Single, Cool, and Fine: How to Get Laid as an Ex-Teen Idol

by Lux Zakari

  “And that name. Pierce? Really?” James refused to be placated; it wasn’t possible. “The guy doesn’t sound like a friend. He sounds like a creeper with a Steven Seagal ponytail and a hoop earring who dumps rufies in girls’ drinks.”

  “That was a colorful description. Maybe you should’ve been a novelist instead of a musician.”

  “I’m serious. I don’t want any sleazebag named Pierce hanging around my kids.”

  “Ask me if I care. You know, I’d love to know who you think you are, James. I’d love to know why you think you can take off whenever you want and go have your fun all around the world while I’m here alone in Albany with the kids.”

  “Taking off and having fun? That’s what you call me earning my paycheck so we have money to live?”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s been ten years, and you’ve never grown up. You’re still out, chasing fame and fortune and who knows what else.” She knotted her hands behind her back and paced, something she always did when she reached the boiling point. “You’ve always loved the music more than me, more than any of us. Why bother suddenly pretending you don’t?”

  James stepped in her path. “What are you even talking about? Where is any of this coming from?”

  “The fact that any of this is such a surprise to you only proves my point.”

  Again she tried to move past him but he blocked her. “So all these years you’ve been so miserable, resenting me for being away and trying to enjoy myself while I support you and give you everything you’ve ever asked for. And you never bothered to say anything until now—now, when it’s too late, and there’s nothing I can do, and you’re off sleeping with some total stranger you’ve been seeing behind my back—”

  “I’m not sleeping with him!” She threw her fists at his shoulders. “I’ve always been faithful to you, and deep down you know that. You just want a reason to turn this around to make it all my fault.”

  “Well, why does this have to be all my fault?”

  “Because I tried to make it work. You were barely aware I was alive. You didn’t even know I went back to school until I was halfway done with all my classes.”

  “That’s when you decided to tell me, Greer.” He raked his hands through his hair, wanting to rip it out. “You keep all these secrets from me and expect me to find them out without giving me any clues. What am I supposed to do with that?”

  James hadn’t realized he’d been shouting until he heard, “Everything all right?” They both turned to see Pierce at the top of the stairs, looking amicable enough yet fully prepared to toss James out on his face should Greer only say the word. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of rage coursing through James’ veins. Who was this man who had swooped in, taken his entire family away, and expected him to be calm, mature, and adult about it?

  “We’re fine.” Greer gave him a weak smile. “Will you send the kids down? James is ready to leave.”

  “Sure.” Pierce ambled off, shooting James another warning glance.

  James battled another onslaught of anger and turned to Greer. “So you’re not sleeping with Pierce the Date Rapist.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You’re just friends then.”

  “Yes.” She fixed him with another of her classic steely looks. “For now.”

  “For now?” he echoed. “Then you’re saying you’re attracted to him.”

  “What I’m saying is I don’t know what will happen, James.” She looked away, her expression cloudy with misery. “But I’m not yours anymore, so I can’t imagine whatever I do being any concern of yours. Making it just another day.”

  Before he could respond, Amie and Noah thundered down the stairs, wearing their backpacks brimming with everything they’d need for the weekend.

  “Ready, Dad!” Amie squealed.

  James glowered at Greer. “Me too.”

  “Here, Dad.”

  Noah approached James that night as he made dinner—macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets. As rarely as he cooked, he felt it’d be hard for even him to screw that up.

  His son shyly stretched out his hand. “I made these for you.”

  James let Noah drop the gift in his open palm: two painted clam shells, one with black dots and the other streaked with purple. His resonating anger with Greer dimmed, replaced by a multitude of other emotions: love for his son, guilt for putting both of his children through such a mess, self-loathing that it’d all come to this…

  He finished sliding the tray of chicken nuggets in the oven and dropped to a squat so he was eyelevel with Noah. “Thanks, bud. These are really nice.”

  Noah beamed proudly, his brown eyes gleaming. He thrust one of his coloring books from school in James’ face. “Will you read this to me?”

  James glanced at the microwave clock. There was time before dinner was ready, and he could hear Amie laughing in the next room in response to “Regular Show.” He sat at the kitchen table and tugged Noah into his lap. “How about you read to me?”

  “Okay.” Noah turned to the first page and began to read out loud from the book, its contents consisting of colored scribbles outside the pictures’ lines and elementary vocabulary words. James enjoyed how his son had spelled teeth: tef. The childish handwriting, scrawled in purple crayon, hurt his heart. He wished he could be the kind of father his children deserved, the normal kind with a normal job who had all the time in the world for moments like these. But he’d been in the spotlight for more than half his life. He didn’t even know how to try to pass as normal anymore.

  Amie padded barefoot into the kitchen, wearing a pink sparkly tutu skirt and a green M&M T-shirt. “Dad,” she wailed plaintively, “can we have ice cream for dinner?”

  “Sorry. It’s mac and cheese for you.”

  She scrunched up her face and let out a whine that sounded like the world’s creakiest door before stomping out of the room.

  Noah reached the last page, and James kissed his son’s blond head. “Nice job.” He paused, not knowing how to phrase what he needed to ask. “Hey, bud?”

  “What?”

  James had a thousand versions of the same question rattling in his head, and not one of them sounded mature. “You doing okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “You and your sister are happy?”

  Noah shrugged, reading his coloring book backward.

  “And Pierce is a good guy?”

  “Yeah, he’s nice. He has fish.”

  “Fish, huh? What kind of fish?”

  “All kinds. They’re in a pond in his backyard. He lets me feed them.”

  James didn’t like the sound of this. He didn’t in any way want his children to be unhappy. He just hadn’t expected them to be quite so otherwise. And now for the question he hated to ask but had to: “And your mom… She’s doing all right?”

  Noah bobbed his head in the affirmative, but offered no further explanation.

  Before James could press for further answers that surely wouldn’t alleviate his embarrassment, Amie returned, wearing a hopeful expression and wielding a construction paper sign reading Dad is nice and the best. “Dad, can we have ice cream now?”

  “No, you didn’t even eat yet.”

  Her optimistic smile faded to a stricken pout as she flipped the sign over: Dad is mean and not the best.

  James laughed. “That’s the best protest sign I’ve ever seen.”

  Amie brightened and spun the sign around. “So we can have ice cream then?”

  “Still no.”

  She pouted and again turned the sign, but her grumpy look soon dissolved into giggles.

  Her brother joined her, shrieking with laughter. He slid from James’ lap and lay face down on the floor, his forehead resting on the tile.

  “Man oh man.” James grabbed Noah’s sides, making his son squeak and laugh harder. “You guys are both full of it.”

  “Full of what?” Noah’s teeth chattered, he laughed so hard.

  “Full of nonsense.”

  That an
swer just made Noah giggle harder, bringing a grin to James’ face as he dug his fingertips in his son’s sides and squeezed, making the boy howl with shrill glee.

  James couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun with his children. The thought scared him. How had he gone so long without spending time like this with his family? Most of his memories with his kids consisted of brief hugs and commands to go to bed, eat their dinner, and obey their mother. What kind of person was he?

  Amie lowered her sign and her expression turned serious. “Dad, why can’t we stay here with you?”

  He swallowed the knot in his throat. “Because, pea.” Hers was a question he’d been asking himself for the past week but still had no answer for. However, it’d do no good to create dissension in the ranks, especially now. “Your mom and I decided this is what’s best for us.”

  “But why? Why can’t we all live in the same house?”

  “Your mom and I just need some time apart.”

  “That’s stupid. You’re already apart all the time.”

  “We just decided it’s best,” he repeated, the weak argument losing steam every second.

  “How’s it best?” Amie insisted.

  Damn, the kid was smart. Seven years old going on eight and she was already stumping him. Fortunately, the oven timer beeped then, saving him from logic. “Amie, stop asking questions, and you and your brother go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “Bleh!” His daughter stomped from the room with a horrible pout on her face and Noah at her heels.

  As James retrieved his children’s meals, he resolved then and there to be a better father—and someone who would make Greer regret the day she ever left him.

  The only problem was that he had no clue where to start.

  On Sunday night after dropping Amie and Noah off with a frosty Greer and her new pal Pierce, James climbed the stairs to E.Y.’s back door and found it unlocked, as well as her and Wade yelling at each other.

  “James.” E.Y. caught sight of him as he walked in and thrust a thin hardcover book in his direction. “Look at what your sick brother picked up at the Salvation Army for your kids.”

  “Go Dog Go is a children’s book,” Wade shouted.

  “It’s inappropriate for those under the age of seventeen.” E.Y. hugged the book to her chest. “There are too many references to racism and drug abuse.”

  “Racism? It’s about humanity and acceptance,” Wade said. “Take the dogs on the trees. They’re all tipping their hats to tolerance. You’ve got the blue dogs, green dogs, red dogs, albino dogs, whatever. They’re all on trees. No one’s left on the ground, they’re all equals. How are you not getting that?”

  “What about when the green dogs are up and yellow dogs are down?” E.Y. countered, flipping through the pages. “Some are in, some are out. Some are over, some are under. It’s racism at its finest—or worst, take your pick. I can’t believe you think this book is about acceptance. Don’t forget—the girl dog changes her crazy-ass hat, like, eighty times just to win the boy dog’s approval, which he only gives after hitting up the big drug party on the treetop.”

  “The only one on drugs here is you. That party is about defying colors and everyone getting along and having fun. It’s an upper of an ending, if you ask me.”

  “‘Upper’—there’s an interesting word choice.” E.Y. held the book open in front of her to an illustration spanning two pages. “Just look at this. They’re swinging from trapezes and shooting each other out of cannons, for God’s sake. But you can tell who the real burnouts are—the ones on the trampoline, desperately seeking an even higher high.” She turned toward James. “Well? Thoughts?”

  “You don’t want to know my thoughts.” James made a beeline for the futon in her home office.

  “I think this is the part where we ask him what’s wrong,” Wade said as he and E.Y. followed James into the room.

  “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.” She leaned forward before James’ slouching form and rested her hands on her knees. “James, are you depressed?”

  James wiped his face with his hands. “Greer is living with some guy.”

  “What ‘some guy’?” Wade asked.

  “I don’t know. Some guy,” said James. “Named Pierce.”

  “As in Brosnan?” Wade arched a brow. “No wonder she left you. Can we just skip right to calling him James Bond?”

  “Ignore him,” E.Y. told James. “Your brother is incapable of empathizing, having never had a long-term relationship in his life.”

  “And thank God for that. Look at this one.” Wade gestured to James. “Why would I want any part of that?”

  “Shh. We need to be comforting. Now, James.” E.Y. sat next to him on the futon and tilted her head at a sympathetic angle. “Are you upset because Pierce is piercing your wife?”

  James released a giant sigh. “Yes, I’m upset. I mean, she said they’re just friends and all he did was offer her a job and let her and the kids stay at his place for bit. But I don’t know.” He glanced at E.Y., the more compassionate of the terrible twosome, and the concern in her eyes gave him a flicker of hope. “Do you think it’s possible that nothing will happen?”

  “Oh, you.” E.Y. brushed his hair away from his face, clucking her tongue. “Hell no. Are you crazy?”

  “Yeah, dog,” Wade said. “A single guy letting a hot chick and her kids crash at his bachelor pad for an indeterminate period of time? He wants to rail that shit in the worst way.”

  The doubt and fear that had been coating James’ insides now roiled in his gut like an angry sea. “Oh.” He stood and crossed the room to the window just for the sake of doing something other than sitting there while agony filled his chest.

  “Hmm.” E.Y. sat back and tapped a finger to her lip, observing him. “Perhaps we said the wrong thing.”

  “No way.” Wade settled in the beanbag chair. “He spends so much time on Planet James that he has no idea how the world actually works. He needs to hear this shit.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and called to his brother like they stood at opposite ends of a bluff. “Hey, James, why do you even care?”

  “Why do I care?” James whirled around, stunned. “Did you really just ask me that? My family is living with some random guy, whom my wife is probably sleeping with as we speak. And you ask me why I care?”

  “Yes, I do,” Wade said, his voice calm. “Are you really so surprised this day has come?” He laced his fingers atop his chest. “Let me be honest with you here for a minute. You’re gone all the time, recording and touring, and Greer’s home with the kids, living a whole other life. When you come back, you hole yourself up in your studio while Greer goes about business as usual. Then you’re off again. Tell me—do you even know Greer anymore? Do you even know your kids? Dude, I see those guys more than you do. And now you’re up in arms and all pissed off because she wants a divorce and Double-Oh-Seven is paying attention to her. But really—what’s changed for you? You lost some kids you vaguely recognize and a wife you don’t love. You didn’t lose anything. Think about it.”

  James chewed his lower lip as he mulled over the hateful thought of Greer and Pierce together. It didn’t seem fair to him, to have his entire life overturned while she was so happy. Didn’t he deserve happiness, too? “So what you’re saying is I need to start dating again.”

  “Wow.” Wade turned to E.Y. “Is that what I said?”

  “Never mind what you said or didn’t say.” E.Y. waved a hand. “James Venora has an idea, and that’s the important thing.”

  “The idea is start moving on with my life,” James said. “Greer obviously is, so why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I find someone else like she has? It’s about time I start my life.” He turned to his brother and E.Y. “Right?”

  Wade tossed a glance his brother’s way and coupled it with a rueful headshake. “It’s like throwing confetti at the Hindenburg.”

  “Well, I’m interested.” E.Y. crossed her legs and looped her
clasped hands around her knees. “I find this to be the worst idea you’ve ever had. You’ll look like a total idiot, which means this will be great for the blog. Thus, I endorse it.” Her eyes glittered. “Wait. Is this a return to single, cool, and fine? I totally predicted this. Greer shacks up with someone new and it kicks off your brand new life. I’m a soothsayer!”

  “Ugh.” Wade groaned. “Enough. Please.”

  James looked out the window again, ignoring them both as an idea took shape and solidified in his head along with his resolve. Yes, he and Greer were done. There was nothing else left to do but accept that and act accordingly, but maybe it didn’t have to be as painful as he’d originally thought. Maybe the divorce would be the best thing that ever happened to him. He planned to find out.

  Blame James (blame_james) wrote,

  @ 2012-06-29 22:34:56

  Why We’re So Mean

  E.Y.: Did you know that some people think we’re too hard on James Venora? They want to know why.

  CLAUDIA: It’s because James Venora:

  • Tore the hole in the ozone layer

  • Turns pubic hair gray

  • Orchestrated Watergate and the Salem Witch Trials

  • Stole Christmas

  • Caused the great stock market crash of 1929

  • Has no regard for the extinction of the quagga

  E.Y.: Readers of this blog, please note that it’s not like we deliberately set out to be mean to James Venora. It’s just that James does so many ridiculous things that we can’t help it, and I think we need to outline some of his faux pas so everyone understands where we’re coming from.

  CLAUDIA: I agree. I’ll even go first. First, there was the time he had a contest where he’d write the winner a song especially for her. The quality of the idea was debatable from the start, but the creative process and results were even worse. He just sent the winner a dull questionnaire asking shit about her favorite color and the kind of car she drives. He never even met her. Then, upon receiving her answers, he crapped out a rhyme-less poem set to a Jackson 5-like melody and titled it, imaginatively, after the winner: “Pam Daye.”