a cold sun
a fragrant decay
the porcelain purity
uncelebrated
I knew instantly what it was. Coffee stains dotted the napkin’s border like muddy teardrops. “Simone kept it?”
“That whole time. My goddess,” Rick breathed. “She always believed in you, Dig. In us. I used to hate that you knew her so well . . . enough to write what I just couldn’t see.” Rick rubbed his hand over his shaved head. “But now I’m touched you did, and you cared enough to.”
“She helped me learn to know myself, too.” Adrian leaned in, one hand on his friend’s shoulder and the other grasping mine.
Jim popped his head into the room to say hello. He was the kid in the candy store personified, which quickly lightened the mood again. The smile on his face as he bantered with his idols, now bandmates, was infectious. Sam, a tad heavyset and a head taller than his companions, arrived boisterous and British, just as Adrian had described him. His pocked cheeks became ruddier with each sip from his pint of bitter. Or as he called it, “bih-ah”, his tongue barely registering the Ts and R. His accent was thicker than both Adrian’s and Rick’s, but I believe I made out the words “Fancy checking out the New York City Ballet wif me?” in one of his sentences as he and Jim moved onward down the hall.
“Don’t be impressed by his cultural prowess, Kat. He visits the local ‘ballet’ in every town he’s played in,” Rick explained.
“And by ‘ballet,’ he means ‘strip club,’” Adrian finished with a laugh.
It was time for me to go meet Kev and my friends. Adrian called a runner over. “She needs access.” The runner handed him an all-access laminated pass, which Adrian slipped over my head. “Hide that when you are out front,” he advised with a kiss. “Only show it to security. Here are tickets and a pass for your brother.”
I went out to wait for Kev, who was late, not surprisingly. That was nothing new. I had also told Liz, Marissa, and Rob to meet me by the clock. Liz, of course, was in on the antics. My only regret was not being able to convince Leanna and Karen to come, but a concert on both a school night and Halloween was a tough sell.
Marissa greeted me with a cheek kiss. “I thought we were going to a club to see Adrian do his little guitar thingy.”
“This,” I said, sweeping my hands up toward the lit marquee flashing ROTTEN GRAVES PROJECT, “is his little guitar thingy.”
Marissa screamed. Rob merely said, “Hot damn!” It wasn’t exactly his normal genre, but I could tell he was impressed.
Kev came bouncing up, hugged Liz, and shook me by the shoulders. “Got the tickets, huh huh huh, lemme see!” He grabbed them from my hands and stared in disbelief. Adrian had made sure to pull some of the best seats in the house. Kev whooped and swung me around. “Hey, what’s this?” He pulled the laminate that had poked him in the chest out from under my shirt.
I grinned. “You. Come with me.” I slapped the sticky VIP pass on his jacket. “We’ll see the rest of you at the seats.” Kev stood there catatonic as I doled out the tickets and grabbed his hand.
“Holy crap, I am shaking. Where are we going? Is there a greenroom? Do you think any of the band will be there? How do you know your way around?”
I wound my way down the corridors, ushered by guard after guard once they caught sight of the pass. We cut through the small curtained section for hospitality, containing friends and the few lucky fans with guest passes. They were all chattering excitedly and sipping comp drinks as they no doubt wondered, like Kev, if they would glimpse a member of the band that night.
A tall, scraggly blonde with a beard strode out of the production office on his way to the front of house. “That’s Miles,” Kev whispered, “Corpse’s sound guy. Holy shit, I just saw Miles! He’s like a celebrity in his own right, he’s been with the band since—”
Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. We had walked beyond a long black curtain into the hallway where the dressing rooms were—the inner sanctum. Small groups of people had gathered to talk outside one of the rooms. Standing next to the wall, chatting to some industry types, was Adrian.
He had since changed into his stage clothes, consisting of black leather pants, black boots that raised him at least four inches, and a red and black leather vest. He was shirtless underneath and was holding Abbey in his arms as he chatted with a guy who was nodding and holding on to Adrian’s every word. Abbey was content to just snuggle and run her small fingers around the Celtic cross tattoo on his bicep.
“Omigoddigger. Andhe’sgotyourdaughter.” Kev seemed ready to faint.
Rick came sauntering out of his dressing room, blocking our path. “Oh, hey, Kat. Have you seen Sam about?”
“I saw him a while back in catering. Rick, this is my brother, Kevin. He is a huge fan.”
He shook a stunned Kevin’s hand. “Hey man, thanks for coming out.”
“Riff, I . . . you . . . your music . . . so many of your songs have been the sound track of my life for the past twenty years!”
Rick gave a modest chuckle. “Scary!” he murmured. “But great to hear, mate. Glad you have enjoyed listening to it as much as we enjoyed making it. See you after the show, awright? Cheers.” He patted Kev’s shoulder and was gone.
“I . . . duh . . .”
“Uncle Kev!” Abbey had spotted us. She jumped down from Adrian’s arms and came running. “It’s like a party, Uncle Kev! And there’s going to be music.”
Adrian was watching, smiling. Abbey grabbed her uncle’s hands, swinging them, but he was still in a stupor. Adrian winked at me, excused himself from the people around him, and sauntered over. “Hello, Kevin.” He stuck out a hand.
“Hello, Digger.” Kev couldn’t stop staring at their hands as they shook.
“No, that’s Adrian, silly Uncle Kev. Mommy’s friend. Not like her best friend, because Aunt Miso is her best friend, but he’s a extraspecial friend, and he’s my friend, too. And I got to help him put on makeup!” Our laughter was ice-breaking, and Kev recovered from his shock.
“When . . . How . . . Sis, you have a lot of explaining to do!” he sputtered. “I am so psyched you guys are doing this project. Have you written any new music? Think you will record a new studio album? Are you in contact with Adam?”
“He takes after my mom,” I explained. “Lots of questions.”
“Shut it, Tree!” Kev turned back to Adrian. “Any plans to tour the West Coast?”
Adrian laughed and rubbed his goatee. “Well, we wanted to get our feet wet first with this gig. New York has always been our strongest market, tons of metal fans. Honestly, we went in thinking we would play a smaller room, but the offer came in from the Garden and then it sold out in a couple of hours, so yeah, I guess the need is there. We’re working on routing now for next spring. As for Adam, he was happy to hear from us. But he’s got other things going on in his life and wasn’t interested in being a part of the band at this time. Jim, the new drummer, kicks serious . . .” He glanced at Abbey and finished, “. . . double bass drums. Oh, and yes, I’ve been writing some new music. Kat has heard some.”
Kev looked at me as if I were some rare exotic animal all of a sudden. “It’s good stuff,” I assured him.
“Rick and I also worked on some new material out in LA; you’ll hear a few new songs tonight. He’s staying on for a month, and we’ll go into the studio next week to lay down some tracks. How long are you in town for?”
“Just a few more days.” Kev, although considerably calmer, still looked amazed to be in the conversation.
“Cool, you should come down and listen,” Adrian said.
“That would be SO awesome!”
Ilana popped her head out from catering. “Sorry, Ms. Lewis, I was talking to Paul and we lost track of time. I’ll take her.”
A more modern version of 1980s Rick appeared next to her. He had the Rottenbe
rg hair, although with considerably less volume. But his eyes, I could tell, were directly from his mother. Cavernous blue. Adrian introduced us. “I couldn’t miss this reunion,” he explained to me with a shy smile.
“The last time I remember you at a show,” Adrian recalled fondly, “you were upsetting the catering tables by playing hide-and-seek underneath!”
The tour manager, a big Scottish guy named Martin, came flying through. “Okay, band goes on in five minutes. I need everyone to clear this area; we need a couple of minutes. Only the band in the dressing room. Family can watch from the side of the stage.”
Adrian reached over to Abbey, now in Ilana’s arms. “Good night, you! I won’t see you before the show’s over.” He kissed her forehead; she was already looking sleepy.
“Break a leg, Adrian Graves,” she murmured.
“Go get ’em,” I whispered as he leaned down to kiss me. Grabbing the sides of his vest, I pulled him close once more. “I love you.”
He grinned, kissing me again. “Easy, tiger.”
***
The four of us followed some other guests to watch from side-stage. Kev hugged me as we rushed to find a place before the stage lights dimmed. Spotlights began to spin, the dry ice hazers creating a dramatic fog around the drum set as Jim began to thump. We couldn’t see but could hear the audience instantly begin to clap along, roaring. The drums beat faster and more frantically, and without warning, Rick and Adrian came galloping out from the side, with Sam strutting behind. Multiple spotlights struck each of them, and the crowd volume reached deafening proportions. Thank heavens for amplifiers. They jumped right into “Spoils of War,” with Riff growling the lyrics and Digger howling the chorus as the entire sea of people out front pumped their arms and chanted in unison, “Spoils! Of! War!” Kev was doing it from the side, but toned it down after he got a few looks. Most of the people backstage were acting cool and collected, nodding their heads and acting semi-unimpressed. Even Paul wasn’t paying all that much attention, talking to other people back there. Well. They may have seen countless shows from a few feet away, but it was our first. I tapped Kev on the shoulder and yelled in his ear, “They rock!” He nodded wisely and gave me the devil horns sign.
Abbey had in her earplugs and was bopping along in Ilana’s arms. After the first song, they prepared to leave. I gave Abbey a ton of good-night kisses. “I will see you in the morning, babydoll. Be a good girl.”
“THANK YOU, NEW YORK!” Riff yelled. “How the hell are ya?” The crowd shouted back as an unintelligible body, the house lights illuminating every raised fist. “It’s great to be back, feels like no time has gone by. Are you ready to ROCK AND ROLL? Are you ready to SCREAM AND SHOUT?” Digger took a moment during this call and response to flick his eyes side-stage to locate us. He nodded with a smile as Riff bellowed, “Are you ready to PLUNDER AND PILAGE, YEAAAAAHHHHH!”
Digger started hammering on his guitar and head-banging as the next song started up.
“Holy crap, they haven’t ever played this song live! This is history in the making!” Kev yelled in my ear, frantically grabbing his phone and texting someone, no doubt one of his Internet metal buddies.
“How ’bout we check them out from the front?” I hollered, and he agreed. We tramped down a small set of stairs and a ramp, heavily guarded by security. They ushered us into the long narrow space between the barrier and the stage. Photographers scuttled past us like crabs, trying to capture their big money shots.
The heat and the energy coming off the fans in the pit were insane. Kids were holding up banners and waving T-shirts with Corpse Guy on them, and fists and fingers triumphantly displaying devil horns were pumping in the air. Some people were pogoing and attempting to crowd surf.
I turned my attention up to my man onstage. I was right below him, and he had big smiles waiting for me. In fact, his looks in my direction were so frequent, they began to draw the attention of others.
“Hey, you’re fucking with his momentum,” Kev shouted in my ear.
“Jealous much?” I loved that we could have sibling rivalry in front of twenty thousand people.
“Seriously, is he making you wet with those looks?”
“KEV!”
“Well, I know I’d get a little wet if I were a girl and he was smiling at me like that.”
“Okay, maybe people are starting to look,” I confessed.
“Fuck ’em. Let them look.”
Kev slung his arm over my shoulder, and we did some quality head-banging before heading to our seats across the arena. Along the way, we ran into John Duff, the music critic from the Observer. He had worked with Pete, and I hadn’t seen him since the funeral. He and I smiled in mutual recognition and surprise, but the concert made it impossible to talk as we passed by each other.
To get to our seats, we actually had to go back along the side of the stage, down a corridor, and then back out into the halls of the arena. We hiked quickly up a stairwell, not wanting to miss a thing. As we got to the landing, I suddenly felt Kev’s hands grab my shoulders. “Wait a minute. Have you slept with him, Tree?” His voice echoed through the stairwell, still sounding muffled compared to the wattage reverberating throughout the Garden.
I found myself resorting back to preteen indignation. “Chuh—I can’t believe you! Tsk. God!” What a question to come from a brother.
“Seriously, Tree. Tell me you’ve communed with the blade.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
“I mean, the knife tattooed on his chest—have you seen it up close?” he hollered.
“The misericorde, you mean?”
“Oh my God, you know what’s written there, don’t you? Nobody knows. Only Riff and Digger; no one else has ever gotten close enough. Well, maybe Simone. But seriously, no photographer has ever captured it; no journalist has ever been given an answer. And no fan has ever gotten close enough to decipher it.”
We flashed our tickets at the usher, who stepped aside to let us pass. As we walked up the dark ramp to the seats, I leaned close to my brother. “Get to know him, okay? He puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us.”
Now it was Kev’s turn to chuh and tsk me.
Rob and Liz were up out of their seats doing some serious head-banging. Marissa had a booty-shake going to each drum beat, keeping her fist in the air. They all hugged me as we squeezed across them to the open seats. “He is so awesome up there, I can’t believe it!” Marissa screamed, shaking her head.
“You freakin’ knew, Dooley! Didn’t you, ya dirtbag?” Kev accused, grabbing Liz around the shoulders and miming a noogie with his knuckles to the top of her head.
“She swore me to secrecy! I didn’t put two and two together until I was in your old room and took a good look at one of your old rock posters.”
“Hey, whoa, has he seen my room?” He turned to me. “Did he think I was totally dorky? Hey, could he sign all those posters?”
“Shut up and watch the show, Kev!”
Riff was prowling from stage left to stage right, beckoning the crowd to yell some more if they had any yell left in them. “Thank you . . . thank you all. Awright, awright, we’re going to slow down for a moment and play a new song for your listening pleasure. It’s called ‘Cat with the Emerald Eyes.’ Hit it, Dig.”
Adrian began picking out a familiar-sounding melody. My entire body sizzled with a delicious zap of nervousness as I realized it was the song he had played for me at his apartment that first time I was there. Now the song had words, words he breathed clear and crisp into the mike.
You said
Easy tiger . . .
Not so fast,
First I have to make peace with my past.
So I twined my fingers through your hair
And waved my smudge sticks to clear the air . . .
The guitar and bass began
to gallop, drums keeping the beat, and the song took on that heavy groove I remembered loving so much in his room, watching him play, so alive.
The demons descended and swooped ’round my head
Tricksters who switched the live for the dead
The smoke cleared and I feared you were lost in their lies
Hadn’t known the truth shone in your emerald eyes.
I put my fingers to my lips in a point, smiling and listening. I could feel my friends’ eyes on me, but I couldn’t take my gaze off the man onstage.
Who’s to say
What exists
What is lost
What is this
I have found
In your eyes
In your kiss
In your kiss
Fragile stinging
A narrow miss
And you’re bringing
Me back to life with those
Emerald eyes.
He burst into a scathing guitar solo, borne out of what I could only imagine was the anguish he had felt while we were apart those months. It sounded as tightly wound as I myself had felt those lonely, endless days and nights. But slowly it began to unravel, to loosen, to soften and come to a quieter place. His eyes were closed as he performed the last verse a cappella to the spellbound crowd.
Easy Tiger . . .
Make it last
Arms wide, incantation, the spell’s been cast
No smoke and mirrors, no saints here,
only saviors, survivors, no fear
catch a glimpse of the future
Emerald eyes hold it clear . . .
I was a biased party, but I thought it sounded amazing. Judging from the looks of wonderment around me, however, strangers and my friends alike seemed to agree. Perhaps Adrian was in the running again for another shot at a Christmas number-one single. I knew, though, it probably didn’t even matter to him. I had a feeling he would have played that song to an audience of one and been just as happy and proud of it. And I would’ve been happy and proud to listen, too.
I heard a sharp whistle from below. Martin had come out from backstage and was trying to get my attention. I fought the flow of the exiting crowd to reach him. “Aftershow passes for your crew, courtesy of Digger Graves,” he announced.
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