Oh my god!
“Jordan is blaming himself. He’s blaming Cole. He’s ready to say forget the whole thing. Honestly I don’t care if he never goes on the road again, but I know him. And I know that he still wants this as much as he ever did. It’s his dream. And even though he’s angry now, he’ll hate himself for losing the possibilities.”
I couldn’t keep the question lying at the forefront of my brain quiet any longer. It needed to be answered.
“So is Cole back too?”
Maysie pursed her lips. But thank god she kept any negative comments to herself.
“He’s here. He took a cab from the airport by himself. I’m guessing he’s at his apartment. I don’t really know,” Maysie informed me.
Cole was here. He was most likely broken and upset. I wanted to call him. I wanted to rush over and take care of him. I wanted him to need me. I wanted to be that person he could lean on when things got crazy.
But then I remembered my firm resolve to be absolutely nothing to Cole Brandt.
I chewed on my bottom lip. “Is he okay?” I asked, knowing I couldn’t go to the source to find out.
Maysie brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.
“I don’t know. He’s been different. They all have been. Even Jordan. They say fame can change you. And I think that’s what was going on. Their star is rising and they start falling apart. I never thought it would happen. But it did. And truthfully, I’m thankful that Jose made them all go home. I’m glad they were kicked off that tour. The best thing for each and every one of them is to come back to Bakersville and get a little perspective.”
Maysie was one smart cookie.
“I think I am thirsty. Mind if I take you up on your offer for a cup of coffee?” she asked and I shook my head.
“Not a problem, babe. Let me fix you a mocha latte.”
Gracie and I went with Maysie back to Garrett’s house later in the day. My roommate had gotten up not long after I had made Maysie her cup of coffee and she had to launch into the entire story again.
Gracie was just as shocked as I had been. I was surprised that she hadn’t already gotten the scoop from Mitch. Typically she was the first person he would call when anything was going on. But her obliviousness to the situation made me wonder what was going on between the two.
Pulling up outside of Garrett’s home, I felt faintly sick. I wasn’t sure whether Cole would be there or not. And I hated to admit that my offer to hang out with Maysie there had something to do with my desire to see him. To make sure he was okay.
I couldn’t call him. I wouldn’t be weak enough to go by his apartment. But Garrett’s was neutral territory in a sense and I could feel less pathetic if I happened to run into him there as opposed to hunting him down.
Because despite everything that was going on his life, I had made the choice to cut ties. I’d feel like a bit ole’ pile of wuss if I caved in so soon. No matter what the reasons.
The three of us walked into the house and found Jordan, Garrett, and Mitch sitting in the living room playing video games.
Finding them like this, you would think nothing was wrong. A case of beer sat opened on the coffee table. Jordan and Garrett were cussing each other out as they tried to shoot each other while playing some combat role-playing game. Mitch was strumming one of Garrett’s acoustic guitars and none of them seemed overly concerned that their music career was set to implode.
But there was one major change in this familiar scenario. Cole was noticeably absent. Typically he would be right there with his best friends, shouting inappropriate commentary or getting wasted.
The void I felt by his absence was intense.
Garrett looked up when we entered and lifted a hand in greeting and then promptly let loose a string of curses when Jordan shot his character on the screen.
Maysie dropped her purse on the pool table in the corner and went to sit in Jordan’s lap.
“Hey ladies. Guess you weren’t expecting to see us around so soon,” Jordan said wryly, kissing the side of his fiancée’s neck.
I guess he was going to acknowledge the giant elephant in the room before it had a chance to trample us.
Gracie seemed oddly uncomfortable and I couldn’t help but notice the way she and Mitch purposefully didn’t look at each other. There was something definitely going on between the two and when I had a chance I would be finding out.
Gracie sat down on the Lazy Boy across the room and I made myself comfortable on the couch beside Garrett.
“Yeah, I was pretty stunned to find Maysie on our doorstep at ten-thirty on a Sunday morning. My first thought was she had wised up and left your sorry ass,” I teased, trying to lessen the tension.
“Not a chance in hell,” Jordan growled, kissing Maysie long and hard on the lips.
“Ugh, see what you’ve started, Viv!” Garrett complained, tossing the game controller on the coffee table and handing me a beer. I took it with a “Thanks” and gave him a pointed look.
“As if you and Riley are any different,” I challenged.
“I wish Ri would let me put my tongue down her throat in public!” Garrett joked, smacking Jordan on the back of the head, interrupting him as he devoured Maysie’s face.
“Maysie told us what happened,” Gracie said, her eyes flitting over to Mitch who was looking stanchly at the guitar in his lap.
“Yeah. We’re in deep shit right now. Even more if the label decides to not release our album,” Jordan muttered, releasing Maysie who slithered off his lap.
“So if Pirate Records decides not to release your record, what will happen then?” I asked.
“We have no fucking clue. Except that the music on that album will never be heard by anyone. Ever,” Mitch said bitterly.
“It’s bullshit,” Jordan said sharply.
“So what’s the next step then?” Gracie asked, accepting a bottle of iced tea that Garrett had thoughtfully offered her with a smile.
“We just have to wait and see what the label says next week. We’re flying up to New York next Tuesday. Until then we’re supposed to ‘sort our shit out,’” Garrett mimicked, obviously unhappy with the idea.
“And how exactly are you planning to sort your shit out?” I asked, noticing that throughout this entire conversation, not a single one of them had mentioned Cole.
Jordan shrugged. “We’ve got a lot to talk about. Things we have to work through. I’m not really sure where we’ll end up at the end of all this.” He said it lightly but I could tell he was worried. Maysie rubbed his back, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Do some of the things you need to work through include Cole?” I asked bluntly. Sitting there in Garrett’s living room without one of the main players felt strange and more than a little wrong.
I was frustrated on his behalf. Hurt and secondary betrayal stung my veins. Not that he deserved any consideration on my part, but I couldn’t help it.
Here were his best friends, his bandmates, and they existed in their group as if he were already gone.
Garrett gave me a strange look. I couldn’t quite decipher his expression. Garrett was a hard guy to read. He hid his emotions behind a blasé demeanor. Until Riley came into the picture, I hadn’t been entirely sure he was capable of feelings it all. He had spent most of his time numbing them with weed and booze.
“Cole is a big part of the problem, yeah,” Garrett said after a beat.
“Really? Why is that?” Gracie gave me a look that clearly said I needed to shut up. It really wasn’t any of my business and the glance Mitch and Jordan threw my way said as much.
But I wanted to know. I wanted to hear from them what exactly the problem was.
Garrett popped the cap off his beer and tossed it into the now empty case on the table. “Let’s just say some people forget too quickly where they came from.”
I felt my face get hot and an unreasonable irritation spread wildly through my insides. It wasn’t right that they were sitting h
ere gossiping like old bitches behind Cole’s back. It wasn’t cool that they were holding onto their anger without having the decency to talk to him about it.
I didn’t know what went down except through secondhand knowledge. I had no idea what it was like on the road with Cole. But I did know that he had been friends with the three guys sat in front of me for years. They had built a band and created music together. They had started a journey together and there were always two sides to every story.
Given my recent anger towards Cole, I was surprised with how quickly my heart and mind had jumped to his defense.
“I think the same could be said for everyone. Don’t you think?” I asked, chugging the rest of my beer and putting my empty bottled on the ground by my feet.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Viv. You, of all people should know exactly what we were dealing with. How you can sit there and be all morally disapproving when not two weeks ago you were telling Cole to take a hike,” Jordan threw at me and I knew he was right.
But. . .
“I just think it’s sort of screwed up that you’re placing everything on his shoulders. Cole can be a handful but he’s still a part of this band. So where is he?” I asked, giving each of the remaining members of Generation Rejects a pointed look.
“At his apartment, I guess,” Mitch shrugged.
“Why isn’t he here? Why aren’t the four of you figuring shit out?”
“Vivian, this really isn’t any of your business,” Maysie remarked firmly, narrowing her eyes.
“You’re right, it’s totally none of my business. Maybe that’s why it’s easier for me to see how messed up it really is,” I suggested.
Mitch snorted. “Oh please. As if you’re an unbiased party.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, accepting the barb but not letting it go without my own.
“And I think your heads are too far up your own asses to see anything clearly. It looks to me like Cole’s wasn’t the only ego that was the problem.” I dropped my words like a bomb. I got to my feet and picked up my empty beer bottle and started to walk toward the kitchen.
“You got anything to drink besides beer?” I asked over my shoulder, more than aware of the looks everyone was tossing my way. But I didn’t care. I said what needed to be said.
“Uh, there’s some vodka I think,” Jordan offered and I smirked at the befuddlement in his voice.
I could tell I had made him think. That I had made all of them think. And even though Cole would never know I had stuck up for him, I knew I had to say something.
And my feelings had nothing to do with it.
I had become really good at convincing myself of just about anything.
I thought I was going to be sick. My stomach started to clench and my mouth began to water.
I had exactly ten seconds to make it to my bathroom before I threw up all over myself.
I stumbled out of my bed, tripping over the empty bottle of Everclear on the floor and made it to the toilet just in time.
I hated to puke. And I had been doing a lot of that for the past couple of hours. I felt like shit. Every part of my body ached. My head felt like someone was drilling a hole straight through my temples.
That’s what I got for picking up a crate of liquor on the way home from the airport and proceeded to drink myself into a stupor.
The flight back from Chicago had been tense. I hadn’t shared more than two words with any of my bandmates. A wall had been put up between them and me.
I was pissed. I was hurt. I was full of crazy fucking rage.
I had paid out the ass for a cab to take me all the way back to Bakersville. It was a hell of a lot better than riding back in Garrett’s van.
I asked the driver to drop me off at the liquor store, where I proceeded to buy my weight in alcohol. I then went to my shitty apartment, a place I honestly had hoped to never see again, and drank my way into a coma.
It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.
Now, not so much.
My phone started to ring and I couldn’t do much more than moan as the sound bounced around my cell.
“Shut up,” I whispered hoarsely from my fetal position on my bathroom floor.
It listened, thank god, and the ringing stopped. I sat up and slowly got to my feet. I ran the water in the sink and filled my hands and splashed my face several times. It cleared some of the fog in my head.
I smelled like shit. That was definitely vomit on the front of my shirt. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and had to laugh. I was a long cry from being the sexed up bad boy singer everyone was used to seeing.
I looked like crap. Like a heroine addict before they overdosed in an alleyway. My cheeks were sunken and I had dark circles under my eyes. Despite feeling like asshole warmed over, I had enough residual vanity to make myself strip my clothes and jump in the shower.
Being clean helped to clear my head. I was hung-over as hell and I knew I needed to get something to eat. But the thought of leaving my apartment and going out there, out where people would know me and want to talk to me, seemed like a really bad idea.
The last thing I needed in my general state of suckitude, was to try and make conversation with anyone.
My phone started ringing again.
Obviously the person on the other end didn’t understand that I was super busy wallowing in pathetic self-pity.
I picked up the source of my annoyance and went to hit ignore when I saw who it was.
Jose Suarez.
Figuring ignoring my manager wouldn’t be in my best interest right now; I put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been calling you since yesterday!” Jose demanded.
“Man, lower your voice!” I croaked, rubbing my temples. I needed some ibuprophen stat!
“I don’t give a shit if you’ve been run over by a damn bus, you answer the phone when I call you!” he ordered and I flipped him off, though he couldn’t see me.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, what’s the emergency?” I yawned and even that simple movement made me feel like I was going to throw up again. I was a fucking mess.
“Are you screwing with me? What’s the emergency? Well except for the fact that your career is in the shitter, nothing really,” Jose bit out sarcastically.
Oh, yeah. There was that.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like it sounded,” I apologized.
“I’m getting the impression that not a lot of shit sorting is going on down in east bumblefuck, or wherever it is that you fuckers live,” Jose snarled.
I really needed some ibuprophen. And I needed to stop tasting my stomach lining in the back of my throat.
“Have you spoken to the other guys?” he asked and I shook my head. Oh right, he couldn’t see me.
“Nope.” My mouth popped around the word for emphasis.
“You planning to talk to them?” he asked snidely.
“I guess,” I said petulantly.
“You guess. Huh. Well that doesn’t sound much like someone who’s invested in saving his band,” Jose pointed out. He didn’t sound angry about it. Just thoughtful. And thoughtful Jose was kind of scary.
“I don’t know if it’s worth saving anymore. If they think it’s okay to walk off stage and leave me like that, I’m not sure I want to play music with them anymore.” And there I had said it. It was the thing that had been swirling around in my head since the entire concert fiasco.
I was bitter. I was really freaking bitter. And my feelings were hurt. I could admit that what my friends had done had cut me deep.
And maybe I was making decisions based on emotions, but I couldn’t think past it. I wasn’t sure we would ever be able to get to a place where we would be able to move passed our hurt pride.
There was a lot of ugliness between the four of us right now.
“I hear ya. I really do. So maybe now is a good time to talk about some news I have for you,” Jose said an
d I figured I needed to be sitting down for whatever he had to tell me.
“News?” I asked, rooting around in my medicine cabinet for pain reliever. The throbbing in my head had started to get worse. My brains were starting to liquefy.
“Yeah, so I was talking to my man, Roberto, who works over at Deep Hill Records,” he began and my ears perked up.
“Deep Hill Records? Are you shitting me? They’re one of the biggest labels out there,” I said, stopping my scavenger hunt in my medicine cabinet as Jose got all of my attention.
“No shit, Sherlock. Deep Hill is the big leagues. Pirate Records is great and all but they’re young. They’re still a starter company. They don’t have a lot in the way of reach or overall capital. Deep Hill, however, could launch your name into the universe. And they’re interested, Cole. Really fucking interested.”
I sat down heavily on the toilet seat and tried to get a breath. I couldn’t quite figure out what Jose was telling me.
“What do you mean they’re interested?” I asked, feeling like a total idiot.
“It means they want to see more from you. Just you. My man is a head A&R dude. He’s been in this industry since the late nineties. And he thinks you have something, Cole. He thinks you could be huge. He wants to talk to you about what Deep Hill could do for you. About working on an album.”
Jose’s words were going in one ear and out the other. I couldn’t grasp what he was telling me. It was all a little too much for me to take in right now.
I felt like death.
My friends had abandoned me.
My band was on the edge of total ruin.
And Jose was saying that a guy at Deep Hill Records thought I could be a star.
I was going to be sick.
“I’m gonna have to call you back,” I whispered, bile building up in the back of my throat.
“We need to talk about this now, Cole. My guy isn’t going to wait around forever. I know you have your sit down with Pirate next week. But you need to think long and hard about what you’re going to go in there and say. And if it were me, I’d say fuck it. Do what you have to do to get out of that contract. I’ve been reading over it and there are stipulations where you could be released without financial penalties. We need to talk about your strategy. Because I want to help you go beyond Generation Rejects. Cole, this is your chance to go all the way, man!”
Seductive Chaos Page 17