by Jesse Jordan
“Andrea... beautiful Andrea,” Joey whispers when we can speak again and my eyes come back into focus. He's looking at me with an emotional intensity that makes my heart flutter again, but not in fear but in happiness. It wasn't just sex to him either, it was more. I don't need any words to tell me that.
“Joey,” I whisper, stroking his face. I realize that the light in my living room is nearly gone, we've missed the sunset. It doesn't matter, I can experience beautiful sunsets about three hundred days a year in California. This with Joey, though, this is special. Still, I wish I had more light, his eyes are so dark that I can't see them right now.
Joey strokes my hair, then shifts around, taking me into his arms. “I didn't expect this, but I'm glad this is what happened.”
“Me too,” I reply, stroking his back muscles. “We missed the sunset though.”
“There will be others,” Joey says, kissing me. We lay together for a while until the room is totally dark, and I feel Joey shift. “I should go.”
“No, stay,” I reply, pulling him tighter. “Stay and watch the sunrise with me?”
I feel Joey pause, and I can sense the questions running through his mind. His family, they know we're together, and if he does this... “A sunrise would be great. In the meantime...”
I laugh softly and pull him down for another kiss, my heart beating again after hearing his words. “In the meantime, while our bodies recover some, I get to show you the rest of my apartment. Especially my bedroom. It's much more comfortable than the couch.”
Chapter 8
Joey
Andrea pulls the sheet to her chin as I finish getting dressed, a happy but reluctant smile on her face. “Are you sure you should go?”
I nod, grinning. “You've got work to do, and I'm probably going to have to stop by the church this evening. I've started to get back to Mass and Father Riordan is going to want to assign me a few Our Fathers and Hail Marys.”
Andrea smiles, lowering the sheet a little to show me the tops of her breasts. “And there's nothing I can do to entice you to earn a few more?”
I kneel next to the bed and kiss her tenderly, both of us laughing. “If anything, I need to get home, so you'll actually have a boyfriend come Monday. If not, I'm going to end up dying in your arms in total ecstasy, dehydrated and starved, but not caring.”
“Well then, I guess I should let you go. That and I want to keep the good opinion of Mama Rivera and Maria. Just promise me one thing?”
“What's that?” I ask, getting up off my knees.
“Angel gets to tell you what he's been up to, but don't do it the other way around,” Andrea says, and I laugh hard. It feels wonderful, light and joyful as I leave the building and get in my car. The day just looks brighter, more pleasant as I get on the freeway and head back home. My mood is still bright an hour later when I pull into the driveway at home and get out.
It's hard not to be grinning like a fool as flashbacks to last night and this morning play through my mind. We made love four times last night, a buffet of intimacy that still left me wanting more. The couch, the bed, the shower, then the bed again just as the dawn broke above the horizon, and while I'm exhausted, I'm full of energy as well.
“Well, well, someone must have gotten car trouble in Santa Monica last night,” Mama says when I come in, shocking me. She's still dressed in her pajamas, sipping at a cup of cocoa, one of her only indulgences. I hang my car keys up on the hook next to the door and come in, sitting down. “So how was your evening?”
“Mama, I'm sorry. I should have called but...” I start before stopping. “I just got caught up.”
“I bet,” Mama teases, her face breaking out into a smile. “The only person who's upset with you might be Angel, he wanted to go to church with you this morning. But I told him you'd take him out to the park later, so he was fine.”
“Angel... ah man, you're right, I promised him and...” I start before Mama puts her finger on my lips like she used to when I was a little kid and started motormouthing.
“Honey, I'm not upset. You deserve to have a social life, and while it's been a very long time, I still remember what it was like to be your age. Your father and I missed church a few times when we were dating as well. And I wasn't lying yesterday, I like Andrea very much. She's a good girl for you.”
“Even if she's a rich girl from Santa Monica?” I ask, Mama chuckling.
“Even if she's a rich girl from Santa Monica. Joey, I'm not going to pretend that you're an angel, we've only got one of those around this house. I've pretty much assumed that at least a few times on your tours, going out at night, that you have had times with girls, yes?”
I blush, this isn't the sort of conversation I expected to have early on a Sunday morning with my mother, but I can't lie to her, I never have and never will. “Yes, Mama.”
“Again, don't be ashamed. I trust you, Joey. You have never come home with any diseases, and I know that you're smart enough to not get a girl pregnant. Even if you did, you're a man, a real man, and you'd take care of the baby and the mother. I told Andrea yesterday, you're sort of a dying breed, a real man who doesn't need to put off a silly machismo aura to be truly macho.”
Her words touch me, and I fold my hands on the table, trying to contain my feelings. “Thank you, Mama. I promise I'm being safe. I know the Padre might not like to hear it, but I can confess to you.”
Mama sets her cocoa down and pulls me to her, kissing my forehead. “Joey, you are absolved of guilt. As for Father Riordan, he's not as conservative as he lets on I think. He knows you're a good man, Joey. I just want to tell you again, I am glad that you are getting serious with Andrea. I like her very much.”
I smile and get up, going over to the cupboard to take out a box of cereal. I'm hungry, and it's a good start. “Thank you, Mama. What did Maria think?”
“Oh, she's already planning on having una pequeña rubia sobrina,” Mama jokes, making me drop the box of cereal, spilling flakes everywhere. Mama laughs when I look at her in total shock, sipping her cocoa. “What?”
“Mama! Maria's my little sister! She's too young to think about me having kids!”
“Well, she likes Andrea too. So, relax, and after you have some food, get a nap. I can see you're tired, and Angel's going to want to play when he gets home. If you're good, I'll take you with me to evening Mass to give you a break. You must wear a shirt and tie though. I'm not taking any bums to church.”
The parking lot outside Gashouse Records is nearly empty when I get in, it's only seven in the morning and most music people don't really get started until at least nine. I see James' car though, which is cool. It's a lot better than Martha, who more or less just tried to get Rocky into bed for a few years.
I go around to my trunk and take out my good guitar, my dark cherry red High-Performance Gibson Les Paul Studio that I fretted over for weeks before I finally took the plunge and bought three years ago. At the time fifteen hundred dollars was almost a ridiculous amount of money to me, but finally, Ian told me he'd lend me half of it, and I could pay him back in gig checks over time. Best seven hundred and fifty dollars I ever borrowed, and I forced Ian to take my repayments, even after he insisted that I'd paid him all the way back when I still owed him a hundred and fifty bucks.
I go into the building, calling out as I do. “Yo, James! You here, man? That is your car out front, right?”
James comes out of studio two, the big studio that we use for group work like today, and I can tell right away that he's disturbed. First off, he's got a welt on his forehead that looks like he took a decent sized ass whipping from someone. More worrying to me though is the look in his eyes, which are slightly angry and tense. “Joey. What the hell are you getting into?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, looking at the lump on his forehead. “Damn man, what the hell happened to you?”
“Chad Bronson happened to me,” James says, rubbing at his forehead and wincing. “Fucker came in yesterday, hollering
that he wanted to find you and kick your ass. Apparently, he doesn't know your home address.”
“That's because the house isn't in my name, I did all the paperwork in Mama's name to take care of her if something crazy happened to me on the road and she needed to have control of the property,” I reply, shaking my head. Yesterday? He must have really blasted James to have that hurting so much still today. Wait... that name. “Chad? As in....?”
“As in Andrea Coates' former boyfriend Chad, son of one of the named partners in a downtown law firm, Bronson. I was in here yesterday just trying to catch up on some paperwork to get you guys some fresh cheddar for the holidays when the asshole storms in, screaming his fucking head off. 'Where's Joey Rivera? Where's that stealing fuck?' and a bunch of other stuff. I step out of the conference room where I was working. The company had a girl in the booths doing some commercial voiceover work and I didn't want him fucking people up,” James says, crossing his arms. “When I told him you weren't here, he starts yelling that I needed to give him your home address. I promptly told him to fuck off and get out, which is when he hit me. The lump is actually from me hitting my head on the corner of the desk, not the punch. Thankfully a few other folks came out to make sure shit didn't escalate.”
“I hope you called the cops on his ass,” I comment, and James shakes his head. “What? Why?”
“For one, because I know the name. You might not, but I do. That law firm, Joey. They're connected. And his father's golf buddies with both Darren Coates and with a few other movers and shakers around this town. Chad Bronson isn't one of those guys you can just call the cops on, not if you want something to actually stick. So, I did the next best thing.”
“Which is?” I ask as I open the door to the sound booth. This is crazy, and the booth at least lets me start to feel like I'm somewhere I can think straight about all this.
“I promised to swear out a restraining order if he comes anywhere near Gashouse again. Bronson knows that the main thing he wants to avoid is bad publicity. Him beating up a dwarf and getting arrested, coming off as a psycho boy is not what he wants. And remember, I do know publicity. While the Coates empire might not let a word of it slip, I know a bunch of other people. Let's just say a lot of these media conglomerates, they like to war with each other,” James says. When I give him a confused look, he sighs and pulls a chair over, sitting down. “Let me give you a primer on the Art of War, Hollywood public relations style. You know about the Big Six, right?”
“The six media conglomerates that run a lot of business around town,” I reply, opening my guitar case. “I know that much at least. What about them?”
“Well, throw Sony in there, although they're pretty fucking clueless sometimes once they filter shit through the Japanese home office. But still, let's call it seven. Seven major corporate conglomerates that control over ninety percent of the media that gets distributed around this country, and through that a huge percentage of popular culture around the entire planet. Therefore, a little PR in this town doesn’t stay little. Especially if it is salacious. You following me?”
I pull my guitar on, nodding. “Okay, I think so. Go on.”
James nods. “Chad Bronson, he's a small fry, but he’s still worth ink. He's fucking tabloid fodder if you can get anything hard on him. Anything soft his Daddy can squash, but anything hard? Hell, that boy's already got problems, he's facing a rape charge. He's got his Daddy's law firm on it, he'll probably beat it the low life fuck, but he's got to keep his nose clean. He knows a restraining order violation would look bad for him. It worked... for now.”
I plug in my guitar and flip the power switch, trying to think. “Okay. Listen, man, I'm sorry about that shit yesterday, I didn't mean to bring down heat on you. I just gotta think a little, play some chords and try to digest it all. No offense.”
“None taken,” James says. “I know I look pissed, but it ain't at you, Joey. That asshole Chad, he called me some shit that I thought I was okay with, but I guess it still pisses me off. Sucks not being six feet and built like a badass like you are, you know?”
I give a little laugh, “Thanks, James. Seriously. Just let me think a little.”
James leaves the studio and I start playing, just some stuff from memory to warm up my hands and to let me think. Guitar playing has always been my form of meditation, after all. Mama goes to Mass, prays her rosary every night, I strum my way through Black Magic Woman and Unforgiven. It works either way, in my opinion.
But the questions in my mind trouble me. Chad coming here and starting a fight with James? James is a man in his forties with an alimony payment, a midlife crisis that has him dressing like a roadie still, and a sarcastic, pessimistic view on media corporations, but not a violent bone in his four-foot body.
And Chad's connected, too. Andrea said something about that, but I kind of dismissed it. I figured that he had enough trouble on his hands, but to be crazy enough to show up here? This guy's a danger, not just to Andrea, but to the rest of my friends and family. What if he shows up here when it's just Cora? She likes to get here early a lot of the time to make sure the recording equipment is ready to go. I only came in this early today to let me enjoy the peace and quiet of solo playing and think about Andrea. I wanted to tell the guys about her more, to say that maybe... well, maybe I'm falling for her. Ian would most likely laugh, but I know Rocky and Cora wouldn't.
And then there's her father. Just thinking about him perving on his daughter and grabbing her ass as a teenager is disgusting enough. But if he's one of these big players, and it is a battle like James says, is there any way that I can maintain a relationship with Andrea and keep my family and my friends safe? And what about Andrea herself? If I keep seeing her, am I putting her in more danger?
There's a knock on the studio door, and I see Ian with, surprisingly, Rocky and Cora behind him. “Hey dude, you're looking like you're in thought,” Ian says. “Guess who I found in the parking lot?”
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, pleasantly surprised. “I thought this was just a practice session for Ian and me.”
“Bella's spending some time with her grandparents, and I thought that even though I don't have any lyrics... if you want, I can still play backup guitar for you,” Rocky says. I give him a bro-hug in thanks and look at Cora. “And you?”
“James gave me a call last night, told me about what went down. I figured that you could use some female intuition and besides, I love listening when you guys just jam,” Cora says, smiling softly. She admits she's a fan as much as she is our producer, and she's still head over heels for Rocky and likes helping us with music as much as she can. “I might be a few months pregnant, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy my guys doing what they do best.”
“Thanks, I guess. Just after that, and the other day listening to Andrea tell me that her father's clingy, kind of creepy really... I don't know if I can make it work with her. I want to, but...”
“Stop right there,” Ian says, cutting me off. I look over at him, and see a red line that goes around his nose and mouth, pretty faint but clearly there. Ian notices my look and rubs at it for a moment before he shrugs. “Doc's got me trying a CPAP machine. I'm going in to have it operated on right after the lovebirds get hitched, and by the time they get back and we go back on tour, I'll be fine. In the meantime, I get to look like a damn fool. But, that wasn't what I meant. You say you want to make it work with this girl?”
I nod. “Yeah. I mean, I feel bad that I haven't introduced her to you guys, but I thought maybe you guys wanted your personal time. No offense, Ian, but after spending three months on the road, I kinda enjoyed not having to share breakfast with you three.”
Cora chuckles, sitting in Rocky's lap after he finds a chair and humming as she wiggles herself into a comfortable position. “Feeling is mutual, Joey. But you're still family, right? So, spill it.”
I shrug and sit down, thinking how to tell them without spilling any details that maybe Andrea isn't comfortable me s
haring with them. “Okay. Saturday, I invited Andrea to my house to meet Mama and Maria and Angel. We had a barbecue, and my family really enjoyed meeting Andrea. The feeling was the same from her, too. Things went great, and when I took her back to her place, well, I didn't leave until Sunday morning. When I got home, I thought Mama was going to be angry, but she wasn't. If anything, she was supportive. But between what Andrea told me about Darren Coates and then what Chad pulled, this could get the band in hot water. I don't want that, and the risk to my family...”
“I don't know about your mother, but I remember a guy who was willing to go to the floor to support me when I was having problems with the tabloids. I remember you stuck by me, and you said that you'd support me no matter what. And I also remember as soon as I pulled my head from my ass and loved the woman I love, you were one hundred percent behind me, even as I suddenly fired our manager,” Rocky says, wrapping his arms around Cora and hugging her. “Don't be stupid like I was Joey and have your head up your ass like I did. If you like this girl, don't let anything get in the way of that.”
“Exactly,” Ian rumbles, sitting down behind the drums. “Besides, your ass isn't big enough to fit your head up it. Trust me, you've pissed me off enough over the years I've thought of trying to see if it'd fit more than once. You don't have the hips for it.”
Ian's wisecrack makes us all laugh, and I feel my tension ease up a bit. “You guys don't mind that I'm falling for a girl whose father is a media mogul, who might be racist, is definitely an asshole, and who has an ex who's on the loco train?”