“Preston,” she sighed. “There are rules to follow. Rituals, just like military rituals and church rituals. You can tell him that he is free, that I will pursue him no more, but they are just words.” She said all this while continuing to watch the dark corner where the orphans had gone. She looked very sad all of a sudden, then put the car into gear
and drove.
“So what do I have to do to clear everything up with Pauly, officially? Surely we can work something out, right?” I tried to hide the excitement in my voice.
But she didn’t reply. Her eyes narrowed as she pushed the car through dark alleys toward a rounded arch built into a high, pointed tower. Up in the windows lonely figures stared from dimly lit apartments. This city had too many dark corners, too many dead ends to ever feel like a place I could grow to love, yet seeing it with Danicka made me want to remember every little detail. She made a right onto a lane that curved slowly to the left. Finally, she slowed beneath a patch of naked trees, next to a graffitti-covered wall. “I thought you might like to see this.”
I tried to read the spray painted words, but there were too many. Looking for a place to start, my eyes drifted toward the top, and when I saw All we are saying…I smiled. His face floated there, right above the lyric. An Abbey Road-era John, with the round glasses and long hair, but older.
“Husák hates it. He calls the students that deface the wall with their anti-party protests Lennonistas. He says they are all sociopathic drug addicts.” She read the slogans and phrases while she spoke. “But this is where the revolution starts, and we will do it our way. No violence. No guns.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because it has already happened.” Danicka put the car in gear and talked to me like one would talk to a child. “Preston, there are informers all over. In a few weeks one of them will report the Lennonistas. Students and StB will clash on Charles Bridge. The party does not yet know this, but their days are numbered. I just wanted you to see this before we return.”
“Thank you.”
She pushed the gas pedal to the floor. “What if you could know everything you‘d ever forgotten—every sound, every scent, every little detail about the home where you were born and raised? What would your mind do with so many warm memories of family feasts and laughing with friends every waking second? Think about it, Preston. Everything you’d ever known in your mind at once? How do you think this storm of detail would affect the way you live right now? Do you believe the past would not be as bad as you remembered? Or would you lie awake every night reevaluating every single one of your prejudices and transgressions?”
Once again we were speeding along the narrow streets. She said, “For me, the memory makes it all worse, and every morning upon waking up I stare down the same path I’d struggled down yesterday.”
I didn’t know how to respond at this point. We were former lovers turned reconciled enemies. So I chose to not reply.
“As a girl I made a promise—a deal—under great duress. Under pretenses that never existed. But it’s easy for a young girl to make such a mistake. I let love go when I should’ve fought to hold onto it. All the crying has made me angry, bitter and very sad. I don’t want to be sad anymore, and I want to die with a man who will love me without pretense. But I can’t do any of that because I am bound by an agreement I made with a party that refuses to negotiate.” She drove faster as the main part of the city fell behind us. “It’s a debt I can never repay even though I have money, so to speak.”
The buildings got plainer as the road got wider. Instead of curves and waves of gold and plaster, every straight line met at a right angle. Row after row of apartments with windows in straight lines, both up and down, like air holes poked into a cardboard box.
I took a moment to process everything she said, and still none of it made sense to me. After what seemed like an appropriate amount of time, I said, “That doesn’t mean you can’t let me find a way to repay Pauly’s debt to you, right?” I secretly patted myself on the back for staying focused and doing right by him like I’d promised.
“That could be a bit of redemption right there,” I added.
“Do you wish to settle debts? Or erase them? Because that is what you are asking. Either way, you must go to the crossroads before dawn on Voskresenie—Sunday morning. We will resolve the situation then. For everything there is a ritual, Preston. Can you do this exactly as I tell you?”
I listened very closely, trying to keep an ear open for deception. “I guess. But you sort of said the ritual isn’t really necessary?”
“I said it is symbolic! Not unnecessary. Do not confuse the two.” She accented each syllable by jabbing the steering wheel with her finger. “Preston, you asked. Do not waste my time if you are not willing to follow my instructions.”
I smiled, because for the first time it felt like the more she talked, the more power shifted. “How do I know you’ll even show up?”
She smiled. “You want a promise from me? My word?”
“I guess that’s what I’m saying. In the past you’ve left me hanging.”
“The ritual binds me,” she huffed. “If you do as I will tell you, then I will be compelled. I have no choice.”
“Well,” I said, dragging it out so I could think. “I’d rather have something as a sign of good faith. Like, I’d rather you wanted to be there than were forced to be there.”
“Good faith? Like what, Preston? A wish? Good luck?” She rolled her eyes at my silliness. “My real name?”
My breath caught in my throat.
“Sure,” I said, stopping her, then scolding myself for being too eager. My mouth got dry while I waited for her to reply.
She nodded, a pause for drama, maybe.
“Fine.” She lit another cigarette. The orange glow cast harsh shadows upon her face, and all of a sudden, she didn’t look like somebody I knew. “After you have done exactly as I’ve told you, I will give you what you want.”
When she dropped me off back at the juke joint, the streets were clear. The only cars parked out front were Jamie’s and Ben’s. The only sign that something apoctalyptic had taken place here was the absence of leaves on the trees. I picked up the pint glass I’d dropped in the mud. I didn’t know the time, or how long I’d been gone. I tried to tell myself only a few hours had passed, but for all I knew, it could’ve been a few days. There still weren’t any stars in the sky.
The front door clicked open.
I waited.
Katy stepped onto porch. She didn’t say anything.
I said, “Where’d everybody go?”
“The people from the church followed you out of here like you said they would. They up and left right after you did.”
“Told you I’d fix everything.” A little bit of pride welled up in me. “How’s Chloey?”
“Good. The cuts were mostly superficial, but she’s at the hospital for observation. Got a few stitches. Seven above her collarbone and seven in her hand. The drugs knocked her out.” She came down the steps and met me on the sidewalk. “What did you have to do?”
“We talked a lot. Nothing more. She acted like she really didn’t care one way or the other about Pauly.”
“Doesn’t sound like her to just let it go.” She tucked her hands into her back pockets.
“But she did. Sunday morning I head back to Mississippi to make it all official.”
“How do you do that?” She looked at me skeptically.
“By going back down to those old crossroads one last time.”
CHAPTER Nine
Brick walls, bathroom stalls, long dark halls,
Hold your tongue until you get out.
Elbows locked, pushing forward—
A thousand to one.
Stand your ground and we’ll knock you over.
A thousand to one and I’ll carry your gun.
“My Own Army” Music and Lyrics by Preston Black
I woke up knowing that a new life had descended upon Katy an
d me. A life where I could be free of Dani’s entanglements. A life that represented the clean break we never had. The freedom we always wanted. On Sunday night, when we packed up and headed back to Morgantown, West Virginia, all this would be behind us forever.
I did this because I loved Katy, and knew she deserved better than what I’d given her so far, even though I’d given her everything I could. It took losing her, and being scared, to make me realize that I had a never-ending pool of love and strength for her. It took getting her back, and taking care of things with Danicka to make me see that I lived and breathed for her.
So this morning, when she said she needed time to think, it stung. But I hoped it was just girl talk for “I’m still mad” and figured I’d let it go. And when she said she didn’t want to ride to Atlanta with me, and that we needed to take a little breather after the show, I wracked my brain trying to figure out what it meant. When I asked Pauly, he said, “It means she needs some time, bro.”
Simoneaux made saying goodbye easy—he assured me he’d see me again one day. He left us with no warnings and no sentiment, whatsoever, and even refused my offer of coming back after the show to help him clean-up. And when Jamie mentioned money Simoneaux got mad. He said, “Friends don’t ask for something like that.”
Pauly, Andre, Sabra and I said our goodbyes over grits with cheddar cheese and biscuits with white gravy at a diner near the interstate. After a quick handshake they went home, and me and Pauly quietly rolled south out of the little Appalachians toward the wide Georgia flats all by ourselves. It took two hours to get to the interstate, and after that life returned to a pace I was used to. Homes and strip malls peeked through gaps in the trees as rolling hills gave way to suburbia. The excitement I felt embarrassed me, and to quench it, I reminded myself that she wasn’t here to share it with me.
Atlanta was big. The sun shone brightly on the mountain of concrete and glass that rose from the Piedmont like it had just landed on earth a few nights ago. Cars jockeyed for space on the wide parkway, reminding me that no matter where you went, somebody was always out to get you. Pauly drove aggressively, swearing when he got cut off, then racing ahead to retaliate. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t care what he did, as long as it made him feel better.
Pauly knew Atlanta, so there were no wrong turns, no need to stop for directions, and we arrived at the theater rather easily. Our arrival felt a little sad after everything that happened this week. Nobody came to greet us. The label didn’t send flowers. I didn’t dwell on it though.
The venue blew my mind. An old vaudeville theater that had been returned to all its glory by a community restoration effort. A heavy red curtain muffled all but the loudest sounds from beyond the stage. I couldn’t even hear cars on the street outside. Gold ribbons and angels in the highest corners reminded me a little of what I’d seen on the church in Prague. A low balcony hung over the rows of red seats. I figured it’d be empty tonight except for the pot smokers. An orchestra pit sat below the stage between a small pair of private boxes. Rachael and Jamie and Chloey would be comfortable in one of those boxes if they came.
A custodian helped us haul our gear into the back, showed us the green room, and hung out, BS-ing with us while we set up. The return to normalcy felt strange. Like he was upset about politics and football and me and Pauly were just happy to be here, mostly unharmed. When we were done, he introduced us to the manager and showed us around. After that we did a quick soundcheck, then left to find the hotel and check in.
Then we waited.
And it was a very lonely, very quiet, wait.
Bo Diddley said every generation’s got its own little bag of tricks. Nobody from my generation bothered to tell me what our trick was. Maybe digital was the only thing up our sleeve, even if it made having a hard copy of anything meaningless. I thought about how Pauly’s mom had pictures on the walls, photos of weddings and school pictures. She may not have looked at a photo every time she walked past, but the people in the images were always there with her. Looking over her shoulder. Watching TV with her.
Looking at Katy’s picture on the little screen of my phone wasn’t doing it for me.
Pauly helped me get through it the best way he knew how. He went down to The Varsity after we got back to the theater and bought chili slaw dogs and onion rings and fries while I warmed up. We set our picnic up on the stage, listening to the Allmans while we ate. He got too much food for us to eat ourselves, but Pauly always used to buy for three people so I didn’t say anything. We didn’t make small talk, or discuss what happened last night, although Pauly did say that he felt as though the weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
I meant to tell him about Prague and all that, and was on the verge of figuring out how to tell him he could stop worrying about Danicka, when a security guard came into the theater to tell us there were a few folks out front who wanted to talk to us. They claimed they knew me.
Pauly shrugged, so I followed the security guard out. As soon as I stepped into the lobby I saw Katy’s cousin Henry and his girlfriend Alex. He smiled real big when I stepped forward to hug him. He looked around like he expected to see Katy pop through the door behind me.
After kissing Alex’s cheek, I told them the girls were running a little late because I didn’t know what else to say. I asked where they were staying, asked what he’d been up to, and all that other chitchat. While he told me about the drive down from West Virginia and the stuff they did all morning I watched a group of protesters on the other side of the street.
My heart fell.
To cover my emotions, I pointed to the door behind me and said, “Henry, we got all kinds of food down there. Pauly will hook you up. I’ll be right in.”
As soon as the door closed behind them, I walked over to the security guard. “You think they’ll be a problem?”
He put his phone into his pocket and answered me with a big old dose of Southern honesty. “Not my problem. I’m off at seven. Y’all have fun though.”
“Thanks, man,” I said before I went back inside.
As I walked down that long aisle, I ran through all kinds of scenarios in my head. The first involved me asking Henry to play whether or not Katy showed. Figured that was the best way to approach it. I knew he could handle our songs if I made crib notes for him, and made a list of simple I-IV-V tunes he could blast right through. That meant no duets and no two-part harmonies, but it would be easy enough to substitute cover songs. The best way to play it with the crowd would be to let them know we were going to stay on stage until the sun came up tomorrow morning, or until the venue kicked us out, whichever came first—an Allman Brothers at the Fillmore type of thing. And I’d have to talk Pauly into doing a whole set at least. Maybe even go into Pipeline stuff like the old days. Weezer. Guns N’ Roses. Foo Fighters. The Clash. Jane’s Addiction. Ramones. Social Distortion.
A set of covers wouldn’t be the same as a show with Katy, which they’d paid to see, but they’d have to understand after everything that went on this week. I’d tell them that she felt just fine, that she was a little worn out after the ordeal, and that she appreciated all the Tweets and emails.
Hope y’all understand.
I felt like shit for even thinking it, and reminded myself that we probably could’ve gotten away with cancelling the show altogether.
So I took a deep breath and explained the situation to Henry as he tore into a hot dog and asked if he’d be interested. He looked nervous as hell and I thought for sure he’d decline, but Alex gave him a look that changed his mind.
As soon as he agreed I grabbed Katy’s backup violin and my new Martin, and led him down to the green room to practice. I explained how I thought the format would go, and I did my best to tell him the type of things we’d play as I wrote out a set list. Henry told me which of our songs he knew best and where he’d be able to improvise or just play around me. He nodded a lot, and if he was nervous he didn’t act like it. We spent a good hour or so running through stuff together a
nd he eventually loosened up. I told him to practice while I left to try to convince Pauly to play. As I got to the top of the stairs I heard voices on the other side of the curtain. My heart raced, and I suddenly felt very scared and very sad. The other side of the curtain felt like the other side of the planet after everything that happened this week—I couldn’t trust what was over there anymore. Pauly knelt in front of my cabinet, taping cables to the floor. He didn’t see me.
“Hey, man,” I said. “You feel like playing a full set tonight?”
He stood and brushed off his pants. “Ain’t played a full set of anything in a year.”
“I’m going to need you.”
“Man, what are you talking about?” He put his arm around my neck. “She’ll be here, okay? How long’s it going to take for you to realize that when a girl says she needs space, she needs space. You know her better than that.”
“Yeah…” I shook my head because he was right. “Was she mad when I left with Dani?”
“Truthfully, the whole thing with Chloey kept most of us busy. She never said anything to me about it.” Pauly checked his shirt pocket for cigarettes. “How do you think she felt when she saw you get into that car?”
“Well, Katy knew I acted in the best interest of the group, and that I love her more than anything. So, me getting into the car with Danicka—who may or may not be the devil or whatever—is just like walking down to Dairy Mart for pepperoni rolls. That’s how I think she felt.” I tried to smile.
“Well you keep telling yourself that, big brother. And I’ll keep pretending you’re right.” He gave me his best “authority figure” look when he said it. “By the way, there’s a pair of kids out there who said to tell you they came to see you. Ray and Vance from Lula?”
“No shit.” I walked over to the edge of the curtain and pulled it back. The boys stood right in front of a speaker cabinet talking to a pair of disinterested college girls. Only the first four or five rows were full, but people were streaming in steadily. I didn’t want to count heads, but couldn’t stomach playing to another half-empty house.
The Revelations of Preston Black (Murder Ballads and Whiskey Book 3) Page 27