by Avis Black
"Oh my God," said Alexis. The luggage cart did a fast shift again. Once hidden, he mimed to Rafe, 'the head, the head.'
But by this time, Rafe was feeling put out. He'd missed his opportunity to talk to Jason. He'd been struggling with Diane's impossible luggage, and the impossible Violet, for what felt like hours now, and he still had a severed head to deal with. Angrily, he walked over to Violet's gape-mouthed head and kicked it as hard as he could. To his surprise, it flew across the lobby, ricocheted off a wall, and plunked neatly inside a garbage barrel. Rafe gave himself a high five and danced for the TV camera which had, of course, caught everything.
Alexis looked helplessly up at the ceiling. Instantly, the singer composed himself and didn't appear to know anything about anybody kicking snakes' heads. "I'm so sorry," Alexis said to the actress, taking her hands in his, "about Violet. She was such a warm-hearted, affectionate snake. She always wanted to give you a hug."
"Um, Lexi," Rafe said in his boyfriend's ear. "You do know what she was, right?"
"Yes, a snake," Alexis replied impatiently, "and a very sweet one, too."
Rafe made a gagging noise. Alarmed that Diane might have noticed, Alexis kicked his boyfriend in the shins and said, "Go help load the limo." The student made a face behind Diane's back and began to shove the luggage cart out towards the curb.
"Diane," Moreno warned. The director gestured with his chin towards the camera crew.
When Diane realized the crew had been filming the entire time, she lost her poise, her face blazing. Then she recovered. With a sultry smile, she began to approach the cameraman with the slow, interested pacing of a tigress stalking her prey. Nervously, the cameraman started backing away, but was forced to stop because Diane had draped herself bonelessly over the camera.
"You don't want to show that on the evening news." Diane chuckled.
The cameraman smiled stupidly at the actress.
"I'm afraid he does, Diane," said Moreno. The director opened his wallet. "How much?" he asked the cameraman.
"Save your money!" Diane had the camera open and the digital memory out before the cameraman could stop her. "To the limo!" she yelled. The actress kicked off her high-heels and ran like a sprinter, laughing and waving at Moreno to follow.
Outraged, the cameraman scuffled with the director. It was a poor excuse for a fight, since Moreno and the cameraman only batted at each others' hands, neither wanting to be injured. Finally, Moreno landed a clumsy punch that caused the cameraman to stagger back, and the director hurried after his girlfriend.
Alexis shook his head. "Stupid."
Carl's face was impassive. He slid the sword back into its sheath, seized Alexis by the collar, and hoisted the singer so that only his toes touched the floor.
A slight apprehension crossed Mellor's face as he was dragged off.
The bartender appeared not to notice anything wrong with the couple who had just entered, though the smaller man's eyes were huge over his bunny's ears. The pair stopped by a booth in a dark corner, lit only by a faint candle.
"You. Sit down."
The singer was slammed into his seat. Carl sat next to his captive, forcing Alexis all the way down to the end of the banquette.
"Gosh, Carl. You look like that guy in A Clockwork Orange right before he started warbling arias and beating people up.”
It was hard to tell what was passing through the manager's mind. He may have been counting to ten. "I discovered an interesting fact this morning. Bob told me he saw you leaving the recording studio with a CD in your hand after that messy pickup session the other day. Hand it over."
Angrily, Alexis opened the velcro flap on Mr. Bunny's back.
"You had it ready?" Carl asked as the CD emerged from the rabbit.
"I expected that you would demand it at some point.”
The manager took the disc and released his captive. Alexis vanished beneath the tabletop and reappeared on the opposite seat. "You really can be an asshole."
Carl fixed the singer with a look. "You know, managing a band is a lot like managing a daycare, except that the pay's better--sometimes. Have you listened to this?" He held up the CD.
Alexis made a face. "It contains some very dangerous material. Only part of the recording remains, but I believe that's the section you want. I erased the part at the end."
"Why?"
"As a favor. Neither you nor Mullerin come out of it very well." Alexis sat back in the booth and drew his legs up on the seat, wrapping his arms around his knees. There was something careless, even dangerous in his manner. "I've told you before. I know your real motive."
The other man refused to reply.
"Mr. Bunny has a present for you."
"What is it?" Carl asked warily.
Alexis opened Mr. Bunny again, and out came a small box wrapped in pink paper and tied with a red ribbon. A decal of Mr. Bunny's face grinned upwards. Carl eased both paper and lid off and studied the contents. "Well, that was tasteless of you," said the manager after a while.
Alexis grinned. "Correct, but it's exactly what you want, isn't it? Or rather, the next best thing. You do remember how to use the contents, don't you?"
"You evil little bastard. Of course I do."
"Good. I may be one of your exes, but I'm not in the mood to give you instructions."
Carl gave the box a fierce look, but he still packed it away carefully. Then he unslung the sheath from his back and returned the samurai sword to its owner. “This is a very old blade. I have a feeling that if you put this weapon to an unjust use, it will turn against you."
"An enchanted blade? That sounds like a fairy tale. I didn't think you were a mystic."
"I'm not. I'm a realist."
"So am I," Alexis replied. "Which is why I've made a copy of that CD for myself."
Carl shut his eyes tightly. "Look, I am trying to do a delicate balancing act here. Amanda's just given Jason an ultimatum--either her, or the band. What Amanda wants is going to break his heart. What I want is almost as bad. Either way, he's going to suffer. All I can do is try to minimize the damage."
"So where are Rafe and myself in your scheme?"
"I admit that using Rafe was my original plan, but I realize now that was stupid. I didn't know that Jason's feelings would be so strong, or that you'd be so pissed off. This recording is now Plan A."
"What are you going to do with it?" Alexis asked in a milder tone.
Carl's eyes skittered away guiltily. "It goes to Sam."
"And then?"
"Don't ask me more."
Alexis's expression became vague. "Do you know what?"
"What?"
"We left Rafe and Jason alone."
The two men looked at each other. Then they rose and quickly made their way out of the bar.
Neither Jason, nor Rafe, could be found inside the baggage claim. Carl pounced on a leftover reporter, still typing Diane's antics into his laptop.
"Jason North? Oh, yeah, that crazy rock musician who almost got run over. That was quite a story---I wish I had video of it, but Diane had disabled the camera by then, blast her."
"WHAT HAPPENED?" Carl demanded.
Implosion. That was the only word Jason could think of to describe it. His marriage, his band, his daughter's life--in the space of seconds, all in terrible danger. Now he was running after his wife with her suitcase, desperate to catch her, yet she somehow managed to keep well ahead. She was waving her boarding pass at the check-in counter when he arrived. "Jason, put the suitcase on the scale," she said, her voice still showing hysteria. The guitarist bowed his head in embarrassment, hoping the attendant wouldn't see his face.
It's me or the band. Take your choice. Me or the band.
"Amanda, Carl--"
"Don't talk to me about him! I've had it with that crazy son of a bitch."
"Amanda! He saved Leila's life! There was a--"
She leaned into his face. "I DON'T CARE. Jason, I'm not only talking about what happened today. It's every
day. If he's not dragging you into trouble one moment, he's causing it the next! That man is insane, and he's never getting near Leila again."
"Amanda!"
"It's me or the band," she repeated icily.
"But you said you wouldn't object to me being in the band if a nanny could help take care of Leila."
"That was just for the tour. I didn't make any promises about afterwards."
"Let's step away from the counter. You've checked in? All right. We need to talk about this."
She rocked Leila, who was still whimpering a little. "No talk. I told you, it's me or the band. This isn't for me, Jason. It's for Leila."
"Look, I don't think she'll remember anything. She's too young."
"That doesn't matter! If you'd been watching her like a proper father, the whole thing never would have happened!"
Jason reddened. "Hey! She's got two parents, remember. You weren't watching her, either." Some instinct warned Jason that he'd said the wrong thing, but he refused to listen. He'd always been patient with Amanda, always willing to take the blame, but this time it was different. It wasn't just her ultimatum, but the insult to Carl. Carl deserved nothing but thanks for his heroism, and she was treating him like a criminal. It had become a matter of honor, and the guitarist was extremely angry.
There was a long silence as Amanda's eyes burned holes into Jason's skin. "What did you say?" she asked in a deadly voice.
A little warily, Jason replied, "She's got two parents. Not one."
"Oh. So you think this was all my fault? Do you know what? I should have married Alexis Mellor. He'd be a better father to Leila than you." She began to walk over to the security area.
Jason was speechless. My fucking rival would be a better father to Leila?
"Hey," he blurted. "Did the Wallises bother to raise you with any sense of right and wrong? You damn well owe Carl an apology, and your heartfelt thanks, if you'd bother to stop and listen to what he did for one fucking minute."
This time it was Amanda's turn to be left speechless. She only stared at him, hugging Leila. "It's me or the band," she repeated. "I'll give you until the end of my visit to decide." She began to leave, walking rapidly. "ASSHOLE," she flung at him.
Go after her, the voice repeated inside his head. It was the honorable thing to do. But his feet stayed rooted. He could not make himself do it. She disappeared into the crowd at the security checkpoint and was lost from view.
“AUUUGH!”
The guitarist's crazy howl caused all the queued travelers to back away from him. He began to run towards the baggage claim. He was out of his mind at that moment, trying to find Carl, trying to think of a way to take back the last few minutes--but there was no possible way. He couldn't find his manager anywhere, so he ran outside by the waiting cars.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Where is he? How THE FUCK was I supposed to know there was a giant fucking snake in the airport!" The guitarist's fist connected with a car, and the boom startled passersby.
"Watch it!" a voice yelled. Jason's wrist was seized. The guitarist tried to swing again, and Rafe, still clinging, was lifted right off the ground. Both men lurched against the side of the car. "Calm down, man, or you'll hurt yourself!"
"WHO THE FUCK CARES? Who gives a shit if I break my hand? My kid almost got killed!” The guitarist was struggling, fighting to break out of Rafe's grip, but the student had a tight lock on the other's wrist. A car tried to speed by, attempting to drive around the fighting pair as they see-sawed into its path. Jason didn't know how it happened. The car was suddenly right there, and he was too close to avoid the impact. He threw himself over the hood, sliding right towards the horrified face of the driver. Then something jerked him, and he was flying off. He hit the pavement with a thud and found himself rolling along the curb, wrapped up in a confused way with something that knotted itself around him.
He came to a stop and lay dazed. Someone was holding him tightly.
"Whoa! You almost got killed. What were you trying to do?" a voice asked beneath him. "Man, that hurt. We took a good bump. Lucky I was wearing my jacket. You okay?"
Jason sat up. He rested his face against his knees, sobbing.
“Jason? Um, you can stop crying. We're okay and everything. Jason? Would you mind not doing that? We're okay, okay?"
"No, it's not okay," the guitarist keened. "Amanda's walked out on me."
"Let me drive you home," said Rafe after a moment.
Chapter 12
An hour later, they were sitting together in Lang's car outside Jason's apartment building. Three empty beer cans lay on the floor mat by the guitarist's feet. Jason was slumping forward, carefully arranging them with nudges from his boot-tips. When he had one in position, he would stamp hard. The guitarist was taking his time, trying to crush each can completely flat with one blow.
Lines formed between Rafe's eyebrows at the noise, but he didn't complain. He hadn't touched any of the beer. "I can't believe you'd consider quitting," he ventured.
"I have an obligation to Amanda and Leila," Jason replied woodenly. The guitarist didn't raise his head.
"Yeah, but Amanda married you knowing what you did for a living. She shouldn't expect you to give it all up for her. That's selfish. Financially, you're doing okay right now, but eventually you're going to run out of money. Raising a kid is expensive, and Amanda doesn't have a job. Besides, having an obligation to Leila isn't the same thing as having an obligation to Amanda. You need to think about doing what's best for Leila, not just your wife.”
Jason only mashed another can. "I don't know anything about anything. I'm the one who flunked Fatherhood 101," he replied bitterly.
"Jason. Amanda's being unreasonable."
The guitarist straightened and leaned his cheek against the window. "I think what hurts me most of all is that she knows Carl saved Leila's life, and she doesn't care. She absolutely hates Carl, and I have no idea why. She's so fucking petty-minded around him."
"Maybe she wants to be the only person to have any influence over you."
"I suppose, but Carl's my manager. He's only doing his job. If she's willing to hate a man for that--" The guitarist didn't finish the sentence, though Rafe could guess the rest of it. Disillusionment was never pretty.
"Do you have another beer?" Jason asked in a dull voice.
Guiltily, Rafe took a quick look at the limp grocery sack in the back seat. "You've finished it all." He was regretting he'd made Jason drunk. He'd done this once before, two years ago.
He stood in the doorway like a thug, wearing jeans, boots, and motorcycle jacket. His hair almost down to his shoulders. So many of his ilk were narcissistic takers, users and abusers of others. But this man had been different. Reluctantly taking the proffered beer, his manner courtly and reserved. It had taken Rafe only seconds to decide North was probably heterosexual, and that he wanted the guitarist anyway. Not just for one night, but for every night.
Oh yes, Rafe understood Amanda's thoughts completely. Pure selfishness and possessiveness. He considered his cigarette. He wasn't sure if it was guilt or nervousness, but he'd been chain-smoking ever since they'd parked. "Sorry. I'm not trying to kill you," he said, rolling down a window.
"I know." The guitarist leaned over and placed a soft kiss against Rafe's cheek.
"Holy shit!" Rafe thrashed as if stung by a bee. Before he could recover, Jason was back on the other side of the car, gazing out the window.
It was several seconds before Rafe could speak. "Eh, Jason. What was that for?"
"My thank you. You saved my life."
"Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten." Rattled, the student lit another cigarette and contemplated his near-empty pack. At this rate, it would be cheaper to smoke rolled-up dollar bills.
"You didn't used to spazz when I kissed you," Jason observed in a hollow tone.
"That's because you never used to do it!" Rafe sputtered. "You startled me. I wasn't sure what it was, okay?"
The other man produced a brief, sad smile.
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"So, what are you going to do about Amanda?"
"I'm hoping she changes her mind before the end of her vacation."
"But if you--," Rafe gestured with his cigarette,"--are waiting for her to change her mind, that implies you aren't going to budge about the band."
"I don't know. Oh, God. I'm so tired."
"Here, lean on my shoulder."
"Just like that?" Jason replied bitterly. "You wouldn't mind?"
"Did I used to mind?" Rafe retorted.
"Yes. You acted as though you could barely stand to have me touch you."
"Hey. Am I not allowed to show some decency?"
"You didn't seem to want to before."
"Oh, for God's sake." Rafe settled the guitarist firmly against his shoulder. "There. Quit wiggling and lean." The two lay together for several minutes, Rafe smoking and watching out the car windows while Jason rested, his eyes closed. "It's strange," said Rafe. "We had to break up to have a peaceful moment like this. Why didn't things work out?"
"You were two years younger."
"And that was it?"
"Partially," Jason replied in a sleepy voice. "I shouldn't have started it. You were too young for it to have worked."
"Excuse me, but I seduced you."
"But I went along, and I shouldn't have." Jason sighed. "Sometimes it's just the dynamics of the relationship. You think you have to look after Alexis, so you try to behave like an adult around him. With me, you were free to be a kid because I was the grownup."
"You think so?" Rafe replied in a hesitant voice. "You think it was all my fault?"
"No. You couldn't help being eighteen."
Rafe went silent for awhile. "Now that I'm twenty, do you think I could have an affair with a man like you and make it work?"
There was no answer except for a deep intake of breath. Jason had the habit of pretending to doze off whenever Amanda asked Those Questions he didn't want to answer.
"Hey, fuckhead, are you asleep?" Nettled, Rafe jogged his arm.
"What? Was I napping or something?"
"I was asking you an important question about our relationship."