Unplugged (A Portrait of a Rock Star)

by J. P. Grider

  Mara laughed, “No, not at all. So, how long has your mom lived here?”

  “Oh, not long. She bought it about five years ago. Before that she lived in Deal, New Jersey. That’s where I grew up. When my parents divorced, Mom kept the house, Dad moved to Rumson. But, once I moved up to Sparta, Mom didn’t want to be so far away. So she bought this house.” And as I said that, we had pulled into her long driveway. Of course, there was a passcode to enter through the gate.

  “Wow, it sure is gorgeous.” Mara was talking about my mother’s mansion-style, fieldstone home. We proceeded up the drive and to the front door.

  “Mara, Tagg, come on in, darlings.” Mom hugged us both and kissed us both on the cheeks. One kiss on each side, just like the Europeans. Mom and her airs. But she could be very down-to-earth when she needed to be.

  “Thank you for having me, Ms. Taggart.”

  “Please, honey, call me Kenya.”

  “Okay. Kenya. Thank you for having me. I made this.” Mara handed my mom a chocolate cheesecake that she whipped up after I’d asked her to come this morning. I still don’t know how she had time; she had three clients today.

  “Mara, you like to bake?” Mom seemed surprised.

  “Yes. It calms me.”

  “How can you get any more calm? You always seem so…self-possessed.” Mom seemed proud to have thought of the correct word to describe Mara. “And, anyway, how can something like...baking, calm anyone?” Never did anything remotely to do with domesticity did Mom find relaxing. Only during my near-decade-long life hiatus did she ever cook. And that’s only because she was tired of watching me eat packaged junk food. Usually, she’d hire a live-in cook, or more recently, she’d just eat out. Tonight, however, she had a meal prepared for us by the talented culinary artists at the Market Basket.

  After dinner, we sat on Mom’s deck and had a few drinks. I had my usual Corona, while Mara and Mom had a few Malibu Bay Breezes. Mom correctly pegged Mara to be the Malibu type.

  “So, Mara.” Mom surreptitiously questioned Mara while I headed in for another beer, but I stopped at the door to hear what she was going to ask. Curiosity, you know. “How is he doing? Were you able to break through? He seems to be coming out of his shell, so I guess it’s working. Right?”

  “Yes, Kenya, he is doing fine. It makes me happy to see him happy.” Mara answered.

  “Here’s a check for all your efforts.” Mom handed Mara what looked like a personal check. “I really appreciate it. You’ve been absolutely wonderful for his well-being.

  What the hell? A check? She was taking a payment from my mother? Mara was being paid. For what? I was already paying her to train me. Boy did she have me fooled. I stormed back out the door, in such a rage, I felt the blood burning through my veins. “What the fuck?”

  They were both startled to see me burst through. “Tagg!” They said in unison.

  I glared at them. First at my mother and then at Mara, for she hurt me the most. “She was paying you to be my friend?” I couldn’t sink any lower.

  Mara was trembling as she stood up. “No, Tagg. It wasn’t like that. I promise you.”

  “Like I can trust you? I took over payment for training, so what the fuck is she” I turned a nasty glance at my mother. “paying you for?”

  “Tagg, darling.” My mother demanded her turn to speak.

  I wouldn’t let her. “Not now, Kenya.” I always called my parents by their first names when I was angry with them.

  “Answer me, Mara. What is she paying you for?” I was livid. I’d never yelled at Mara. I never dreamed I could, but I did.

  She continued wavering. “I…I wasn’t taking the check, Tagg. I swear, I wasn’t going to.”

  I grabbed my keys off the table. “I’m outta here. She can take you home.”

  “Tagg, no, please.” Mara ran after me, grabbing at my arm. “Please, let me explain.” I yanked my arm from her grasp and headed out. “Tagg,” Mara continued groveling as I strode away. “when your mom hired me to train you, she wanted me to be your friend, but I told her from the beginning that I would just do my job as a trainer.” I was already unlocking my car door. “Tagg, my feelings for you were real. Are real. You have to believe…” But, I slammed the door. I was perfectly capable of making a fool of myself; I didn’t need anyone else to do it for me.

  I tried. I really did, but the fury that was pervading every inch of my body was taking over. Mara hurt me and it was causing physical pain. It’s true, that when your heart breaks, the pain really exists deep within your chest. How could she do that to me? She was the only one I trusted. The only one I had let in. And I didn’t know how to get her out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mara’s Letter to Brad

  August 9, 2010

  Oh Brad. I really messed up my relationship with Tagg. He overheard his mom offering to pay me for being his friend. It was never like that, but he wouldn’t listen.

  I feel terrible. I’ve been crying since he left me at his mother’s house. He just left me there. Kenya had to drive me home. I was going to have her just take me to my mom’s house so she wouldn’t have to drive so far, but she didn’t mind and I would rather not have had to get into a conversation with her about what happened tonight. You know my mother; she’s always so dramatic.

  But, that’s irrelevant, Brad. I don’t think Tagg will ever forgive me. Oh, I just can’t stop sobbing. I better go.

  Love, Me

  ***

  Heading back down the Parkway the next morning, I saw that same yellow Camaro. With ‘Crystal’ driving it. This time, I checked the license plate, figuring I’d call the Somers’ Point Police Department when I got home. It was much more than a coincidence that the same car, with the same driver, would be traveling back down the shore on the very same morning at the very same time. It wasn’t a ghost. Of that I was certain.

  Momentarily forgetting that I was piqued by Mara’s deception, I pressed her speed dial number on my phone; remembering that small fact before hitting send. My intention was to tell her about the Camaro. Instantly, I went from agitated to sad, because I had lost my best-friend. And the woman I thought I was falling in love with. Mara was the sole reason I had found my will to live again. And now I was betrayed by her friendship. It wasn’t real. It was prompted by payment from my meddling mother.

  Now, I’ve gotten myself back into the same scene I had been avoiding for the past seven years. The Rock and Roll scene. I was in too far now, there was no turning back. Only now, now that Mara, whom I believed so sincerely helped me to get there, wouldn’t be here. I would have to go through it all without her. I cranked up my stereo and tried to drown out this new emotional pain I was experiencing. I had been through my share of sorrow and anguish, but the heartbreak brought on by this… this thing…with Mara. It was unlike anything else. Sure the grave act of being the catalyst to my wife and son’s demise was criminal and unforgiving. An agony so unbearable I almost took my own life. But this was different. Mara broke my heart the way no one ever had.

  Holland had four months to prepare themselves for the re-union tour. Although we had encountered a mildly turbulent beginning, the band seemed to pick up right where we left off. Add to that our maturity, and we have ourselves a conceivably boundless rock band for the new millennia. Holland was excited for this second chance. Here I was, back to square one in the mental health category, plummeting to unknown depths, while rehearsing to put myself back up on stage for everyone to see. I didn’t know how I was going to do it.

  When I got to my house, Ronnie was already there. I found him in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. “Hey Tagg, how was your weekend?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.” I told him somberly.

  “Oh, well, how ‘bout some coffee? I haven’t had my morning cup yet.”

  “No thanks.” Instead I headed for the fridge and took out a beer. At ten in the morning.

  When I closed the refrigerator door, Ronnie was standing there staring at
me. “You’re drinking again?”

  “I never said I stopped.” I turned away, indignantly, “besides, it’s just a beer.” I finished saying as I walked into my make shift sleeping quarters in the rec room. I plopped myself onto my futon when I felt my phone vibrating. It was Mara. I threw the phone across the room, shattering it into pieces when it hit the stone fireplace. “Fuck!” I leaned my elbow on the arm of the chair and held my head up with my hand. My temper was definitely keeping Verizon in business.

  Ronnie came bursting in the room. “What the fuck, Tagg? What happened?”

  “Nothin.” I didn’t move. Not a flinch.

  “Tagg.” Ronnie sat down next to me. “What happened this weekend?”

  Still not wanting to move, I answered him as kindly as I could muster. “Really, Ron, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Ronnie nodded and walked away. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him slouch and heard him mumble “just don’t go and fuck over the band again.” Damn.

  I guess I needed to talk to him. “Ron.” He was sitting on a stool at the island with his cup of coffee when I entered. I went to the counter and poured a cup for myself. “Look, I’m sorry. Something upset me this weekend, but I’ll get over it. I won’t let it interfere with the band.”

  Ronnie gave me an apprehensive eye before saying, “I wish I could believe that, but you really screwed us over once. You know, Auggie and I are ready to do over Holland without you, so I just want you to be aware of that.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ron. Auggie? Some father. He doesn’t care who he steps over, long as he can make a buck.”

  “It’s not like that Tagg. We’re just worried, that’s all. Look, I want to be close again, you know, best buds, but you kind of make it hard, you know?”

  I managed to let out a chuckle. “Yeah, best buds. I know I haven’t been the best friend I could be, but it’s hard to talk about. In time, I will.”

  “You mean about now or the past?”

  “Both, I guess.” I really didn’t want to talk about anything, but I was trying not to be rude.

  “Well, the now. Does that have anything to do with your personal trainer?” Boy, Ronnie was relentless.

  “What makes you say that?” I wondered, too quickly to deny that it was about her.

  “I’ve just noticed things, that’s all.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Well, you spend an awful amount of time with her. For a trainer, she’s sure hanging around a lot.”

  “Yeah, well, we were friends.”

  Ronnie humphed. “Friends don’t look at each other the way you two do.”

  I knitted my brow with concern, unable to respond.

  “You guys have that look. I can’t explain it. I just saw the way she gazed at you when she was here and I see the way you treat her. You like her. I know you do.”

  How could I deny that? I did like her. I do like her. I love her.

  But, she hurt me. And for her… it was all just pretend. “You seemed, not to like her very much, from what I noticed.”

  Ronnie shrugged. “I don’t know, Tagg, I don’t even know her. She just…well, I don’t know, you kinda shut me out all these years and then she shows up out of nowhere and you’re all cured and everything.”

  I sat silently, thinking of an answer that wouldn’t offend him. “It’s not like that, Ronnie. It’s different. She made me…I don’t know…she made me feel again. I had become so numb to the torment going on in my world, I couldn’t live anymore. But,…when Mara showed up at my door, something poked at me, waking me up again.”

  Ronnie sat still, pressing his lips together in a straight line. I couldn’t read his expression. After several seconds, he responded with, “That’s cool, but what’s the problem then? Why the bad mood?”

  It was totally humiliating to admit what I was about to admit, but I owed it to Ronnie to confide in him. “My mother paid her to be friends with me.” It sounded even more pathetic hearing it out loud.

  Ronnie tried to stifle a laugh, but it didn’t go unnoticed. “Oh man, that’s cold.”

  “It is. And, …it’s not funny.” But as soon as I said so, I couldn’t help but laugh also. “Pathetic, right? My own mother thinks I’m a loser.” I shook my head. “Forget about it, man, it’s cool.” But it really wasn’t.

  “There are others Tagg. Now that you’re back on the scene, you can have any woman you want. You’re Tagg Holland and at the risk of sounding gay, you’ve never looked better man. I mean, she may have been paid off, but that little trainer of yours sure whipped your ass into shape. Once the public gets a good look at you – the world is yours again.”

  I nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go practice. Matty and Johnny should be back soon. We can get a head start.”

  “So, Tagg?” Ronnie asked on the way down to the basement studio, “when are you putting your house up for sale?”

  “The realtor wants to put it on the market soon, but I have a lot to do before that happens.”

  I heard Ronnie sigh. “I’m gonna miss it here, Tagg. What about you?”

  I shook my head. “No. Too much shit happened here. I’ll be happy to leave.”

  “Well, at least you won’t let selling the house get you down. Not to change the subject” Ronnie said as I was plugging my guitar into the amp. “But you are crazy talented lately. I don’t know, but you are so much better than you were a decade ago. It’s like all those emotions you’ve kept to yourself are coming out in your music. Your soul is coming out in your music. That’s crazy, man.”

  “Thanks, Ron.” I patted him on the back, then played a riff on my guitar.

  “Hey…you guys down there?” We heard from the top of the stairs.

  “Hey Matt, John.”

  “We better get started.” Ronnie said. We all took our places. “By the way, we’re booked for studio time next Monday. We need to get started on that album. I believe we’re targeted to put it out by spring. At least that’s what Auggie said.”

  “Auggie? What does he have to do with anything?”

  “He’s doing our managing this time around. Says it makes better sense. He fired the old one last week.”

  “Excuse me, but who’s in charge? This was our band, not his. He has no right…”

  But Ronnie stopped me cold. “Hey. We wouldn’t be back here if it weren’t for his badgering.”

  I disagreed. We wouldn’t be back here if Mara hadn’t helped me through it. But then, I couldn’t think of her. It’d be counterproductive at this time. “Fine. Let’s just practice. Ready? 1, 2, 3, 4.” I counted and we were off, playing our first number one hit, She’s My Only.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sun was shining far too bright when I woke up on this too sunny October morning. I fell off the couch and practically crawled to the window to lower the shade. When I turned to go back to the couch, I noticed the empty bottles of Jack and beer strewn across the floor. Damn! My head hurt.

  The party.

  I had agreed to Ronnie’s idea of throwing ourselves a ‘Welcome Back’ party. He’d invited all of our friends, some famous, some not. It appeared that everyone he had invited had showed up. From what I could recall at this moment, the party was a success. We had transitioned effortlessly back into our old partying ways, even though we were a decade older. And thanks to the abundance of booze and a minimal amount of food, we let go of all of our inhibitions.

  I languidly meandered to the kitchen where the staggering mess left my rec room looking tidy in comparison. I needed to make a pot of coffee before dealing with cleaning it all up. Standing at the counter near the kitchen window waiting for the coffee maker to fill, I saw ‘Crystal’ outside by a tree, peering back in. I ran to the back door to catch her in my yard, but she’d disappeared before I could reach her. I ran to the front, but she was nowhere.

  Remembering the license plate from the Camaro, I thought about calling the police, as I should have weeks ago. I got sidetracked though. Spending
most of my days either rehearsing or recording with the band or drinking. I hadn’t even gone back up to Sparta in the last few weeks. It was too painful. When I had attempted going back one weekend, I found myself thinking of Mara and how much she hurt me. And how much I loved her.

  I turned the car around, headed for a liquor store and went home. To indulge in my recent purchase. That’s the day I spiraled back down, spending rehearsal days bleary-eyed, and my nights shit-faced. I hadn’t even gotten a new cell phone because I’d wanted no contact with anyone, other than my band. I didn’t even want to see them, but I had to. I wanted to run again. Runaway from my life, from the pain. I was doing just fine on my own, tucked away from the world, taking my online courses and seeing no one. Then, Mara came into my life, bringing all this color into it, and I thought, ‘No, now I am happy.’ But it was all a lie. Her friendship wasn’t real and now I was worse off than before. Alcohol took the edge off and so I’d indulged. Hourly. I wasn’t addicted. I just abused it. When I drank, my pain would become anesthetized. When I didn’t, I couldn’t bear it.

  Bringing my reverie back to the present I remembered the license plate of the yellow car and went in the house to call the police. Ronnie was in the kitchen now, so I borrowed his phone. I reached the voice-mail and left a message. I thought it odd, that no one at a police station would answer, but the phone rang about five minutes later.

  “Mr. Holland, this is Officer Bradish, is there a problem? I was on another call when you left your message.”

  “Well, I guess you can say it’s a problem. I don’t want to bother you for something trivial, but I don’t believe this is. Trivial, I mean. For the past few months, a woman has been following me. I finally thought to get the plate number and call it in.”

  Officer Bradish was quiet, but I did hear a sigh. “Mr. Holland, you and your band have been in the news quite a bit lately. I’m sure it’s just one of the many ‘nearing middle-aged fans’ left over from your past.” I heard the sarcasm loud and clear.