by Jesse Jordan
Joey growls lightly, and I realize for the first time I've heard him angry. “That son of a... do you need me to come help you?”
Joey. The first question out of his mouth is to ask if I need help. To offer his strength, regardless of the danger to himself. How my heart both swells and aches, thinking of this sweet, wonderful, strong man, and I know what I need to do. “No, Joey. Not right now. My father's trying to put the screws to me right now. I'm technically only suspended from my job. Listen, I don't want you getting in trouble. You've got your family to look after, and I know my father, he'll call the cops on you the second you get within eyesight. Probably claiming that you're some sort of hardened Boyle Heights gangbanger. He can be ruthless, Joey. And until today, I didn't realize just how racist he is. He hates you for no other reason than that. It might be better... well, it'd be better and safer for you if we just lay low for a while.”
“I... I see,” Joey says, hurt but maybe understanding. “Andrea, when is this laying low going to end?”
“I don't know,” I reply honestly, my eyes starting to feel hot and tight like I'm about to cry. “Joey, I don't want to break up with you, I promise that. I care about you, and I want to see you again. But I want your family to be safe, and I know that if my father can just get some time to calm down, it'd be safer for all of us. So, maybe I can call you?”
Joey's voice is thick when he replies, and I can tell he feels the same way I do, but he's not going to let it show. “I... okay. Just Andrea, one thing.”
“What's that, Joey?”
“I do care about you. And it doesn't matter to me, if you need help, give me a call. I promise I'll move heaven and earth itself to help you if I have to. Please be careful.”
A tear trickles down my cheek as I think of how powerful and wonderful Joey is, slipping down to hang on my jawline for a moment before dropping to the luggage below and soak into the nylon shell of the bag. “I will. Joey. You're special to me, I want you to know that. I promise you, you are very, very special to me.”
“You're special to me too.”
“I'll call when I can. Goodbye, Joey,” I whisper before hanging up, unable to do much more. The tears flow more freely now, and I hang my head, sobbing as I think about what I've put at risk. But I'd rather risk my relationship with Joey than risk his safety, or that of Teresa, Maria, and innocent little Angel. I can't risk his future or that of the Fragments.
I can't do any more packing, not right now. Instead, I stumble out to my living room, opening the cabinet that I don't open often. I hate the fact that my father gets drunk a lot, but right now the idea of wine is about all I can think of. Maybe if I get drunk enough, I won't feel the pain in my heart. I won't feel the desperate need to call Joey back, to beg him to come here to Santa Monica and hold me, kiss me, make love with me and help me imagine that it's all okay.
The first glass slips out of my hand and shatters in the sink, so I just grab what's in the dryer, a water glass that I used this morning to pour my morning orange juice into. It looks strange, the purplish-red Malbec splashing into the glass, and the first deep drink is rough, harsher than I thought it would be. This is supposed to be a sipping wine, not a chugging wine, and I'm normally into girly drinks anyway. Gimme a Mai Tai over a whiskey any day.
Still, by the time the bottle's mostly empty, I'm comfortably numb, even if these damn tears won't stop. I finish it off straight from the bottle itself, then try to get up, but I'm too dizzy, I can't really see much. Must be the alcohol.
Half a bottle only.
Fucking lightweight.
Chapter 10
Joey
“So if you want to sign up today, we'll give you two months free membership as long as you put your monthly fees on a credit card or on automatic draft from a checking account,” Jordan the sales girl says, still looking starstruck. It took her two checks of my driver's license before she handed it back to me, and while she hasn't asked me flat out yet, I think she knows who I am. “Uh... so what do you say, Mr. Rivera?”
Mr. Rivera. Before Four Letters, I think I could count on my fingers the number of people who called me Mr. Rivera. Actually, most people still don't call me that, but once some people recognize me as that Joey Rivera, I'm getting it more often. Actually, if this keeps up, I'm going to change my ID and stuff over to Jose Rivera, that'll help some. While there are certainly perks to being famous, I don't want to get trapped in being famous either. I've met too many guys in bands we opened for who thought their asses smelled like roses because of fame.
“You got yourself a deal,” I reply, shaking hands with Jordan. “You mind if I get something in today? I've got my gym bag in the car.”
“No problem. Get your stuff, I'll have your swipe card ready by the time you get back, and we can do the money then. Welcome to our place.”
Jordan's true to her word, and fifteen minutes later I'm changed and ready to lift. In the two days since talking with Andrea, I've been exercising a lot, and today, I finally decided to do what I promised Rocky and sign up somewhere. It helps to distract me from the anxiety and worry about Andrea. I understand why she said what she did, but at the same time, I feel like I want to talk with her. The problem is, I want to be able to help her, and right now I'm wondering if she feels that the best way I can help her is to back out of her life.
Yes, her father's a racist asshole with too much money and power as well it seems. Yes, her ex-boyfriend is a creepy bastard who needs to have a restraining order sworn out on him by a lot of people. But all of that seems to have gotten worse since Andrea and I started seeing each other. She's been untouched by the ugliness of his bigoted hatred until now. I know that in the way she's acted around me, and the way she speaks. The concern in her voice, she's genuinely worried for me too. Not just me specifically, but the people around me.
I can't let Mama and Maria down, and I can't let the other people whose lives depend on the band down. So instead I've sucked it up and said nothing. I say nothing as I push the handles on the incline press, my chest starting to flush with blood. I have a cheap electronic timer clipped to my wrist for timing my rest periods, and even as the fatigue sets in, I'm pushing hard.
I'm pushing because I want her. I want her right here, where I can protect and take care of her. I push because I haven't had a chance to introduce Andrea to Cora or Rocky or Ian. I'm pushing because I didn't tell her that I'm falling for her, and now I'm angry with myself for not having that chance.
My whole life, since Papa died, I've done everything for other people, ninety-nine percent of the time. Being greedy for me meant buying better quality guitar strings than I needed, or spending an extra fifteen minutes sleeping. But whenever my family, blood or music, needed it, I've been there for them. And now I want Andrea, not for the band, not for Mama or Maria. I want her for me and her. For the first time in my life, I'm feeling like I want to place someone or something above the rest of my family, and I've only known her less than two weeks.
After I finish the lifting I get on the rowing machine, the idea driving me since I remember that Andrea said she's got one of these things too. My back is crying out, and my lungs burn, but the pain helps distract me from the pain of not being able to talk to Andrea. When the timer goes off, I have to take a whole minute to just gasp before I can even crawl off the machine and start wiping up the pool of sweat under the seat, and I make my way out to the parking lot. Halloween is tomorrow, and I'm already feeling like a zombie.
I get into my car and see that I've got a phone message, a missed call from James. I give him a call, leaning back against the seat to recover some, I'm going to have to start bringing some sort of carb and protein drink if this keeps up. I read somewhere chocolate milk is cheap, and I bet Angel would love sharing some with me occasionally. “Hey, James. Sorry, I was in the gym. What's up?”
“I just got a call from LifeBeat, they said that they're nixing the magazine article,” James says, the disappointment easy to hear despite how tired I
am. “When I asked why, they just said that some new features have come up that they want to run with, but that they'll keep it in mind for the future. Sorry man, I know you said your sister was looking forward to reading it. Did your girl tell you about it?”
“Sorry James, Andrea didn't tell me about that, maybe she's surprised about it too. Is everything okay with that?” I answer, not wanting James to know the problems I'm having. Not yet, it's not his business yet.
“Yeah, it was just a publicity piece anyway, I have a few other ideas. I was thinking, what about setting up a website for you guys? Or I guess a better way to put it would be to update what you guys have.”
I must be more tired than I thought, we have a website? “Uh.... huh? Pretend I just got done doing an hour of weightlifting and my brain is only operating at half speed, James. Because it is.”
James laughs, and I can imagine him wherever he is, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. “Joey, the label's had a website up for you since back in the Oceanside days. Up until recently though, it's been your pretty basic site. But if we're reaching out to the public to show you guys as real people, maybe we need to pimp that ride.”
“Yo, dawg, I heard you like websites....” I joke, understanding. “Just make sure whatever's done uses my good pictures.”
“I don't know, I liked that Seattle picture. You were an interesting shade of red,” James jokes. “Anyway, that's just an off the top of my head idea, I'm going to spend the rest of the day seeing what else my crazy ass can cook up. Wanna do a Christmas special?”
“Only if we get to do it with the guys from Star Wars.”
“Yeah, like that went over so well last time. When's your next studio session, anyway?”
“Tomorrow, Cora had a prenatal appointment today and Ian just wanted to chill. I'm taking care of some family biz today too, got the hours to burn.”
James hums, understanding. “All right dude. Take care of the family, and I'll see you tomorrow. And don't overdo the weightlifting, all right? You got height and youth on me, I gotta have an edge with the ladies somehow.”
“Thought you had one in your jeans,” I joke back, and James laughs.
“Yeah, but that's not something I can just walk around in public showing off. Even if this is rock, there are just some things a publicist can't get away with. Check ya later.”
“Hey Joey, got a minute?” Cora asks as we wrap up the recording. Ian left an hour ago, his drums down to the point that I can just listen in over my headphones while Cora gets my guitar track down.
I take off my guitar, putting it away in its case, making sure everything is in good shape. The D string is looking a little worn, I'll change it out when I get home. “Sure, Cora. How was the appointment yesterday, anyhow?”
“I'm not telling you if it’s a boy or a girl yet, Joey,” Cora teases. “But the baby is just fine, and I am too. I wanted to ask you about your playing.”
“Was there a problem with it?” I ask, worried. “I thought it was okay today.”
“No, it was great, sweetie, the thing is.... well, you just played angry today. You did last time too, ever since James told you about that asshole Chad. Is that still bothering you?”
I look down at my guitar, closing the case. I don't like not telling Cora the truth. Since last Monday, I haven't been able to get Andrea off my mind. It's been almost ten days now, and I'm worried that she's never going to call again. I know that when she told me she wanted to go incommunicado for a while and I agreed, thinking it was for the best. I thought I was strong enough to deal with the pain, with the potential loss. But in the days since then, I find myself more and more shaken by the loss. I'm checking my phone almost constantly trying to will it to ring, to see if Andrea's sent me a text message or given me a call. It's gotten worse since her week of 'suspension' from work has passed, and still no word. I'm not sleeping well, my dreams are disturbing me, and trying to wear myself out with workouts isn't helping, I'm just starting to put on muscle.
Even Mama and Maria are noticing that something's not right with me, and that hurts even more. I burned dinner yesterday, perhaps the first time I've done that in at least three years. While I haven't snapped at Angel or Maria when they've asked me for help with things, I'm just not into it the way that I used to be. Now Cora's saying I'm playing angrily, but I don't know what to say. That I'm heartbroken, that I want to break the promise I made to Andrea to respect her space, that I want to go to the Coates Media building and do a little bit of yelling and ass-kicking myself? I can't say that, I'll come off as loco as Chad Bronson.
“It's been a week of frustration, Cora. That's all. I thought the gym could take care of it. I'm sorry if I'm making your job harder.”
Cora rubs my back, her eyes full of concern. “It's nothing like that, Joey. If anything, considering the song we were working on today, a little bit of anger made it harder, gave it a good sound. But you're my brother, my family. I'm worried about you. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here.”
I turn and give Cora a hug, kissing the top of her head. “Rocky is the luckiest man on the planet, you know that? Seriously, I love you, Cora. Thank you.”
Cora hugs me back, then looks me over. “You get some rest, okay? And I'm serious if you need to talk, give me or Rocky a call. I know there are guy things that maybe's easier to talk with him about, I don't fault you guys for that. Okay?”
I nod, bumping fists with her again. “For sure. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Cora's support helps as I get home, and I see that Maria and Angel are gone, while Mama's working in the kitchen. “Hey, Mama, what's going on? Where's Maria and Angel?”
“One of Maria's babysitting clients is a karate teacher, and he offered to teach Angel together with his kids for free. Maria thought it'd be a good way for Angel to get some energy out and make some new friends. He so wants to be like you, but he's too young to get into the gym. As for me... well, you've been distracted, hijo. I thought I'd take care of dinner, let you have some peace and quiet. You seem like you need it.”
“Mama...” I start to protest, but my phone rings, and I pull it out, seeing that it's a number that I don't know. “Hold on Mama. Hello?”
“Joey... it's me. I'm sorry. I tried so hard to be strong, but I need your help.”
I can hear it in Andrea's voice, she's worried, she's scared, and immediately all my fear drops away, or at least changes to fear about what is going on with her. Mama's knife pauses, but she goes back to chopping onions, even though I know she's listening as I turn and lean against the counter to listen to Andrea. “Andrea, whatever you need, I'm here.”
“Joey, I quit my job, and my father kicked me out of my apartment. I've got to get the last of my stuff out by tomorrow, and I don't know what else to do.”
“Okay, that's okay. I'll help however I can. Where are you staying now?”
There's a pause at the other end, and I can hear Andrea's embarrassment when she answers. “I'm in a motel, but I'm not sure how much longer. My credit card is almost maxed out now, and I'm not sure what to do. I've never been in this situation before.”
“What's the hotel?” I ask, and I can see out of the corner of my eye Mama's knife pausing again. “Andrea, where are you going to stay after that?”
“She will stay here,” Mama says quietly, in that sort of way she has that says everything is decided, all discussion is finished. “Your girlfriend needs a home?”
“Hold on, Andrea. Mama wants to hear, and I'm going to put you on speaker.” I set my phone down on the counter and turn on the speaker, hoping Andrea doesn't hang up. “Okay, so Mama asked if you need a home.”
“Mrs. Rivera, I know that you're kind, but...”
“But nothing, Andrea. You need a place to stay, yes?”
“Yes. I was telling Joey, I quit my job and my father has kicked me out of my apartment. I've even lost my car.”
“Then you have a house, and a car, and a place to stay. I will let you work out th
e details with Joey while I finish cooking dinner. Would you like to join us?”
I can hear Andrea crying and laughing at the same time, and I can understand, Mama's onions must be strong today, I'm tearing up myself. “Mrs. Rivera, thank you. I've already paid for my dinner tonight, but... well, maybe tomorrow?”
“Good. In the meantime, Joey, go have a talk with your girlfriend. You and I can discuss your keeping secrets afterward.”
I pick up my phone and give Mama a kiss on the cheek, going outside into the early evening coolness. “Andrea, tell me what's going on?”
“I just couldn't do it, Joey. He wanted to control me, to make me choose between my life under his control or you and freedom. I chose freedom. So, I resigned from the Pulse and smashed my old phone after I programmed in the important numbers into this one and called him telling him about my decision. I blocked my father and started packing. When he came by, I didn't let him up, but that's only good until tomorrow. He sent registered mail, I'm evicted as of tomorrow at noon.”
“Okay. Then we'll get to work early. How much stuff is it?” I ask, not even worried. I can handle this, and as long as Andrea wants to be with me, I can have the strength. “Ten boxes, fifteen?”
“Just two suitcases and five boxes,” Andrea replies. “I decided... Joey, I want to leave all of it behind right now. The fancy clothes, the trust fund stuff, all of that. But I'm not strong enough, and I don't know what to do. Joey, I'm sorry I waited so long to call, I didn't want to make it seem like I'm asking for a handout, but I just didn't know what else to do.”
“You did the right thing, Andrea. I told you before, whatever you need, I'll move heaven and earth to get for you. You're special, and I'm not going to let you spend another night in a hotel. Now, which hotel?”