The Drummer

by Anthony Neil Smith

  His nod was subtle, sad.

  “Exactly, so sweet of this man to leave it to you. One problem,” she said, holding up a pink fingernail, chewed to the quick. “Was this suicide? Were you even dead? They didn’t have enough to go on. From the outside, arson and no body were big red flashing frauds, you asshole.”

  I shrugged. “Didn’t plan it that way.”

  “Were you high when you dreamed up your grand exit? Did you think anyone gave a flying fuck about a metal drummer from a second rate band?”

  Doug and I both said, “Hey—” but couldn’t really argue the point.

  “They had potential. It was the market’s fault,” Hsieh said.

  Alison stared at him. He blinked. She kept going. “We’re bankrupt, we’re strapped, and we don’t get your insurance money unless we pay most of it to an attorney for a long court battle. Had to find another way to keep the medicine coming, keep us in a nice house, and start over the same way you did. I took some classes, answered a few ads. I wanted easy money. I didn’t care who I hurt to get it.”

  Hsieh thought he had the answer. Rock band, people who do business with rock bands, both pretty damn rich.

  “Drugs,” he said. “You got into moving drugs.”

  She smiled, waited him out. But the look on Hsieh’s face told us he figured it was better to shut up.

  I didn’t take Ali for a dealer. “No, not that. And not sex. You keep that private, I think. What else would…wait. Car sales? Telemarketing?”

  “Jesus, that’s pretty close. You still know me after all.”

  Alison sat again and crossed her legs, her foot in the high heel poised like a work of art on display. She milked it, waited until all my attention was focused on her toes. “Direct marketing. Online.”

  Oh. Okay. “Spam? You’re a spammer? The clients must’ve loved you.”

  “That’s why it was so easy to track you. I had access to every type of internet search engine, records, lists, chat rooms, a nice full candy jar.”

  I’d never felt more like Philip Marlowe, listening to Alison tell us what led to our face-to-face meeting. Proud of how she outflanked me. It wasn’t Doug alone that pushed me into exile. Not purely the band either, or Sylvia’s choice. The more I thought, the more it seemed I couldn’t face all that and Alison always reminding me that no matter where I went, who I became, or how successful I was, I owed her—loyalty to the end.

  What drove her? I don’t really know. Something about control, I guessed. She needed to know she had it. She needed the drama to keep her from being bored. Call it bi-polar or manic or fucking mean, I knew from the first time I kissed her that I’d always regret it, never forget it, and miss it no matter how bad I wanted to stay away. If anyone could have helped erase those feelings, helped me forget, it was Beth.

  I was a sorry son of a bitch. I deserved Alison. At this point, I bet she wouldn't even take me on as a cuckold.

  “Now what? You’ve failed at manipulating the band back together. You didn’t get my insurance money, and you’ve just kidnapped a police officer.”

  “Thanks for reminding her,” Hsieh said. “Since I don’t have my gun.”

  “Ali’s not a murderer, are you?” I smiled, poured on slippery charm and stood from the couch, stepped towards my old flame. “She’s a lot of things, but she’s not going to kill you.”

  She pushed her face towards mine as I gripped the arms of the chair and leaned in. Both of us knew this wasn’t going to end in a kiss, although our bodies seemed to glide towards that, a natural rhythm growing louder. Somehow our disgust for each other acted as an aphrodisiac.

  She whispered, “Would you like me to kill him?”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “If it’s what you want.”

  Jesus, the smell of her made my throat thick and my balls hot. I finally blinked, then squeezed my eyes shut to break her spell. I drew away.

  “Really, doll. I’m here. You got me. Well played.” I bowed and gave a bow and finger twirl salute, an old Carson thing. “I’m sure there’s a backup plan, right? You wouldn’t do this without one.”

  She sank into the cushions, pushed me away with her toes. “Maybe.”

  “Come on. Spill.”

  Doug hid a laugh behind a cough. I don’t think it was a happy laugh.

  I said, “You know what she’s up to?”

  He shrugged it off, wouldn’t raise his eyes.

  “Something you don’t approve of?”

  “Leave him alone,” Ali said, leaning toward us as if the next move was to intervene. I didn’t take the hint, knelt beside Doug’s chair.

  I told him, “She’s gone off the deep end. You’re not happy with this at all.”

  “It’s nothing…”

  “Yeah?” Like pulling teeth with this guy. Always had been.

  “Look, it’s been all these years, and she’s had my ear the whole time, you know. I heard all about what was going on between you guys when we were home in Florida. Same with later, you know, when you found out about my problem. I’ve heard enough about you, an evil fucking bastard, the way you treated her.”

  “How about the way she treated me?”

  “That was self defense. Especially since you knocked her up and left her to handle the consequences.”

  Ali tried to shut him down, hand reaching for his mouth like she was in second grade.

  “I didn’t knock her up.” I turned to her. “Really? You didn’t fucking tell me?”

  “It was my problem. I took care of it.”

  “But you lied to me. I had no idea.”

  Doug’s face sank even more, the skeleton ridges more apparent. I also noticed the make-up caking his cheeks, nose, and forehead. Hiding lesions? Bruises? The whole package like a rebuilt car, good as new if you didn’t look too closely. Still, its days were numbered.

  He was rock still, hands in his lap, when he spoke. “You let me believe Chris was a monster over this? All the while he didn’t have a clue?”

  “He’s lying,” Alison said.

  Doug lifted his chin, examined me, reached a finger to my face and traced a line around my jaw.

  I said, “Man, if I had known she was pregnant, no way would I have jumped ship. That’s one thing that never changed. I was the same guy then as I am now, the one who never told anyone your secret.”

  He waited, hoping I’d blabber, blink too fast, something. I didn’t, though. No bluff. How could I lie to him, once my closest friend, still like a brother in my mind, after faking my own death for what I thought would be his benefit? He was dying right in front of me that very moment. How could I lie?

  “He’s telling the truth. So, maybe the other stuff you told me about him wasn’t true, also,” Doug said.

  Alison was on her knees in the chair. Her fingers were clinging to his arm, her face close to his ear. “I swear, he’s trying to ruin everything. Why would I lie to you?”

  “You said he called me a faggot, said I deserved to die.”

  “He did.”

  I said, “Wait a second. I never said you deserved to die. Never crossed my mind.”

  “And the other thing?”

  “Yeah, I called you a faggot. We all called each other faggots. You are a faggot, you faggot. It’s a word. That’s all.”

  The way he held his mouth, he was thinking it over.

  “Who’s been at your side the whole time, him or me?” Alison said. It was a desperate sound, and this woman wasn’t good at pleading. I could see how eventually anyone would give in—just to stop her pathetic whine.

  Doug nodded at me. “Tell him your plan, Ali. The great plan that’s supposed to make this all worthwhile.”

  She eased away, still crouched in the chair like a six-year-old. “The money. You’ve got two and a half million, and I want it.”

  “That’s what’s left?” I said. I hadn’t checked my balances in a long time. “How’d you figure it out?”

  “You don’t get it. I’ve been on t
o you over a year. I saw a sighting report from some website and I checked it out. I also checked some other things—bank receipts, withdrawals, someone having vintage drums delivered to the address of a funeral home. Never knew I had you, huh? So, so easy.”

  My knees were killing me. I collapsed onto the rug and rubbed my palms on the kneecaps. All the time I’d felt safe in town, Alison was watching—Beth, the funeral home. She’d even known about Justin, but kept telling Doug I was a homophobe who wished death on my friends.

  “Everything?” I said.

  “Yes indeed. The big ass girlfriend, the haunted house, the skanks and the booze.”

  I turned to Doug. “Even the fact that my closest friend in town is a gay bartender, right? She tell you that? And that she sent David in to romance him as a way to get to me?”

  Alison vaulted her leg up and over, punching me in the chest with her high heel. Fucking stung—I pushed her away, blood spreading across my shirt. She’d torn the skin bad. I couldn’t help but lie down and press my hand to my heart. Then she stood above me, peered down with her hands on her hips.

  “Don’t ruin this anymore, okay? Let me do this my way,” she said.

  “You’ve had plenty of time. Why now?”

  She pointed at Doug. “Because I don’t care how sick he is, he shouldn’t look that old at his age. You think we’re rolling in money off goddamn spam? Shit, I’ll bet eighty percent of our take went to his medicines. That’s why we’re doing it. We live in an apartment, pretty pedestrian, middle-class. We shop for bargains and clip coupons. We can’t keep it up.”

  I looked at Hsieh, standing with his arms crossed, skeptical squint on his face. The side of Alison’s foot tapped my cheek and brought my attention back to her.

  “Eyes front, mister.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  “You’ve got good business sense, figured out some nice investments, and we could up our standards on that. That’s what we want. Comfort for Doug, nicer shoes for me.”

  “That’s all?”

  She straddled me, her thighs heavy on my stomach. My dick went hard. It couldn’t help itself. Her muscles flexed to show me she was paying attention. “No, that’s not all. If the band reunion had worked, none of this would’ve been necessary. It’s your fault. I’m going to need you if we want the money. You’ll make the calls to keep it flowing the way you’ve been handling it so far. I was impressed. Nice pattern, kept it liquid, a solid portfolio.”

  “How’d you find it?”

  “Baby, we spammers know more about you than the government. Information is what it’s all about. I followed the money, tough as it was. If not for me being smarter than you, I’d say you were a master at this.”

  I lifted my hand from my chest. The blood was caking, my shirt sealing the wound, at least temporarily. I landed my blood-slicked palm on Ali’s leg. Goddamn if that didn’t seem to turn her on a bit.

  “Go on,” I said.

  Her voice was a little more Catwoman when she said, “We need you to access the money, so that means you’re coming home with us to Miami. I promise to hide your identity, make all of the speculation go away. We’ll have to do something about Sylvia.”

  My grip tightened. “No you won’t.”

  “Have to. Your fault again.”

  I grew weaker every moment, this girl squeezing the breath out of me. I didn’t plan to take her up on the offer—pretty much become her butler or sissy-boy while I got front row seats to the end of Doug’s life. A quick glance in his direction. He was staring at his hands again.

  “You help us out like the old days. You’ll have the run of the house, a ride anywhere you’d need to go, a very long leash. You won’t even know it’s there.”

  Doug nearly choked on a laugh, spasmed a coughing fit. Alison was off me before I realized, and I took in deep breaths. Hsieh stepped over, helped me up and examined the rip across my chest. I held him off and listened to Doug and Ali. She didn’t get it at first. The fake cough fell apart. It was laughter. Sick, demoralized, hacking laughter.

  “Some water? You need water?” Ali said.

  Doug cleared his throat and shook his head. “Are you insane? Are you really fucking insane?” he said. “I’ve defended you all this time because of how you’ve taken care of me. Then I understood that it wasn’t just because you cared. It became about control. You felt important being in charge of my medicine, my day-to-day life, this cash machine stuff.”

  “I do care, you know that. Don’t say things.”

  “Yeah, you care, but like I told you from day one of this band idea you had, I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want the pity, the scrutiny, or the big charity concert. I didn’t want it. I joined the band because Christopher wanted me to. Everything else was gravy.”

  “That was the best way. We can’t keep up.”

  “Then let’s stop hiding, for God’s sake. See if Sylvia can work a new deal. You’ve been on top in Miami too long, got your mind all frazzled. You try to force a reunion, and when that didn’t work, you want to rope in Chris as your personal slave?”

  “All for you, bro.” She reached a hand for his face. “I’m doing this to save you.”

  He turned his face away. “You can’t save me. I’m almost done.”

  Alison slapped him hard. I thought it was a gunshot.

  “Fuck you! If I say I can do it, I’ll do it, you ungrateful whore. What have you done lately to help yourself?” Alison was on her feet in dominatrix mode again, those hands on her hips the cockiest pose I’d ever seen from anyone—rock singers included.

  Doug’s move was supernatural, the strength we thought he didn’t have exploding as he bolted from the chair and shoved Alison over the settee. She sprawled out, grabbed her ankle, and let loose with obscenities too vile for a snuff porn flick.

  David appeared in the room instantly and pushed past Hsieh, eyes searching for Alison. He found her as she trailed off on “—bite off your leper cock and watch the blood drain, you cunt, you…”

  “You all right?” David said. He moved in front of her, facing us, a human shield, gun in hand and gun in waistband. Alison grabbed his jacket and pulled herself up. She tried to balance, failed, whimpering when her foot touched the ground. David held out his free arm, which Ali used to ease herself onto the settee. She took off her heels and threw them at me. One bounced off my shoulder.

  “Here’s your choice,” she said, focusing on me again. “Either you come along willingly, or David puts you to sleep and you won’t wake up until Miami.”

  Hsieh and I still weren’t a match against David the Giant. I assumed she had a plane or a car ready to go. Taking my chances with New Orleans police suddenly seemed a less awful idea.

  “What if I say no, run the hell out of here, and turn myself in?”

  “Try to race David? You that good?”

  “You already know how good I am.”

  She smirked. Smirked, I swear. To David, “Put him under so we can get the hell out of here.”

  An odd thing happened. David’s eyes flicked towards Doug while Ali spoke. There was something there, like a signal, very subtle. Doug’s hand did a flat “Stay” like he was playing blackjack.

  David said to Ali, “Is that a good idea?”

  “It’s a great idea. Move, move, let’s go.” Her voice was strained and it didn’t hit her for a moment that David probably shouldn’t have asked a question like that in the first place. He didn’t make a move towards me.

  Doug said, “Alison, please—”

  She snapped to attention, a surprised expression. Afraid, too. I wondered how draining her day-to-day life was, hanging onto control by her fingernails, using all her energy to keep the tough confident front intact. What I saw at that moment was the real Ali trying to pile sandbags in the middle of a hurricane.

  “I didn’t hire you to debate my decisions, and if you want to follow us to Florida, there’s a good job waiting for you. The thing is, doing what I say is pretty much your only duty.”<
br />
  David crossed his hands in front, gun down. “Sorry, I guess there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  Alison’s teeth were grinding. “Now you know better. I want to go home. Take him.”

  I took another quick look at Doug, who closed his eyes for a long moment and shook his head. David stayed where he was. Alison finally caught on. Being mad at David, that was easy. At her brother, well, things got confusing.

  I smiled against my better judgement. Seemed that David and Doug had become pretty good friends during the downtime. If Doug didn’t want me harmed, then I was safe. I elbowed Hsieh, hoping to convey Get ready. We’re about to book it out of here.

  Alison said, “This isn’t a good time. My older brother is supposed to protect me. After all I’ve done for you. I’ve kept you alive.”

  “In a cage, yeah. It’s simple.” Doug leaned on his cane, as if all his strength plus all his will could barely keep him standing. “I don’t think Christopher deserves to pay for my mistakes anymore. He’s built a life for himself. Let him have it. It wasn’t like he tried to hurt us. The insurance wasn’t his fault.”

  “He should fix what he broke.”

  “No, please. He killed himself for us. Blame the government for fucking it all up.”

  She scooted forward on the settee, trying to stand. It was all about power, and she couldn’t hold much authority rubbing her ankle on a couch. I really felt for Alison then, if only for a second. I wanted to protect her, seeing the teenager who cried hysterically because I quit the band. This was that times a thousand.

  “It’s not fair. He’s rich, while we’re barely ahead. He’s free, while we have to watch every step. He’s got the kind of life you deserve.”

  Doug shrugged, made an old man noise. “None of us got what we deserved. We make do.”

  Alison switched her focus to me. “If he doesn’t want you, then I do. You spoiled me, not the good way. Why isn’t it fair if I give you a taste of that? Make you hurt that much?”

  I held up my bloody paw, then my bandaged paw, and said, “Don’t talk to me about suffering. I did all mine early, thanks to you and Sylvia and Doug and Todd. I never understood all that ‘deal with the devil’ stuff, Robert Johnson at the crossroads, why someone would say fame sucked. Now I know, and it had nothing to do with the fans and loss of privacy.” I stepped closer to Alison. David might not have wanted to kidnap me, but he slid into my path, protecting his boss. “Fame sucked because we changed. We expected more, we were riskier, and we played with each others’ emotions because nobody mattered except number one.”