And all Jamie can do is watch everything unfold. A helpless victim to the words I lash out.
“You have a shitty, controlling father, who’s made a job out of making your life hell. But you’re not a child anymore. You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. You shouldn’t have to pretend you’re something you’re not. Being gay should be something you embrace, something you’re proud of. It shouldn’t be something you spend your entire life shoving in the closet.
“I’ve supported you. I’ve loved you. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend. I can’t lie. I destroyed Dylan because of these secrets that are consuming both of us. I might as well have ripped his heart out and stomped on it. That’s how badly I hurt him.
“And I know you’re sick. And I know the medications and treatments you’re taking on a daily basis are expensive, especially when you’re paying out of pocket because your father would disown you if he found out, but I feel like there has to be another way. There has to be another fucking way that doesn’t include me.”
“So that’s it?” he asks, voice breaking. “You’re done with me?”
My hands gesture wildly. “I never said that!”
His eyes turn cold. Mouth set in a firm line. “Then what are you saying, Brooke? What are you trying to tell me?”
“I’m telling you that I’m done being your closet.”
“I’ve got one better, baby girl. Let’s just be done with this whole fucking thing. Have a nice life, Brooke. I’m out.” He pushes past me, moving towards the door.
“What? You’re giving up on our nearly twenty year friendship because I’m tired of hiding your secrets?”
He stops in his tracks, glaring back at me. “No, I’m giving up on our friendship because you just made it very clear I’ve done nothing but make your life miserable. So, I’m giving you the freedom to live your life without the hassle of tolerating my bullshit.”
Before I can say another word, he’s stalking out of the room and down the stairs. The front door slams. A car engine roars to life. And then, he’s gone.
Dylan Bissette reveals a black, haunted cover of The Smiths, “I Know It’s Over”
SteadyBeat.com
Careless Cockups were in Paris last night, filling the City of Lights with something that can only be described as incredible.
It’s one thing to hold an audience while backed by a full band, but what happens when a musician finds himself alone and unplugged?
It’s a risk. A big risk. And we’ve all seen those types of awkward, cringe-worthy performances playing acoustic can reveal.
But sometimes, like last night, something else happens.
Careless Cockups had just finished playing Blue Daze, and all but Jesse and Dylan Bissette left the stage. They sat down on stools with acoustic guitars in hand.
Before they began, Dylan spoke to the crowd. “I’m a bit out of sorts tonight. I’ve got this song in my head. It’s been there the past few weeks. Constantly nagging. Demanding to be heard. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to play it for you. The Smith’s created this masterpiece and years later Jeff Buckley covered it.
“‘I Know It's Over’ is easily one of the most harrowing and desperate songs penned by Morrissey and Marr. When Morrissey wrote the lyrics, he was revealing how he had felt this melancholia for most of his life, and how he had eventually accepted it as being an important part of his life. And it wasn’t meant to be depressing, it was meant to reveal beauty in that melancholia.
“To some, this song might mean what Morrissey and Marr intended. Or maybe, to some, this song means something else. Maybe you’re sitting back and watching the man or woman you love marry someone else. Maybe you’re watching the person you know you’re supposed to be with walk away, and fall into the arms of another, even though you know, you fucking know, they don’t love that person like they love you.
‘Maybe this song is your ballad. Your heartbreaking truth. Maybe you can feel yourself being buried alive beneath your own heartache. And maybe, in this moment, that’s what this song means to me. So, tonight, you get to hear me cover Jeff Buckley covering The Smiths. Here’s, ‘I Know It’s Over.’ I hope you enjoy it.”
He then proceeded to play one of the most magical, spellbinding performances we’ve ever heard. His brother was merely there supporting him, playing soft, acoustic chords to create an enchanting layer to Dylan’s sound. It was the kind of performance that spurs goosebumps on goosebumps.
It was just…magic.
Keeping the attention of a sold-out crowd takes skill, but making an entire crowd fall silent is nothing short of a miracle.
That’s what Dylan did last night.
He turned the upbeat, on their feet, Paris audience into this sort of hushed reverence.
Our readers know we generally just talk music. We tend to ignore the juicy gossip surrounding our favorite bands and musicians. But after watching a man bare himself on stage, we’re finding it hard to ignore what might have inspired such a dark, haunted performance.
Like everyone else, we can’t help but notice that Brooke Sawyer has not been in the last two episodes of Mad Sounds. Nor has she been seen with Careless Cockups during the Europe half of their tour.
And we’re left wondering, was that song meant for Brooke?
Brooke
“I’ve been lying to you.”
“I know.” Susan’s expression doesn’t change. Her eyes stay steadfast on mine.
“Y-you know?” I stutter, surprised.
“Brooke…Obviously, I’m not a mind reader, but give me a little credit.” A small smile crevices her mouth. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I know you haven’t been completely honest with me, but—”
I cut her off, voice rising in irritation. “Why didn’t you call me out on it?”
My outburst doesn’t faze her. “Because I knew eventually you’d be honest with me. You just needed time to process everything on your own. And that’s okay. I never expect my patients to reveal all of their deepest, darkest secrets and thoughts within the first few weeks of therapy. It takes time. There are always reasons behind our walls. And they’re important reasons—ones that I respect and would never push. A true breakthrough doesn’t happen because someone forces us into it. It happens because we decided, on our own, that we’re ready.”
“I really fucked up,” I mutter, looking down at my hands.
My knee bounces. Up, down. Up, down. The steady pace is a blatant contrast to the chaotic rhythm my heart is beating to. Opening up and admitting things I’ve kept buried deep is not an easy thing to accomplish. It goes against everything I’ve ingrained in myself over the past decade.
“I really fucked up,” I admit, louder now. My eyes meet hers. She’s still calm, eyes serene. No judgment lies within them. She’s merely here, listening. Nothing else. Nothing more. And it’s exactly what I need. “I’ve been lying about my relationship with Jamie. Ever since the day he tried to commit suicide, we’ve been faking a relationship. Telling everyone we’re together—boyfriend, girlfriend, fiancé, whatever label people wanted us to put on it, we did.”
“Tell me why you guys decided to fake a romantic relationship.”
“Because Jamie is gay.” The words coat my tongue in betrayal. I feel bad for telling someone else his truth, but Susan is my safe place. And God, I need to do this. I can’t hold it back anymore. Too many people have been hurt by my lies. “He has been struggling with being open and honest—with his family, his friends, everyone—about his sexual orientation, his entire life. Alistair, his father, isn’t the nicest man you’ll ever meet, and deep down, I know that he knows Jamie’s truth.
“He’s not an easy man to live with. He’s very strong in his opinions, so to speak. And on more than one occasion, several in fact, he’s voiced his opinion on the gay community. I once saw Alistair fire a band from his label because he found out the lead singer was gay. Of course, he took the coward’s way out. He never told the band why he let them go, he merely acted
like they were the ones at fault. He found some stupid clause within their contract that he felt they had not followed. And that wasn’t the only time, either. I’ve seen him make similar decisions like that.”
“What made Jamie open up to you?”
“I had known since we were about twelve, but he didn’t tell me until after he attempted suicide when we were fifteen.”
“How did you know?”
“I just knew. We were best friends. At times, I was closer with Jamie than I was my own sister. We told each other everything. Shared everything. Did everything together. And I noticed Jamie was into all of the same male celebrities and musicians I was. He was pretty obvious about it in some ways, even when he didn’t mean to be. When we were fourteen, the band Incubus had become popular. Do you know them?”
Susan nods, grinning. “Do I know them? Of course, I know them. Brandon Boyd? Sheesh. Yeah, I know Incubus. Huge fan of their music, too.”
“Well, Brandon Boyd was my big crush when Incubus started getting popular. I never did the boy band phase the rest of the girls my age did. I would be more likely to say Gavin Rossdale was my dream man than one of the guy’s from Backstreet Boys. But anyway, I wasn’t the only one that noticed Brandon Boyd. Jamie loved him just as much, if not more. He had posters of Incubus, specifically Brandon Boyd, all over his bedroom. No big deal, right? I mean, what teenage boy didn’t like them.
“But there was a guy at our high school who had Brandon Boyd-like qualities. He was gorgeous in his own right. And Jamie noticed. And I noticed that Jamie noticed. He looked at this guy like someone with a crush, an infatuation, would look at the object of their affection. Jamie was never a quiet guy. He was fairly outgoing. But with this guy, this gorgeous teenage boy with lips and hair like Brandon Boyd, he was a bumbling mess.”
I smile at the memories. “It was adorable, really. And I think that’s when it all started to click. The Brandon Boyd posters. Jamie’s lack of interest in girls our age, or any girl for that matter. The nervous voice and blushing cheeks around his secret crush. He tried to hide it from me, from everyone, but we were so close, basically attached at the hip, so it was the little things I observed. It all really clicked the day his secret crush asked me out on a date. Jamie’s reaction was nothing short of jealous. But he wasn’t jealous of the guy, he was jealous of me. Which is why I declined the guy’s offer. Jamie was my best friend, and I didn’t care how cute Brandon Boyd’s doppelgänger was, I’d never let something like that come between us.
“What made you think Alistair knew?”
“God, where do I begin?” An exasperated sigh leaves my lips. “Alistair has been riding Jamie’s ass since the day he was born. Always critical, he never went out of his way to praise his son. He spent most of Jamie’s childhood and adolescence berating him and telling him he wasn’t good enough. When we were ten, my grandmother had dropped me off at the Wallace’s. I had brought a bag full of Barbie dolls. And believe me, I had all of the accessories. Well, I was up in Jamie’s room, playing with my Barbies while he was playing video games. At one point, he was teasing my choice for Ken’s attire, and joined me on his bedroom floor, messing around with the dolls and their accessories.
“It was completely innocent. We were ten and just playing around. And honestly, he was acting like every other ten-year-old boy would have acted in that situation. Well, Alistair spotted us in Jamie’s room, playing with dolls, and flipped out. He yanked Ken out of his son’s hands and spat, ‘Only faggots play with this shit.’”
Susan’s brow rises in shock. “His father said that? In front of you?”
“Yeah. At ten, I’m not sure I really understood what he meant by that, but as I got older, I looked back on that moment and realized he was saying those things for a reason. And that was the kind of shit he did. I would never consider Jamie a feminine kind of guy, but Alistair went out of his way to ban anything and everything he didn’t think a heterosexual man would be interested in from Jamie.
“Posters of Brandon Boyd in Jamie’s bedroom? Hell no. He yanked those down and let them blaze in the fireplace. Jamie is really good at art, incredible at drawing and sketching. But Alistair refused to let him take extra classes. Instead, at sixteen, Jamie was attending business trips with his father. At seventeen, he was attending those business trips and getting into strip clubs because of his father. And Alistair would buy him lap dances from female entertainers all night. The list is a mile long, and there’s probably so much I’m not remembering, but that’s the biggest reason why I think Jamie has continued to hide.”
“What motivated the decision to fake an engagement?”
“Well…the engagement is fake on the premise that we’re not attracted to each other. But we had planned on going through with the marriage.”
Susan appears confused. “Can you explain your reasoning for that?”
“Jamie is still very much under his father’s thumb. Alistair is grooming him to eventually take over the label, but that won’t be until years from now. Hell, I think Alistair would still try to run his company from the grave if he could. It goes without saying Jamie comes from a family with a lot of money. Alistair has more money sitting in his back account than most people see in their lifetime. And Jamie will be given a trust fund from his father, but there are stipulations.”
“Stipulations?”
I nod. “Yes. The fine print states Jamie will get seventy-five percent of his trust fund when he gets married to a woman. The other twenty-five percent can be obtained when his wife has their first child.”
Her jaw drops. “It actually says that?”
“Yes. It really says that.”
“So the two of you were going to get married and have a child together in order for Jamie to get his trust fund?”
Now it’s my jaw’s turn to drop. “Yes to the marriage, but a big fat hell no to the pregnancy. The marriage I could do, but having his child? God, no. It just wouldn’t be right. Even if I were artificially inseminated, it would be too wrong. Jamie is like a brother to me.”
“What were your plans for after the wedding?”
“We would stay married for a bit. Get Jamie’s trust fund. Leave Wallace & Wright and start our own label.”
“I don’t want to come off as too forward, but do you really need the trust fund to start your own label? I’m sure neither of you are hurting for money. You’re both very successful. Surely, you’d be able to get a business loan without additional finances.”
“There’s also something about Jamie that I haven’t told you about.”
“Can you tell me now?”
I shake my head. “I’ve tried to get him to understand we’d be okay if we went off on our own, without the help of his trust fund. I have a decent amount of money saved. He’s got some too, but he’s had a lot of his money go to medical bills. Jamie is…sick. And at one point, he was really sick. He had a year where there were a few hospitalizations and exorbitant medical costs. Ones he paid out of pocket for. See, what Jamie was diagnosed with is not something he feels he can tell his father about. So he’s been paying for his treatments out of pocket because he fears if they were on the label’s insurance, Alistair would somehow found out.”
“The medical costs are that expensive that he thinks the higher-ups within the company would take notice?”
“Yeah, they are. Luckily, he’s doing better. But I think he’s afraid he could get really sick again. And Jamie is very stubborn in the mindset that he wants to make sure our company, our label, starts off with a stable foundation, just in case something were to happen to him. I’ve tried to get him to understand we’d be okay, but he won’t see it any other way.”
“And that’s why you agreed to this plan of getting married?”
I nod. “At the time, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I was too focused on college, then my career as a producer, and then Millie got sick, and I was focused on caring for her. I didn’t have time to date or find a real boyfriend. Which made this whole f
aking a relationship with Jamie quite easy. I never really thought twice about it. But then Millie passed away, and I went to Paris on her bucket list mission.”
“What happened in Paris?”
“I fell in love with Dylan Bissette.”
My therapy appointment was cathartic. I left Susan’s office feeling as if a thousand pounds had been lifted from my shoulders. Even if I didn’t come to a solution on how I should handle things from here on out, I found relief in opening up to someone, and for a short span of time, these secrets weren’t festering inside of me.
I haven’t spoken with Jamie since he stormed out of my house. He hasn’t contacted me, and I’m still too raw from the words we threw at each other to contact him. We’ve never spoken to one another like that. And I’m worried what it might mean for our friendship. He’s always been one of the most important people in my life and I’m having a hard time coming to the understanding we might never get back what we lost the other night in my bedroom.
I know he left the next day because a trip to New York was already in the works. He had to iron out some details with a band the label is trying to get on board. I know he’s supposed to be there for a week or so, and possibly head to London for Careless Cockups big album debut. But that’s all I know.
I pull into the driveway, shutting off the engine and sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at Millie’s favorite tree.
“And we’re back!” The radio announcer shouts into the speakers, startling me. “Now, we’ve got Blue Daze from one of our fav new bands, Careless Cockups. Our listeners have been requesting this one all day, and we definitely understand why. If you didn’t know, their debut album, Songs About Her, just released worldwide, and already, with three songs in the top ten, they’re looking to go platinum. From us here at Q104, we’d like to give our biggest congratulations, Cockups. You guys deserve it.”
Blur (Changing Colors Book 2) Page 35