Get Rocked

by Tabatha Vargo

  We were in the middle of recording our first record, and I was able to buy a new car with the advance we got from the label. It should’ve been the happiest time in my life, but everything felt wrong. I never felt as comfortable in my new shiny mustang as I did in my busted-up El Camino, and somehow I felt like I was disrespecting my memories of Patience by getting rid of my old car.

  The thing about having your dreams come true is that it only felt good to enjoy it if the person you loved was there to enjoy it with you. The person I loved was long gone. She’d dropped me like the nothing I was and moved on as if I’d never existed. I’d been in worse predicaments; I’d had my ass handed to me on more occasions than I could count by my dad, but none of that hurt as bad as missing Patience.

  Missing her made me delusional. Every woman I passed was blond. Every girl had her signature blue eyes and sometimes when I was in a crowd of females, I was almost positive I could hear her laughter mixed into the group.

  Of course, that could’ve been all the drugs and liquor I’d been consuming since I moved to California. I’d always turned to drugs to numb my pain and usually the shit worked—not so much this time. No matter how much I smoked or how much I drank, the pain of Snowflake’s loss never lessened.

  On top of missing Patience, I missed home. I missed South Carolina. Mostly because it was hot as hell in the West, but also because when I was home, I could see things that reminded me of her. Nothing in California held a memory, and once I got rid of my El Camino, it was as if she never existed. I fucking hated waking up and looking around at my unfamiliar world.

  Leaving the East Coast without being able to say good-bye to my snowflake was by far the hardest thing I’d ever done. I called and texted until I couldn’t call and text anymore. The day I found out her phone was disconnected, I went on the warpath and destroyed anything I could get my hands on. I had to buy Tiny a new Xbox and flat screen, and I had to get ten stitches in my knuckles thanks to the hard-ass tile on the bathroom wall. It was hell. I thought I knew hell all my life, but I was never more wrong.

  I searched for her and even asked Megan what the deal was, but nothing. It was as if she’d disappeared off the face of the earth, and I felt like I’d disappeared with her. I didn’t want to exist without her. I wanted to crawl into a dark whole and die quietly. But every time I thought about taking the easy way out, I’d think about the fact that she was out there somewhere and one day, no matter if it was years away, she might need me. If that day ever came, I wanted to be there waiting for her. I’d always wait for her.

  When I was packing to leave for California, I found her Happy Meal Optimus Prime toy from her birthday, and I cried a little. I wasn’t much for crying. To me, crying was for weak assholes, but sometimes something would send me over the edge. A cheap McDonald’s toy did the trick that day. After the toy, it was a song on the radio, and after that, it was just the memory of her smile.

  Another thing that killed me was my guitar. I used to love my guitar, but every time I played it, I thought about Patience. I could’ve bought a new one, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. As much as it hurt to play it, it hurt more when I thought about sticking it in a closet.

  I couldn’t bring myself to regret the choices I’d made for her. The thought of her living in a prison cell for killing that sick son of a bitch made me sick to my stomach every time. I ran the conversation I’d had with her mother before leaving Sydney’s room through my head over and over again. What I did was the right thing. Even if Patience couldn’t see that, it was the right thing.

  Weeks later, my tears had long dried up, but the deep ache in my chest that I carried around left me feeling hollow, even more so than I’d always been. It was as if I’d been allowed a tiny glimpse of real life before I was given the kill shot. I’d always been sort of dead inside, but it was different. This time I was dead and rotting from the inside out.

  The first time I heard one of our songs on the radio should’ve been a beautiful moment, but all I could think about was whether or not Patience would hear it. I was slowly losing my mind and nothing or no one could make it better, no one but her anyway.

  “Dude, you played the wrong chord again.” Finn complained. “Snap the hell out of it, man.”

  The guys were constantly complaining since I kept screwing up. It was so unlike me and I couldn’t let it continue any longer, so I pushed back all of my memories of Patience and swallowed down my emotions. I delved deep into the music and forgot about everything else.

  Months later, I was still pretending. I pretended to be happy, smoked entirely too much green, and drank like a fish. When the guys brought home girls, I flirted and fooled around often, but I could never bring myself to have sex with any of them. I thought for sure stepping into my old self and fooling around with girls would make me feel normal again, but nothing I did helped, and I’d always end up spending the night afterward hating myself and feeling guilty, like I’d cheated or something.

  It was a tragedy what Patience had done to me. I was more broken now than I was before she fixed me. I couldn’t seem to dredge up any form of emotion. I used to be angry, but now I didn’t care enough about anything to get angry. I used to be ready to fuck at the drop of a hat, but the thought of being with anyone but Patience felt all kinds of wrong, and for a brief time in my life I was able to laugh, but now my face was stiff with no expression and it hurt to even think about a smile.

  Time went by in a slow and unbearable haze of nothing, and soon I only thought about her every hour versus every minute of every day. When we were invited to Rockfest in Orlando, Florida, I was excited, but more so because I knew by being on the East Coast again, I was also going to be close to Patience.

  It was a never-ending cycle of emotions that I was sick of being on. As far as I was concerned, emotions could suck a fat one in hell and hopefully gag. I’d been strung through the wringer all my life and I was fucking tired.

  When it was time to go to Orlando, we stepped onto a commercial airplane headed east and I popped a pill and slept through most of the trip. Sleeping was my favorite thing next to drugs. When I wasn’t playing, getting high, or partying, I was sleeping.

  We switched planes in Texas and I watched as the skyline changed from day to night. A wall of humidity slammed into us when we stepped out of the airport in Florida. By the time we got to the nice-ass hotel by Disney World, I was so fucking tired I could barely keep my eyes open.

  We spent the rest of that week getting drunk off our asses and hanging out at all the kickass clubs in Orlando. Four single guys could get into some serious shit around those parts, and I should’ve been enthralled by all the beach bodies surrounding me, but still there was nothing. I did, however, feel closer to Snowflake, and that was better than I’d felt in a long while.

  Women were everywhere trying to get a piece of me, yet I went to bed alone every night while I listened to the guys in their rooms with whatever girl they brought back to the hotel to bag. It was hell and I hated it.

  By the time the weekend came and we were setting up for Rockfest, the weather was starting to cool to a nice ninety degrees. I was still hot, but just not hot as fuck. There was a big difference.

  The crowds came in swarms and we were set to play later in the day. I hung out with other bands behind the stage setup and smoked way too much weed. A few times I’d peek out into the crowd in hopes that I’d feel some kind of excitement about playing. Music didn’t do it for me the way it used to, and a few times I’d even contemplated leaving the band. If it weren’t for the fact that the boys were more like brothers to me, I probably would have.

  Once it was time for us to go up, the crowd had doubled. More than half the people were drunk and burnt from being out all day in the Florida sun. Women were on men’s shoulders with their tops off and the smell of weed circulated around the crowd.

  People jumped up and down with our music while Finn dominated the crowd. Girls with T-shirts that said, “I’m a freak for Zeke
!” jumped around without bras on in the front row. I nodded down at them to let them know I hadn’t missed them, and they smiled and blew kisses up at me.

  I looked at women so differently. They weren’t ass waiting to be bagged anymore; they were human beings. I had Snowflake to thank for that, or to hate for that—I hadn’t decided yet.

  All in all, it was a good show. We played our hearts out and the music sounded better to me than it had in a while. Not once did I play the wrong chord or stop playing altogether to drink my beer, and I could tell the guys were happy that things were going so well.

  The sky was turning black as night set in and the area became even cooler. Our music vibrated the star-filled sky and sound waves from the crowd pumped us up. Toward the end of our set, Finn jumped out into the crowd and surfed until they threw him back on the stage. Everything felt normal for just a bit, but when we played our last song, sadness settled over me because I knew we’d be leaving the East Coast in a few days and I’d once again be thousands of miles away from Patience.

  I scanned the crowd once more as I played my final solo for the night, and I was caught off guard by a flash of platinum hair. One minute it was there and the next it was gone. I was positive I was seeing things when suddenly the crowd cleared once again and my eyes collided with Patience.

  After months of feeling like I was suffocating, I felt like I was able to breathe again when I saw her looking up at me from the crowd below. She looked as lost as I felt, as dead as I was, and I wanted to jump down into the mosh pit and kill anyone who stopped me from getting to her.

  My insides were waking up and I felt more clearheaded than I had in months. The liquor and drugs that I’d taken before going on stage were burned off by the adrenaline rush that occurred when I saw her face. The air felt lighter and the breeze that I hadn’t felt earlier touched my skin, cooling me from the head down.

  She stared back at me with an aggravated look on her face. She looked different, thicker in some places and tanner, but she was just as beautiful as the last time I saw her. The crowd around her seemed to disappear and all I could see was her standing there alone as if she were a mirage for a dying man. That’s what I’d been since she left me, a dying man, and until she was mine again, I’d never be alive.

  I continued to play as I watched her struggle to get to the front, and then finally she gave up and stared at me. From so far away I couldn’t see her eyes, just as I’m sure she couldn’t see mine, but my heart felt her presence and it took everything I had in me to stay put on that stage.

  I lost her in the crowd and wasn’t able to locate her blond hair again. I frantically searched the crowd and once we were off the stage, I attempted to go through and try to find her, but I could barely move it was so packed, and I kept getting stopped by drunk girls who kept trying to rub their tits on me.

  We followed the crowd to the buses and I was on the verge of losing it. She was so close. She was there and I couldn’t see her or get to her. I pushed at random people and got looks of horror as people thought I’d lost my mind, but there were too many and I couldn’t get through. I was almost on the bus when I saw her cutting a path through the parking lot. Darkness covered the lot, yet the stars still seemed to glisten in her platinum locks.

  She was alone. What was she thinking walking around a dark parking lot alone? Hadn’t she been through enough? Seeing her there, walking as if she were untouchable, pissed me off. I was angry that she’d put herself in danger that way and I wanted to shake her and hug her at the same time.

  I put my head down and slipped through the crowd. Hiding in the darkness between our bus and the one in front of it, I waited until she walked by. The sounds of whistles and loud music filled the parking lot. The smells of diesel fuel and beer filled my nostrils and somehow reminded me of The Pit and home.

  I didn’t have to wait long, and once I saw her walk past, my soul sang with joy. I didn’t think twice as I reached out and pulled her to me. Her body stiffened in my grasp and I knew I’d scared her. The last thing I needed was her screaming and calling attention to us, so I covered her mouth with my palm.

  I could hardly believe she was here in my arms. Her soft baby-powder scent made me forget all about the other smells that surrounded me. I pressed my body to hers and it was like stepping into heaven, and I was touched by warmth a sinner like myself had no right to feel. She had always been my heaven, a light that the darkness in my soul should never be able to see, but there she was, in my arms, filling me with an unimaginable sense of right.

  Years of shadows and darkness were erased in that very moment. I held my source of freedom in my arms and the weight that had settled on my chest months before was gone in an instant.

  I vowed that no matter what happened over the last months, she’d never leave my arms again. Nothing in the past mattered. All the bad that had occurred in our lives was struck from the record and prepared to be long forgotten. As long as she would have me, and even if she decided she’d never want me, I’d be hers.

  Her breath was heavy as she struggled against me, and part of me didn’t want to let her loose. Her body fit to mine as if I were a memory, a habit that she’d forgotten but could pick back up as if I were branded in her brain. I was a bad habit, the worst kind of habit, but I was too far gone. My addictive personality had inhaled Patience and I’d never become immune to her high.

  It felt too good to be so close. After I released her, the few seconds that followed were golden as she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back. And when she pulled away and whispered that she loved me, all the tiny scars inside me blended together and dissolved leaving pure happiness that only my snowflake could invoke.

  The local DJ interviewing Blow Hole looked a little like Santa Claus. Except instead of a red suit, he wore black leather, and instead of a jolly hat, a blue bandana covered his gray curls.

  “So, Zeke, we get a lot of questions in about some of your tattoos. I was wondering if you could tell us what the three snowflakes on your forearm represent.”

  Zeke’s lip ring pulled when his smile widened. It was strange to see him smile so openly in front of people. He looked over at me and winked as he lifted his arm onto the counter in front of him to show the DJ his tats.

  “The big one here is for my girl. When we first started dating, she reminded me of a snowflake princess, so I started calling her snowflake. I still call her that now. The two smaller ones are for our two daughters. They’re just as blond and beautiful as she is.”

  “Snowflake, huh?” the DJ asked. “It’s a wonder she doesn’t melt in this California heat.” He laughed.

  Zeke’s eyes met mine from across the room and the love that lived there sparkled. The side of his mouth tilted in the secret smile he reserved just for me.

  “Well, we went through the depths of hell to be together. If she hasn’t melted yet, I don’t think she ever will.

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  From the bottom of my heart thank you so much for reading! MWAH!

  Tabatha Vargo

  You can keep up to date with my upcoming releases, reveals, teasers and giveaways on my website www.tabathavargo.blogspot.com

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  XOXO!

  Lost in the dark, I stopped fighting it.

  This is my world; this is my home.

  Loss of air, wishing to forget,

  It breaks me down, crushing bone.

  There’s no breeze; there’s no sun,

  Just this need to escape.

  There’s no end to what I’ve begun.

  Too far gone, it’s too late.

  I’ll drag you down, hold your breath.

  With me, you’re going under.

  Escape my desired death.

  Sa
ve yourself from dangerous hunger.

  Chorus:

  Can you see the broken parts of me?

  They breed in my dark place, then leave without a trace.

  There’s a hole within my shadowed soul.

  It’s on your fingertips and dances on your lips.

  In my depths, I already know.

  I should never feel your glow.

  A selfish thing to tell.

  I want snowflakes in my hell.

  I’ll scar your perfect skin,

  With black traces of my need,

  Engulf you fully with my sin,

  Make you wish that you were freed.

  Dreams become nightmares,

  Fueled by jealous rage,

  Rocked by my careless cares,

  Beg release from my black cage.

  Dig deep inside your center,

  Rot you from within.

  A game without a winner,

  No beginning gives no end.

  Chorus:

  Can you see the broken parts of me?

  They breed in my dark place, then leave without a trace.

  There’s a hole within my shadowed soul.

  It’s on your fingertips and dances on your lips.

  In my depths, I already know.

  I should never feel your glow.

  A selfish thing to tell,

  I want snowflakes in my hell.

  This is my third book, and still I have a hard time writing the acknowledgements. It’s hard to thank the massive amount of people who have helped me when it comes to my writing. I have so many supportive people in my life and for that I am truly blessed.

  First of all, I’d like to thank my girls—Melissa Andrea, Mary Smith, Jodie O’Brien, Amy Holmes McClung, Julia Hendrix, Kathryn Vanessa Spell Grimes, Shanora Williams, and Bree Foster High. All of you read Playing Patience before anyone else had their hands on it and I value your opinions so much. You girls and many others that I’ve met throughout this entire experience have become like sisters to me and I adore you all.