I snarled at him. “Yeah. God forbid.”
Brad looked at us both. “Let’s get the fuck out of here and let the guys know. This is just one of many things that will help us get recognized. No time to rest on our laurels, ladies.”
And that’s why Fully Automatic would never die—because Brad kept it alive. Every move was calculated, and not only did he have us working steadily, he was constantly pushing us to add to our repertoire, to try new things, to learn something different.
And we’d survived our first review. That felt pretty good.
* * *
One day late spring, Ethan was in a worse mood than usual. He’d been suffering from one of his bouts of depression, where he’d be glum and quiet most of the day. He’d also sleep a lot, but that’s when he’d indulge more in the illicit substances too. I was never sure what triggered those spells, but they seemed to be coming more and more often, and I didn’t know how to handle them.
He got up that afternoon, and it was a day I wasn’t working. After playing around on Brad’s computer a bit, he got dressed and announced that he was going out. I was convinced he was going on a drug run. I didn’t know how to stop his self-destructive behavior, but I thought maybe I could play his conscience. “Want some company?”
He scowled. “No. Not really.”
I wrapped my arm around his. I was trying to be playful, but it wasn’t working. “Come on, Ethan. I’m your girl, remember? Why wouldn’t you want to bring me along?” It was time to call him on his behaviors. If his drug and women habit were nothing for me to worry about, then he could bring me along.
“I don’t want you to come.”
I just stared at him. It hurt at first…a lot. But then I grew angry. Not only did he have no problem doing things that were damaging to our relationship, but he was mean about it too. I don’t know if it was the look on my face or the fact that I just backed away without a word, but he relented. He sighed and grabbed my hand before I got completely out of reach. “Okay, okay. You can come. But you’re not gonna like it. And keep your fucking mouth shut.”
I wasn’t going to say a word…not now, at any rate. But he couldn’t stop me later. So I quit talking, right that second, and just followed him to his truck. We drove for a long time. I wasn’t sure exactly which city we were in, because one just blended into another in the Denver Metro area. I’d seen that already in the short time we lived there. Aurora and Lakewood might have been their own cities, but if you weren’t paying attention to the signage, you’d have no idea you’d crossed a border. All I knew is we’d gotten off the interstate a while back and were in an area I’d never been in before. Well, maybe in the dark driving to a new concert venue, I might have. I wasn’t always paying attention when we were getting ready to play, but I usually caught most of it. Riding shotgun had afforded me a better view of the city than the other guys.
We parked in front of a bar, and I just knew Ethan was going to conduct a drug transaction. He threw his cigarette butt on the ground and joined me on the other side of the truck on the sidewalk. I was shocked when he laced my hand in his and led me not into the bar, but toward a door beside the bar. He had a piece of paper in his hand, and he glanced down at it. Satisfied, he pulled on the door and let me pass through first.
It led to a tall staircase. Next to the door was a series of mailboxes, and that’s when I realized there were apartments above. Of course. A drug deal wouldn’t take place in a bar. Once again, my naïveté was showing.
And I couldn’t believe he was going to go through with it with me right there. Unbelievable.
Well, I thought, at least I’d know some of what he was taking.
As I’d promised, I didn’t say a word. I just held on tightly to his hand and followed him up the long flight of stairs. When we got up the stairs, I let my eyes adjust. The hallway was dark—or was it dingy? It was probably both. But it was so dark in there, it was hard to tell.
It was quiet. As we walked down the hallway, I could feel boards give under the threadbare carpeting. That carpet had once been a rich mix of beiges and burgundies, but today it was stained and thin and only my imagination helped me see its former beauty.
We stopped near the end of the hall, and Ethan looked at the number for several seconds as though trying to make sure he was at the right room. Then he lifted his hand and, with deliberation, made it into a fist…a fist so tight, his knuckles turned white. I wanted to ask him why we were here, why he was tormenting himself. Maybe he was finally agonizing over his addiction and wanted help.
That was a conversation for another time. For now, I was trying not to regret my promise to be quiet.
At last, a man answered the door. He had brown hair, although it was thinning a little, and he was probably about twenty pounds overweight. He wasn’t bad looking, though, even though he was quite a bit older than we were. He examined Ethan and then glanced at me. His eyes were cold. He looked back at my boyfriend. “You Ethan?”
Ethan just nodded, his jaw clamped closed, his eyes glinting. The man stood back, inviting us in. We stopped just inside the doorway, and as the man closed the door, Ethan asked, “Burt?”
The man acknowledged his question with a nod, and then realization washed over me, why this man had seemed familiar. This man was Ethan’s dad. And then I understood why Ethan was angry.
We stood in a tight doorway that led two ways—one to a living area and the other to a kitchen. The man led us into the kitchen and asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”
Ethan shook his head. I thought it would be polite for Ethan to introduce me, but I wasn’t going to worry too much about it. He was struggling with a lot at the moment.
I tried not to look around the kitchen, tried to keep my judgments to myself. This was a guy who knew how to not accumulate a lot of clutter, but it was evident that he wasn’t much into cleaning. It looked clean enough, but it felt…sticky and dusty. Maybe it was just my perception, but I didn’t feel comfortable there. Burt looked at me. “Would you like something?” I shook my head. Nope…I didn’t want to be rude, but I imagined there would be a thin film of grease on any glass he handed me. “Please, sit down.” He waved us at the table. Ethan seemed reluctant but he did and I followed suit. Once Burt sat down, he asked, “How’s your mother?”
I hadn’t expected Ethan’s reaction. “You fucking bastard. You don’t give any kind of a shit. Not one. Why are you even asking?”
His father was calm. “Why are you here?”
Ethan processed it as though he hadn’t fully considered it. He blinked twice and then said, “You’re lucky I don’t kill you.”
His father stayed cool and folded his hands together on the top of the table. “We all have our crosses to bear, Ethan. You don’t know me. Oh, I’m sure you think you do, because everything you’ve ever known about me you’ve condensed and warped and carried around as a little ball of hate for most of your pathetic life.” Ethan’s eyelids lowered. Yes, his father had it right. Ethan was full of hate for this man. “But you don’t know me. You remember a few ugly scenes from your childhood before I left. And those, to you, equate to knowing who I am. You probably don’t remember me playing in the backyard with you, rolling the ball. You probably don’t remember when we went out for ice cream after you got your shots one day or the time I took you to a Rockies game.” His quiet stare penetrated Ethan, and they were quiet for a few seconds. But then he said, “Do you?”
Ethan’s voice was low. “Obviously, your killer nature made a deeper impression on me.”
“Yeah, and your mom’s a perfect angel.”
Ethan stood up and acted like he was going to grab Burt around the collar, but his father stood too, so quickly that his chair tipped over. He was up for the challenge, and even though the guy might have been overweight, he was still imposing and scary. And, if Ethan really did have horrible memories (I had no doubt, just based on what little he’d shared), he might have equated this man with pain. “Don’t you say sh
it about my mom.”
Burt’s voice was just as calm as it had been when he’d started. “Ethan, I will say just one thing. You had the perspective of a child. You couldn’t know everything, and I haven’t been able to defend myself. Frankly, I don’t want to. I can admit it. I was an asshole, and no matter what was going on, I had no right to touch your mother the way I did. Notice I have no women around here. I know myself. But that’s beside the point. Why are you here? What do you want? If you want your revenge, I suggest you get over it. Live your own goddamned life. Your mother has moved on and so have I. If you want some kind of relationship with me, we can try that too, but you’ll have to get over whatever shit you’re holding onto.”
I looked at Ethan. I knew. Something inside him had thought he was going to be able to resolve his feelings by seeing this man. He’d once said he wanted to just kill his father. Ethan was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a murderer. The problem was seeing him and talking to him was resolving nothing. When Ethan spoke, I could barely hear him and his voice was like a growl. “I just wanted to come tell you I’m not your son.”
“I suppose you think that’ll hurt me.”
Ethan shrugged. “I don’t give I shit.”
“Look…you want a sorry? Fine. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt your mother, and I’m sorry it hurt you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t a part of your life. But it’s nothing I can go back and change now.” He placed his hand on his chest and sat down. Ethan regarded him for several seconds and then sat down as well.
I couldn’t help myself. “Are you okay?”
I could tell he was lying when he said, “I’m fine.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. What’s your name?”
I tried to smile. “Valerie Quinn.”
“Are you Ethan’s girlfriend?”
“That’s none of your goddamned business,” Ethan said. He stood up again. “Come on, Val. Let’s go. I have nothing else to say.”
Ethan was already walking toward the front door before I could even stand. I’m sure I looked sheepish as I stood to follow him. I wanted to apologize for Ethan’s rude behavior, but that was between him and his father. I knew I needed to stay out of it. So I tried to smile and then caught up to Ethan. In the hallway, he wrapped his hand around mine, and we walked down the stairs in a hurry. It wasn’t until we were at the truck that he squeezed my hand again. Before he kissed me, he said, “Valerie Quinn, you make me a better man.” And as I drowned in his kiss, I wondered exactly what he meant by that.
* * *
Brad, along with Last Five Seconds, organized some traveling concert. There was another band involved, and they managed to set up nine concerts in nine different cities over the course of fourteen days. Brad managed to get the time off from work, but my boss told me if I took that much time off, he couldn’t promise my job would be there when I returned. I told him it was something I had to do, and I hoped the two months’ advance notice I’d given him counted for something. He said my timing was rotten. But no way was I going to let my bandmates down.
Brad said he was sorry. “We have a couple of days off in the middle. Maybe I could drive you back so you could work those days so maybe your boss would go easy on you.”
“Are you kidding? That wouldn’t even be worth the gas. And we’ll need rest. That’s what those days are for.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’ll do it if it’ll help you out, Val.”
I smiled. “Brad, that’s really sweet, and I appreciate it. But who cares? If I lose this crappy job, I’m sure I’ll be able to find another.”
And I wasn’t worried about it. We weren’t making loads of money, but every month, we made a little more. That was all I could hope for, and we were getting more and more fans. By branching out into other states and farther out of our usual spots, we’d only gain more fans. I didn’t see how focusing on the music was a bad move.
We had two new songs we planned to debut on the road too. I was excited. Truthfully, I’d been getting comfortable doing what we’d been doing. I was used to most of the venues now, and I even recognized faces—we did have a fan base. That was good, but just a fan base in the Denver area wouldn’t be enough so that we could make it our full-time job for the rest of our lives. We had to go further, push harder, get more recognition for that.
So we made plans. We changed our set list, added new songs, switched things up. I bought some new clothes because I wanted to wear some new things. I added more vinyl and skimpier outfits, mainly because it was getting warmer out. Most venues were hot under the lights anyway, especially because we were working our asses off, but add higher temperatures and there was no way to stay cool.
As we made preparations and got excited, Ethan once again grew distant. He was stoned more often than he was not, and—even though I didn’t catch him in the act—I was starting to suspect he was sleeping around on me again. Until I could prove it, though, or I was convinced beyond all doubt, I wanted to trust him.
Honestly, when he’d told me after leaving his father’s house that I made him a better man, I felt almost obligated…that Ethan would deteriorate into a shit of a human being if I didn’t stick by his side.
At our last Denver concert before hitting the road, I caught Ethan doing what he called Special K with a girl in the van. I would have sworn the girl was still in high school, but Brad chased her off before I could grill her for information. And Ethan just got that stupid ass puppy dog look on his face. He swore they didn’t do anything, but I wondered where it would have gone if the rest of us hadn’t arrived, ready to leave.
I was also pretty sure Brad was seeing somebody, but—in typical Brad fashion—it was something he didn’t talk about and definitely something he didn’t flaunt.
The three bands had a meeting at Village Inn the night before we left. It was kind of weird seeing Clayton in daylight. He was still good looking; don’t get me wrong. It just made me realize that a lot of these guys I’d only seen at night with spotlights flooding down on them. And now we were going to spend a little over two weeks together.
Clayton sat across the table from me and just smiled. He’d said, “Hey, Val,” earlier but didn’t say anything else. Ethan sat next to me and draped his arm over the back of the chair, but I felt like he was doing it out of habit, not because he felt loving. Clayton kept his distance, though, and it was probably a good thing, because Ethan was sober for the first time in a month.
I caught him smiling at me once or twice, though.
And then I knew Ethan was being possessive when all three bands stood outside in the parking lot, chatting, reluctant to say goodbye, and Ethan decided to slam me up against the van for a pretty raucous PDA. It wasn’t like we’d been talking about anything sexually arousing. But no…he was playing alpha and challenging anyone who dared. And I would have been okay with it if that had meant he was going to stay faithful to me. But I should have known Ethan just couldn’t rein himself in. Not before and certainly not on our mini tour. But I had yet to find that out.
Chapter Twenty-nine
IT WASN’T FORTY-EIGHT hours on tour that I was convinced Ethan was sleeping around. No, I still had no solid proof, but he hadn’t slept with me in a week, high or not, and when we’d finished our first show, he disappeared for several hours and showed up at our room long after I’d gone to sleep. Yeah, we were sharing a motel room, but I don’t know why. I didn’t anticipate our making love anytime in the near future, not at the rate things were going. And talk to him? He’d have none of it. It was always, “Not now, Val.”
The next day we were on the road to the next town, and we played that night, but I think we were all feeling tired. Still, we all decided we wanted to party together. We were all having so much fun, and being in new places with new audiences just made it all the more enjoyable. That night, we’d had an even better reception than usual and were feeling too excited to just sleep it off.
When Ethan didn’t show up to the party, I knew something was going on.
A
nd I decided in that moment that we were done. I’d had enough. I was tired of having my heart tugged around like a useless piece of meat.
The biggest band out of us three (some guys who called themselves Spanky’s Kids) went all out and rented a suite in the hotel where we stayed, and it was a big place so we were all able to party together. We’d made our reservations long in advance, and Brad had taken care of ours, keeping our band down to two rooms, something more affordable. We were playing in a fairly large city in New Mexico, but the days blended together, and I wasn’t quite sure where we were this particular night. Anyway, I was drinking a beer and talking with Clayton and Brian, the bassist for his band, but Brian was called off to smoke some weed in the bathroom, and Clay and I wound up sitting down on the sofa just talking. He told me about his love affair with music, how he was going to do it till he died, even if that meant he’d just keep playing smaller venues like he was now. He loved it. He was music.
And I believed him. What impressed me most was the love and the passion in him for it, and it showed when he talked about it.
As the night wore on and the party started to dwindle, it didn’t escape my notice that there was still no Ethan to be found anywhere. I wasn’t going to say a word, though. And Clay wasn’t getting handsy or anything. We were just enjoying talking with each other. At one point, I asked, “Okay, so…you love music. I’d go so far as to say—after talking with you tonight—that it’s the most important thing to you, that no woman would ever compare. True?”
He grinned, and that’s when I noticed again he had the slightest of dimples. Over the past year, he and I had done a lot of flirting, but this was the first time we’d actually talked for any length of time, and all it did was make me more attracted to him. “Let’s just say I don’t always make the best boyfriend. At least that’s what my last girlfriend said.”
Dirty Boys: Bad Boy Rock Star Romance Box Set Page 33