by L. J. Greene
The crowd went wild, which I have to admit was startling. I happened to glance at Danny, who was beaming with pride.
From where we stood near the front left side of the stage, I couldn’t see Jamie, but I knew he was somewhere in the shadows. And then, the music ratcheted down to a sustained beat, and Jamie stepped out to the mic.
He was lit from behind, silhouetting his large, powerful frame with streams of light and particles that seemed almost living and breathing around him. He was an irrepressible presence that appeared to multiply in stature before my eyes.
With his left hand arched over the stand, he tapped his heel in time to the beat. I watched him take a deep breath, and then he began to sing.
His voice was low and resonant, and I couldn’t liken it to anyone I could think of. It wasn’t the kind of voice that reached to sound like someone else. It was distinctly his, with just a very faint Irish burr underneath. It had beautiful clarity. But as he pushed it, adding power behind the words, that clear voice took on a soft raspy sound that had a definite rock-n-roll edge. He had religion in it, for sure, and an incredible range that moved easily between a deep baritone and a strong falsetto.
But it wasn’t just his voice that made him every bit the front man I knew he’d be; it was his contagious energy and confidence. Jamie was mesmerizing to watch–he was a very physical singer, the way he consumed the floor, interacting with the band and the crowd. He seemed to just lay himself out there, leaving everything he had on stage.
I can’t think of a single day since I was eight years old that I ever wanted to do anything else.
No, he was right. He was made for this. And as I watched this incredibly charismatic man, fully in his element, I knew with one hundred percent certainty that he was going places.
§
Backstage, after the show, was another sort of madhouse.
Anyone with any loose relation to the band seemed to find his way back there. And the band members were pulled in all different directions–pausing for pictures, signing merchandise, and shaking hands.
I was so distracted by the pandemonium that I didn’t take much notice when a cute brunette with blue eyes approached Danny and me. She didn’t look like your typical groupie; in fact, she looked pretty wholesome, dressed in a navy skirt and a white denim jacket.
“Have you guys seen Jamie?”
For a minute, I thought she might have been his sister, but no, Cara was away at school and this girl lacked a family resemblance.
I looked her over more carefully as she glanced determinedly around the crowded room.
“I haven’t,” I said, “but he should be here soon.”
Danny didn’t seem to be giving her any thought.
“I can’t wait to surprise him. I’m Carly,” she said, now turning to me again. “His…well…I guess, his girlfriend.”
His…wait, what?
“His girlfriend?”
Carly nodded vaguely as she eagerly searched the area for Jamie. Beside me, I could feel Danny stiffen and glance quickly in my direction, but I was careful not to let any expression show on my face. Certainly not the shock and embarrassment of having been with a guy who already had a girlfriend.
It was loud where we were standing behind the stage. Most of the audience had left the venue, but the dull roar of their conversation had been replaced by the sounds of equipment being disassembled and packed away in cases. House music began playing through the overhead speakers–some techno band whose beat gave me a headache.
Still, I could not take my eyes off of Carly. I found myself staring, trying to decide if, maybe in the confusion of the moment, I had misheard her.
Girlfriend?
If that was true, I had just gone out on a date with this woman’s boyfriend. Oh, my God, worse than that, I’d…Oh, my God.
Danny transferred the beer he was holding to his left hand and reached out with his right. “I’m Dan,” he said carefully. All the while, he watched me like I was a pin-less grenade. Carly was oblivious.
“Oh, you’re the one he went to elementary school with?” she asked.
This revealed some level of intimacy. Danny seemed to realize it, too. And as a slew of alarm bells began sounding in my head, Danny placed a hand on my lower back, preparing for the seemingly likely scenario that I would run.
I didn’t, but only because I hadn’t quite reached that level of clarity. Instead, I began rapidly flipping through my recollection of the conversations I’d had with Jamie, trying to remember if there was anything he’d mentioned that would have suggested that he had a girlfriend. I couldn’t think of anything overtly but, God, was I that blind?
You don’t date?
No. Not normally.
Meanwhile, Carly was looking expectantly at me, waiting for me to introduce myself. It felt like such a ridiculous situation–my brain was spinning, and not by any means operating at full capacity.
“Mel,” I said finally, and swallowed hard.
“So nice to meet you.” She was very polite.
Why don’t you date?
I have a lot going on right now. Just priorities, I suppose.
All men exaggerated, in my experience, and some men lied. I had a feeling that Jamie was capable of lying when necessary, but I doubted he was very competent at it. He had such an open, expressive face. Involuntarily, I pictured it: the kind hazel eyes, the boyish, dimpled grin.
Family is a noble passion. Beautiful and noble.
I clenched my teeth together, fighting a flood of emotions, as best I could. I knew I had begun to fall for him. And even worse, my natural instincts had provided no forewarning of anything of this nature.
As Carly went on about having been out of town for the last week and coming straight here from the airport to see Jamie, I could do nothing but nod like a bobble head. I was far too busy battling a full onslaught of guilt and anger. Well, those were the emotions I admitted to; if there were others, I preferred not to acknowledge them.
Instead, the words women, drugs, and irresponsibility circled relentlessly in my head, a swirling mass of censure for every stupid decision that had led me to this very point. Suddenly, I was so disappointed in myself.
Without conscious thought, I leaned into Danny for support and, perhaps on some similar impulse, he tightened his grip on my waist, taking a hasty sip of his beer.
Carly misread the situation completely.
“You guys make such a cute couple!”
Danny practically exploded, choking on the beer he’d just swallowed, and coughing forcefully into his fist. Meanwhile, Carly continued, looking directly at me.
“You know what would be fun?” Oh God, please don’t say it, I thought. “The four of us should go out after this. Maybe go to O’Malley’s.”
Danny had turned his back as he cleared his throat, but rejoined the conversation just in time to catch Carly raising her eyebrows in his direction as she said to me in a sing-songy voice, “The booths at O’Malley’s get cra-zy!”
Danny’s eyes sprang open in shock, and he made a little gobbling noise. Despite my own discomposure, I honestly felt sorry for him. He had no idea what he’d agreed to when he offered to look after me. And, clearly, this was well beyond his expectation.
I was ready to walk out myself, right then and there, and would have, except that I was stunned into inaction as another girl approached us and asked about Jamie’s whereabouts.
Goddamn that crew t-shirt, which was attracting women like moths to a flame.
Unlike Carly, this girl looked like a band groupie–long, blond hair brought up in a tight, high ponytail, with a short skirt and boobs practically coming out everywhere. I thought I might be sick.
“What do you want with Jamie?” Carly asked suspiciously.
“I want to talk to him. Why?”
She glared shrewdly at Carly, and the tone in her voice suggested strongly that this one was not to be messed with. Carly, to her credit, did not back down.
“I’m
Carly, his girlfriend.” Carly seemed much more confident about that now.
Danny and I, meanwhile, stood dumbstruck; in fact, I think he was beginning to lean on me for support. It felt like we were watching a tennis match between two women who were likely to want to kill each other at the end of it. Anything less resembling the beginnings of a world-class fight club would be hard to imagine.
I think I had gone numb.
Nottobemessedwith, on the other hand, was undaunted.
“I doubt you’re his girlfriend.”
“Why would you say that?” Carly demanded.
“Because I know Jamie,” Nottobemessedwith scoffed. “Plus, I’ve been sleeping with him for more than a year and he’s never even mentioned you.” She looked at Carly in the most condescending way. “No offense,” she added with a laugh.
I don’t know about my face, but Carly’s face fell instantly. Doubt flickered over her expression, and her eyes darkened with a wounded look. Despite the sheer absurdity of the situation from my own perspective, I felt bad for her. Under any other circumstance, I’d probably have liked her.
Recovering soon enough, Carly stood her ground.
“Well, he didn’t mention you last Friday night, either. Or Saturday morning, for that matter.”
Maybe I liked her a little less. Last Saturday afternoon was the day that Jamie and I met. I was getting dizzy trying to keep track of his love life, and the memories that this nightmare triggered were not good ones for me: women, drugs and irresponsibility. It all came rushing back like one big, giant slap in the face.
Danny spun around quickly, drawing all of our attention to a girl standing behind him who had tapped him on the shoulder.
Nottobemessedwith made a very nasty face. “What do you want?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m looking for Jamie.”
Oh, for Christ’s sake, I thought, and then wondered if I’d accidentally said it out loud.
This new girl looked up at Danny. “Have you seen him?”
Jet-black hair was about all I could register. I crossed my arms over my chest, and let out a soft grunt of disbelief. Carly, who was, herself, coming unglued, turned to me with an I know, right?–type glance of solidarity.
“Uh, no.” Danny said hesitantly. He looked slightly frightened, and much like a man who was giving the idea of celibacy some very serious consideration as a lifestyle choice. And he was probably as ready as I was to burn that crew t-shirt.
“Well, if you see him, tell him Jessica needs to talk to him ASAP.”
“Why?” I shouldn’t have asked. I knew that. Knew. It. But in that moment, I felt I had very little to lose.
“Yeah, why?” Carly added with a hint of vulnerability that made me feel very bad for her, in light of everything that had happened.
“He and I have a problem, that’s why. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.”
An enormous and growing sense of dread began to creep up around me, much like the way the fog had enveloped the Golden Gate Bridge. I felt a chill move through my body, and along with it, the prick of a thousand tiny needles. I felt a little lightheaded; I must have looked it.
“Mel,” Danny said quietly to me, his face intense with concern. No one else was looking at me. No one could take their eyes off of–
“Are you trying to say you’re pregnant?” Nottobemessedwith sneered.
That was the final straw; it had all become far too much. I looked around desperately for the door.
“I’m saying I think I’m late,” I distantly heard Jessica with the jet-black hair pronounce.
By this time, though, I was so far beyond done with this whole mess.
I blindly pulled a hand through my hair in disbelief. And when I was finally able to hear past the ringing in my ears, suggestions were being made that one or the other may have been a whore, and that one or the other’s mother may have also been a whore. Following that were a string of uninspired expletives in which various body parts and diseases were mentioned.
Poor Carly began to cry.
I turned to Danny, who looked terminally freaked. “I’m calling a cab,” I said, as calmly as I could manage.
He grasped my arm just above the elbow and tugged me apart from the catfight that was developing.
“Don’t leave yet.”
“Danny, I will not take a number and stand in line behind that.”
He looked around, and then over to the women in frustration. “No, you should never stand in line behind anyone.”
He was sweet; it made me want to cry. And I was damn close as it was.
“Look, I have no idea what that’s about,” he said, gesturing to the mayhem. “But please don’t leave without talking to Jamie.”
No. I couldn’t stay another minute. “I’m sorry, but this is humiliating.”
It was just then that I looked up and caught sight of Jamie. When his gaze found mine, he immediately broke out into a wide grin. But the toll of that scene was easily readable on my face, I’m sure, and almost immediately, his expression altered. And then he glanced over at the spectacle to my left.
I didn’t hesitate. I turned quickly and pushed the metal rod on the back door to the alley with a loud, abrupt clank. One of the bouncers stood up as I rushed through.
“Can you help me flag down a cab, please?” I hated the shake in my voice.
He didn’t waste a moment’s time, leaping into action; he’d probably seen plenty of women on the verge of a meltdown and wanted no part of it.
As I watched him signal to a couple of passing cars, I gratefully drank in the night air and tried to regain a little equanimity. Soon, I told myself, I’d be free of this whole nightmare. How had I been so stupid?
But just as the door to Bimbos was closing behind me, I heard it swing abruptly open again.
“Mel!” Jamie called out urgently. “Where are you going?” He reached me in three long strides.
“I have to leave,” I said, maintaining a cool that I definitely did not feel.
“Why?”
“Why? Really? Why don’t you ask one of your girlfriends?” I challenged.
“They are not my girlfriends,” he said calmly.
“Not Carly?” I snapped.
“Not Carly or anyone else,” he answered more forcefully.
“Oh, right, I forgot. You don’t date.”
“I don’t.” His eyes were growing darker again.
“Yes, but you see, when you told me that before, I must have missed the fine print. What you really meant is that you just fucked around a lot.”
He bristled visibly. “I will not apologize for things I did before I met you.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I hissed.
“Yes, you are.”
We stood for what felt like an eternity, locked in silent consternation. Finally, I looked away, even so feeling the heavy weight of his stare. I knew he was right, of course. I had wanted him to apologize. For everything I had seen tonight; for everything I had been through with other musicians in past years; for a whole bunch of things that were not remotely his fault. But I had no justification for any of it, and offered none.
“You got a girl pregnant.”
“I did not. She damn well knows it.”
“How can you say that for sure?” I demanded, though still not my business.
But Jamie’s face softened, and compassion for me mastered everything else going on between us.
“Because I’m always very careful about that,” he said softly. “And the timing couldn’t–”
He shook his head. He didn’t care to get into the details and, frankly, I didn’t care to hear them. Tears began to well up in the corners of my eyes.
“Well, you sure have a funny definition of not dating.”
He had the grace to look a little embarrassed. He wanted to reach for me; I could feel it. But he didn’t. Instead, he scrubbed his face with his hand.
“I’ll admit that I let your misunderstandi
ng of my meaning stand–partly because I didn’t owe you an explanation–” he insisted directly –“but more because I already had enough to contend with when it came to you.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means…” He was bristling, again, with anger and frustration. “For Christ’s sake, Mel, look at me.” He gestured to himself. “I ride a bicycle for transportation. The car I drove you in tonight was borrowed. I couldn’t even afford to finish junior college. I live in my head too much of the time, and between my job and gigs and rehearsals, my life is fucking madness. That’s why I’ve kept my associations with women casual, but I couldn’t exactly say all of that to you. Not to you.”
He closed his eyes and ran his hand back and forth over his head in exasperation, leaving his thick auburn hair a perfect mess. I wanted to reach for it–to soothe it back into place along with everything that was awry between us.
“What I had with them,” he said, pointing to the door, “I don’t want that with you. I want something real.” The tightening of the muscles in his throat betrayed his emotion. “But what do I have to offer? You’re beautiful,” he continued. “And you’re a lawyer. You meet well-to-do men every day who can give you so much more than I can. Do you think I don’t know that the odds are already stacked against me?”
His jaw clenched as he kicked his foot at nothing on the ground. When he looked at me again, it was in the most achingly vulnerable way, as if he had just aired every painful truth of himself.
“Jamie…”
I was speechless. All of my anger deflated, and in its wake I felt a need to protest his comment–to tell him that the way he had summarized himself was bullshit. Wealth and education weren’t the measure of a man. And I wasn’t someone who was impressed by those things, anyway.
“No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Please don’t.”
He wasn’t looking for me to stroke his ego or to offer any reassurances. He wasn’t saying these things to evoke my sympathy. His intent was brutally straightforward; he didn’t think he could give me a lot, but he would give me honesty–even if it came at a cost to his pride.
He just wanted truth between us.