasn’t the same. I used to come into my mom’s room when I was younger. It would make me feel safe, like everything would be okay. It wasn’t just hers any more; it was Notting’s, too, yet it gave me the same safe, homey feeling as it did all those years ago.
My mother startled when she noticed me. “Oh geez, Jake!” she gasped, holding her chest. “I didn’t expect you to be there. What are you doing? Are you feeling okay?”
Her motherly hand came over and covered my forehead and moved to my cheeks.
“Am I okay?” I gave her a worried look.
A wry grin popped to her lips. “Your temperature is okay.” She pulled the hair from her shoulders into a ponytail, then wrapped it up into a bun, all the while giving me a long, loving once over. “I’m happy you’re here. I pray every day you’ll have another day on this Earth.”
My nose burned instantly, and I swallowed the little lump in my throat. Instead of my usual negative outburst or condescending remark, I accepted her love. “I know.”
I nodded and bent to sit up. Ouch. My balls were getting squished. I pulled at the waist of the black board shorts I wore, tearing open the Velcro fly closure, loosening the snug fit. I’d gained a few healthy pounds, more muscle from working out. I probably should stop trying to fit into my high school clothes. I hadn’t wore a pair of boardies in more years than I could count, and I hadn’t stepped in sand in probably just as long.
“I love you, Mom.”
She gave me a soft, crinkly-eyed smile. My beautiful mother was getting older, finally. She’d looked younger than her years for more years than I could count, but finally, the years were knocking. I couldn’t help but feel deep guilt for being a pain in the ass. No doubt her worry over me helped carve the lines on her face.
“I love you, too,” she said and crawled underneath the covers next to me.
“I’m sorry for everything. I know I’ve said sorry so many times it doesn’t mean anything anymore.” The words made me think of all the times I told Aly I was sorry, too.
She patted my arm. “I know you’re sorry. Let’s not dwell. It’s taken me a long time to let go of the past, and I just want to keep looking forward.”
Me too. “Does Notting always come home late?”
“Not usually, no.”
I tucked my arms behind head. “Mom.”
“Yes.”
“Did Notting ever tell you that we’ve talked?”
“Of course, you know that.” She rolled over onto her side to face me. “But he never shared, in depth, what was said. Just that you two bonded. It was actually a contention between us for a long time, him keeping your confidence.”
I inhaled deeply. My heart began to thump rapidly, and I cleared my throat. “Mom. Did you ever hear that Dad cheated on you?”
Hearing her exhale heavily, I turned my head to see her wounded eyes stare back at me. She bit down on her bottom lip with a furrowed brow. “I’ll assume you did, or you wouldn’t be asking me.”
“Did you believe it? Or did you know?”
She tipped back onto her back and bent her knees up. “I knew.”
“And you just let him get away with it? How long did you know?”
She pushed herself up and gathered the pillows against the padded cream-colored headboard, thinking.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that. It was a long time
ago, and you’ve moved on, finally.” I reached over, rubbing her arm. “I’m happy for you and Notting, no matter what the story is.”
Her eyes pooled with tears, and she wiped them away with a swipe of her hands. Her words came out slowly as she pulled her knees to her chest. “I think because of what you’re going through with Alyssa, you understand the complexity of what some people go through when being in love. Not everyone has a hard time. They meet someone and it’s just that one person. There’s no fight from another, no third party, or love triangle. I loved Michael very much, we had a great life together, but in the end I’m not really sure why I chose him. I hate to say it was a mistake.”
But it was a mistake. I was Notting’s son, not Michael’s, I wanted to say. I was riveted by her words. It was the most open she’d been about her life before me, and I wanted to know more. I wanted to know her side.
“Are these the things Notting shared with you? Did he tell you about Michael?” she asked cautiously.
“No. Did he know?” I asked pointedly, thinking maybe he did know and that’s why he stuck around, waiting for her to find out on her own. But then my dad was killed in a car accident and I thought she’d never find out. I kept that agonizing secret, that ate away at me, for nothing.
“We never discussed it.” She shrugged and her chest heaved with a sigh. “Jake. I have so much culpability in how our relationship came to pass.” She reached over taking my hand and rested it on her stomach. “You’re my greatest accomplishment, and Michael loved you very much. He said the same thing about you.” She released my hand and cupped the sides of her cheeks as she attempted to hold back tears. “I didn’t know. I really didn’t know that you could have been Notting’s son. I look into your eyes and see mine. I…but now that you’re a grown man…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “The older you got, I’d see you standing next to Notting…it was so obvious. You’re built just like him. You have his hands. I didn’t want to think about it, I…I pushed it so far down until I couldn’t take it anymore. I just had to know, so I took a paternity test.”
Tears dripped from her eyes. “Michael always felt like he’d won. He was proud and arrogant. Notting saw me first. He was so sweet, nothing like Michael, in the Cavern in Liverpool. I was so young. Michael and him were best friends, and…well everything happened the way it happened.” She sank, exhausted from the memories. “Michael took care of me. He dominated me.”
“Mom…” I squeezed her hand. “As much as I wanna know. If it’s too difficult to talk about…”
“No. You have to know. It wasn’t until I had you, I found my voice, and Notting was always there to listen. He was my biggest advocate, and after a while, Michael just faded into his own world. Notting gave me the courage to stand up to Michael.” She hugged my hand to her chest and kissed my knuckles. “You don’t need to know all the pessimistic details. Here we are. As it should have been.”
3
Gabe Sherman was serious about his job. He was precise. He was stoic. He was articulate, and most of all, accommodating. He had to be, I supposed; he was my driver. A handsome Clint Eastwood lookalike, he’d worked for the same limo service for over twenty years, which catered to studio executives and A-list celebrity clientele. Gabe was directly recommended to me by one of the new producers I was working with on my solo endeavor. He was also the driver for several rock and music legends when they came into town. Gabe and I developed a similar relationship as I had with Marty, part friendship and part business.
It’d been several months since I last saw Aly. The last time I’d seen her was at Bobby and Marshall’s wedding, and she’d attended with Nathan. There’s not much to say about it; other than she looked gorgeous in a cerulean blue strapless dress. It killed me to spy Nathan fawning over her. I left as soon as I made the rounds at the reception. I didn’t even bother saying hello. I’d tried to pretend they didn’t exist.
I’d been keeping track of Aly, once again through her brother Kyle, just like I did during our three-year separation while Aly was still in high school. My big plans to inject myself back into her life backfired when I found out she would be away playing beach volleyball in some foreign country all summer. Then my new aspirations at a solo career took me back to Britain until right before Christmas.
During that time, Kyle went and got married in Vegas. Nothing eventful. No one was there, and he’d settled in Hermosa Beach, the next town over. He had a baby on the way. I couldn’t image myself with a kid. I was only twenty-five, after all. Who does that anymore? I guessed Kyle did. His wife was the epitome of the sexy librarian. Lacey was her name and he’d met her at his tech job. She was of average size and decent figure, though she hid beneath knee-length skirts and oversized blouses, but I saw through all of that. When I first met her, I’d recognized something bubbling beneath the surface. Her pouty pink lips and almond-shaped green eyes caught my attention. I was stoked for Kyle.
I wondered if my generation was getting married younger than my parents’ generation; first Marshall and Bobby, and now Kyle and Lacey, not to mention Dump and Sienna right out of high school. It just seemed so young to choose whom you’d spend the rest of your life with. Yet there I was, ready to marry Aly if she walked through the door and said yes. I had zero interest in a relationship with anyone else. Sure, I wanted to get laid and have a good time, but nothing else. I pondered the difference between all of us being ready to settle down, vs. Aly being against it. My stomach curled with resentment that she was now engaged, ready to marry Nathan. But what did I expect? I put so much bad energy out there I wouldn’t have wanted to marry me either.
There I was back at home, like a teenager, depending on other people to give me rides. Notting was even back into pseudo-managing me.
Full circle.
I kicked my feet up onto the padded leather ottoman in front of me and watched Notting’s tattoos dance on his arms as he wrestled with some of my mother’s painting canvases. Seeing his tattoos made me touch my own, unfinished tribute to Aly. Looking at it, I wanted it finished. The hair strands needed to be traced with blue, the same blue that filled the music notes.
“Not, you know this is the first time in my life that I don’t feel any pressure. Like zero.” I strummed the chords, plucking a tune I’d been mixing with some lyrics. “I think I’m gonna finally finish this tattoo, too,” I announced, with one last strum, and then slapped my left bicep.
He swiveled his seat to face me and moved the blank canvas he had between his legs, leaning it against the sofa arm. He’d been screwing in metal wall mounts into the wood of the canvas’ frame. My mother was on a new kick. She’d begun painting.
“Life is good, eh?” He smiled, and his handsome face folded together like an accordion. His new reading glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. I saw myself in him. I had his teeth.
I bobbed my head. “So so, but better than before. There’s no struggle.” Except for Aly.
He stood and adjusted his black wide-legged sweat pants. “I’ve been talking to your old booking agent.”
I perked up. “And?”
“They’re ready when you are.”
I held my breath. “Okay.” I was nervous, and I found it odd, almost like it would be my first time on stage. I’d played to filled stadiums, but this was something new. I wasn’t sure when I’d be ready. I’d never been on stage without my friends.
Notting looked at me fondly over his rimless glasses with a smile, as if he’d read my mind. “We’ll hire a drummer and a bass player and go from there. Simple.”
***
The famed Hotel Café in Hollywood with its dramatic red curtains as the stage backdrop. That’s where Notting had arranged for me to play my debut solo gig. I had to admit I was excited, and a bittersweet sensation crawled over me as I thought about Dump. I was thankful Bobby was back home from his last tour, and he was more than stoked when I asked if he’d play with me. We’d practiced and then hired a guy Bobby recommended, Trev Stoneham, aka Ston
ey, as a drummer. It was nearly like old times – in my garage at first; then we moved to a rehearsal space. Six weeks later, the day came.
Load in at Hotel Café was at 5:30 PM, and it was about 4 PM on a Thursday in mid-March. Cool and windy, the trees rustled with each bluster of wind, and dark clouds began to roll in. I hoped it wouldn’t rain too hard or too long. I didn’t want the fans to get soaked. I’d heard there was a line at the venue trailing down the street. It’d begun forming at around noon. I was elated and relieved. There was a bit of fear in me that no one would come, since I’d fallen off the face of the planet in complete scandal.
I’d arranged for Gabe to drive me for the evening, and he’d pulled up right in front of my driveway. I stood in my garage packing my very first acoustic guitar in its case and rubbed its smooth glossy surface. Every time I picked her up, she sang to me in an authentic, fine voice, so different than any of my other guitars. It would be first time I’d be performing on stage with her, she was my most prized possession, and I thanked God I’d left her in her case that one time, thinking back to when I’d busted my other acoustic guitar in a doped-up mad rage over something stupid – well, I didn’t think it was stupid at all, but still. She was the one that wrote all those hit songs with me, and now the world was going to finally meet her.
As I was loading my guitar and backpack into the backseat of Gabe’s black Escalade, time stopped. A car I didn’t recognize pulled into Aly’s driveway. My mouth went instantly dry. I didn’t notice the driver, only her in the passenger seat.
Was she with Nathan?
Broken Notes Page 27